So, What’s it Gonna Take?

I am here again. But I am not here against my will or would I call this a crossroads or an impasse. And no, this is not an accident either.
I think where I am is both accurate and justly deserved.
However, I would never say that I know what I’m doing or that I am an authority on anything in any way. In fact, I can only say that I have see what I have seen and that I know what I know.
At the same time, I have to understand that life is subjective, memory is often a liar, and that like billions of others who lied and died before me, I am often tricked by the deception of my perception.

I know this.
I know that not everything is as it seems.
I know that I have often misunderstood, misread, and misdiagnosed problems of the heart or troubles of the soul.

I know that I have flown off the handle and lost control of me, myself, or the world around me. Come to think of it, I know that I have committed crimes of the heart and that I have sinned, that I have lied, deceived and that in the end, I got bit in the ass by this thing we call Karma.
No one escapes this by the way. No one goes through life and walks away unscathed. No one gets out of this place alive and no matter what we do or how we try to hide the truth, the truth always comes out in the end.

I know that I was told no one can save their face and their ass at the same time.
And do you know what?
I agree.
I’ve been burned by my own hand and my life has certainly been affected by the so-called “seven deadly’s” as in the seven deadly sins. I have been hurt by my gluttony, lust, and greed.
I have been hurt by my own sloth and nearly ruined by wrath, greed, and certainly my pride.

I never assumed that someone like me would ever be heard or regarded. I never thought I would come this far, which is not to say that I am far, above, or in a better position in the food chain.
I know that I am far more privileged and blessed than I assume. I concede that I am lucky, despite my best efforts, and that I often take far too much for granted.

I lost great things. I have lost great people in my life. I have lived both wealthy and poor. I have enjoyed the crest of big waves and, equally, I know what it’s like to have the big waves crumble and punish me into the rocks.

But then, so?
What does this mean?
What does this make me aside from human or shortsighted?
What am I anyway?

I know that I am a man. Or at least this is who I say I am.
I know that my anatomy tells me that I am a man. I have balls, so-to-speak, and I say this respectfully and also with the request to pardon me if saying I have balls or testicles is too crass or vulgar.
I do not mean to be.

I have managed to make 53 trips around the sun. And for those who fail to catch the reference, this makes me 53-years-old.
I am not young, by any means. I am not a child anymore.
I am not the most mature either. I laugh at silly potty jokes. I have a sense of humor and yes, i have a shirt somewhere that says “boobies make me smile,” and they do.
But no, I never wear the shirt and to be honest, I’m not too sure where it is anymore.
Either way, let me move on before I offend you or anyone else even further.

I cannot say that my age makes me grown or this makes me a man. I can’t say that my age makes me more knowledgeable or successful than someone with half of my experience.
If anything, I can say that maybe I am a slow learner. I can say that I don’t always finish what I start. I can say that I have thrown a temper tantrum or two.
I’ve cheated on a few tests. I’ve lied while on interviews and at times when my immaturity is off the he charts, yes, I have taken my toys with me and gone home.
I’ve tattled.
I’ve been a big baby.
I can say that I am that kid who needed to stay after class or ask for extra help.
But I didn’t.
At the same time, I am the only one who can fill my shoes.
I am the only one who can accurately promote or condemn me.

If I am to succeed and keep my successes, then this means my life would be up to me. This means it would be up to me to create success.
This means I have to work for it, hold it, keep it, and then I’d have to keep working to ensure that my success wasn’t just a fluke or some kind of win by a lucky punch.

The sun shines on us all.
And opportunity knocks on every door, regardless of the circumstances, and regardless of our whereabouts. In the end, our successes are nothing more than a tribute to our ability to endure and to keep going.

I have been told that I need to work on myself.
And I do. I know this.
I have been told that I need to face my trauma and my history and that I need to “grow up.”
I have been called all sorts of names. Some of them are not so good.
Some are the names I have been called are awful and nothing to be proud of.

However, some of the things I have been called are not so bad either.
Some of the things or the names I have been called are complimentary — yet, of course, it is far easier to notice the bad things or to hear the negative than it is to embrace the goodness of the nice things.

Am I afraid that I won’t ever make my way to find my dreams?
Am I afraid that I will never cross the finish line with a decent standing?
Am I afraid that my biggest fears about me as a person are true?
Yes, of course.

I am afraid that I will never be perfectly matched and that I will die alone, and that all of my bullshit past will push me out of contention. I am afraid that I came up short, or like the old saying goes, after I finally built up the courage to give “life” an honest chance, the response would be that I am “a day late and a dollar short.”
“Too little, too late,” is the saying that comes to mind.

The truth is no one can stop me from improving or sharing or speaking my mind. No one can stop me from trying to reach for my dreams. There will be people who look to run interference.
And there will be good days and bad days.
But so long as there is breath in my lungs, I know that I have a shot.

This doesn’t mean everyone is going to help. This doesn’t even mean that I will succeed in the making of my dreams come true. But doing nothing will only guarantee that I will fail even worse than if I tried or took a shot and missed.
This doesn’t mean that there aren’t enemies out there.
There are. I know most of them by name too.
Even if I become better or even if I cure cancer, this doesn’t mean there won’t be someone looking to launch their attack or fire their torpedoes, to sink my ship.
Whether the emotional missiles hit me or not, and whether someone’s methods of destruction hit me hard, soft, or not at all; nothing matters, and no one really cares.
But I do.
I care.

The only thing that matters is me, my effort, my willingness to continue and endure, and come hell, or high water, the only thing that matters is whether I gave it my all or not. If not, did I quit or wet the bed? Did I fail because I never really tried?

Anyone who finds true success is someone who worked for their success.
I know this.
I used to work with an old man named Richie. He came to this country with nothing. He might not have died with much, as far as wealth is concerned.
But Richie lived a good life. He lived a happy life.
He loved his wife. He loved his family.
He pushed a broom and ran a mop across the floors of an office building for decades.

Richie was never a millionaire or anything close. At the same time, I have met plenty of miserable millionaires.
But I never met anyone like Richie.

Richie always smiled and said “hello.”
Richie was always pleasant, even when something was wrong or as Richie used to say, “Bullshit!”

Richie made sure his family ate. His children went to college, and in hindsight, I never offered Richie the respect that he deserved from me.
Then again, I was having a hard time.
I was living a life that was not built for me. I was in love with the wrong person. I was living with someone who I had no business living with.
I was not being true to me or to my dreams or living with dignity or self-respect.
I was selfish and self-centered to say the least.
I was disloyal to myself and to everyone around me, and yes, I swore that I was on the right side of the line. I thought that I had to “be” how I was,
selfish and self-centered.

But I was wrong.
And now, here I am.
I am starting another journal and sifting through my past.
Of course, I am shaking my head at the warning signs that I did my best to hide, bury or ignore.

So, what does it take?
What does it take to get through the day and see your own reflection in the mirror and come to the benefit of a constructive conclusion?

What does it take?
Or what’s it gonna take to get me to where I want to be?
The truth is I don’t know.

But I do know that this is what this journal is all about.
Maybe we might learn something.
Maybe we might laugh or cry.

The rest is in the future.