My friend Michele wrote this to all of her friends recently and I have to say, right on my sista from another mister!
“You can ask me to be a better me, but you can’t ask me to be a different me. This is what you signed on for. (Reciprocal)”
Let’s all stay true to who we are as we kick 2016 to the curb and welcome a fresh, New Year!
Carry on,
xox
Oh, Holy Christ on a cracker is that ever true!
We just had a Capricorn new moon and that my friends, facilitates jettisoning all that is not working in our lives.
We get a cosmic do-over. A universal re-write (the best kind of re-write there is).
Wait. This all feels eerily familiar. That’s because, if you’re like me, we’ve done a full, life-retrospective every damn year around this time.
And some years look better than others. They just do. But for those jinky ones, the ones that make you cringe with regret, oh, how I’ve relitigated the past. I’ve played the roles of judge, jury, and executioner.
Then I move straight to the special effects department and I whitewash the mutherf*cker with some heavy duty gauzy filter.
In my heavily CGI’d version, I’m so much smarter, prettier, and wittier, I have the most epic ideas, rebuttals and combacks, and my hair looks impossibly, hatefully perfect—even after a nap.
In one version, nothing is my fault. In another everything is. It depends on which chapter you come in on.
In my dreamy, rom-com version, I get chased by a horrible dragon, captured by a giant cyclops, and saved by a naked, brave and handsome knight (we know he’s a knight by the chainmail codpiece he’s wearing). That scenario is the only way I can introduce all of the magic that permeates my life—otherwise, nothing would make sense and nobody would believe me.
But I can’t justify how I got to where I am any more than you can. Sometimes shit just happens.
Often, when I look back I feel bad for her, for me. She simultaneously appears to be the heroine and the villain of her own story and that is a hard pill to swallow. Sometimes I want to warn her, “Hey, idiot! Watch out for that guy, he’s a …oh, there goes the bra…nevermind.” At other times I try to congratulate her. “You, yeah, you. Ya did…okay. Next time try to suck less.”
Most of the time I want to duck tape her mouth shut and put her in the corner with baby.
All of these years later I realize nothing good comes from looking backward. It’s all water under a rickety bridge guarded by angry trolls. It’s all ancient history, filled with faded Polaroids and lots of bad clothing choices and the worst part of it (besides a stint with eggplant purple hair) is that focusing on my past, however riveting, keeps me distracted from where I’m headed.
Someone once said, “Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it.” Well, I think quite the opposite is true. Selective amnesia is our friend AND those who look in the rear view mirror MUST be driving in reverse. I know I was. Also, and of this, I’m quite sure—my best times are not back there, behind me. They are ahead of me!
A few things that may be included while I create my future are (In no particular order): chocolate, naked knights, dog kisses, and predominately minding my own business and looking dead ahead because the future I envision for myself doesn’t resemble my past IN. THE. LEAST. (except for maybe the good hair).
What about you?
Carry on,
xox
Snarky Sam.
He doesn’t have a kind word to say, well, ever.
You can count on him to complain about the weather, the slow waiter, the quality of the vegetables at the local Framers Market “their celery is flaccid” and most certainly your clothes “your closet is where 1985 went to die”, so why in God’s name would you ask his advice — about anything?
Debbie Downer (that character was invented by SNL, but it is applicable here) sees only the worst aspects of things.
In dogs, hats, and especially people.
“that hat is wearing that woman” she’ll whisper just loud enough so that the entire room, including that poor woman, can hear her.
She had one good day back in the early nineties that had an unfortunate ending – something about her foot and some dog shit, so every canine is the target of her vitriol. “You know I love Thailand, they don’t have a stray dog problem there because they eat them.”
If you share any of your good news with her she is the first one to rain on your parade, interrupting you to let you know she ran into your ex at Target and he said you looked old…and fat; or to remind you of the fact that your student loans will only take you another thirty-seven years to pay off.
Debbie’s a bitch, so you can expect that her advice will be…horrible.
Barracuda Betty.
Now she really appears as if she’s got her shit together. High functioning, top performer at her company, food connoisseur, and loyal friend.
But if you read the small print on her Friendship Resume you’ll find she is also a backstabbing secret spiller and wealthy ex-husband collector.
Her loose lips possess some of the juiciest gossip that exists on. the. planet. She has dirt on everyone (it’s rumored she even has some stink on Oprah) which makes the seat next to her at dinner parties the most highly coveted ticket in town.
Betty has the most amazing trainer, maitre ‘d at a five-star restaurant, not-so-discreet plastic surgeon, and the most cut throat divorce attorney in the country all on speed dial; and in a crisis she will tenderly pat your back and dry your tears, just don’t ask her for advice.
Betty gets and gives Bad Barracuda Advice, and if you follow it you’d better have a couple packs of cigarettes to bribe the other prison inmates, some bail money set aside, and an airtight alibi — because there will be a trail of bad decisions from here to Kingdom Come, huge invoices from a private detective to pay, and an open can of whoop ass to clean up.
What I’m getting at you guys is this: When the going gets tough and the fan is hitting the shit, who do you go to for advice?
The person that will commiserate with you, fill your head with devious ideas and fuel your fire; or someone who will listen calmly and only agree with roughly fifty percent of everything you say? I know, hard choice.
I’m horrified by some of the stories I’ve been hearing lately about friends that are on the receiving end of some crazy ass, mean-spirited, highly questionable deeds that have been perpetrated on them after the other party sought and followed Bad Barracuda Advice. When that happens, consider the source and by all means don’t take the bait.
There’s no winner in a one man bar fight, and that’s what they want — they want a brawl — and they want to win. At all costs.
Nobody wants to hear “Two wrongs don’t make a right,” You wanna know why? Because it’s true! You’re the good guy, the white hat; you’re just an unwilling participant in a fucked up situation. Sit tight and let the other party spin their wheels, taking all the bad advice that these shifty characters have to offer, knowing that in the end, when the dust settles, you will prevail.
You may not be able to see that for years but it WILL become clear to you if you can manage to stay out of the gutter.
I promise.
And when you are seeking advice what should you listen to?
Well, you may want to punch the person in the throat that offers up this pearl of wisdom: “There are two sides to every story”. That implies that YOUR side may not stand up to the scrutiny of a friendly kitchen table cross-examination.
None of us are right one hundred percent of the time and a good friend will call bullshit, and then immediately fill your glass with more wine.
Run from the friend that thinks “You’re not being hard enough on him” or says, “Lets make her pay”.
That reeks of Bad Barracuda Advice and you, (we) are all better than that.
Carry on & try to stay out of prison,
xox
