I never claimed to be Camus...

It's sad, really--my inability to post on a regualr basis. Regrettably, the marvelous journey of the magical, banana-eating panda has not yet been completed, but please--do stay tuned. I'm sittin' on a gem here with this one, folks. It'll be worth the wait.

In the meantime, my thoughts have drifted elsewhere.

This weekend marked my one year since I graduated from college. As I still consider myself a freshly hatched post-graduate something-or-other, I feel that i must reflect upon my forays into the adult world, which have produced many challenges, responsibilties, changes, and a host of other things I never quite expected.

The one challenge that is proving to be the most difficult, however, is learning how to be joyful in my daily life.

And I'm talking real joy. Not the grumbling and the griping and the occasional gasps of frustration that can be often heard from my corner of the office on a particular day.

No, I mean the joy that comes from the freedom of offering up your day with all of its inconveniences and sanctifying your work for the glory of God.

I used to think of saints in terms of all the great, heroic things they would do for God--martyrdom at the hands of persecutors, following His call into unknown lands to preach the Gospel, abadoning all comfort and familiarity for His sake, all the while leaving behind inspiring words of wisdom, penance, and prophesy for future generations to live by.

I realize now as an adult that these things are not the only requirements for sainthood. That being said, I truly admire those people who can live their lives with joy. Those people who, when faced with a frustrating person, react with patience and love and do not speak about him behind his back. Those people who, even when sick, radiate a calm happiness in the realization that this is the state God has allowed for them at that time.

I was stuck in traffic one time after a particularly grueling day. I was sitting there, nearly to the point of tears, not moving and wanting more than anything to just get home. I cannot describe my frustration and what seemed like hopelessness of the situation. And then I saw the moon.

That lovely, white orb was just ascending into the dusky crown of evening, beckoning me to persevere.  I was so struck by its otherwordly beauty, that I couldn't help but feel better.

It sounds slightly dramatic, I know, but I realized then that God puts beautiful things in our paths to alleviate the drudgery, to make us forget the weariness we might be experiencing, even if it is just for a moment.

I once read that the sign of an immature man is one who says he is willing to die for something and the true test of manhood is whether a man can live for something or not. As I get older and life progresses along the inevitable path of difficulty, I now see the true challenge of living a life according to God's will; namely, to accept what He gives me with joy and happiness because it is what He intends. That is the truest test of maturity.

And then I realize, how much happier would life be if my own grumpiness and ingratitude did not get in the way.

So now, as I lay here, I take comfort in knowing that beyond my frail and pallid earthly existence, something much greater than my feeble mind could ever fathom awaits. Perhaps that is why God gives us the moon every evening.

late night thoughts (a poem)

There is something so sublime about the rain.

Especially now that spring comes tip-toeing warmly in,

its as if i can see the flowers coyly emerging from the earth.

i love how its pitter-patter upon my window beckons softly for me to sleep,

as if to say, dream well, for when you awake the world will be reborn again.

O, comfort is the distant sound of cars

rushing through the street after a rainstorm.

Why, Yes, This Car Does Come in Crazy Woman Driver.

Few things infuriate me.

Sure, many things annoy me: my amazingly talented dog Pepper peeing my bed the day I wash the sheets, my lunch falling splat on the floor, the cancellation of 'Pushing Daisies' (that one still gets my goat two years later). These are the sorts of things that I can brush off.

But truly, it takes great skill to make me uncontrollably, blusteringly angry; among them, hypocrisy, intolerance, and Lady Gaga's "Born This Way."

Oh yes, brava, Lady Gaga. Brava.

There are times, however, in which my own anger will lash out with a great dragon lady furor that surprises even me. Might I add that this sort of anger fails to intimidate. People usually laugh.

My display this evening is a great example of both these things.

As I was driving home this evening, "dee dee dee" blithely minding my own business, I find myself pulling up next to a tin lunch box of a truck. Suddenly, in one of those moments when you nearly soil yourself because you forsee the doom that is about to occur, that little metal truck veers sharply into my lane out of nowhere, forcing me to wrench my precious ass off the road. And then off he goes, ZOOM!

I was infuriated. Sonofagun nearly killed me for no apparent reason. And dammit, I told myself, am I going to give him a piece of my mind.

So I floored the gas pedal and sped up next to him, rationalizing the whole way with feverish intensity that this poor excuse of a driver needed to know what he had done. My plan was to honk and to yell at him through my closed, sound-proof window. He would heed my anger and repent.

I pulled up next to him, laid on the horn with my mighty hand, and, without even thinking, flipped him the bird.

Ladies & Gents, let me assure you that me giving you a solid "F--- you" with my rather bony and angular finger would make you laugh, given the intensity with which I would mean it. I think once you would get over the shock of ME flipping you off you would laugh heartily. Typically, this is why I avoid using such a gesture. It's laughable, awkward, and a tad shocking.

Dude wasn't even looking.

So not only was my anger completely pointless, as most anger generally is, but then I was left with the guilt of maliciously making an obscene gesture towards my fellow man, as initially unintentional as it was.

I think the severity of flipping the bird tends to be lost on my generation. My thoughts immediately drifted to an episode of "Law and Order: SVU" in which an elderly lady enters a confessional to tell the priest that, among her sins, she was guilty of "flipping my neighbor the boid." Then, of course, when the priest doesn't answer she looks over and finds him dead in the confessional booth. Grim, I know.

For some reason, I think that scene has always kept me from giving the finger willy nilly until now. Not because a priest died but because...you know what? Nevermind.  It left an impression.

No more "flipping the boid" for me, folks.

So if that reckless driver who almost killed me but didn't could know one thing right now, it would be this: Thanks for making me look like a crazy woman driver.

I think Jo Koy says it best:

'Nuff said.

Welcome to the Snowpocalypse

As Captain Obvious would point out, Kansas has been hit by a blizzard, the likes of which have not been seen since 1982.

I would know. I had to dig myself out of it this morning.

And while I very much enjoyed watching it poop snow all evening; and while, with slightly perverse humor, I admit I kinda enjoy watching people getting stuck attempting to enter my street, I have realized that, dammit, I'm stranded, too. I literally cannot leave my block. Consequently, I have not left the vicinity of my house in two days.

I would like to think that i am immune to cabin fever. After all, I am happily enjoying my snow days and have been amazingly productive.

But now I'm starting to notice things.

I caught myself wearing a pair of red faux-bans in the house. A strange dog was running around in the backyard, but then he suddenly disappeared. Now I find myself writing a story about a magical, hibernating, banana-eating panda, cast out of his judgemental panda community for his strange ways.

It is an epic, tragically comic tale.

Needless to say, I have never been more ready for spring.

Punxsutawney Phil--you better not deceive me, you little fart.

-Kiernan

...And the Battle Begun.

Beginnings are one of the most difficult things to start with.

To be honest, the whole reason I've delayed writing my own blog is simply because I didn't know how to begin it. But, lo and behold, here I am. I bit the proverbial bullet of my own procrastination and am now dragging you all in with me. It can only get better from here. 

Truly, it all began with a splat. 

And let me tell you, it was a magnificent splat, indeed. 

I was hungry (as I often am) and it was lunchtime. I am not ashamed to admit that like some strange gastronomical solar system, most of my day revolves around food and when I am going to eat it. True to form, I had been looking forward to my lunch of leftover roast beef and potatoes all morning and by 11:30 am--BAM! that sucker was in the microwave. Suddenly, however, it all went awry.

As I was pulling my lovely roast and potatoes out of the microwave, the ziplock container suddenly wasn't in my hands anymore. 

It was one of the moments when your mind slows everything down and yet your body is still unable to react quickly enough to stop what you already know is going to happen. It was a bonafide "Aw, shee-it," moment.

SPLAT. Container burst asunder with mashed roast beef and potatoes all over the floor. My lunch. Gone. 

Normally, I would have gone all Hulk-Smash on that container's ass, but there were people around. Plus,   I realized that, of course, only I would manage to ruin my own lunch in such a dramatic fashion. The delicious smell of curried roast even seemed to mock me from down below on the dirty floor. Sonofahamster. 

Despite it all, and getting to the point of all this rambling, is that my clumsiest and most awkward moments seem to be my best. Like yesterday, when I bought some tea but proceeded to spray it all over myself and my car trying to open it. These sorts of things seem to happen all the time and there's nothing I can do to stop them. 

So here's what I say: I'm going to share these moments with you as often as I can in the most poetic way possible because that's who I am and that's what I do. 

Of course there will be other things, too. But for today, be content in knowing that, even though your day may not have been the greatest, at least you didn't lose your lunch to the floor.