I feel that I am wading through sludge. Every step. I keep telling myself: “I suck at everything.”
Every day is a fun trip to the sludge entertainment park. I ride the sludge roller coaster, go to sludge splash down park to prepare myself for the heavy duty amusement to follow. Then I take a mat and head to sludge super slide, where I experience a gut-twisting gliding motion right before I drop into a big barrel of sludge. Thanks to modern technology, I get the opportunity to experience vertical circular movements while swinging around the same trajectory. O the thrills of looping around 360 degrees while getting sprayed with sludge fountains that are synchronized to music. After a day full of fun hair-raising rides I suddenly find myself dropped in an endless pool of sludge, which I spend the rest of the day wading through. I suck at everything. I suck in the office. I suck at home. I suck at running. I suck at makeup. I suck as human being. I suck in every way possible.
Sometimes the sludge changes color which keeps my daily adventures interesting. There has been green sludge, purple sludge both have offered an uplifting change from the standard brown sludge. The best has been the sludge that seemed to be peppered with golden fairy dust. It sparkled all over and made me remember lights at the end of tunnels. But, golden fairy dust sludge is rare. Most of the time I get to wade through industry standard dark brown sludge. Don’t worry! …. the smell is not so bad. In fact, it only bothered me the first couple of days, I am so used to it now, I hardly notice it. To cheer myself up, I wear fancy wading pants. I might as well look good if I am going to be wading through sludge. My favourite are the red wading pants with big white polka dots. Although once I am all covered by sludge nobody can see that I am wearing my fancy red wading pants with white polka dots, wearing them gives me an instant confidence boost, which I am sure improves my attitude about the whole thing. I also like wearing my Body Shapers wading pants. They provide smooth and slick look to my body line, eliminating bulging on the thighs and the tummy control panel provides a firm look. I look like I have lost 50lbs when I put my Body Shaper wading pants in the morning. Too bad that once I am all covered in sludge nobody can tell my body shape any way. But I figure that if I ever manage to wade my way out of the sludge, I want to look slick. My favourite however are the designer wading pants that come with eyelash lace trim and refined butterfly stencil. This delicate yet sturdy creation makes me feel like a princess or a goddess of the olden enchanted days. Back when a damsel in distress could always count on a knight in shining armour to rescue her. But, just in case you live in the post hero modern days, these wading pants are chest height making it hard to wade in too deep. Also they come with an electronic cooling and heating device which I set on auto-regulation setting to guarantee optimum temperature throughout my wading experience. They also have extra seems which allow for more freedom of movement. Although I love my designer wading pants, I have only worn them twice. I find that dry cleaning with the lace trim too high. The dry cleaner mentioned that he never had to clean sludge out of lace and rebuked me for misusing such a delicate creation in a harsh activity. “Hey! They are wading pants. What do you expect me to do in them? Dance the Macarena?” I replied.
And yet, I have no answer to “how can I suck at everything?”
I don’t like anything about this sludgorama world. I don’t even like myself in it. Well! At least I haven’t lost my sense of humour. So I guess there one thing I do like. Hopefully I won’t lose it in this sludge bath.
Patience.
I am told I need to learn patience. For there are no short cuts and no efficient ways to get through this.
I have many great qualities and patience is not one of them. I face life’s challenges head on and straight ahead. No nonsense approach is my favourite approach. Just get on with it. I have no time for wallowing in self pity. No patience for bemoaning the unfairness of this world. “Who care? It is what it is and you just need to deal with it. Get on with it. Snap out of it. Do what needs to get done.” I usually tell myself. I want a quick answer to the question: “how to fix a broken heart?” and I want it now. But standing here, in this endless pool of sludge with no solid shore in sight, none of my usual vices seems to be working. The harder I work the more sludge is generated. My friend tells me that I need to read “The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle”. I tell her my power of now is “I want it now, right away, all at once”. She laughs at my foolishness and tells me “that is exactly why you need to read the Power of Now”. I am still traumatized after listening to friend’s recommendations to read “The Secret”. I felt my IQ was assaulted exponentially as I read it. I actually feel embarrassed by the fact that I read it. O the stupid things we do when we are desperate. I don’t need to read a book, I just need to use my common sense.
I refuse to learn patience. It is just not me. Patience is not my personality. I hate waiting for stuff, even the bus, even waiting in line at the supermarket. I am determined that this experience will not ruin my essence and teach me patience. I guess I am stubborn that way. Patience is for people who have nothing better to do that wait for stuff. Why wait for stuff when you can just run out and grab it? Yalla, yalla, andele, andele, come on and hurry up and get on with it. I want to snap my fingers to hurry things up. I am standing and fidgeting. Shifting my weight from one foot to the other. I am looking at my watch. I am biting my lower lip. Pulling at my hair. Tapping one foot, the other foot, then tapping my fingers. Are there any other impatient gestures that I can make? I am doing all the impatient stuff that I know how to do. Perhaps I should jump up and down? Maybe I should kick some object? Perhaps there is some secret impatient gesture that I don’t know about. I might try dancing the macarena in my designer wading pants after all.
I feel that I have been wading through this sludge for weeks. But at least I am not drowning in it. I will not learn patience.
Will I ever find an exit from this “I suck at everything” feeling?

After writing this blog post I saw this picture in the Vancouver Courier. The caption under the image says: Wader-wearing cityy worker Christina Wilcott has spent nearly two weeks in cold water in Stanley Park hanging lights for the annual Bright Nights in Stanley Park, a holiday-themed event that runs from Nov. 27 to Jan. 2.
After reading through 53 lines that describe wading in sludge while wearing a variety of outfits, I have to suspect the writer might be more modest about her capacity for patience than she would prefer her readers believe.