Welcome to the last day of August 2018.
I have been weighed, I have been measured, and I have been found wanting. Lunch today featured a selfie at a local bar with a tenderloin in hand, which is where my rock bottom lies, since I don't really do alcohol as most do. And why? Why have I come to this over-dramatized pose of despair and failure?
Today is the deadline day to turn in the John H. Watson Society Treasure Hunt. And my answer sheet is missing about a third of the answers. We're looking at about a "D+" at best on a grade school test. That score that gets you held back a year. I've got my excuses: Going it alone. (Pride fail?) World of Warcraft expansion release. (Addiction?) That St. Louis weekend and its attendant projects/duties/added efforts. ("Professional" distractions? Trying to go kind of Sherlock-y with the excuses, as you might have noticed.) But even with excuses, there is still going to be a grim acceptance that has to happen to hit the "send" button on the e-mail to the quiz-commander.
And it makes for a moment to stop and look at every other failure in my Sherlockian life. The scion society that died under my watch. The website full of data I killed. The opportunities I said "no" to that were big mistakes (and continue to do such). The friendship (or two) that I completely destroyed. Being kind of a dick about a TV show some people love. And let's not even get into my life as a Baker Street Irregular. Man, I just suck.
And yet . . .
I'm very lucky in that, with all that, I don't suffer from true depression or another of life's real issues. I can put on a good show of despair in a dark moment, but there are "humble brag" aspects to all of that whining above, and I'm actually doing okay. I can sit in a bar and compare Sherlockian "battle scars" like Quint in Jaws with the best of them. And I'm still moving. Because every failure offers an opportunity to rise up once again. Some wonderful folk have the ability and perseverance to just keep rising in life (or at least give the appearance of such), and some of us get to enjoy getting knocked down and rising up to the same height over and over again, maybe gaining a few more inches each time. Or not.
But just to be still standing, at some point, is enough. Turning in a partially finished Treasure Hunt challenge tonight is a statement that, "Yes, I'm still here, still a Sherlockian. And I'll be back again for the next thing, whether it succeeds or not."
So it's the last day of August. See you next month, when we're all having at something else.