My people are angry. Angry enough to make signs!
As newbie into the blogging world, I read other bloggers. They are writing of quantum mechanics, how to be of service to your fellow man, Peace in the Middle East, a sure fire way to meet your soulmate. Big stuff. And the great ones touch my heart, inspire me, their eloquent words shared with such grace, wisdom and insight. And some have fancy titles. Fancy degrees. Homes in Malibu and Maui. Teach self help seminars. Are motivational speakers. Scaled Everest, blindfolded. Won an Academy Award, a Nobel Prize, and a Pulitzer all while blogging from an orphanage in Africa. Written 12 books, translated into 87 languages. They were on Oprah man!
And I read some of my earlier posts and it looks like I'm on easy street. I got this life thing figured the fuck out. A man with a plan. A spiritual ninja, a self help warrior. Problem comes up, tool bag comes out. Shazam! Solved. Thank you Universe, I am your vessel! Even more enlightened than before. Happy as a pig in shite. Oh how I need to share this with my people.
My post written. Another day another life lesson. Brilliant! Let me read it one more time. Mr. Positive overcoming another issue. Being supported by The Universe. The Bitter Spiritualist coming to a theater near you. Skipping on down the road, whistling a merry jig. Beautiful. Inspiring. Print it! Oprah here I come sister.
Then it hits me. This overwhelming feeling that I'm a fraud; that I am just talking the talk. Fuck I hate those people. I'm sitting here in my one bedroom apartment. Sucking on a lung dart. Stuffed to the gills on Chinese food. Nary a penny to my name. Debts no honest man can pay*. Two hundred bucks worth of Tony Robbins CDs still shrink wrapped in the bookcase**. Worrying about being liked (loved?). Going to bed alone, possibly after some Internet porn, okay likely. Bouts of doubt and misery. Hours still spent avoiding, in all it's beautiful manifestations. Sox ~ Yankees baby! And I'm giving people pointers on how to live a fulfilling life?
I'm not even original. Even this post isn't original. Triggered in part by my inspiration to start blogging thinking I stole her idea. And looking at it, it does look like I pinched the idea. I can sit here and justify things (times, dates, witnesses, refrences), yet some part of me obviously feels guilty. Fucking Catholics and our guilt! I just want to shut down, hide in the weeds.
And I'm writing a blog? And sharing some life tools? Who am I? This is being done by much more qualified people. Why would anyone listen to me, a piss poor bitter thieving arrogant cunt?
Don't.
Anything that seems like advice, my pardon. Anything I claim to be original, has been done before. I've wrote it once, I'll write it now, I'll write it later. This is an experiment. I'm just arrogant enough to want to share it with you. Come on, why have an insecure moment, a true emotion, a thought and not share it with the world? I'm compelled to do this right now. Maybe I am a fraud. Fuck it, I'm going to revel in my fraudliness.
It's all practice. This post? Practice. What did I just practice? Writing; a little ownership of my fears, my doubts, my joy, that I don't have all the answers; sharing some insecurities, always a good one for me to practice; practiced keeping commitments to myself and to my reader(s); practiced standing on my own two feet; some honesty; a little compassion....I know there's more, those are some damn good ones.
And now let me practice a little prizing. Nice work! Job well done! Nice tie in to the last post. Fucking genius.
Good night.
*Springsteen lyric
**Pattison lyric
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