While I have made several trips to a city that I have a love-hate relationship with. One that has chewed my soul like a tough cut of beef and soothed me like a new episode of Big Bang Theory with original jokes of Sheldon being Sheldon, I’m up an hour before work because a swarm of angry bees invaded my headspot with words that needed to make some honey, or at least a piece of dried out honeycomb.
My friend Brad (no not that Brad) chose a life of God and yesterday while on Facebook as he does from time to time while trying to interject on my life of “sin” to bring the word of God to my world. Which causes a free-thinker such as myself to step back and wonder “am I doing it wrong?”.
Then I remembered, that I am unburdened from such thoughts because there is no absolute right and wrong. The person in the mirror is the person’s rules that I follow or choose to live by. He is basically a tape recorder for which every single piece of life has already been drafted in a book containing a hymn, a verse for life’s entire context. And that’s OK. If a man chooses to feel guilty from placing their penis into a woman or a 120 ounce bottle of Heinz ketchup that he picked up at Costco because John 3:19 says so, that’s OK.
My parents still trying to nudge (not push) to get me to “go to church” because they claim my children need it. They are the most caring, loving, unselfish people I will ever know but if I were to ask why and explain why I chose to be human and life my life without knowing what will happen next it may cause a riff similar to a gay man or woman trying to explain their sexuality to homophobe.
I don’t want to be “saved”, I don’t want play a verse when I’m feeling like shit because I got too drunk and yelled at people, I don’t want to be part of the Borg, an un-thinking being of a collective.
There are some religious people who get it right. They craft those words into their own interpretation and go from there. Which is how a human should live. They should be “in sin” and free to meander within their own rules, not someone else’s. Be free to fuck up royally and learn from it. I know I certainly have. Life is not a sitcom as people like Brad would like to believe, scripted with a laugh track unyielding to life’s unknown future. I have no idea what is going to happen this weekend, and I don’t want to know because playing out the future in present time does not allow you enjoy that tingle of sitting at a bar after too many tequila shots talking smack about your favorite football teams with a toothbrush salesman from Ohio and a stripper with a giant ying-yang tattoo emblazed across her ass.
I wish Brad the best on his journey through life as he already knows what’s going to happen. Me? Well, you get to read about those flaws here as I have a blank page and perhaps a couple of front row seats to Thunder Down Under in my future.
One more day.