Wednesday, March 11, 2015

The impermanence of suckiness

The other day I was driving. Well, trying to drive. It was cold and snowy and the traffic was moving painfully slowly. I was frustrated at winter for being interminable, frustrated at traffic for existing, frustrated at not getting anywhere, and frustrated at myself for being frustrated. I actually said (out loud, to no one) "I hate everything about this." Then I immediately started laughing because it was such a ridiculous and untrue thing to say. I don't actually hate anything. Not even my nemesis, Lucien Morin Park. (Though strangely, ever since I decided to make him my nemesis, I've liked him a whole lot more. I am terrible at this having-a-nemesis thing.)

I've noticed that when I get frustrated over little things, it's not actually those things that are upsetting me. I don't really care about traffic or cold. They are just infinitesimally small bumps on the road to infinite awesomeness. What is really going on is that I'm annoyed at myself for a whole host of other things, culminating in my annoyance at myself for being annoyed about anything in the first place. But all those things, the small bumps and even the big ones, won't last. The truth is that any moment, no matter how painful or heartbreaking or frustrating, is temporary. Things will get better. Usually you have to do something to make them better. But recognizing the impermanence of the suckiness is a good first something. Recognizing your own power in changing the suckiness or, if nothing else, changing your attitude towards the suckiness, is a good second something.

Life throws a bunch of random shit at everyone. Some of it is pretty freaking sweet. Some of it totally sucks. But I believe it's possible to make something good out of even the worst moments. Every obstacle can make you stronger, every loss can make you more grateful and every struggle can make you more compassionate.

Impermanence is the best and also most difficult part of life. One day I'm going to die alone. It's inevitable. Death is one adventure you have to embark on solo. I'm not worried about it. If I can, I'll come back as a ghost and leave you funny messages written in Skittles. But the fleeting nature of my existence does make me feel pressured to realize my full potential and live life to its fullest, most absurd extent before I die. I have so much to do and so little time here. I want to be an infinite source of laughter and adventure and hugs for as long as I can.

Lyric of the moment: "I always could count on futures. That things would look up, and they look up..."

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