FTS

So often on this blog I'm all whiney-whiney, I-didn't-get-this, or I-miss-this, or here's-my-endless-essay-on-longing-because-that's-what-I'm-good-at.

Well, today, all four readers, I'm instituting a new catch-phrase, a clarion call: Fuck That Shit.

True, I haven't booked a job lately, even been released from a few holds (which means I had the excitement of thinking I had the job and THEN got passed over).

Fuck That Shit.

Yes, I lost a few people this past year, and I still feel their absence.

Fuck That Shit.

It's true I had really really hoped to take a short road trip this weekend, but it turns out I don't have the money or a good destination that I can reach in the limited time I have.

Fuck That Shit.

I spend too much time worrying about what I don't have, about missed opportunities and rejections.  I'm drawing a line in the sand.  This is now, I need to relish it.  Will I still get upset sometimes?  Sure!  If so, I have to relish that too, because who knows, maybe something cool will happen and I'll never be unhappy again.

But to let despair be the top-note of my personal perfume?  I don't have time left for that nonsense.  Fuck That Shit.

Now, I'm going to paint my living room instead of whining.  And if I have to play music really loud to shut off my brain, so be it.  If I have to call a friend to get some company, so be it.  If I have to meditate to dump any and all negative thought, my mantra will be, over and over: "Fuck That Shit."

Though I think I'll just abbreviate from here on out: FTS, man, FTS.