peak:
I'm alive.


valley:
No valley today.


noise:
Chris Ledoux:
"Riding for a Fall"


food:
Red Kool-Aid.


thoughts:
I'm happy with what I've got... but being a professional firefighter would be icing on the cake.


365.25:
11 June 2001
No entry.


730.50:
11 June 2000
New job. More confusion.

tuesday
06.11.02

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Quote du jour:
"I believe God is managing affairs and that He doesn't need any advice from me. With God in charge, I believe everything will work out for the best in the end. So what is there to worry about." (Henry Ford)


It's amazing how easy it is to lose perspective on life.

Jessie and I were driving to a furniture store located in the middle of nowhere to check out sofas, beds and such for my new place. About a thousand feet or so before the turn, I noticed that a large gravel truck was bearing down on me pretty hard.

I commented that I really needed to get the truck off my ass before I turned. I tapped the breaks. I used my turn signal. I thought I let him know my intentions. But as it came time for me to actually turn, he was quite oblivious to our car. When I slowed and stopped to wait for oncoming traffic on the two-lane road to pass, he never slowed down. He went to the shoulder of the road, just missing our car and never looking back.

I'm a horn honker by nature. I consider it an art form to appropriately convey an important message to another motorist using only the horn. Rarely to I yell. Even more rare is the flying of the bird. This is because the horn is my tool... And I let the son of a bitch have it. I used the long and hard "you damn near hit me" honk. His break lights never lit up. He obviously didn't get the message. I decided to seek further justice.

I put my foot on the gas and gave a little pursuit. No, I wasn't trying to catch him to kill him or anything. I didn't want to force his truck off the road into some deep ravine. This wasn't the movies, after all. I did plan to get his license plate number and notify the proper authorities. The things was, he was hard to catch. I didn't even begin to gain ground on him until the speedometer reached 93 or so. Of course, when I did catch up to him... he didn't have any plates. My attempt to notify the fuzz failed because the area we were in was so rural that 911 doesn't exist. I gave up, turned the car around and went to look at furniture.


A split second. A few feet. The hair on my chinny chin chin.

It's easy to forget how close we can come to it all being over. And what's more important than that is how easy we forget to appreciate being here in the first place.

I've been spending my days, my nights and everything in between fretting about my chances at getting a fire department job. I've been focusing on all of the ways I could lose this chance. I've been thinking about how the new apartment I applied for won't really be mine. And I've been thinking about how the new town that I've been making road trips to won't be mine, either. The problem with all that (other than the great deal of negativity) is that I wasn't keeping my eye on the prize. I wasn't looking at what I did have. And that gravel truck helped me remember those things.

I've got a college degree. I am, at least for now, still a firefighter. I've got good friends and good family. I have prospects for a career and a back-up plan, too. I'm on solid ground. Unfortunately, there are so many people out there lacking one or more of those elements in their life.

I'm blessed.

I just need to remember that.


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