Bliss and Embarrassment

Embarrassment because it's been two months since my last post.

Unfortunately, my blogpression is even deeper than I feared and still has me tight in its grasp. I hardly ever even read my favorite blogs any longer. Would that make them my once-favorite blogs? Perhaps technically.

I just don't seem to have much joy anymore. Certainly no bliss.

Don't get me wrong: my LW and the Horde are a joy. Even the noise they make -- as hard as it is on my usually-aching head at the end of the day -- is music. They are my life and, honestly, the only thing that keeps me going some days.

All right, you caught me: most days.

I sat in my car this morning in the parking lot for several long minutes. All I could do was sit there, thinking, dreading the day. It took every ounce of physical strength and mental/emotional will power to leave the car and walk the fifteen steps into the building. Every minute today was torture. Not "Nancy Pelosi woe is me I voted for water-boarding before I voted against it even though it gets results and really is not considered torture compared to what the enemy does to our soldiers" kind of torture. More "being forced to listen to Nancy Pelosi read Maya Angelou poetry" kind of torture or "simply being forced to be in the same room as Nancy Pelosi" kind of torture.

And it is getting worse every day.

So back to my embarrassment: I hope that the readers I have will not have given up hope on me. I am trying; really, I am, despite all appearances.

I say I have little joy. That is not to say I do not have hope: I cannot blame my blogpression on the country's turbo-powered faster-than-light descent into Hell slavery economic destruction Socialism, even though it appears that the vast majority of those in Washington, D.C. -- on both sides of the aisle, mind you -- seem to be using Atlas Shrugged as a game plan for ruining running the country.

[Aside: if you don't understand what I mean, pick yourself up a copy and read it. It's not just fiction anymore. The book's sales have also, in the first four months of 2009, tripled the total sales in all of 2008. Sheep People are waking up out there. Get it. Read it. And ask: "Who is John Galt?"]

No, I am not without hope. Just last month, a Prophet of God, His representative on Earth, Thomas S. Monson, urged the world to be of good cheer and have joy, and to have faith, and to never, never despair.

OK, so, I've already admitted here that I am falling short on good cheer, joy, and despair. Oops.

But I do have faith. And hope. And a loving caring family.

I am striving -- truly I am -- for good cheer, joy, and to remove despair.

I am also striving for my bliss.

"Bliss" has been much on my mind for the past year or so; my buddy JR in Salt Lake has a 50-year-old cousin that I've met a couple times. This is a really down-to-earth man who gave up the practice of law 4 years ago when the bankruptcy laws were changing. He started working with mortgages and saw the writing on the wall LONG before most of the rest of us did. He then dabbled with other areas of the law for a couple of years.

Then, a year ago, he abruptly up and quit to focus on his photography. He's loved photography, as a hobby, since he was in his twenties. JR has sent me examples of his work -- absolutely terrific work. I particularly like his floral work. He did some Olympic photos from the 2002 Olympics in Salt Lake that are stunning. One is a composite piece that I haven't seen anywhere else: it shows all the different photo-wrapped buildings, at night, all aglow, with fireworks in the background -- a seamless, amazing piece, even though there is no one spot in the Salt Lake Valley from where he could have taken one photo and show all the buildings.

But I digress.

This is what he does now. My buddy JR says that he's never been happier.

I truly envy him. I have gone to a couple of his shows, not just to give him moral support, not just to revel in the art, but also out of selfishness.

Yep. I think it is an act of selfishness, so that I can feed off that joy of his, to glimpse someone who is truly happy.

I truly cannot imagine anyone in this specialized field of bankruptcy work who is truly happy. No one I know gets any real joy out of it; oh, there are those who seem to enjoy it, but they're always so angry about something and are more confrontational than anything else. I cannot classify that as joy. Even those who are very good at it are certainly not happy or joyful.

Is this what adulthood means? I hope not.

Even when we help someone who truly needs our help, when we truly do Good, those feelings do not last long in the bruising, crushing, daily emotional miasma in which we bankruptcy attorneys live.

I know my friends in Salt Lake, JR and J, are not happy.

I know I'm not.

That's why I'm looking for my "bliss" whenever I have a chance.

I hope one day to find it and throw all this to the wind.

Or, barring that, to hire a junior attorney to do all the work while I manage the firm.

And still hunt for my bliss.

Hooray! The Olympics are over!

Hooray! The Olympics are over!

Oh. Wait.

You say there are still a few more days left?

Dang.

Don't get me wrong; I have actually enjoyed the events I have watched so far. It even sucked in the LW and the Horde. (I've even managed to keep my thoughts on mainland Chinese politics fairly quiet.)

But really, what's left?


OK, OK. I'll give you Track and Field. And Diving. Neither of which I can watch. Which is odd--my father was all-state in Track in high school. And I can watch Swimming.

But not Track. I don't know why. And not Diving. (I will confess this one is largely due to my own lack of knowledge about the sport. All I see are the twists and the splashes. The nuances are lost on me; one splash looks pretty much like another....)

I heard Glenn Beck ranting about this a couple days ago. Now, granted, a lot of what he said was tongue-in-cheek, but it got me thinking.

Trampolines.

Really, a sport?

I remember at the Athens games, I believe it was, watching the first events on Trampoline and thinking the same thing. My LW had never heard of it so the broadcast this past weekend shocked her.

Her first response was, "This is a sport? Really? Give me a break."

I think that's the general consensus. Please. Tell me I am wrong.

The IOC is dumping Baseball and Softball but keeping Trampoline and "Dancing around with a ribbon on a stick" A.K.A. "Rhythmic Gymnastics."

(Aside: For those of you who don't know, Rhythmic Gymnastics is "a sport in which single competitors or pairs, trios or even more (generally five) manipulate one or two apparatuses: rope, hoop, ball, clubs and ribbon. Rhythmic Gymnastics is a sport that combines elements of ballet, gymnastics, theatrical dance, and apparatus manipulation." Thank you, Wikipedia.)

Come on. It's hard for me to watch softball and baseball unless I am really bored (or the Red Sox are playing) but at least there is no argument that they are true sports.

Trampolines? Hoops and ribbon-sticks? Sports? Really? You think there may be a reason that the Rhythmic Gymnastics events on NBC are on Friday in the middle of the day instead of prime-time?

So I have an idea: what if we incorporate and merge some of these sports together? The "trampoliner" could begin the routine armed with a javelin, with which she targets the swimmers. "Outrun my Javelin of Doom, Communist Curs!"

What about letting the shot-putters and hammer-throwers have targets of their own: rather than just heaving for distance, we can put the rhythmic gymnasts out there holding out their hoops, dancing around. Then we get distance AND accuracy from -putters and -throwers.

Think about the ratings that would bring in.

Or even this: mounting the firearms competitors on the horses? We can have shooting from horseback; what's more American than that? (Aside: Except, apparently, ogling the beach volleyballers in their non-existent "uniforms." Don't even get me started on that, though.)

Think of the thrills, the spills! Then we'd have these competitors truly EARNING their medals.

Instead of bouncing around, fifteen feet in the air, twirling their stick-ribbons. Not that we could merge these two sports. Who would watch?

Now, if they were on trampolines straddling shark-infested pools.... That would bring in viewers.

Now, if we could just get mainland Chinese crooks liars murderous thugs evil Communist hate-mongers [ahem] government officials to participate in it. Then I would pay to watch. Big money.

Whoops.

Guess I was just banned in China.

But never fear, our intrepid American journalists will surely report on my plight if I were to be "disappeared" by the Chinese government, right?

Right.

Just like they're all falling over themselves to report on the continuing repression of speech and assembly. Just like they're racing each other to print the first story about how all the promises China made to the IOC in return for the Olympics (Tibet, civil rights, etc.) have been broken. Just like they're eagerly researching the truth behind the falsified passports for the pre-pubescent "sixteen year old" gymnasts or the inconsistent and inaccurate judging of the male and female gymnastic teams. Just like they cannot resist telling us what strange food they have eaten today.

Oh wait. They've actually done that one.

Several times.

All hail the Mighty Olympics.

One world, One dream.

So long as we're all speaking Chinese.

Guess I'm a step ahead of the rest of you on that one. See you all at the finish line.

It's almost over.

It's almost ALL over.