In the hockey game that is life...

Tolerance.

Lately, I just don't have it...and it's not a good look for me. I feel like Mark Zuckerberg in The Social Network. Seriously, that's me when I'm "fighting" with someone. I bust out my big-girl vocabulary and try to insult/out-wit the person in the most intelligent way possible. The only difference? I'm not a genius...and I don't talk nearly that fast.

But, back to my point: I need to work on my tolerance level. I don't know what it is with me lately. Maybe it's Sid and Geno's extended absences from games. Maybe it's the horrific snow and ice storms we've been having. Maybe it's the fact that I can't see my bedroom floor because of all of the clothes. Maybe I miss my brother. Maybe I'm already mourning the end of football season. Maybe I miss college and my friends. Maybe it's because I'm officially nocturnal and I experience sunlight as often as a Cullen. Maybe I'm sick of feeling sick. Maybe it's because my Dad got home from Italy on Monday and is leaving for the Dominican Republic today (jealousy). Maybe I want desperately to find a job and have no idea where to look. Maybe it's all of these things...but really, I need to get a grip.

Tonight, when I saw what Jordan Staal did to Brandon Prust, I heaved a huge sigh of relief. THAT is exactly what I want to do to life right now. I'm tired of life, elbowing me in the face, and I'm tempted to throw a dirty punch.



...but then, I realized that not only did Staalsy get a five-minute major penalty, he got a match penalty. That's right. The referees deemed him to be 'too dangerous' to continue in the game and he was thrown out for its remainder...and tomorrow's game, too.

So, in this extended metaphor, I'm Jordan. All of my complaints are Prust. Fittingly, life is the hockey game. Sure, Prust is being a bitch - tossing an elbow up haphazardly, making Jordan's task a bit complicated. Sure, it feels satisfying to retaliate in dramatic fashion and see Prust writhe around on the ground like a snail under a salt shaker. However, what I need to remember is that I could easily get kicked out of the game at any moment...whether it be by match penalty or injury. In the end, is it worth all the frustration...and the harsh retaliation? No.

I need to bite my tongue. I need to take a few deep breaths. I need to write it out. I need to leave Lebanon for a hot minute. But, most of all, I need to QUIT complaining.

...and I most definitely shouldn't be throwing any left hooks.

*I apologize for the poor analogy. I realize it's a stretch, but what I really wanted to do was provide some perspective on life's complications while showing you how much of a man Jordan Staal is.*