Guerilla Warfare

It's been quite a long stretch since I have committed a blog to type.  There has been A LOT of action in the battlefield that is my mind's eye, but I haven't taken the time to write any of it down or really even to talk about it in general. Up until this week, time seemed like a commodity I'd sell my soul for, which is pretty much what I have been doing.  For the last month or two I have run from one place to the next, sleeping little, eating shit, and freaking the fuck out about shit that doesn't matter at all in the scheme of things. And recently, it all came crashing to a crystal clear fucking halt. 

I know just enough about myself to be dangerous if I were to apply it with any sort of consistency. I hate that initial free fall back down to earth.  Fuck, it stings. Coming to rest in a scratched and bruised up heap, goddamn I am fucking tough on myself.  The thud is always louder than I anticipate and it generally serves the purpose of startling me back into consciousness where I am left to sort through the rubble that is my mind and body after a stint of the fuck-its.  And I always spend far more time beating myself up for the fuck-its then I do on basking in personal revelation or taking notice of a job well done.  And I have been wondering for a while... why is that? Why can I not take as much credit for progress as I do for failure? What the fuck is up with that? 

I spend so much time trying like hell to propel myself forward, that I frequently miss my own fucking milestones.  And then, at the first sign of a detour I rail on myself about everything I have yet to accomplish. And that is where I have been for the past few weeks. Actually, I started writing this blog entry a few weeks ago so- fuck, the past month or so. I've ridden the train of self destructive behavior, I've taken up residence in my head, I've run the gamut of anger, self pity, fear, and teetered on the edge of depressed, in short, I have spent FAR TOO MUCH fucking time in the dark corners of my introversion.

And then, this morning, I read this post by one of my favorite bloggers - The Bullshit of Being a Work in Progress.  Go ahead, read it, I'll wait...

The title doesn't lie, huh?!

"When life doesn’t go the way we envision or we find ourselves having screwed up (yet again), we ladle the I’m-a-work-in-progress bullshit on anyone who will listen.
And the sad thing is (well, for me at least) that we’ve convinced ourselves that there’s a goal. That there’s some elusive day akin to a good parking space at Whole Foods where we’ll wake up and realize that we’ve made it.  We’ve convinced ourselves that we’re perpetual works in progress and we forget...
Well, we forget that today’s the fucking day. Today’s the day we wake up surrounded by hedgehogs and hot girls on Harleys. It’s the day where we’ve done it — we’ve gotten there."

Goddamn, that chick has some fucking eloquence, eh?  Well, what a fan-fucking-tastical reminder! I am right fucking here, right fucking now, and I am good with it.  Instead of taking time and energy to beat myself up as a means to forward progression, or whatever other dumbass, newagey, oxymornical phrase my brain decides to attach to it, I'm gunna take a deep breath in and take credit for where I am RIGHT FUCKING now.  I'll just be over here, filing work in progress right alongside the Mr. Rogers terminal uniqueness rhetoric... it's a dumb fucking story I tell myself, it's self deprecation thinly veiled as motivation, it's the Guerrilla Warfare I wage on my own consciousness.  It's high time I recognize that this shift in consciousness I go on about- from guerrilla warrior to gorilla power, is happening NOW- it is what it is all in this moment.  And ya know what, I WILL celebrate that, abso-fucking-ultely!