on protesting pain

and yelling at clouds

Oh, dear reader, I’m in pain!

Pain, most foul!

Not only am I in pain, but I have pain!

This pain is in my neck.

Does that therefore mean that I am in my neck?

Read that back and let me know if it makes any sense because the logic here is weak at best.

Regardless of that, my neck and shoulders hurt and I’m cranky because of it.

I’d like to say that my neck and shoulders are making me cranky, but they’re part of me. I’d essentially be saying that I’m making myself cranky. This leads to a bigger question dear reader:

If I made the pain, did I also make the emotional reaction to it?

Did this all come from me?

Or,

Can I find a way to blame this on protesters.

To be clear: I am not a fan of either protests nor protesters. Though not a part of my body, they can be a real pain in the neck.

My reaction to people throwing soup or affixing themselves to a busy road with super glue is fairly automatic - like muscle memory.

And muscle memory?

That’s how I ended up with a pain in the neck.

Right now though, as I write this, I’m trying to determine which memory is causing me such pain.

My basement door is only half size. It’s under the back deck. We call it the troll door. Mostly because I’m the one who uses it the most and my family know me for who I am.

We could call it the dwarf door, but then we may end up targeted for protests by a bunch of little people.

And that?

That would be a real pain in the neck.

It’s true!

All of that time spent looking down sos not to step on them might cause a large degree of neck strain.

But let’s return to my troll door for a moment, dear reader. Having lived here over ten years meow, I’ve grown quite used to where, when and how deep to duck when going inside the troll door.

It’s become muscle memory - as second nature as brushing my teeth or adjusting my balls. I do it so automatically, I don’t even notice I’m doing it.

But there’s been a problem.

The weather.

The weather has sucked and I have a pain in my neck.

In some ways then, the entire world has become a pain in the neck.

The big issue? Snow. Snow has thrown everything off.

You see, there has been a three inch accumulation of snow that’s been packed down outside of my troll door. And that snow has been problematic to my lived experience.

When muscle memory has told me to duck a certain amount, the accumulation of snow has laughed.

The snow’s been laughing at me because both yesterday and the day before I smacked my head on the deck as I ducked to go in through the troll door.

It’s a terrible, terrible thing dear reader.

I’ve seen stars and tweety birds. I even had a headache for a day!

Laura told me that I may have a concussion.

But I don’t believe in concussions, so that absolutely must not be true!

I don’t merely have muscle memory. I have injury memory. This injury feels familiar. This injury feels like the kind I had after digging out a basement.

I spent hours each day moving snow in my back yard. This injury may be my muscles remembering how much I worked and protesting. It may be a strike or a walk out. Hell, my muscles might even be throwing soup at the Mona Lisa that is my upper back.

So, I’m stuck with the question: Do I have a pain in my neck because I spent too much time shovelling snow, or do I have a pain in my neck because I acted out of muscle memory and attempted to knock down my house with my forehead?

Either way, there is one culprit to blame: The snow. Whether it put my back out through over exertion or knocked my neck shorter due to accumulation, the snow is defiantly the cause of my misery.

Maybe I should go and protest?

I am an old man. Yelling at clouds is both my birthright and destiny.

Either way?

I’m in pain because of things that exist beyond my control.

And protesting seems to be a cure for this affliction.

So I guess I’ve decided dear reader. I need to go and protest the weather.

Though, I won’t stop the traffic.

A good snowfall (the weather) will take care of that well enough on its own.

The point dear reader?

The point of this foolsletter is that we’re going to get hurt by things beyond our control.

Each time it happens will be its own unique pain. And though new, it will feel familiar.

But if you want to eliminate or prevent pain through protest?

You might as well go shout at clouds.

You’ll be just as effective.