Stages of Life

Life’s a book bitch broad beach Journey.

It sucks, i don’t know of anyone who won’t agree to that at one point or another.

I got friends going through shit I’ve gone thru, legitimately. Hearing their stresses and worries, I’m tempted to put my 2 cents in. Those 2 cents that could make a hell of a difference, maybe like those last two cents you needed to make a dollar at the register. If someone had given them to you or when they did, if you had kept em. You’d be all set. But ya didn’t if nobody ever bothered.

I don’t refrain because I don’t care. I refrain because I guess, if you try and take that hope or dream that their fighting for or going through away, then what if you were wrong and it could’ve worked. What if just because it didn’t work in your experience it won’t with another’s? If you haven’t caught on by now I’m more specifically talking about women but I could apply it to a few others.

I’ve fucked up, had people fuck up with me and think I’m fucking up right now. But I don’t know and won’t know unless the risk is taken. The biggest worry is taking the risk and it not paying off because the other end isn’t there or your at a much farther point.

And when it rains, it fuckin pours. I’ve seen the strongest people in my life reduced to their knees. God and life has no mercy for the good bad ugly or blessed. Karma or no karma shit happens. And there’s no looking back and harping on it, do that when you’re alone with a good friend and shitfaced cus nobody else wants to hear or deal with your shit.

The only thing that matters is what you make of your future.

You can’t make your past, at least there’s no technology for that yet.

So until then use your bootstraps and keep movin, because time waits for no man.

I find myself in a weird stage in life. With so much on my plate. With things I want now, things I want then. Things I’m dealing with, things that burden me, things ive had to let go of, things I regret, and goals.

As someone who thought they knew what love was. I’ve been regretfully mistaken. It’s interesting because people that grow on you, is not love. Physical attraction is not love. There are many more things that are not love than those that are. So when does one know? No goddamn clue because I thought I did. So what does one do now? Keep walking until he walks into it or trips on it. Keep walking down that sidewalk or path. Who knows?

Lastly, I really wish I could be more honest and upfront with myself. For example if I like you or if I want to punch you in the throat for how much I hate you, I wish I could just tell you and you could be honest back and we could go from there. I feel like what people say is “consideration” or being “nice” is just you being a pussy. Because if someone comes up to you unprovoked and just says how they feel, they don’t want the run around they want the truth, no bullshit. But what stops me and I am afraid of, is the authenticity of the other persons response. And what I hate more is encrypted language and screwing around. It sucks and gets nothing accomplished.

Call it wisdom. Call it complaining. Call it terrible. Call it what you like but nobody forced you to read.

Note: All writers draw inspiration from their experiences so yes this in twitter language is like “sub-writing.”

Ta ta for now & buona notte.

10/4

The $50 Lesson

Educate yourselves.

 

I recently asked my friend’s daughter what she wanted to be when she grows
up. She said she wanted to be President some day. Both of her parents,
liberal Democrats, were standing there, so I asked her, “If you were
President what would be the first thing you would do?”

She replied!, “I’d give food and houses to all the homeless people.” Her
parents beamed.

“Wow…what a worthy goal.” I told her, “But you don’t have to wait until
you’re President to do that. You can come over to my house and mow the lawn,
pull weeds, and sweep my floors, and I’ll pay you $50. Then I’ll take you
over to the grocery store where the homeless guy hangs out, and you can give
him the $50 to use toward food and a new house.”

She thought that over for a few seconds, then she looked me straight in the
eye and asked, “Why doesn’t the homeless guy come over and do the work, and
you can just pay him the $50?”

I said, “Welcome to the Republican Party.”