Crap Happens

I have a short fuse when it comes to personal failure - I mean my personal failures for whatever reason - I have no problem when other people fail, I am understanding and forgiving, often quipping that 'crap happens' and letting them off the hook for any subsequent problems. Not so for myself. I still expect perfection.

Today's little failure has to do with the digital camera that I have used successfully for well over a year. It came with a 128mb card and we bought a 1gb card for it this summer. It works well on the 1gb card, but the USB card reader that came with it doesn't. I finally figured out why a few minutes ago, it only reads up to 512 "DOH!". I mean really, if the camera works well with the card, why wouldn't the reader? It's a fairly normal assumption I figure, except that on page 106 in a 119 page manual, there it is in small print...

We do have a laptop that will accommodate the 1gb card but that means that the laptop has to be here and not at the office with David to make this $50.00 piece of technology useful. And since patience is not one of my stronger points, I throw little fits like I did this morning. I tried the reader in both desktops, found a mini-USB cable and discovered that not all mini-USB cables are the same.... threw a fit.

I discovered, once again, that when something that is supposed to be simple becomes complicated for no apparent reason that I can't stand it. I have no patience with it or myself for not being able to figure why this seemingly simple thing has become so difficult so I go off on an "ain't I stupid crying jag" that would be downright embarrassing if anyone were ever to see it. I am also pretty certain that I am not the only person in the world who 'over-reacts' to small failures though.

The thought is this, why do we make such a huge deal out it? Why do we carry-on as though a solution to the issue is near impossible and that it is near fatal to our daily existence? Why do we allow these little failures to overshadow so many of our other daily successes?

I did succeed in taking the required photographs in a timely manner. The photographs look good for having been quick point & shoot. The only real failure here was in not finding the small print on page 106 of 119 pages as this 'problem' has only occurred once before and we never bothered to investigate the why.

This failure has derailed most of my morning, either in trying to find a solution, trying two desktop machines and hunting for cables and failing that, reading the book.... (now I know that you are giggling over that and that is OK, I'm starting to giggle about it too).

The point is that most of us seem to react far more to our failures than to any of our successes. We discount all the times that we have done well at something and dwell in the moments where we didn't achieve what we wanted. We forget that just being to get up and go to work can be considered a success, that getting there safely is another, that getting through the meeting with the boss without referring to them as a PHB (Re: Scott Adams' Dilbert) to their face is another, that taking time with the kids is another, that being able to put food on the supper table is another, that... you get the picture.

We need to remember that all of the good little things that happen are our successes and part of our story. We are not comprised solely of failures and we should all be glad of it. We are so much more.

So now that I am over my fit, and have read page 106 of the instruction book, I can understand why we would not be able to figure this out intuitively. I am glad that the pictures look good on the camera's LCD screen and I know that sometime tonight after 8PM we will have time to get them off the camera and that the email that needs the pics will get sent. I know that the friend, for whom I am doing this favor of taking pics and sending an email for them will understand. I know that I have also just forgiven myself for this failure and will be trying to remember that it is not what defines me.

Now I'm off to count my successes for the day,
Cynthia