Dear Old Man at Dance Class,
Please stop rubbing your old man junk on my partner. Thank you.
Dear Wife of Old Man at Dance Class,
Tell me, how is it that a human being can actually look like Mokey Fraggle? Also, stop coming to class high.
Dear Couch at My New Bar,
Listen, I know we just met, but I feel that there's something real going on between us. I'm afraid of these feelings that I'm developing you. It's too much, too soon. I don't know what I expect you to say, I just thought you should know.
Dear Human Decency,
It was good to see you, it's been a while. You should come around more often.
Dear The Japanese Language,
I am about to learn the hell outta you. I have even recruited the help of a giant. You may remember her from that time she rampaged through Tokyo. Oh, and a heads up, I hear she's coming back to finish the job.
Dear My Readers,
Time management is a real problem of mine that I am working very hard on solving. So, sorry about no post on Friday. Also, it seems that no one really liked my spoken word performance of Stayin' Alive. I understand. It's not for everyone. Bad news though, I'm going to keep doing them. I had a lot of fun with that, and I shall not be stopped. Sorry.
Thank you for your time,
Adam Jones
[Update]
P.S. - Dear Dream About Socks that I Had Last Night but Just Remembered,
WTF? Seriously.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Adam Jones Speaks - Stayin' Alive [Updated]
Stayin' Alive
Written by the Bee Gees.
Segments read by Adam Jones:
[Update]
So, this post has been up here all day, and the link was broken. I left no real text here to tell you what to expect, so you may not have even known it was broken... so I don't really blame you. Not really.
Kinda. I kinda do.
A little.
Anyway, it should be fixed now. Sorry for the inconvenience.
Even though it was mostly your fault.
Written by the Bee Gees.
Segments read by Adam Jones:
[Update]
So, this post has been up here all day, and the link was broken. I left no real text here to tell you what to expect, so you may not have even known it was broken... so I don't really blame you. Not really.
Kinda. I kinda do.
A little.
Anyway, it should be fixed now. Sorry for the inconvenience.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Innapropriate Haiku #4
I know I tell you guys this a lot, but I love you. I think it's important to say that kind of thing often. You keep coming back here. I mean, I don't blame you, I'm kinda great, but it's rare that people recognize a good thing when they see it. Because of your clear thinking I've gotten to 2,500 page views! Now for your reward.
Inappropriate Haiku # 4
Listen Aunt Sara
Your money's on the dresser
Now get the fuck out
Your money's on the dresser
Now get the fuck out
P.S. - I'm working on a new segment I think you guys are gonna like. Maybe. I don't really understand you people.
P.P.S. - Just to nip that in the bud, I didn't mean "you people" in a racist way. I've been made an honorary black man on three different occasions, by three different black men. So I clearly have no problem with the coloreds.
P.P.P.S. - The beautiful Miss Kagashi, author of Multiculturalism for Steampunk, is hosting a contest to promote multiculturalism. She is asking people to take the month of February and learn a little bit of a new language. You can go check out the rules here. If you make a video of yourself at the end of the month, sharing a bit of what you've learned, you could win a nice new hat. And have a lot of fun. And maybe get a hat.
I want that hat.
However, I want a lot of people to enter this. I realize this is counter-productive of me, as it increases my competition, but I don't care. In fact, I'll sweeten the pot. If you win the competition, and stop by here to let me know, I'll write you a haiku on the subject of your choice. I'll even send you a framed copy of it.* You know what? I'll even do the same for Miss Kagashi, as a token of appreciation for trying to better all you Philistines.
P.P.P.P.S. - I'm going to try to learn some Japanese. If any of my Japanese readers (or readers who know Japanese) have any hints, tips, or advice, I'd love to hear it. Thanks!
*If you pick a subject like Antidisestablishmentarianism, I may also spit on it.
P.P.P.S. - The beautiful Miss Kagashi, author of Multiculturalism for Steampunk, is hosting a contest to promote multiculturalism. She is asking people to take the month of February and learn a little bit of a new language. You can go check out the rules here. If you make a video of yourself at the end of the month, sharing a bit of what you've learned, you could win a nice new hat. And have a lot of fun. And maybe get a hat.
I want that hat.
However, I want a lot of people to enter this. I realize this is counter-productive of me, as it increases my competition, but I don't care. In fact, I'll sweeten the pot. If you win the competition, and stop by here to let me know, I'll write you a haiku on the subject of your choice. I'll even send you a framed copy of it.* You know what? I'll even do the same for Miss Kagashi, as a token of appreciation for trying to better all you Philistines.
P.P.P.P.S. - I'm going to try to learn some Japanese. If any of my Japanese readers (or readers who know Japanese) have any hints, tips, or advice, I'd love to hear it. Thanks!
*If you pick a subject like Antidisestablishmentarianism, I may also spit on it.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
I Still Don't Got It
A couple of people thought I may have been too hard on myself on my recent report card, especially in the Romance subject. It turns out they are wrong.
That very evening I went to go have dinner with my old friend, the Zombie Angel and catch up on times. On the way out of the diner she mentioned how cute it was that the waitress was flirting with me, and I was all "She was what?"
As far as I can tell, I lack the part of the brain that recognizes this spectrum of human interaction.
Seriously. You people need to tell me these things. While they're happening. If you don't want to just flat out say it where people can hear you, send me a text. I don't care if I'm sitting across the table and you don't like sending a message up into space just to get it three feet away. This is not about you.
You know what? I'm going to have business cards printed up that are solid green, and I'm going to pass them out to everyone I hang out with. So if you see someone flirting with me, pull the card out of your wallet, look at it nonchalantly, and put it back. You know, like your just trying to remember an address. When I see that, I'll know that someone around is trying to flirt with me.
I need your help, people. These poor women need your help, too.
We're counting on you.
That very evening I went to go have dinner with my old friend, the Zombie Angel and catch up on times. On the way out of the diner she mentioned how cute it was that the waitress was flirting with me, and I was all "She was what?"
As far as I can tell, I lack the part of the brain that recognizes this spectrum of human interaction.
Seriously. You people need to tell me these things. While they're happening. If you don't want to just flat out say it where people can hear you, send me a text. I don't care if I'm sitting across the table and you don't like sending a message up into space just to get it three feet away. This is not about you.
You know what? I'm going to have business cards printed up that are solid green, and I'm going to pass them out to everyone I hang out with. So if you see someone flirting with me, pull the card out of your wallet, look at it nonchalantly, and put it back. You know, like your just trying to remember an address. When I see that, I'll know that someone around is trying to flirt with me.
I need your help, people. These poor women need your help, too.
We're counting on you.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Get it Together, Africa.
A friend of mine has some disparaging things to say about Africa. All of the diseases, war, inhumanity, and deadly wild life can be a bit oppressive. I try to calm her down. I try to be on Africa's side. After all these are difficult socio-political climates, and people can't just snap out of them. Difficult situations require patience and dedication to persevere. But I've finally had enough.
It all started with that one brave soul from South Korea.* He was the the first person to make my blog international. Since then I have gotten regular viewers in Japan, Russia, Germany, Australia, and eventually Brazil. Some people in New Zealand seem to like me, and I even got a couple of hits from the Northern Mariana Islands. I had to look that shit up. Which is embarrassing, because apparently they're a U.S. commonwealth. Oops.
Anyway, the point is, the only continents that haven't heard of me are Antarctica and Africa. I can forgive Antarctica, because there are only like 1,000 people there, and they're just visiting. But Africa? Seriously. You have no excuse.
Get it together.
P.S. - The South Korean never did come back. I hope he's okay.
*Aren't you proud that I didn't make a Seoul joke? I am.
It all started with that one brave soul from South Korea.* He was the the first person to make my blog international. Since then I have gotten regular viewers in Japan, Russia, Germany, Australia, and eventually Brazil. Some people in New Zealand seem to like me, and I even got a couple of hits from the Northern Mariana Islands. I had to look that shit up. Which is embarrassing, because apparently they're a U.S. commonwealth. Oops.
Anyway, the point is, the only continents that haven't heard of me are Antarctica and Africa. I can forgive Antarctica, because there are only like 1,000 people there, and they're just visiting. But Africa? Seriously. You have no excuse.
Get it together.
P.S. - The South Korean never did come back. I hope he's okay.
*Aren't you proud that I didn't make a Seoul joke? I am.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Life Progress: C+
I think that one of the most disappointing things about a lot of our culture is that there are very few clearly defined rites of passage. I sit here at thirty years old and I rarely feel any more a man than I did when I was on the playground last week.
They're there, though. They're just not as dramatic as hunting a boar or renting your first prostitute. They're often slow, and you don't even know they're happening.
Today I reflected for a moment on one of the biggest differences between my life now, and when I was a child:
I have no idea what I'm doing.
I remember at the time feeling that I was trapped in a tyrannical regime bent on eliminating every sliver of freedom from my life... and in some respects that was true... but you know what? I had structure. I knew what was expected of me, and I got regular status updates. My direction was clear: Forward. As long as I kept going to school, I didn't have to think about anything.
Now I have no idea what's going on, when I'm doing well or not, or how to get anything done. Sometimes I wish I still got those Six Week Progress Reports like in high school.
Work: C-
(Adam works well when he works, but is often distracted by something he refers to as "blogging." This could become an issue in the future.)
Social: B
(Adam has made great strides in making himself more available to his peers. However, he does not play well with others, and has recently displayed an abrasive attitude.)
Recreation: B+
(While it took him a while to dedicate himself to the project, Adam recently completed Mass Effect 2 with flying colors. He has yet to complete Fallout 3.)
Romance: F
(Adam displays very little comprehension of the basic principle of this field. I suggest he begin remedial classes as soon as possible.)
Summary: Adam shows a lot of potential, but little interest in fulfilling it. He would go far if just displayed a little more initiative.
You know what? I've changed my mind. I don't want that at all.
They're there, though. They're just not as dramatic as hunting a boar or renting your first prostitute. They're often slow, and you don't even know they're happening.
Today I reflected for a moment on one of the biggest differences between my life now, and when I was a child:
I have no idea what I'm doing.
I remember at the time feeling that I was trapped in a tyrannical regime bent on eliminating every sliver of freedom from my life... and in some respects that was true... but you know what? I had structure. I knew what was expected of me, and I got regular status updates. My direction was clear: Forward. As long as I kept going to school, I didn't have to think about anything.
Now I have no idea what's going on, when I'm doing well or not, or how to get anything done. Sometimes I wish I still got those Six Week Progress Reports like in high school.
Work: C-
(Adam works well when he works, but is often distracted by something he refers to as "blogging." This could become an issue in the future.)
Social: B
(Adam has made great strides in making himself more available to his peers. However, he does not play well with others, and has recently displayed an abrasive attitude.)
Recreation: B+
(While it took him a while to dedicate himself to the project, Adam recently completed Mass Effect 2 with flying colors. He has yet to complete Fallout 3.)
Romance: F
(Adam displays very little comprehension of the basic principle of this field. I suggest he begin remedial classes as soon as possible.)
Summary: Adam shows a lot of potential, but little interest in fulfilling it. He would go far if just displayed a little more initiative.
You know what? I've changed my mind. I don't want that at all.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Most Outrageous Fantasy
I was once at a drunken party and everyone started talking about sex. It happened more often than not. It was the not so subtle overture to see who was ready to drop this pretense of friendly socialization and go get it on like the wild sex monkeys we know each other to be. Not being, at my core, a wild sex monkey, I was always a little awkward at these parties.
Eventually the question started going around the room "What is your most outrageous fantasy?" I considered this with great care. When the question finally got to me, I was compelled to answer truthfully. It is as follows:
I'm on top of an Aztec temple at dusk. I'd been sent there to guard a sacred treasure from being stolen by ninja. They had managed to slip by a grab it, but I caught up with them on the roof and gotten it back. Not willing to let it go at that, they send wave after wave of ninja to try to take it back. They can't take me in a head-on fight, though, and I'm able to repel them. My Kung-Fu is strong. One by one, their bodies go flying into the surrounding jungle. I hear something in the distance, there's a helicopter approaching. It hovers above the temple and drops a rope ladder. She descends.
Brief Back-Story: In High School there was a girl, let's call her Alice. She was brilliant, sweet, slight, and beautiful. I had a bit of a crush on her. Fact is, I knew that it could never work between us, even a little. We were far too different in far to many ways. Mostly she was meek. So very meek. I went wild with what-ifs. What if she wasn't so meek? What if she was, in fact, a bad-ass? That's when I came up with the idea of Bad Alice.
Bad Alice wears black jeans, black combat boots, and a skin tight red shirt with 3/4 sleeves. There's a slash across the front of the shirt for style and cleavage-showing. Over that she wears a black leather biker jacket. She has blue eyes and black hair with a purple streak coming from her left temple. On her left shoulder blade there's a tattoo of a male biker-demon. On her right shoulder-blade there's a tattoo of a female angel, bound and gagged. On the small of her back there are the words: 2 Timothy 3:1-5*. She's not evil, just bad.
It's not unlike on Angel when Fred was transformed into Illyria. Only I thought of it first.
*But mark this: There will be terrible times in the last days. People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, without love, unforgiving, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not lovers of the good, treacherous, rash, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God - having a form of godliness but denying its power. Have nothing to do with them.
Eventually the question started going around the room "What is your most outrageous fantasy?" I considered this with great care. When the question finally got to me, I was compelled to answer truthfully. It is as follows:
I'm on top of an Aztec temple at dusk. I'd been sent there to guard a sacred treasure from being stolen by ninja. They had managed to slip by a grab it, but I caught up with them on the roof and gotten it back. Not willing to let it go at that, they send wave after wave of ninja to try to take it back. They can't take me in a head-on fight, though, and I'm able to repel them. My Kung-Fu is strong. One by one, their bodies go flying into the surrounding jungle. I hear something in the distance, there's a helicopter approaching. It hovers above the temple and drops a rope ladder. She descends.
Brief Back-Story: In High School there was a girl, let's call her Alice. She was brilliant, sweet, slight, and beautiful. I had a bit of a crush on her. Fact is, I knew that it could never work between us, even a little. We were far too different in far to many ways. Mostly she was meek. So very meek. I went wild with what-ifs. What if she wasn't so meek? What if she was, in fact, a bad-ass? That's when I came up with the idea of Bad Alice.
Bad Alice wears black jeans, black combat boots, and a skin tight red shirt with 3/4 sleeves. There's a slash across the front of the shirt for style and cleavage-showing. Over that she wears a black leather biker jacket. She has blue eyes and black hair with a purple streak coming from her left temple. On her left shoulder blade there's a tattoo of a male biker-demon. On her right shoulder-blade there's a tattoo of a female angel, bound and gagged. On the small of her back there are the words: 2 Timothy 3:1-5*. She's not evil, just bad.
It's not unlike on Angel when Fred was transformed into Illyria. Only I thought of it first.
 |
| Adorable meek scientist Winnifred. |
 |
| Bad-ass ancient goddess Illyria. |
So Bad Alice slides down the rope ladder and we square off. After some witty banter the real fight begins. Just as many hits land as are blocked, but we're tough, we can take it. At some point she trips me, pins me down, and begins insulting me. I manage to flip her over, grab her hair, and repeatedly slam her head on the stone floor. I kiss her when she is no longer dazed, getting her even more riled up. As we continue to fight, we inadvertently rip each other's clothes off. In the end we're getting it on as the sun sets on the Aztec temple, surrounded by dead ninja.
Friday, January 14, 2011
I'm Dead. Sorry.
You may or may not have noticed that I haven't posted in a week.
That is because I am dead.
In a ditch.
Covered in snow.
You may or may not remember back about a month ago when I talked about how we all went crazy because snow stuck for a day. Well, since then Snowpocalypse hit the southeast and Georgia has shut down. I have been working from home all week.
That may sound nice, but I have been trapped in my bedroom for a week straight. I was going to tell you about the adventures I had last weekend, but now all I can think of is my wall.
My bedroom wall. It's all I see. It's all I know.
I have vague, distant memories of things other than my bedroom wall. They come to me in dreams. I remember a thing we used to call "The Sun." It was glorious. But I also remember fighting ninjas on an Aztec temple. Dreams can be like that.
I should tell you about that one sometime.
Anyway, point is, I'll be back to mypoorly regularly scheduled bullshit blog soon. I just need to find someway to resurrect myself from this cold ditch-grave, which is for some reason also my bedroom.
[Edit]
That is because I am dead.
In a ditch.
Covered in snow.
You may or may not remember back about a month ago when I talked about how we all went crazy because snow stuck for a day. Well, since then Snowpocalypse hit the southeast and Georgia has shut down. I have been working from home all week.
That may sound nice, but I have been trapped in my bedroom for a week straight. I was going to tell you about the adventures I had last weekend, but now all I can think of is my wall.
My bedroom wall. It's all I see. It's all I know.
I have vague, distant memories of things other than my bedroom wall. They come to me in dreams. I remember a thing we used to call "The Sun." It was glorious. But I also remember fighting ninjas on an Aztec temple. Dreams can be like that.
I should tell you about that one sometime.
Anyway, point is, I'll be back to my
[Edit]
Blizzard Haiku
Warm bedroom prison
Eternal winter beyond
Cold oblivion
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Inappropriate Haiku #3
Wow, you guys are amazing. Since I somehow managed to make The Bloggess' Comment of the Day on this post, I've gotten quite a bit of extra traffic on this site. That has pushed us up to 1,500 total page views! My blog is still a baby, and I'm new to this sort of thing, but I've gotten several constructive tips to help this along. It makes me really happy, and I'm about to pass along some of that happiness to you! So here it is. You had this coming.
Inappropriate Haiku #3
Ashley Olsen nude
Eating cornbread off the floor
Would be dead sexy
Eating cornbread off the floor
Would be dead sexy
P.S. - I fully acknowledge that it may be kinda cheap to celebrate 1,500 and not just wait until 2,000, but shut up, that's why!
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Beer Shakes
I go crazy sometimes.
Sometimes I get a thought in my head and I can not rest until I have done something with it. It becomes a quest.
One time I realized that it had been years since I'd had a root beer float. I had to fix that. I grabbed Stiver and dragged him to the store. He was crazy that night too. We were going to feast on ice cream and root beer. On the way to the root beer we passed the beer.
Beer Floats.
It sounded disgusting but I couldn't bring myself to not try it. I wasn't going to waste good beer on it, though, so I picked up a case of Natural Light. It was going to be... one of those nights.
We got home and poured tall glasses of Natural Light. I wondered how long it had been since anyone treated Natural Light with enough respect to pour it in a glass and not just chug it from the can and toss it into the bonfire that was burning in the oil drum. We each scooped in some of the rich vanilla ice cream and took sips at the exact same time. That way neither of us could wuss out when seeing the clearly dismayed gagging reflex we were sure was going to follow.
It was delicious. I can't explain it. There was just something about it that was really nice. We were trying to figure out why we weren't crying from revulsion and Stiver kept calling them beer shakes. I kept correcting him, telling him that if they were beer shakes they would have been put in a... oh my god I have a blender!
We put the rest of what we had and put it in the blender. I put in some chocolate and a couple of bananas. To make Chocolate Banana Beer Shakes. I'll tell you what, that shit'll get you high. There was something about the alcohol in the beer, the sugar in the ice cream, the potassium in the bananas, and whatever the hell it is in chocolate that makes you love shit, that when you put it all together... it's magical.
Stiver broke out his guitar and we sang songs about how happy we were and how much we loved beer shakes, and the music sounded just like we felt.
Sadly, none of the recordings survived.
Sometimes I get a thought in my head and I can not rest until I have done something with it. It becomes a quest.
One time I realized that it had been years since I'd had a root beer float. I had to fix that. I grabbed Stiver and dragged him to the store. He was crazy that night too. We were going to feast on ice cream and root beer. On the way to the root beer we passed the beer.
Beer Floats.
It sounded disgusting but I couldn't bring myself to not try it. I wasn't going to waste good beer on it, though, so I picked up a case of Natural Light. It was going to be... one of those nights.
We got home and poured tall glasses of Natural Light. I wondered how long it had been since anyone treated Natural Light with enough respect to pour it in a glass and not just chug it from the can and toss it into the bonfire that was burning in the oil drum. We each scooped in some of the rich vanilla ice cream and took sips at the exact same time. That way neither of us could wuss out when seeing the clearly dismayed gagging reflex we were sure was going to follow.
It was delicious. I can't explain it. There was just something about it that was really nice. We were trying to figure out why we weren't crying from revulsion and Stiver kept calling them beer shakes. I kept correcting him, telling him that if they were beer shakes they would have been put in a... oh my god I have a blender!
We put the rest of what we had and put it in the blender. I put in some chocolate and a couple of bananas. To make Chocolate Banana Beer Shakes. I'll tell you what, that shit'll get you high. There was something about the alcohol in the beer, the sugar in the ice cream, the potassium in the bananas, and whatever the hell it is in chocolate that makes you love shit, that when you put it all together... it's magical.
Stiver broke out his guitar and we sang songs about how happy we were and how much we loved beer shakes, and the music sounded just like we felt.
Sadly, none of the recordings survived.
Monday, January 3, 2011
I Have a Solution
[edit] This is kinda sappy, self-indulgent, and completely devoid of curse words... so you may want to skip it.
A while ago I mentioned that I have a problem. Since then, I've been thinking a lot about things... and stuff.
I've found that usually when I'm particularly depressed, furious, or filled with anxiety, it's because somewhere along the way I've connected the wrong dots. I thought that I had a self-improvement addiction because of an underlying sense of worthlessness; That everything I did was in a misguided attempt to cover up my own perceived shortcomings. Subtle yet important difference: It turns out that I had a passion for self improvement, and an underlying sense of worthlessness.
I had the yearn to be the best I could be way before the feelings of inadequacy, but the latter but a dark light on the former. I developed unhealthy ideas of what "the best" was, and failed to acknowledge those things that were really important, and already quite right with myself.
I believe in signs. Not like, stop signs. I mean, I believe that there are stop signs, but that's not what I'm talking about, and I think you know that. I'm talking like, Ace of Base "I saw the sign" signs. Yeah, I'm still an Atheist, but hear me out. When we need answers to our most difficult questions, two things are true.
1. We look for the answer.
2. We already know it.
The human mind has an uncanny ability to sort out that A leads to Z. It does it pretty quickly, but it does it behind the scenes. Problem is, we're usually not ready to believe ourselves until we're shown a step-by-step Power Point presentation explaining why A leads to Z. So we look for reasons, and we stretch a long way to bridge that gap. All of a sudden a finch singing on an oak tree means something. Whatever it takes to get your conscious mind caught up to your subconscious.
I saw a sign today. Recently I've seen so many people rise up against their fears and beat them. I can no longer believe, even a little, that it's something that only a few can do... if they're lucky enough. Everyone has the strength in them to be their best. Even me. It's the kind of thing you always know on some level, but you just need to be shown enough times to believe it.
I was never worthless. My brain has known that for a while, but it's hard to believe because it felt like it. But the sources of those feelings are a long way away now, and I'm surrounded by so many great things in my life. My self-improvement isn't a symptom of a disease, or a contest. It's a passion that makes me happy. It fulfills me. I don't care what my job is or where I am, as long as I'm always trying to be a little bit better than I was before. Not just learning new skills, or getting more fans, but being a better person. Laughing more. Helping more. Loving more. Learning not to ignore my faults, or dwell on them, but embracing them. and learning from them.
As long as I keep that up, I'll have a pretty good 2011. I hope that you do too.
I love you guys.
A while ago I mentioned that I have a problem. Since then, I've been thinking a lot about things... and stuff.
I've found that usually when I'm particularly depressed, furious, or filled with anxiety, it's because somewhere along the way I've connected the wrong dots. I thought that I had a self-improvement addiction because of an underlying sense of worthlessness; That everything I did was in a misguided attempt to cover up my own perceived shortcomings. Subtle yet important difference: It turns out that I had a passion for self improvement, and an underlying sense of worthlessness.
I had the yearn to be the best I could be way before the feelings of inadequacy, but the latter but a dark light on the former. I developed unhealthy ideas of what "the best" was, and failed to acknowledge those things that were really important, and already quite right with myself.
I believe in signs. Not like, stop signs. I mean, I believe that there are stop signs, but that's not what I'm talking about, and I think you know that. I'm talking like, Ace of Base "I saw the sign" signs. Yeah, I'm still an Atheist, but hear me out. When we need answers to our most difficult questions, two things are true.
1. We look for the answer.
2. We already know it.
The human mind has an uncanny ability to sort out that A leads to Z. It does it pretty quickly, but it does it behind the scenes. Problem is, we're usually not ready to believe ourselves until we're shown a step-by-step Power Point presentation explaining why A leads to Z. So we look for reasons, and we stretch a long way to bridge that gap. All of a sudden a finch singing on an oak tree means something. Whatever it takes to get your conscious mind caught up to your subconscious.
I saw a sign today. Recently I've seen so many people rise up against their fears and beat them. I can no longer believe, even a little, that it's something that only a few can do... if they're lucky enough. Everyone has the strength in them to be their best. Even me. It's the kind of thing you always know on some level, but you just need to be shown enough times to believe it.
I was never worthless. My brain has known that for a while, but it's hard to believe because it felt like it. But the sources of those feelings are a long way away now, and I'm surrounded by so many great things in my life. My self-improvement isn't a symptom of a disease, or a contest. It's a passion that makes me happy. It fulfills me. I don't care what my job is or where I am, as long as I'm always trying to be a little bit better than I was before. Not just learning new skills, or getting more fans, but being a better person. Laughing more. Helping more. Loving more. Learning not to ignore my faults, or dwell on them, but embracing them. and learning from them.
As long as I keep that up, I'll have a pretty good 2011. I hope that you do too.
I love you guys.