confession: the best thing about having smart friends is that we’re smart in different ways which is why we all make each other smarter just by hanging out, drinking, and conversing. i learn things when i drink with my friends. this is also why i rarely drink alone. i don’t learn jackshit when i drink alone.
confession: one of the ways i’m a jerk is that when i don’t like you and i’m socially obligated to converse with you, i choose a conversation topic about something you love and i tell you why i hate it. this jerky tactic only works if you love new zealand and announce that it’s the most beautiful place in the world without having traveled anywhere else in the world and if i’m annoyed by your energy-sucking desire to be affirmed. i realize that as a person who aspires to enlightenment, i gotta drop my disappointment in new zealand and increase tolerance for annoying people, but i didn’t care about acting enlightened in that moment.
confession: i received the gift of perspective from the annoying person who loves new zealand. after conversing with the kiwi-lover i mentally time traveled into the past to apologize to all the people i must have annoyed with my youthful ignorance and exuberant neediness.
confession: historically i’ve hated parties. i love parties where most guests go outside and sit in the heat while i remain inside the air conditioning and talk to one of my favorite people in the world who dressed as me to the costume party because she said that i’m her favorite honky tonk character. i also love parties where the brilliant hostess explains to me why i’m a passionate biter with a single brainy psycho-sexual-spiritual sentence that clarified everything.
truth: if i were to write the book i want to read, i’d write how to live a life but i don’t yet know how to live the life i most want or what story anchors that book. the book would be fiction because fiction is a format for universal truths and fiction is easier to read during a vacation and i want to write the book that you want to read on vacation. i argue against writing this book by claiming that i’m not ready to write it, that i’m still practicing living the life i want, that i’m not sure how to write what i know but haven’t mastered. i argue for writing the book because the book i want to write is fiction and i’m making it up as i go along (“it” = living a life and writing that book). i argue against writing the book because i’ve written several books and then burned them during the revision process because i hate revision beyond all other hates. i argue for writing this book because i’ve promised three people that i wouldn’t burn the next book i write, at least not without sending them an electronic copy. i argue against writing this book because the thought of writing another book makes me tired rather than excited. i argue for writing this book because all the other arguments are bullshit stalling obstacles to hold me back from doing what i was born to do.
question: what is the thing you aren’t doing that you know you’re meant to be doing but you’re too busy making up and believing bullshit reasons that prevent you from shutting the fuck up, sitting down, and doing the damn thing?