“Writing letters seems so old-fashioned. Then again, they are much the same as, say, texting or sending e-mail. Sure there are differences. A letter is not instantly delivered. However, one aspect in the same… once it’s sent, it’s sent.
From time to time, I send letters and then go OH SHIT!
There is a mailbox here where all mail is dropped. I have more than once dropped a letter in that box then went OH SHIT. I still have to walk by that box for the rest of the day realizing that something I said wrong or too harshly is only inches from my grasp. Perhaps dumpster-divers feel the same at times. …Hanging upside down from the lip of a canister with the crown jewel only inches from their finger-tips. That must suck! I know it does for me. Um… yeah, not the dumpster-diver part, but the letter part.
If you send a text or e-mail to someone and piss them off, they have the option of calling you directly. Then they can tell you to fuck off, threaten to put their foot up your ass… well, you get my point.
*With a letter, you just have to keep thinking, ‘Oh shit, what have I done?’
This continues for days until you find out the amount of damage done. Then what? You try to kiss ass – pick up pieces, make amends – any way possible? I call it ‘damage-control.’ Yes, I fuck it up often enough that I have actually coined a phrase to describe my ass-kissing, back-pedaling, whatever you want to call it.
A prime example of this would be when I called out a family member of mine here on the blog. For her sake (and mine), I won’t mention any names. However, that took a lot of ass-kissing. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve told her sorry since, my canteen money would be as long as Donkey Kong.
My biggest mistakes are with women. Then again, I have a strict policy of no ass-kissing guys. Yes, the direction of this is even beginning to confuse me….
So I send out some random, possibly hurtful thoughts that my broken filter was not able to decipher. Being so outgoing and up front is many times a curse rather than a blessing. Now, on top of trying to avoid harmful situations, stay under the radar of the prison guards, and do my time, I also get to sweat how much damage-control will be needed to pick up the pieces from that grenade I just threw. Worst part is… I will wonder and wonder for a week or more until the mail-man beings me answers. Where is a Blackberry when you need one?
Here’s yet another one I used to have a problem with: Drunk texting. The best way to avoid this would be to take the ex’s number out of your phone. Then again, you need to be able to identify them when they call, so you can reject their call.
So I’ve spent all day on the beach, doing shots, slamming beer, and have a sunburn to match the flames of hell.
**I am once again in love with my ex. How about I call her real quick and tell her? Hmmm… no, it’s 3 a.m. …How about I text her instead?
This can turn out many different ways. I’m passed out on my floor and someone is beating on my door. I crawl to the door and open it. There stands my ex. “Umm… I’m here! You asked me to come over?”
Then, of course, the times I hit the deck so hard the knocking won’t wake me. I wake up the next day to 99 messages on my phone. “I’m here!” “Hey, are you home?” “…OK, asshole! I’m leaving now.” “Mike, you suck!”
God forbid they come in, you have sex, then pass out. …Only to wake the next day going, “What are you doing here?”
***You know, I can’t be one-sided about all this either. No, that wouldn’t be fair. So yes, I’ve had that woman… the one who wakes me up at 2 a.m. and I go and wait for her drunk ass to show up. Then she passes out drunk next to me. I’m left to twirl her hair around my finger and recall all the times I could have done her different, but didn’t. …Trying to fight off sleep so I can look at her a little longer, knowing full well that when she wakes, she will leave without a backward glance.
There’s a saying, No matter how beautiful she is, there’s some dude out there who thinks she’s a bitch.”
(Ester asks, Really?)
“Well, I have one too. ‘There’s also some dude out there who is still fucked-up over her.’
OK, you happy now? Even the players and the assholes fall in love.
I’m left at times wondering what life is all about. The guy who says “life’s a beach” or a walk in the park was smoking that funk.
Miley Cyrus, at the ripe old age of 16, told us it’s about “The Climb.” Then again, she was smoking that stuff herself not long ago.
...or something
At this time in my life, I feel like I’m cliff-hanging and trying to upgrade my parachute. I openly express my thoughts on life and love, but who am I?
…Definitely not your leader.”
* I know this looks like a total cop-out on Ester's part
** Because I have the same designer's pictures used throughout this post
*** But really it's a great promotion for someecards, in case you've never heard of them :)
You're welcome.
No comments:
Post a Comment