Wake up! Get up! Move your fucking feet! Kiss the girl!
Look, Life knocks us down. I think the abusive bitch really enjoys it, because she knocks me out quite a lot. It seems like every time I stand up on my feet, dust myself off, and start picking up my pace to make a little bit of forward motion, she’ll drop a damned 747 out of the sky to fall on my head. But, I’m indestructible, immortal, and a freaking superwoman, because I choose to be. What’s your excuse?
Listen, I have my moments where I want to lay there on the ground and just cry because of how unfair life can be, is, or will always be. But, I’m not five-years old. Add forty years to that, and a whole lot of responsibility never really having time to be a brat. I’m jealous of you spoiled mother-fuckers that always had someone else looking after you, cleaning up your messes, wiping your noses, and patting you on the head telling you what a good job you’ve done. Take your participation trophies and wrap them up in your dirty diapers, and go suck on your binky. I don’t have time for your pity party. Believe me, I’ve been trying to have one for the last few years, and it isn’t working!
Hey! Knock it off. Suck it up, Buttercup. It’s time to get up. It’s time to move, even if you don’t know which way to go, move anyway. The sad part is not moving, being stuck in the moment, being mired in the muck of self-pity. Learn this lesson: Life is NEVER fair. NEVER! Fair has never existed, and it never will. This is a stupid concept ingrained into our psyche as children and we carry it with us throughout our lives, beating ourselves up when LIFE throws us a monkey wrench. We are taught that WE are in control of the bullshit that happens in our lives. That if we are good, good will happen to us. That if we are fair, fair will find us. BULLSHIT! You tell that to every abused child, cancer patient, soldier’s widow, the betrayed, the rejected, and the good-hearted discarded because keeping up is hard. Life is not fair. She never was. She never has been. She never will be. So, get up!
Want to know what you control? Nothing, except HOW you respond. That’s it. That’s all the control you have. You can’t control the universe, you can’t control the weather, you can’t control the ocean’s tide, you can’t control someone else’s response, you can’t control God, you can’t control the economy, you can’t control anything. You can bribe, manipulate, lie, and scheme, but you can’t control anything in life except how YOU respond to it. That’s who you are. Not who you say. Not who you think. Not what some piece of paper says, by degree or birth certificate. You are how you respond to every little and every big decision you make.
Stop being a pussy. Stop being afraid of making a mistake. Fucking make a mistake, because you’re at least living, doing, deciding. Stop hiding. Stop wallowing. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stop WAITING for the right time, the right person, the right circumstance. Stop waiting to win the lottery. Stop WAITING and start fucking moving. Start making decisions. Start making choices. STOP making excuses. I’m so fucking tired of hearing excuses. I hear it at work, I hear it at home, I hear it in society all around me. I hear it out of my own mouth. The mantra is … “I can’t… because. I won’t… because. I don’t… because. I hear that bullshit a whole lot more than I’d like to admit. But, that’s the problem. Until we admit to ourselves, until we recognize our reactions, our inaction, and our whiny excuses… we can’t change them. So, as a society, we keep ourselves distracted with bullshit, nonsense, shit that don’t matter, so we don’t have to hear our souls crying out to open our fucking eyes. Because to open our eyes to the truth is to be faced with the choices that define us. We WANT to be fair. We want life to be on Easy Street. We want someone to change our diapers for us, to take away all the shit we’ve produced, and give us a clean diaper so we can soil that too. Feed us, because we don’t want to learn to feed ourselves. Hold our hands, because we don’t want to face the struggle it takes to walk on our own. Coddle us, because our little feelings are hurt. Rock us, because we’re sleepy. We bitch about putting on ten pounds, all the while stuffing our feelings.
Move. Choose. Kiss the girl - life! She’s right in front of you. See her. Stop thinking about whether you’re making a mistake, or will there a better option tomorrow, or will she love you back because all the girl’s you’ve kissed before had hurt, abused, and used you? Stop being a fucking coward and kiss the girl. It’s better to have kissed, than to have missed your opportunity, because guess what… life will continue without you. All you’ve lost is the opportunity to really live. To live in the moment. To get out of life ALL that you can in that moment… whether it ends up being a mistake. Even from our mistakes, we live. I have a life full of mistakes, but not ONE regret.
I lived for nearly twenty years doing the ‘right’ thing, the practical, the responsible, the ‘good’ thing, and I don’t regret any of it, because it was to fulfill the dream of being able to provide a certain life for my kids. That was my dream. However, I didn’t do a whole lot of living in that era, nor the era before . I was too busy trying to be good, to be right, to make responsible choices and so afraid of disappointing everyone else around me, of disappointing God, and of making a mistake. THAT was the true mistake. Because all that did was steal life from me.
I’ve got some heavy choices before me, and many of those choices paralyze me because I’m so afraid of making the wrong one. I’ve spent so much time being afraid of the consequences of those choices, because I know life isn’t fair. I’ve felt the pain and suffering of an unfair life. Those burn scars still hurt today. But, this is me this morning, puckering my lips… ‘cause you know what… I want to kiss! I don’t want to just kiss, but I want to rip my clothes off and make beautiful, passionate love. If it turns out to be a mistake, at least I had an orgasm, and my toes curled, and my stomach had butterflies.
Till next time,