January 20 - Aftermath

When he saw the footage of the aftermath of the typhoon--the vast swaths of beach that had been wiped out; the families who'd had next to nothing to begin with and were now homeless; the widows; the parents who'd lost children; the orphans; the sheer and utter devastation--something inside him clicked, and he was able to see his own life in an entirely new light. Things were good. He had a job, money, and a nice apartment. He was healthy, he had friends, and he lived in a country where things were normal, things worked. And shouldn't that be enough?
He decided that it was enough and that from that day on he would keep things in perspective, appreciate what he had, and never complain about anything again.
Toward that end, he slowed down and savored his life. He got in touch with old friends, called his parents, and cooked. On his way home from work he let people in his lane, and he didn't get upset at other drivers. He listened to good music and never let a chance pass him by to do something nice for a friend. His mantra became Life is too short and we should celebrate the time that we have.
It lasted about three days and came to an end when he found himself swamped at work, having to wait on a simple email from his boss that wouldn't require her to write more than one or two sentences, but for some unfathomable reason she was dragging her feet, just refused to reply to his daily reminders, which meant significant delays on a project that was already behind schedule and couldn't get started until he'd received that email. That one stinking email.
On the personal front, the woman he'd been seeing for a couple of weeks hadn't called him back from when he'd called her and left a message on Tuesday, and now it was Thursday, and they didn't have plans yet for the weekend, and it was stressing him out because he dug her and he could've sworn she dug him, and all he wanted was to set something up for the weekend so they could keep this whatever it is you want to call it going and not have it lose momentum. But like seemingly every other woman in his life, she wasn't getting back to him and he didn't want to seem pushy, so he had to play this stupid waiting game and it made him feel powerless and he hated that.
And so after only three days of being good he was back to being the same guy he had been before he'd heard about the typhoon. And he stayed that way until he heard about the suicide bomber that killed more than 20 people at an outdoor market in Afghanistan, and it shook him to his core. That's where people lived, that was their day to day lives: War, suicide bombers, living in fear every day, the Taliban. And even without that, what was there? Poverty, illiteracy, disease. And I'm complaining about some chick who won't return my calls right away? A project that's slowed down by a couple of days at work? My God, man. Get a grip. At least I have a job at an office with walls and a ceiling. And if things don't work out with Jen I can find somebody else. I can find hundreds of somebody elses. Life? My life? It's good. I'm good, and it's time I remember that.
It lasted a little longer this time, but not much.There was road construction on the way to work. Again. And yeah, by all means, tear up that perfectly good pavement, mess it way the hell up, and then take forever putting it back together, because that's a brilliant use of my taxes: making my morning commute all that much suckier. And speaking of sucky, yeah, why would we need the heating system at the office to work during the winter? Why would we ever bother fixing it at all? Eventually it will be spring again and then we won't need it anymore anyway. Let's just wait it out!
And then he saw the footage of the earthquake, and there was nothing he could say. Tens of thousands feared dead, aid unable to get to where it needed to go, armed looters prowling the streets at night, the prospects of additional rescues dimming with each passing day. And even once the situation stabilized, things were going to be bad for a very, very long time.He watched the TV and read the dispatches with the same shock, heartbreak, and nausea that everyone else did and he didn't even make any resolutions to himself this time because it wasn't about him, it was about them. He sent money to the Red Cross and he followed the story through the next few days as best as he could, but it didn't last.
He got pissed off when his computer froze and he had to restart it, and then the elevator was taking forever to get down to his floor, and then during his lunch break he was stuck behind the slowest walker in the world. And somewhere underneath his frustration with all the slowness, incompetence, and inefficiency that surrounded him, way down beneath it all, on a subconscious level, he also felt a deep sense of shame, fear, and inadequacy, because no matter how many times he swore he would appreciate his life and how good he had it, he knew he never would. Not until one of these tragedies happened to him.