Pong

Progression: The act of moving forward; a proceeding in a course; motion onward. 

I am walking as carefully as I can through the world right now.  I'm a guy with a bit of a temper if by "bit" you mean "a huge bag."  I'm also not very patient when I'm not getting my way.  I'm not very patient when I am getting my way, come to think of it.  I like things to move steadily forward to a conclusion of which I approve.  When this doesn't happen I get impatient and when I'm impatient I get pissed.  See how this works?  It's called a progression, like malignant cancerous cells marching inexorably through a healthy organism.

I'm also dealing with the unknowns of a world absent a father.  Who knows how this is supposed to go?  It's not like you get a bunch practice deaths to figure out how to do it.  It isn't sex, for chrissake, it's death.

I'm kind of an Atari pong ball right now, slowly bouncing back and forth between clumsy paddles. I have four or five tasks on my "Dealing With Dad's Death List" and one day they go well and I'm happy, and then the very next day my list goes to shit and I'm inconsolable in my outrage at the world for not working out the way I want it to work out.  

I had a day like that yesterday.  I went to bed last night thinking: "I'm going to take tomorrow off.  I'm not going to try to return the Atari pong ball back to an uncaring universe."  So I get up, check my computer, see some messages come in, see that most of the problems - while not solved - are marching forward.  I guess I do stuff and it helps or it doesn't and I wait and I wait and I wait for an answer or I don't have to wait for very long at all.

I have no idea what's going on most of time.