Caryn's 7 Stages
(For those of us who need more than 5.)
Last night was one of single the worst three hour spans I have ever experienced. My world fell apart at 8:45 PST and I don't know how to put it back together. 41-14.
How does this happen? I was in class for the first quater, but I don't think that had an impact. Tressel has never let me down and I never imagined that the Sweater Vest would be watching as a whole belief system failed.
It's like someone dislocated all my limbs, set them imporoperly, allowed me to be stung by 100 yellow jackets and then catapulted me on the 55 Eastbound at 6:10 on a Thursday evening.
1. Shock.
2. Profanities that sometimes involved people's parents.
3. Sadness: from about 8 o'clock on I sounded like a wounded animal whining while Farmer Joe loads his rifle.
4. Anger.
5. Blame. The refs for all the questionable calls. The BCS. Fox, for putting in so far away from the game. ESPN for talking OSU up so much. Mr. Murdoch. Myself. Jim Tressel. God (for letting that happen to Ginn).
6. Barginning. At one point I asked God to allow Ohio to win this game, even if we have to lose to Michigan next year. (Considering that He didn't hold up His end of the bargin, I assume Ann Arbor next year is a lock.)
7. Cardio. As soon as the game ended I hit the rowing machine for in a last ditch effort to produce some endorphins. Few things normally make me happier than rowing with Mike and the bots. Did it make me want to sing zippiddy doo dah? Zippiddy Day? No, but at least it gave me a nondestructive outlet for my feelings.
I doubt I will ever reach 'accpetance', nor will I become a famed palative care worker, but these seven stages helped me walk through the Valley of the Shadow, and out of the Valley of the Sun.
Last night was one of single the worst three hour spans I have ever experienced. My world fell apart at 8:45 PST and I don't know how to put it back together. 41-14.
How does this happen? I was in class for the first quater, but I don't think that had an impact. Tressel has never let me down and I never imagined that the Sweater Vest would be watching as a whole belief system failed.
It's like someone dislocated all my limbs, set them imporoperly, allowed me to be stung by 100 yellow jackets and then catapulted me on the 55 Eastbound at 6:10 on a Thursday evening.
1. Shock.
2. Profanities that sometimes involved people's parents.
3. Sadness: from about 8 o'clock on I sounded like a wounded animal whining while Farmer Joe loads his rifle.
4. Anger.
5. Blame. The refs for all the questionable calls. The BCS. Fox, for putting in so far away from the game. ESPN for talking OSU up so much. Mr. Murdoch. Myself. Jim Tressel. God (for letting that happen to Ginn).
6. Barginning. At one point I asked God to allow Ohio to win this game, even if we have to lose to Michigan next year. (Considering that He didn't hold up His end of the bargin, I assume Ann Arbor next year is a lock.)
7. Cardio. As soon as the game ended I hit the rowing machine for in a last ditch effort to produce some endorphins. Few things normally make me happier than rowing with Mike and the bots. Did it make me want to sing zippiddy doo dah? Zippiddy Day? No, but at least it gave me a nondestructive outlet for my feelings.
I doubt I will ever reach 'accpetance', nor will I become a famed palative care worker, but these seven stages helped me walk through the Valley of the Shadow, and out of the Valley of the Sun.
posted by The Proprietor at 1:31 PM
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