Shit happens. Even to the best of us. Sometimes , it seems to me, the better we are at being good, the shittier it gets.
One way to live, I would think, is to not give a rats ass. About anything. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Everything is small stuff. We’ll pick us up . When everything fails, we will find something else to do.
If people give you crap, give them crap in return. Don’t be so fragile as to let them walk all over you.
Don’t ever forget who you are. What your parents are like. How they brought you up. Don’t forget. Don’t forget how beautiful and strong and good you are. If there are people out there hell bent on convincing you that you worth nothing, slap them right across their face, turn around and walk away. You know you are not wrong. Let them make their choices. You make yours.
In my weakest moments, I’ve often thought of how my father would have reacted in the same situation. I am never going to be able to be half the man he is, but his wisdom has often kept me strong. I also think of what he would think of me, if he knew I was stumbling. He did not teach me to be weak. He taught me I am better than I think I am. He taught me to be strong. I go to my mother for comfort, for that kiss on my forehead that keeps me safe, but I think of my father for inspiration.
Think of that. Think of all that you and I have lived through. We made it didn’t we? Granted , we are not without scars but we didn’t make it, so that some asshole somewhere could ruin it for us. You are bigger than life. Don’t forget.
The silver lining is right here.
As long as we have each other, everything will be alright.
Indi wrote this post about the science of procrastination, and I had a good time reading it coz procrastinating intrigues me.
Confronted with a tough planning problem at work, or a difficult client being difficult on mail , I procrastinate while trying to figure out what my approach should be. Sometimes, I just don’t want to get on with it. I am disheartened. Unmotivated. I don’t like what I am doing. That’s what it comes down to.
I love Pinterest. And live by Etsy.
The moment I tell myself I will work for 30 minutes straight and reward myself by allowing my self to check fb, I start procrastinating.
I was in mild pain for about a week. No biggy, it was bound to pass. Except that it didn’t and it got much much worse. The doc says it could be sports injury, which is how it all started or some kind of arthritis. So bummed.
There’s comfort in soap and water. She thinks, leaning on one leg, her unwashed hair tied up in a bun, her wedding ring forgotten somewhere else in the house. There’s baby poo on her shirt. He’s a asleep. She smiles to herself. She has not heard from her husband in a month. She scrubs. She picks on a piece of dirt stuck on a mug that’s too stubborn to go away. She pours liquid soap and water all over the plates watching them lather up in blank loneliness. Her baby cries. And I haven’t heard from him in a month.