future

What’s Next, Then?

So, heh, got a funny story for you folks.

Okay, now get this–

I work three nights in a row as a dishwasher at Great Wolf Lodge; wait, that’s not the funny part, don’t laugh yet.

I work those three nights, and now that I’m on break I choose to work several more nights, ’cause why not? As of now, then, I am working Friday through Monday next week, which means I miss New Year’s Eve and Day. Well, I sort of miss the day, since I’m at home in the morning, but whatever…

You guys aren’t laughing. Did you miss the punchline? Was I not clear enough?

Alright, alright, I’ll say it again. Wait, what? You’re bored of it now?

Fine. I’ll move on.

What are we moving on to, though? I’ve been asking myself that question for a while, tossing it back and forth in my head; if you were wondering, no, I haven’t found an answer yet, so stop bugging me.

I’ll be working on my novel or washing dishes or lying in bed, staring at my gray ceiling; and the questions will creep in unwanted: What’s Next? Is There A Point To It All? Am I Spinning Fruitlessly In A Circle While Life Slips By Me?

I like to think those aren’t true, but, gee, what is or isn’t true nowadays? Our own perception of truth is clouded because we’re surrounded by so many falsehoods. One minute we’re learning about the Emancipation Proclamation, and the next we hear Abraham Lincoln was abducted by aliens at seven years old.

I mean, c’mon, people, everyone knows the Emancipation Proclamation was totally faked.

Just like the Moon Landing.

What I’m trying to say is that if we can’t count on the legitimacy of all this external stimuli, then what’s to stop us from misconstruing the truths and lies about ourselves?

People insult me; they say I’m gay, but I know I like girls and I’m just getting confused.

Well, what do you think? The only way to be sure is to confront the question yourself; those others have no justification in claiming one thing over another.

I feel like I’m swimming in a fucking abyss, tidal waves crashing over me so much I can barely breathe. But I tell myself I’m fine.

Are you? Don’t jump to conclusions. The worst thing that could happen is that you end up believing in the wrong answer…which you don’t want. Look in a mirror and ask yourself honestly if you’re fine. Again, the truth can only come from you.

This bleak and dismal stuff can get depressing, but I think it’s a fair topic. There’s too many times I find myself stuck in a dull mood because my future is unclear; although, let’s be honest, folks, who the hell has a notion of how their life is gonna turn out?

From our first step to our last breath, we’re all a little mystified, aren’t we?

Don’t know about you, but I am. Ahead is sometimes foggy, and the past, oh, the past, is always so visible; God, if I tallied how many times I looked back on the past in nostalgia, or as in most cases, for fulfillment, I’d be at a thousand…maybe two thousand, and a quarter.

The present is a tricky dude. It’s satisfying for a few seconds, then it descends into oh-no-how-did-I-not-predict-this and I-thought-I-could-see-the-friggin-future-darn-it.

Yeah. Tricky. Slick. Slicky.

By the way, that’s tricky and slick combined. Just saying.

Still, the best we can do to combat it is to hold fast to the handlebars and not fall off the ride; since, even though it gets bumpy, there are occasionally a bunch of flashing lights and stage performers to entertain us during its slow parts. Then you gotta deal with the lines at the end, as well as the parking lots–

Sorry. Got off topic there; then again, I believe I’ve said all that needs to be said.

Guess there’s nothing left than to wish you all a Happy New Year’s, and to hope you keep an optimistic outlook on your futures, too.

It can be difficult, but it’s worth it.

Think daily,

A Southpaw

 

 

Welcome To Super Bowl 2078!

I don’t generally think of myself as a football kind of guy. Sure, I used to watch my fair share of the Redskins and Oklahoma Sooners–go OU!–but to sit down in a chair and watch a game that lasts between three and four hours is a trial, I gotta tell ya; and I thought Interstellar was a long time to stay seated and let my ass go numb.

The Super Bowl I can stand; in fact, there is a sort of tradition in my family to join up at my grandparent’s house and chow down on Totino’s pizza rolls and pigs-in-a-blanket and wings and all the other snacks you are counting off in your head right now because you have the exact same kind of Super Bowl party. So we don’t get points for originality–at least the grease tastes good when it’s sliding slimily down your throat…am I right?

It all started back in 2009–when the Greenbay Packers won the Bowl…

Doodalado-doodalado-doodalado–

Flashback time….a big ass glimmering cloud just popped into existence above my head.

Actually, forget the flashback–I can hardly remember that far back.

Instead…we can discuss the games in the early 1980s –boy, those were the ones to see. Everyone was still recovering from the disco era, you see, and so everyone had an afro–it didn’t matter if you were black or white, it still made you the coolest cat on the infield. In between the plays you could hear George Michael playing over the speakers: pretty soon the players would start singing along to Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go; they all had Wham shirts under their jerseys. And–

Excuse me–just got a call from the Past. They said they’ll shut down Thoughts of A Southpaw if I keep blabbing stuff about the 1980s; apparently exposure to this kind of truth can cause severe nausea and nosebleeds and paranoia and schizophrenia and the feeling that your brain is going to implode if you continue reading all these nonsense side effects to a nonsense disease from a nonsense thing called the Past.

Doodalado-doodalado-doodalado–

Future time…the glimmering cloud turned bionic and it sounds like Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Everyone thinking of the Super Bowl in 2078? I am. That is going to be a fun one. It’s going to be the Raiders against the Giants–calling it now–and they’re all gonna be wearing jetpacks and shooting laser guns and throwing metal footballs; the NFL theme song is going to be a dubstep remix of the Star Wars opening credits theme. The Heisman Trophy will be constructed of mayonnaise and tomato slices…in the future they have serious budget cuts–

Excuse me once again–just got a call from the Future. They’re pissed.

Doodalado-doodalado-doodalado–

2017? You serious? Nothing happened at that game.

Think daily,

A Southpaw