I like to stroll around this planet like I’m some kind of haut couture, next-level thing, but really… I’m just an uppity, self-important animal.

It seems that the primary difference between myself and other animals, besides slightly less hair, is that I tend to bitch a lot. I don’t understand how to set up the goddamn Roku on my TV… I bitch. The bag of quinoa breaks and spills all over the kitchen… I bitch. Something happens… I bitch. Something else happens… I bitch. Basically, as much as I hate to admit it, I bitch a lot.

Definition of To Bitch: To whine and complain excessively

Do I really do that? Ew. Barf. While recently watching a documentary on animals, the frequency with which I bitch came into stark focus. I found myself mesmerized by the stoicism of the animals represented - spellbound by the immense trials they endure with nary a whine. For Gods-sake, Monarch Butterflies. These little papier-mâché creatures migrate from South America to Canada every year and none of the 2 billion who begin the journey finish it. Their full migration is completed within 3 generations, one batch carrying on a DNA-fulfilling prophesy where the last leg left off. All die. None of them bitch.

Hawaiian Gobies - tiny rock climbing fish that scale the sheer cliffs of massive waterfalls to reach the safe and secluded pools above to mate and lay their eggs. Many fall to their deaths. None of them bitch.

 The Bearded Vulture of Ethiopia drops animal bones onto rocks from high altitudes to crack into the rich marrow reserves within. Again and again they miss their target…I’m talking OVER and OVER again, while other birds and animals scavenge the spoils of their efforts. All day they toil. None of them bitch.

 In Chilean Patagonia, male Darwin’s Beetles climb massive trees in pursuit of prospective females. Once at the top, they spar with other males using their huge mandibles to launch each other hundreds of feet back down to the forest floor. Again and again the male beetles climb, tussle and launch, and in the end, after sealing the coital deal, they toss the females overboard as well. Sayonara suckers! Despite the toil and trauma, no one is butt-hurt and none of them bitch.

If only I could be more like the African Barbel Fish, gratefully and silently devouring voluminous billows of hippo shit - bitch-free. I shall try, and endeavor to be more stoic and grateful maneuvering the voluminous billows of Life’s shit. Yes, this bitch will do her best to fly on like a Monarch Butterfly, to keep climbing like a Hawaiian Goby, to rise again like a Bearded Vulture, and to launch ideas and projects like a Darwin’s Beetle. A noble endeavor. We’ll see how long it lasts…