No such thing as a bad day

Horror movies and classes – things have been quite morbid lately. Last Shakespeare class had Lavinia running around newly raped, handless and tongue-less. In American Lit we are reading Dispatches, which is basically a play by play gore report from the Vietnam War.

The class before that we watched a movie on the Kennedy’s assassination tape. It showed his head explode at least a dozen times. Yes, that got old. What was strange every time was Jacki attempting to scoop up the brains from the hood of the trunk.

I almost wrote that today was a bad day. It wasn’t. It wasn’t sunshine and gingersnaps, but it wasn’t horrible.

I don’t think I’ve had a bad day yet and all of this gore is a continual reminder of that.

Zombies tearing through the halls, your husband’s head exploding from an assassin’s bullet, being raped and mutilated Shakespeare (or Hialeah) style,… being forced into a jungle where you’re hunched in a pool of leeches to avoid being capped by some random, looming sniper…

that’s a bad day.

So being tired, cranky, too hot outside and too cold inside (my private school classroom) doesn’t seem to qualify does it?

There’s room for improvement of course, but that’s all up to me (isn’t that nice?). My day probably wasn’t good as Trump’s or King’s. I have time though.

And, I’m well aware that Trump and King are probably working before I even condescend to get out of bed. Again, all things to work on and hopefully achieve before I truly have a bad day.