The future is now. what poisons existence is thinking too much abut the finish line. You'll have lots of time to think afterwards when you've lost or when you can't run anymore. Life is movement, it's dance--justine levy
Frank McCourt got me thinking about fulfilling my life.
It is right that Mr. McCourt's death should prompt introspection. He was a self-probing type and he did write the incisive Angela's Ashes about living in penury in Ireland while maintaining his goodness and humor.
Poverty makes people mean. I hope I am not mean but struggling to drag yourself above destitution may have made me desperate. Desperate for financial stability, desperate for emotional security, desperate for respectability. And, desperatation is nothing but well-dressed fear. If I think I am desperate, it is not my fault. But I admit that I am afraid, then I am a ripe-banana-yellow wuss.
Out of fear, I was carefully planning every day.
But lately, I've been thinking that maybe I had the wrong context. I hear people, especially "adult" people extol the goodness of prudence and careful planning (A and B). But, that is a never ending task. What if we just said "fuck it." Fuck it is nice. You might as well make mistakes you enjoy since there is no innoculation against failure. Fuck it is now.
P.S: Any advice for this recovering control freak?
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