F Bombs Ahead

STRANGE. That is how I feel...all this existential, uncharted territory, unsure human feelings crap is all so damn strange, considering the attempt at routine lives we all make. Then again, there are stories of those trapped within their routines, struggling to get out of it, to feel passionately about something, anything...then there's me, who feels so much goddamn passion it's enough to make me want to stick my head in the sand sometimes. It seems I do nothing by the book. I am not straight forward, I am not boring, I am not bored. Fantastic, wonderful, you say. Gee, sure sounds romantic, Marsh! Well, fuck romance. This bullshit is hard.

I am empathy, incarnate. I am love, alive. I am a raw bloody heart just asking for more road burn. Please kind sir, please family, please God, drag me along the fucking diamond road of sharp pain to the gut. Fill up my capacity for human sorrow. Throw me from the tree tops in a whirlwind of joy and ecstasy. Then, make me feel small and ashamed, or, expansive and beautiful. It's all in there. I've got it all, maxed up. Mind you, I am so thankfully not of the subset that has these feelings to an unbearable degree (such as those with Bipolar disorder) but, Jesus, why did you make me this way???? Fuck.

My detail oriented, obsessive digestive digressive self seeks endlessly. For what? Meaning? My life is over crowded with meaning. If I see even a fraction of the lives around me, a part of people's love, loss, triumph, sorrow, struggle -- I am blessed. I am also overwhelmed. This job of being an empathetic, seeing-eye human, whose self proclaimed* mission it is to 'love and serve. serve and love' --this job is harrrrrrrrrrrrd. Man, the times I have just wanted to tell people to fuck off and check their bull shit at the door...but nope. I attempt grace. God must be looking at me, saying 'Aw, aint that sweet? Little kitten thinks she's a dog! Watch out kitty, you gonna be devoured.' No Marsha. He's probably more likely saying 'Aw. My baby's trying so hard. She's got it so backasswards, but she is so fuckin' sweet. I love that kid.' Thanks God. Love you too.

Fight the negativity! Fight the thought traps you lay for yourself. And for fucksakes, quit over thinking everything...just try to feel the wind in your face, unfettered, as your bike careens down York, knowing full well your brakes are a little iffy. Feel your muscles tighten when you paddle that kayak, knowing full well the current could sweep you off and you could end up in a bad way. Don't be afraid of feeling good, knowing full well you could end up sad and afraid. It's ok to love. It's good to love. It's crazy to love...it's so damn human to love imperfectly.

aHEM. Sorry for the delay. It's been busy!

Since I have recently directed someone to this very spot, I figured I should check in and write a little something something (what's the onomatopoeia for THAT?)