Rose Colored Glasses

When I have a good day, I look upon life effervescently. I'm intelligent, a great boss who's fair and respected. I have a future in business management. My 401k is bulging pleasantly for my age bracket. I had a good day Wednesday. On Wednesday, I wore rose-colored glasses over my soul.


On Thursday, my glasses were smeared in excrement. Everything I experienced was seen through the glasses of my anxiety, my self-doubt. All of the sudden, I don't think on my feet quick enough. My people are conspiring to overthrow me. The concept of me in a business management career is laughable. My 401k is ridiculous because I have no idea what I'm doing and 30% in overseas mutual funds will pigeonhole my future self into utter dependence on the state.

It doesn't end there! Oh hell no! My rose/excrement colored glasses control my life! On Wednesday, my teeth were white and my hair looked good. On Thursday, my teeth were yellow and I thought I felt a bald spot. On Wednesday, co-worker laughter is with me. On Thursday, co-worker laughter is at me. On Wednesday, I drink 20 year old scotch. On Thursday, I drink Coors Light, 16 oz. wide mouth cans. On Wednesday, my life is good. On Thursday, my life is bad.

You know what the scary part is, though? Out of all my pairs of glasses, which are real? When do I experience life or look upon myself in true awareness? What is my total realization of what's real and what's a rose-colored lens altering my perception of reality?

There are things of which I'm sure, however. Those that remain constant regardless of which pair of glasses my soul is wearing for the day: my love for my girlfriend, my family, my friends, and juxtapositions of every kind. Those things are nice. But, still, I can't help but thinking sometimes that I'm the worst boss ever and my 401k will stagnate. Stupid glasses.