words.
words are easy. easy to manipulate, think about, research, edit, reform, remould, shape...into however you want them to read.
speech, is harder. speech blusters, stumbles, runs away with itself. speech exposes the naked, vulnerable inner core, exposes it for what it is.
actions, are even more difficult. to do the things we say we will, to decide, plan, invest, move. action is a slippery eel. even those who seem to do it all, don't ever do as much as they want to.
and i was reminded again today, that at the end of it all, no matter what we've planned, boasted, or achieved; we will have all fucked up.
in whatever size you order that in, our fuck ups will have repurcussions. people aren't going to agree, you will probably hurt someone, dick about with their emotions, be indecisive, go forwards, backwards, dither and eventually get angry, cry or leave.
another bitter lady condoning all actions of hurt and thoughtlessness?
not at all.
no, by all means let's do good. i have no interest in hurting people, i have no interest in those who set out to hurt me. we've all got a load of rubbish on our plates, and we could all do with an easy life. hey, maybe Bill and Ted had something here, let's be excellent to each other.
but maybe the hardest part, the bit that hurts the most, isn't the fuck ups which bite us. maybe it's the repetitive nag that we should have faith in the fucker uppers. forgive them, hell- forgive ourselves, and to let the fuck ups go.
and maybe im making a huge fuck up right now. maybe, when i'm 32, 30, 28, 26, 24 or even next week, i will ask why this 22 year old made such a stupid huge fuck up. what made her make those choices? and generally, it's my gut instinct. an little niggling, a skin complaint, a headache, an unshakeable mood. yeah- my body tells me how to think, and i apologise if i'm ruling my life by a few allergies and bad food choices.
let me fuck up, i'll try and let myself fuck up, and you can fuck up too. because i can't plan my life, or yours. i can't plan, or promise. all that control shit? well its bullshit. all i've got is a faded map of a life, a blindfold, and a few pins. i'm going to concentrate really hard and hope that those pins land where i want them to, but at the end of the day they might not. but remember, this blog is just words. they're easy. it's doing the things we talk about which is so much harder.
words are easy. easy to manipulate, think about, research, edit, reform, remould, shape...into however you want them to read.
speech, is harder. speech blusters, stumbles, runs away with itself. speech exposes the naked, vulnerable inner core, exposes it for what it is.
actions, are even more difficult. to do the things we say we will, to decide, plan, invest, move. action is a slippery eel. even those who seem to do it all, don't ever do as much as they want to.
and i was reminded again today, that at the end of it all, no matter what we've planned, boasted, or achieved; we will have all fucked up.
in whatever size you order that in, our fuck ups will have repurcussions. people aren't going to agree, you will probably hurt someone, dick about with their emotions, be indecisive, go forwards, backwards, dither and eventually get angry, cry or leave.
another bitter lady condoning all actions of hurt and thoughtlessness?
not at all.
no, by all means let's do good. i have no interest in hurting people, i have no interest in those who set out to hurt me. we've all got a load of rubbish on our plates, and we could all do with an easy life. hey, maybe Bill and Ted had something here, let's be excellent to each other.
but maybe the hardest part, the bit that hurts the most, isn't the fuck ups which bite us. maybe it's the repetitive nag that we should have faith in the fucker uppers. forgive them, hell- forgive ourselves, and to let the fuck ups go.
and maybe im making a huge fuck up right now. maybe, when i'm 32, 30, 28, 26, 24 or even next week, i will ask why this 22 year old made such a stupid huge fuck up. what made her make those choices? and generally, it's my gut instinct. an little niggling, a skin complaint, a headache, an unshakeable mood. yeah- my body tells me how to think, and i apologise if i'm ruling my life by a few allergies and bad food choices.
let me fuck up, i'll try and let myself fuck up, and you can fuck up too. because i can't plan my life, or yours. i can't plan, or promise. all that control shit? well its bullshit. all i've got is a faded map of a life, a blindfold, and a few pins. i'm going to concentrate really hard and hope that those pins land where i want them to, but at the end of the day they might not. but remember, this blog is just words. they're easy. it's doing the things we talk about which is so much harder.