...some days...

I once had an algebra teacher who, if you did poorly on a test, would say, Some days you eat the bear. Some days the bear eats you.

As a 16 year old, this phrase annoyed me to no end.

As a 35 year old, I fully understand it.

There are days when you wake up refreshed and ready for anything that might be thrown at you.
You use your shower time to, not only star in your own Broadway show, but also solve most of the world's problems.
You're put together physically and mentally.
On time? Forget on time. You're, like, 15 minutes early.
And you even stop to grab some coffee from your local spot.
Maybe you even have it together enough to bring coffee to a coworker.
Look at you, acting like Jesus and everything.
You crush it at work.
You crush it at the gym.
You crush everything.
You. Are. Getting. It.

And then there are some days...

You over sleep and run out the house with soaking wet hair, praying to God you payed enough attention as you ripped clothes out of your closet Tasmanian Devil style to have grabbed something that matches.
You spill the coffee that your coworker was nice enough to bring you all over your shirt.
You forget how to act like Jesus because you are overtired from your life that both exhausts you and bores you to tears.
You are irritated because everyone's breathing is the absolute worst noise in the entire universe.
And who is CHEWING LIKE THAT!?
You have a terrible day at work.
The gym? Forget the gym. You grab take out on the way home and eat it on the couch while you binge watch Making a Murderer on Netflix.
You feel like you are being crushed.
You. Are. Getting. The. Furthest. Thing. From. It.

Let's just keep it real here, kids.
I am not eating the bear.

I wouldn't necessarily say that the bear is eating me, either, though.
Not quite yet, anyway.

He is definitely sitting in the corner sizing me up and licking his lips.
I think I may have even seen him tying a napkin around his neck - a bib to catch, not only my blood, sweat, and tears, but my heartbreak, tiredness, and frustrations.

Actually, I see it more like that scene in The Empire Strikes Back when the Wampa has Luke in it's lair.
The Wampa is just sitting there snacking on the Tauntaun while it has Luke hanging upside down by his frozen boots.

That's me.
I'm Luke.
I'm the second course.

All I have to do now is take and deep breath, close my eyes, and let the force flow through me so I can dislodge my lightsaber from the ice block and cut myself out of the frozen cave roof. I'll chop off the Wampa's arm (and not eat it, because, gross) and run off to face certain frozen death whilst mumbling something about Ben, Yoda, and Dagobah.

But if Han Solo comes to rescue me at the end of this mess, it will have been well worth it.

Tauntaun stench and all.