Sometimes I get the unshakable feeling that I’m living out a teen movie made in the mid-nineteen-nineties, except I’m not a teenager, and for damn sure am not in the nineties. I guess if you spend enough time in your head you start to hear theme music, sort of like a soundtrack to life. I really don’t want to get down on myself on here (anymore), so I’m not.
(If you want to add some ambiance to this blog ,then play this song while you read the rest. (Millencolin – Shut you out) Heres a link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YHokuPuu-YM )
Im totally in love with the human experience, completely enamored with the senses of living life. It truly is a gift to be able to wake up every morning, completely ready to tackle any and every adversity thrown your way. Which is why sometimes, I have to get on top of a mountain, open up my arms nice and wide and scream at the top of my lungs “I’m the king of the world!” in order to remind myself that, much like scarface, the world is mine
I want nothing more then to be the hero, but tend to find myself in pretty sticky situations. Every time I feel like I’m doing well and making progress, I seem to be swiftly reminded I have so much more to go. Im not complaining of course (even if it sounds like that), after all life isn’t bad, its good, and its not hard, but it for damn sure isn’t easy. I just can’t help but think I’m polishing a turd when I put so much effort into life and get the sweaty ballsack of the universe across my face in return (especially when I’m expecting the sweet kiss of Lady Luck). Im not complaining I’m just wondering if this is it to life.
I keep asking myself: “am I the monkey? Or am I the weasel?” Maybe I’m the mulberry bush and the monkey chasing the weasel is just an internal battle between me and my crazy ass emotions. Which sounds most likely, there is also the chance I’m just not man enough to admit that most my problems are indirectly (or maybe even directly) caused by me. Maybe my problems aren’t even real and I’m just worrying because its learned behavior. After all, it would make sense, I grew up a worrier. Even though now, as an adult, I feel pretty great. A young and strong man, embarking on his journey of self discovery, but its not like my anxiety is gone. I still worry about the dumbest shit, like did I lock the doors? did I leave the stove on? or do my friends really like me? As of right now, I’m worrying, and later, probably still worrying.
Every time I have to face that cold reality of having made a mistake, whether huge or big, I can’t help but hear music in my head, which seems to make it just a little bit better because, in my head, this is just my nineties college movie. Not just any music of course, but the type of music that you would only hear in an old Tony Hawks Pro Skater game, or in the original American Pie movie. Life is just a journey and as long as I keep trying my best, I can’t be mad at myself for being a spectacular failure.