split energy

WTF Friday OR Shut The Front Door Sunday OR The Tale of the Ungrateful Hiker ~ Reprise

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So…I’m back on the killer hill. Hiking. Or otherwise known as putting my life in jeopardy (maybe a touch melodramatic), to walk on dirt, uphill—in black stretch pants—with the camel toe to end all camel toes—at 8 am—for no good reason.

I’m still fucking around with my little WiFi experiment, but interestingly enough, the signal has been uncooperative since those two miraculous days last week when all the stars aligned to give me my NPR.

But I’m still at it. My middle name is tenacious. Janet Tenacious Bertolus.

There may have been some begging even though I know that begging is the surest way to silence.

Through the years, I’ve been told by pretty reliable sources that The Universe doesn’t keep score, or prioritize, and I know for a fact that The Universe can’t be bothered with begging.

Asking? Sure.

Prayers? Absolutely!

Begging? Not so much.

Especially begging for something as ridiculous as WiFi to distract from the excruciating “discomfort” I put myself through trudging up that freakin’ hill every morning.

It sticks its fingers into its ears and LA, LA, La’s until I stop.

Anyway…no begging this morning, just resigned acceptance when the signal cuts out.
Shitfuck.
Then I laughed because it’s starting to get funny.
Not really.

Have I mentioned what an opportunist the Universe can be? Oh, yeah.
Just at the point where I am at my most vulnerable; hands on my hips, bent into the hill, drenched in sweat and gasping for air like a sherpa about to summit Everest; the WiFi kicks in and Abraham on YouTube comes back on.

The Universe decides that this is the perfect time for a teaching moment.

I am elated.
This will help me summit my own humiliating, Studio City version of Everest. Except for one thing. I’ve already listened to this part. It didn’t pick up where it left off, it went all the way back to the beginning. Back to what I’ve already heard for the last forty minutes.
Shitfuck.

A not-so-mild wave of disappointment washes over me as the smile leaves my face.

Immediately the signal cuts out. Silence returns.

Awwww, come on! I actually shout out loud. What the hell?!

I stop and fiddle with my phone for a minute. Nope. Nothing. It’s no use. Resignation sets back in as I pull up my big girl stretch pants and soldier on.

It’s then that the Universe decides to give a lecture series entitled: Split Energy (Will Fuck You Every Time).

“You split your energy. You do it all the time and you needed to see an example of how it can stop the momentum of a desire faster than a concrete wall stops a speeding bullet.”

Nice visual.

“Thank you.”

But I need you to clarify, please. I barely have enough oxygen to keep me upright let alone fire the synapses’ in my brain that are needed for me to understand what the hell you’re trying to tell me.

“You desired WiFi. We gave you WiFi. And may we point out, in a place where WiFi doesn’t exist, so there’s that…”

I know! And I was so happy about that!

“For a minute. Not even. Then you were disappointed by the specifics. That’s split energy and it will stall a desire faster than anything else.”

So what should I have done?

“Really? You can’t stay grateful for a miracle for like, five minutes?…What do we always say?”

I don’t know…be kind to others and don’t say fuck so much?

“Besides that. We remind you that disappointment is taking score too soon. When you ask for something and it arrives don’t say, Oh, not THAT! it seems ungrateful and a tad rude. Wait awhile before you take score.”

I suppose you’re right.

“We’re always right! We’re the Universe! Whatever we deliver to you is ALWAYS perfect.”

Always?

“Always.”

What if…

“Always.”

What about that…

“Always.”

But…

“What part of ALWAYS are you not understanding?”

Point taken.
I’m at the parking lot and I have to pee so arrivederci and thanks for the chat.

Listen you guys, who among us hasn’t questioned a wish fulfilled because it didn’t look exactly like we expected it to look?
We’ve gotta cut that shit out. I’ll go first!

Carry on,
xox

Hi, I’m Janet

Mentor. Pirate. Dropper of F-bombs.

This is where I write about my version of life. My stories. Told in my own words.

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