There comes a time in my life when deciding something is a hard and often sweaty task, especially when these decisions need to be made in haste and would often constitute something life-altering. Whenever I’m in that crossroad, imagining making a deal with a crossroads demon, I always find myself vacillating between yes or no. Careful consideration must be taken into account, more so when it involves other people.
So the simplest way that always work is . . . whenever you are half-hearted about something or when doubts suddenly take a-hold of you, lean towards a no. Even with all the listing of pros and cons you’ve done, when your heart is not in it, it is likely the universe is telling you to back off.
There is an old saying about not swearing or saying anything with finality because it will come back to haunt you later. I should have heeded that ominous warning that had been muttered over and over again since I was a kid. Now, it’s munching on my tush and I have no power to turn back time.
How I wish H.G. Wells’ fantastical contraption or Dr. Brown’s 1981 Delorean in Back To The Future weren’t just figments of the writers’ imagination. With that thought in mind, I started wondering what I would have done if there is an actual time machine.
This had been asked to me — and possibly several thousand other kids too — in school. Although it’s quite an innocent and simple thought, it provoked at least a hundred possibilities and endless barrage of images or eras I would love to go to.
I can’t actually blame Eve offering Adam the apple. It’s so tempting and shiny. It also must have been a rare, exotic fruit. I also do not blame Adam from taking a bite out of it. Lord knows I’ve been tempted to take a bite of anything I think tastes good. And that folks is the root of “my” evil.
I’m not one to preach. Well . . . sometimes, I do. However, I make sure that whatever I preach I practice myself. In a way, it’s making sure that I’m covering my ass. I don’t want to be blamed for an ill-advice by a vindictive person and be included in their murder list. I’d hate having to check my rear to see if someone’s sneaking a glistening knife ready to plunge between my shoulders.
Anyway, while I’ve been doing my daily mental calisthenics, my brain waves zeroed in on this . . .
Why do people generally gravitate towards things that are bad?
It’s a natural instinct that I’ve been prone to relent from time to time. And I’m guessing, most of you will agree with me that even if we force ourselves not to give in, our whole system would try its damnedest to push us. Sadly, it will come down to giving into it.
They say wit is a sign of intelligence. But does wit really glorify a person and revered as someone intelligent or just a smart-mouth and perhaps an obnoxious know-it-all? Regardless of what it is, a witty person has a solid backing of a good intellectual training.
I admire people who can banter with me with ease and get all my quips and well-phrased sarcasm (without sounding offensive, of course). I admire people who never get turned-off whenever they find themselves in the company of someone who’s obviously smarter than them — especially in a conversation between a man and a woman. I admire people who are never afraid to show others that they have something substantial between their ears other than a gooey gray matter. Most of all, I admire a person who will admit that they don’t understand what I’m talking about rather than pretend they do.
How many times have I heard this spoken and written somewhere? Countless. And yet, those five small words spoke more than all the sentences I might write in this post.
My younger version might be too dense to take this saying to heart. Before, beauty is all about makeovers for me. I mean, I’ve reinvented my style or look numerous times just to get that “look.” It was a trial, trying to make yourself look prettier when you’re not blessed with natural beauty unlike those you’ve lived and grown up with.
Insecurities abound in my childhood. My skin is too oily . . . I’m riddled with acne . . . I don’t have the right body type . . . yada . . . . yada . . . It grows old though – these meaningless insecurities. But it does affect ones’ outlook in life.