Well, I'm back, I'm black...NO WAIT that part got away from me, (over enthusiasm)whoops.
For real though, after two heart attacks on June 26th, 2013, I find myself realizing I don't have that much time left. (But who does?)And OMG do I have a shit load of stuff to still say. It's not all good. It's not all bad. But I think you'll find I tell it like it is, always have.
Some may say that, a gal like me that shoots from the hip, well, not everyone is comfortable with someone like myself. I can/have been brutally blunt now and again. This is not an apology, just so we're clear.
The thing is though, I've come by the notion that we don't live forever, unlike popular belief. When the shit gets real, when you're staring your very own snuff film in the face, it tends to make things, possibly more amplified. You tend to sit up and pay attention. I don't know maybe even the colors are more brilliant. (Coulda been the drugs???)
More importantly, because we do think we have plenty of time here on God's green earth, before our number comes up, we tend to waste time on the dumb shit, things that are not really important. And we sure as hell do not say things that need to be said. Unfortunately, even the simplest of terms are often not divulged. It's a certainly sad commentary on life and how we treat each other.
We walk around with big feeling attitudes, maybe even a sense of entitlement when it comes to expressing our true emotions. Laying it on the line. We behave as if everyone but ourselves is all knowing, all seeing mind readers. We act as if they all have a crystal ball stuffed up their ass and can read our emotions. But they don't and they can't.
I truly believe that more often than not, we all need to hear that we are loved and appreciated. We need to be told, when we've gone that extra mile and the war paint is just right that "Yea, you still look good and ya still trip my trigger." (Even if your boobs are tucked neatly into your belt like mine).
Mama may need to be reminded that you still think about her, even through a hectic day at college. She most assuredly would want to hear your memories of the things only a mother can do for you like that time she cleaned up your projectile puke without even a wince and later brought you your now clean and cozy "Blankie" along with warm chicken noodle soup.
Dutiful Dad, hah! Remember when you thought he was an idiot until you matured and finally got it? Like the time you were just ten minutes late for your curfew of 10:30p.m. and he meted out that two weeks restriction? Just a few short years later, you savored his example in that lesson, "Well, next time you'll be ten minutes early, right?" You visibly nodded your head at Dad as you walked through the door at work, glancing at the clock, 'ten minutes early'and your boss just happened to be there and took notice.
Sadly, Dad's lesson was now just a memory. He wasn't actually, at work, to nod to in solidarity. Mom was always there to tuck you in and to pick up the broken pieces when that first love broke your heart. Where'd the time go?
Live/Love/Laugh
Say what needs to be said. Say it out loud. Say it with fervor.
That's where my head is at these days. I want to plant so many seeds before it's too late. And...it's almost too late!!
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