We Fall, We Get Back up

The Man In The Arena 
It is not the critic who counts;
not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles,
or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.

The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena,
whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood;
who strives valiantly;
who errs,
who comes short again and again,
because there is no effort without error and shortcoming;
but who does actually strive to do the deeds;
who knows great enthusiasms,
the great devotions;
who spends himself in a worthy cause; 
who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement,
and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly,
so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.
— Theodore Roosevelt

The Race To The Ark

It's been nearly 4 years since I first applied to be a volunteer fire fighter in Essa. Over the last year or so I've stepped up my game and stopped in to visit the chief every month to make sure he knew my name and see if the department was planning to recruit. Most times the conversation went really well. They could use guys that can speak in public, younger guys that are physically fit, guys that are available during the day, etc. He told me when they do recruit, I'm at the top of the list. (SCORE!) He also said they haven't hired in 4 or 5 years so a fall recruitment was inevitable... right?

No.

Earlier this week I connected with him and he delivered the dreaded: "We're good. No need to recruit this year."

I was bummed.

Like, really bummed.

I went up the road to Springwater and connected with the chief who told me I had a killer resume and if I lived closer I'd be a great candidate. I asked if he could guarantee me a spot if we did move, but he wouldn't make a commitment. I don't want to uproot the family for a 'chance' at a position.

[Flashback To January]
I was talking to a friend of mine about becoming a volunteer firefighter and he said he'd like to do that too. A mutual friend told him to call Oro Fire and see if they'd extend the boundaries so he could make squad even though he lived in the East end of Barrie. He called the next day and the chief said they were short guys so he could start training immediately.

Initially I was excited for him. I fully expected Essa would be recruiting in the fall and we could realize our dreams together. Well, yesterday my buddy officially finished his training and is now on the squad, while I'm floating out at sea.

I want to be happy for him, I am happy for him, but inside I'm dying. I've been trying for 5 years, he called on a whim and he's in while I'm still on the outside looking in.

I feel like a Blue Jays fan, excited about the off-season moves and the new, improved team that is favoured to win the World Series; only to have their heart ripped out and finish in last place.

While the snail made it to the ark, I'm pretty sure the cheetah had a better seat.
And you respond: "But the snail developed character"

I'm not about to give up on my way to the ark.

I'll make it.

Sometimes I just wish I was the cheetah instead of the snail.

BONUS CONTENT
This song has been my jam for the past couple weeks

Mistakes Make Good Stories

I had an interesting conversation with a friend this week. They were talking about how she loved those awkward first dates that bombed.

Weird huh?

Think about it though. Those times when things went sideways are etched in your memory. Those events that bombed make good stories.

No one wants to hear how awesome you are. They want to hear about the time no one showed up to your show.
The time when you burnt your eyebrows off lighting the bbq.
The time you bumbled and stumbled through your first date.

Why?

I think it's because you turned out alright, and it gives hope to the rest of us screw-ups.

Or maybe we jut want to laugh at your expense.