Forgive me internet, it has been over 3 months since my last confession.
. . . . . . . . . .
I remember in the summer of 1994, I used to like staying up all night long. I didn't have anything to do. I just wanted to see if I could do it. I just wanted to test myself. I wanted to see how I felt on the other side.
As an adult, you don't necessarily get to choose when and how you get tested. You only get to decide how you are going to deal with it.
Things just happen.
Life happens.
When you're "put through the ringer" as they might say, whomever they are, it's just a test. There could be some sick side of me that likes the test. Well, maybe not "likes" it necessarily, but welcomes it. I don't consciously think about it at the time, but I suppose I always just want to see how I will feel on the other side.
Of course, you're almost always tested in different ways.
Test your ability to recover.
Test your ability to trust.
Test your ability to be selfless.
You either pass the test, take something from it and move on, or it defeats you.
It defines you.
... blah blah blah
This is the point where I catch my own quiet introspection spinning into something that sounds like I know what I am talking about. I hate it when that happens.
The reality is I have no idea what I'm talking about.
I'm a reliable source when it comes to scotch whiskey or field dressing a cigarette. Any deeper than that and it's probably just babble.
Of love, hate, lust, passion, art, etc....
who knows?
All I know is when I see a Phoenix sunset, I feel a little bit better about things in general.
Pair that with good music, a cigarette and a clear freeway in a '65 Mustang and I can convince myself that I'm a happy man.
Call me simple if you want.
I just want to pass the next test and enjoy the small things.
