the tiny things you think only ALMOST outweigh all the big, terrible things, except that they actually do.

I never really understood the phrase, ‘this made my day so much better’, if up until that moment every ounce of shit and polystyrene had just been poured all over them, splash-zone style. The way I’ve seen it, a day can be terrible. That’s cool and that’s fine, so long as you have a bottle of Carta Vieja with a twistable cap on you at all times.

A terrible day is fine and should be respected and accounted for as a terrible day. If we didn’t do that, if we didn’t give terrible days the value they hold, how the hell are we ever going to be grow beyond them and let those craptastic shitstorms that were every part of those days no longer have ANY negative affect on us? It’s impossible to grow through our days any other way, ESPECIALLY if someone decides to suggest that because, I dunno, they found a four-leaf clover, or a butterfly took a nap on their Izod Polo Collar, SOMETHING IRRITATINGLY SERENDIPITOUS, at ANY part of the day… everything negative that happened has been suddenly erased, and now everything was sugar-coated peeps and rainbows, Erasure Always and spewing waterfalls of Hot Chocolate.

I don’t think a single action can make a day suddenly good if up until that point it’s been GOD AWFUL. But I do believe that it’s totally great and possible to end a piss poor day on a really great, sweet, and gratifying note. That’s how mine ended.

I started off with getting a pretty terrible grade on an exam I had been studying for over three weeks prior to the test.

I found out that my flight booked to visit my family for the fist time in a year would be on December 24th, at 11:10 PM.

Then a play of mine didn’t get into a ten minute festival. At my school.

Then there was all the incompetence at work. People taking off hours when they had promised to keep them so that others such as myself wouldn’t have to commit to working them when we were already working the Christmas Shift. Thus, the 11:10 PM flight time.

Then there was that girl at my work study job who takes faxing shit way too seriously. Like, STOP scrunching your nose. Shit’s gonna be FINE. 

Then the cough.

And that guy at the Kosher Cafe who insulted me for wearing a leather jacket. It was a nonverbal assault, mind you, but the way he glared at me and rolled his eyes at my furry collar… I know what he was thinking.

…Grand scheme. I’m realizing now. Like an idiot. It could have been worse. I could have been worse off. I could have been without power, or warmth, or a mom and a dad, or a couple close friends that I know would bail me out…

it all seems so petty now. But NOW is after the catalyst that WAS a few hours ago that made my terrible day end on a sweet note of revelation and self-discovery and pompous, pious, alliterative allusions to persuasive philosophy.

That catalyst was this:

sweet thangs.

It’s a piece of cardboard wrapped in a checked napkin with a white doily glued on top, some brown paper, and a handcrafted card that reads: ‘THOMAS, Thank you for being so present during our Hurricane Sandy scare. It made all the difference that you were there to guide us.”

Before I had eaten it, a handmade, freshly baked apple tart had been placed on top of the doily, and then wrapped in the paper. The paper was tied with yarn and then laced through the top of the thank you card.

The apple tart was of course, delicious, though considering the gesture, it could’ve been topped with Baking Soda and I wouldn’t have cared any bit less. It was flaky, sweet, gooey, and topped with thinly sliced apples I later found out were direct from Boston. A resident who I had looked over during the Blackout gave it to me.

It’s nice to end on a sweet note like that. For whatever reason, I think it’s this combo of ‘terrible day’ meets ‘sweet endings’ that makes you look back and really figure out how low you’ve been hanging your bottom lip in detest. All the terrible wore me to my bones down while that apple tart gave me a sugar rush.

No one really bakes for me.

I am very thankful to have had them there on this terrible day, for what they had given me.

The apple tart is the catalyst. Always, always, always. Goodnight.

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thoughts.

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