loving my weeds

It seems these days, I exist only ... to do the "right" thing. It seems that my day is completely encased in rules. Go here. Do that. File this. Pay this bill. Seems like everything has two consequences.... a right and a wrong one, nothing in between.

I wake at the right time, gingerly positioning myself to get out of bed the right way, otherwise I might pull a muscle. I get up at the right time, otherwise I might be late for work. I walk to the kitchen to feed my, by this time, verbal cats. Take care to feed them the right amount, otherwise they will get fat and have health issues. I make coffee, measuring the exact right amount into the filter, so as to create that perfect blend of flavor, caffeine and thrift. Coffee is expensive. I think, "I should eat breakfast, cause it's important to my health. I know breakfast would be the right thing to do." I skip it; I am a (choose the right word here...) rebel. Take the right vitamins.

I get in the shower, otherwise I'll stink all day. Wash my hair with the right conditioner to perk up and shine; shave my legs because it's all about lack of body hair these days. Dry and style my hair the right way for my appointments today, because looking your best in business helps people to see your professionalism. Drive the right speed, the right, shortest and fastest way to work. Pay bills on the right day, buy the right insurance, file the right paperwork with the county, state, city and US government... otherwise Iwill be breaking the law and could be prosecuted. Talk to the right people; say the right thing. Go to lunch at the right time. Eat the right, healthy, low-fat, cheap meal. Save the right files. Backup the computer, otherwise all the rightness may be lost. Fix everyone's mistakes that may cost me if found. Everything has a cost. Most people make mistakes. Come home at the right time. Unwind by taking a relaxing walk in the garden, at which point I see tons of weeds. Pull the weeds, manicure the garden, because there are right and wrong plants to have growing in the garden.

Everything has a consequence. And I'm really really tired of paying those consequences, because I am not right. Hell, I am RARELY right. Yet i still try. Holding up the facade of being and doing the right thing is exhausting.

Maybe I just need to relax and let my weeds grow. Maybe I need to love my weeds.

I strive to be right, to save myself from consequences. But I must understand that striving has consequences too. They are inner turmoil, lack of positive meaning in my life, living for society's notion of what I need to be doing an how I need to be doing it. I want my own rightness.

I choose to love my weeds.

it is so much easier to be the underdog

to be the overly analysed team, consciously aware of all the "reviews" saying how large the public's expectations are of you. Just more than a true man can take. To come out with that pressure, takes only a super hero. Super. Hero. that's the story we all buy, want, and yearn for.

Everyone roots for the underdog.

the smell of september.

As I inhale the smell of harvest, I can tell it is less a rhetorical smell and more a physical pollen entering my nasal passages. It is coupled with air wrapped in a thick moisture, swilling into a potent definition of September. It's a harvest moon, full and partially hidden by layers of fog. Standing in the sky, as if saying, "I am here, you are there, and there is a sea of sweetness between us."

the smell of september.