It is a dreary day outside. Rain has fallen sporadically, dark clouds loom on the horizon. A storm is brewing somewhere.
This morning, I met with a man and we had a splendid conversation. As we spoke, the topic turned to a novel titled, Great Expectations. It seems my life is cluttered with expectations of how people should act. Or perform their duties. Or speak. The list goes on and on. Whom am I to deign what is right or wrong? When did this miserable fop replace the fun-loving kid, I used to know?
I don’t have all the answers, but I am going to blame the Army.
What is all the root causes of my great expectations? It could have to do with the fact that there are standards in life. There are standards of living for example. Are you poor, middle class, or rich? Sergeants are the standard bearers. They carry their unit’s expectations. You know where you find them? In the front, leading the charge into the thickest fighting. No one ever said it was going to be easy. Living up to expectations should not be undertaken by wimpy people.
I am wrong to place such heavy burdens on people’s shoulders, for that, I do apologize.
As my conversation with this man continued, I realized I can’t place my expectations on them. They don’t place any on me. I am the emotionally retarded person I have always been. If I am in the clear when it comes to expectations, why shouldn’t they be? I should be focused on how blessed I am to have these people in my life, not focused on how they deal or don’t deal with issues.
Thus, a conclusion has been reached. My great expectations must be eradicated. Ya’ll wish me luck.
16 December 2019