I try to warn folks- you know, the whole don't-make-the-same-mistakes-I-did thing. Sadly, people don't listen. For some reason I have yet to figure out, people seem to think I lack the credentials to know what the fuck I'm talking about. For some, it seems to be because I'm "young" (by the way, there's a ridiculous amount of old fucks out there that don't know what they're doing or talking about- look at Fox News if you don't believe me) or because I'm female, or something. Don't know what it is, but I've decided if you're unwilling to listen then you aren't worthy of the fucking time it takes for me to talk to you about some stupid shit that's probably going to at least fuck up your day, if not your entire life.
I tried to tell someone the other day that people engage actively in two activities that keep them from living in the present moment to see what they're doing to themselves. 1)They're overly concerned over what happened in the past and how past events and decisions have shaped them- so much so that they seem to miss that they're just self-perpetuating a vicious circle because tomorrow they're gonna do the same shit- look back and go "what the hell just happened?" instead of living in the moment and stopping shit from getting bad right now. OR, 2) They're overly concerned over shit that hasn't even happened yet.
Now, I ask you, what's the point in worrying over milk you haven't even gotten out of the fucking refridgerator, much less spilled?????
Think about it, then tell me I don't have any fucking sense or any credentials. BUDDHA TAUGHT THE SAME LESSON.
That being said, I am guilty of having a very hard time following my own commonsense. I worry about what's going to happen to me, to my dogs, and I wonder what the hell happened to me. I used to be someone else...this person I am now didn't exist. I have been reinvented, reimagined, revamped, downgraded, something. But, I am smarter. I became what I am because life happened to me- that makes me a goddamn expert of looking out for bad ideas. And these days I think I'm so damn important that I can't unwrap myself out of my own little life to give a damn and two hoots about someone else. But, once upon a time...I dreamed of something better, and I lived it everyday, not caring about what happened, forgiving. How does Life justify itself when it reaches in and rips out all the good shit in someone?