I can’t travel back in time, but I can travel back to places I’ve come from. It’s not that the places have changed, or even the people. I have. I still look in the mirror and see the same hypnotic eyes, and I still have the same gorgeous hair, although there is far more salt in my pepper than there used to be. We all love seasoning. Except Betty Bland, but I can’t do anything for the squares. Not my audience.
I tried to go back for minute, but I’m just not that kid I used to be. There was a time when I was “face first into plexiglass,” now I look for a jackhammer. There was a time when I would always find the party, now I am content to know it’s there if I want it, but I don’t need to ferret them out.
There was a time I resented people for the stupid shit they did, now I leave it to them to make peace with their Flying Spaghetti Monster. I’ll turn that genius into lyrics, and drop the rest on the ground.
There was a time I got frustrated by the ridiculousness of others, now I let them row their boats off the falls, and if they insist that they don’t need an ambulance, I call one to wait for them and move along.
It’s not that I feel old, I actually feel pretty vibrant and young most of the time. I have certainly known my share of septuagenarians whose immaturity spanned the eons, I am not willing to be one of them should I live to see the day. I’ve grown wiser, even if my height and waist stay the same year after year.
I’ve made a lot of dumb choices in my life, and put my energy into many fruitless pursuits. I’ve been bullied, beaten, bested, blown off, buttressed, and been scapegoated.
The world has turned, but it has not left me behind. Nothing can let me go unless I stop moving.
And all of that has forged me into who I am becoming, who I will become, and are the fixin’s of what will become of me.
I roll hard not because it’s novel, or because I am compelled to. It’s not even because I should, or because I have nothing to lose. It’s the sum total of who I have become.
I roll hard because it’s who I am.