If you are anything at all like me (thank God if you're not!), there are days when you just know something is going to fall out of the sky and it is going to land on you, personally, out of all the billions of people on the planet.
Yesterday, I spent the entire day in a building devoted to keeping records that only people like me have any interest or reason to peruse. I get paid to do historical research. I spent five hours, five hours within a finite lifetime, researching a guy who died before the turn of the 20thCentury.
He isn't famous. No one living on the planet today ever met with this man. Insofar as I can tell, he was mentioned in the newspapers only three times: he appears twice, each time he was wounded in the Civil War battles of Winchester and, again at Cedar Creek, where he had both arms carried away by a cannon shell.
He was mentioned a final time when he died. He dropped dead leaving a Sunday church service preached by his brother, a former Rebel gunner who, during the Battle of Cedar Creek, did everything in his power to kill the guy I was researching. In the end, it was the overlong Rebel preaching that killed him, so his Confederate brother finally got the last word, didn't he.
The man I researched was a Union soldier. His brother was a Confederate soldier. It was a clear cut case of sibling rivalry. And that is noteworthy, but that is not why he should have been mentioned a fourth time in the newspapers.
He should have been mentioned for carrying off the marrying of a 15-year-old gal at the age of 55, a girl with whom he fathered four children despite not being able to hold on, in the saddle! How in the hell does an old fart with no arms, no money and no estate land a fecund, 15-year-old hottie (her picture was in the paper, too) and father four kids with her? It was sheer determination.
Men like this man are the reason why the Union Army won the Civil War!
And I was really excited about my insight, so I told my boss. She told me I was wrong. She said it was "interesting but not at all odd." What is odd, she said, is the fact that I have no discernible penis and yet that didn't stop me from fathering two children. She is still angry because of my performance on our first, last and only date!
I don't give a shit what she thinks because the guy I was researching is a real Civil War hero, and, even though he was a damned Yankee, he was also one of my great-grandfathers on my mother' side. These days, I'll take my fucking heroes wherever I can get them!
Anyway, right outta the blue, when my professional life was on the edge of greatness, my bitchy boss rained crap on my parade. Then, on my way home, at the bus stop, a bird shit on my forehead, right outta the blue sky.
I do not necessarily believe in a just God. But if there is a God, she has been pissed off at me since I was born. It's because I am a man, isn't it? God had some left-over stuff and she made men out of it and condemned our sex to almost making it, until, ultimately, we are allowed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.
If you believe that you have a shitty life, and you are a woman, you have no concept of a shitty life! God is on your side.