Money & Kicking Ass.

I remember being young, daydreaming about a life of adulthood; I would have a car, a modest house, and enough "extra" cash to eventually be able to travel a bit (even if just to Vermont for the weekend). Yes, I was already reaching for the stars. The good news? I'm basically there. And have definitely been there before. Is it my ever-present realism? Is it my ability to shut down, kick ass and pick myself back up? Or perhaps just the strong work ethic inherited from my mother and father? Maybe a healthy mix of all three.

Along with an unhealthy amount of courage.

If ever I find myself once again descending down the pit of low esteem, if ever should I fall, I hope that I will be able to remember such times; times when my boot (and my boot alone) was the one that kicked the ass. Times when there was no caring parent, childhood home or friends to fall back on. I sincerely hope that I am allowing of my error, no matter how large. On the off-chance that I am not...

Dear future-self,

Remember that time when you accepted that invite to go somewhere new, by yourself? You know the time; when you opted for the sketch-ass ghetto part of town, where the only inhabitants were the drug-addled and the ones making money off of them? Oh, c'mon, you must recall the late nights, driving "home" from work at 1:00am (or somewhere around there), fearing for your life as you clutched your mace in one hand, metal bat in the other? Dodging strange men twice your size to get to your apartment building, only to have them follow you in for a bit? The first skill you acquired was not that of matching guests' names to their faces at the restaurant, nor was it the art of balancing those enormous martinis without spill; it was the art of "not existing" that you mastered first, there. The less you exist, the less trouble you get into, the less immediate danger you're in. You learn pretty fast, kiddo. You didn't fall into unhealthy habits, in fact! You lessened the amount of booze, cigarettes and crap food you ingested. And dodged some drug bullshit while you were at it. And not only did you do a great job out of work; you killed it at the restaurant, as well. Guests got along with you, co-workers (for the most part) got along with you and you learned a whole new way of serving. You made do with the insane amount of hours you were handed and you earned an unusual amount of money. You went home to see your family on every day off, you didn't go out to spend all of the money you earned while you were down there, you bought a damn 5-year-old PERFECT dream car that you decided you wanted and you saved up over four grand. Nobody told you to do any of this, let alone give you pointers on how to do so; you just decided to do it. And you freaking nailed it.

Just sayin'.
Sin-focken-cerely,
past-self.

Does it sound like I'm up my own ass? Couldn't care less. Because sometimes you have to be your own biggest fan. You wanna save money? Do it. You want a different job? Apply. You wanna travel a bit? Make it happen, Cap'n. The objects in your way are mobile. And if they're not, they're temporary.