Everything is Awful

Here's a hot take from my current life soundtrack: The Decemberists' "Everything is Awful." It's not just an earworm; it's the anthem of my current work saga, a tale of enthusiasm meeting the brick wall of what I'll call "maybe they won’t notice management.”

My Apple Watch, doubling as my emotional support device, has been subtly hinting (read: screaming) that my breathing's been off the charts since the semester kicked in. It seems my body's not a fan of the extra… extra at work.

But here's the twist: despite the administrative angst, I'm finding odd comfort in the controlled burn theory. It's like clearing the underbrush of my professional forest, making room for new growth—or, at the very least, a better view of the sky.

"Everything is awful"? Sure, but only if you forget to laugh at the absurdity of it all. There's a weird grace in admitting life's a mess. It's in the chaos that we find those moments of brilliance, of belly laughs, and of sheer, stubborn resilience.

Facing a barrage of well-meaning but soul-stealing management, it's crucial to remember: this too shall pass. Our trials and tribulations are just the controlled burns of our personal and professional landscapes, prepping the soil for whatever wildflowers decide to pop up next. Or at least they can be.

Remember: the destruction of things that need to be destroyed is actually creative energy.

I say this in Controlled Burn:

…It is good to be weird. We owe it to each other to be different. And so what I see for myself is continuing a life with all of that in mind, with a special blessing on my head. What was a curse — a fiery, alienating, traumatic, destructive force — can be inverted and transformed into blessing. You just have to burn the right stuff.

Let me return to something I said earlier: burning is a feature of a bonfire, not a flaw. There are people who will argue with you about that, who will quibble over the temperature of the thing, who will wring their hands over errant sparks and hot knuckles. There are those who will stand resentfully at the back of the party and accuse the storytellers of oversharing. There are those who will micromanage the Controlled Burn rather than just manage it. A bonfire does not care about these things – not even the metaphorical kind. This is its grace, burning up needless anxiety and obedient thinking, and it is good. The job is to burn.

So, I'm cranking up my life's soundtrack, "Everything is Awful" on full blast, and choosing to hear a battle hymn of perseverance, humor, and a touch of rebellion. After all, after every good burn, the ground is fertile, ready for new seeds to sprout—hopefully, into something less awful, more awesome.

Put new words in your mouth.