I cannot begin to relay how fundamentally destroyed I was to watch the tragedy unfold in Chardon this week. My prayers, thoughts, tears and heartache were and remain with the entire community as they try to piece together whatever went so horrifically wrong at the high school last Monday. It is truly every parent's worst nightmare.
I really was shaken to the core by this - overwhelmed by the senseless loss, terrified by the proximity to home.
And just when I thought I was at the point of bottoming out emotionally ... my favorite Monkee died.
Needless to say, I bid a humongous good riddance to February 2012 and hope for much better days in March.
And so, in an effort to drag myself - and hopefully others - out of the despair into a much lighter place, I thought and thought about what nonsensical silliness might distract us, and here's what I came up with: random life nuisances that are so ridiculously inane they're kind of funny.
Oh sure, there are the usual daily irritants that have me in stitches, which include but are not limited to: folks who take 48 items through the express check out line at Giant Eagle and the lady who has to put her bare feet on either side of me in the closer-than-this seating arrangements on the swim meet bleachers. OK, maybe "stitches" isn't exactly the right word. But, if you think about and envision it - it is actually pretty comical.
Not unlike the former pals who seem to have amnesia about your very existence until, that is, such time when they are forwarded an e-mail threatening life and limb or promising riches beyond belief if sent to 967 people in 27 seconds. Funny how that guy or gal from whom you have not heard in 12 years suddenly recalls precisely how and where to e-mail and/or text you for this very specific and singular purpose - and fast, too!
Speaking of stupid e-mails, I love the gobs of job ads I continue to receive even though I've discontinued my subscription to the career-seeker site 18,000 times. But the real kicker is the employment opportunities it's sending my way -?you know, applications for positions like classically-trained ballerinas and alpaca-herders or the Secretary of the Treasury of Zimbabwe.
And what about those fickle Facebook fiends, er, friends? How is it that your total friend count starts at 468, dips to 466 and then jumps back to 468 all in the course of a day? Look, man, do you like me or don't you?
Oh, and speaking of Facebook: a personal plea to all my friends on the social networking site. Please, please don't be mad at me for not playing Farmville, Foodville, Craftville, Balloonville, Rainbowville, or most any other ville - it's not you, it's me. I don't do the whole "games on Facebook" deal but hmm, maybe I'm starting to get why some of you dump me intermittently? I forgive you. Send me another request - I'm yours.
Then there's my buddy and Hubbard native Beth Wharton's biggest peeve: the person who walks past rows and rows of open sporting equipment only to climb onto the piece right alongside you at the gym.
"Dude, there are 84 open cross-trainers. You have to take the one right next to me?" she said, irritatedly.
True story. I always get that guy next to me. And he's usually sick with bubonic plague, has potty mouth football-watching tendencies or is an "American Idol" wannabe screeching in total tone deafness to the tunes busting out of his iPod. I hate that guy.
But I am his Facebook friend.
Kimerer is a Tribune Chronicle columnist. Contact her, preferably with happy or silly thoughts, at firstname.lastname@example.org.