It's okay...you can say it:
Fuck. You.
Feel better??? I bet you do. We don't say it enough, "Fuck you." But we really should. We should say it to the limits others impose on our lives. We should say it to the labels people put on us because of things like gender, hair color, bra-size, dick-size...or, lack thereof. We should say it to anyone who wants to put us in a social box.
Boxes are what we live in when we die. Life is simply too large, too broad, too big in scope to fit into anything but the whole of our ever-expanding Universe. It's the same with love, too.
Ed Sheeran was in my head again this morning (see video below). By no small coincidence, he was right in front of me a few nights ago as well. Literally. Even singing to me. Live. And, very much in person. Apparently, our mutual fandom goes both ways.
My girlwood for gingers is no secret, but Ed Sheeran and I are connected in a way I'm still trying to understand. One of Ed's best-selling hits says, "Fuck you!" to some idiot who hurt him. Actually, that very song came out when I was experiencing a similar betrayal. Ed was thinking out loud; when I attempted to do the same, let's just say my song didn't go platinum. But it was a fuck-you-song. And, it made me laugh to write it and sing it and post the video. I think that's the key to Ed's ultimate success...he writes and sings and plays for his own benefit. The fact that others appreciate the way he expresses his particular art is a bit of a happy accident.
I can relate....
It's not a daydream to fly to Ireland. It's not a daydream to write in international volumes on mental health, or have one of my essays published in an anthology by an award-winning author, or have books that are sold in nine languages and 101 countries. Not a dream of any variety. It's real life. Real accomplishments. And, I'm not done either. All of that? Just a warm-up. Like when Ed played me one of his new songs on Sunday. He didn't remember all the words. It was beyond adorable. I do the same thing. Write essays and can't remember all the words--even though I wrote every single one.
This week is PRIDE in my area of the world. My friends in the LGBT community have invited me to a number of celebrations connected to the parade, both before and after. Thinking about Ireland, about why I woke up at 4:44am this morning with a song about addiction in my head, about why we need to have PRIDE parades in this world, and, about why I have yet to make my Star Wars Millennium Falcon Lego set...somehow, it all kind of made me want to say, "Fuck you."
I miss Ireland. Bad. Miss my friends there. One in particular. But impermanence is the theme-song of human-life. Change is what has allowed life and love to win all across the States and around the world. My nephew was able to get married to the love of his life as a result of impermanence. My cousin was able to marry the love of his a few years ago. As well as many, many of my friends. One day, that same impermanence will allow love to win in my world, too. Actually it already has. Gratitude is what makes that possible.
Just being asked to sit down at a table with people who were strangers mere days before was a win for me. While I was in Ireland, friends were at World Pride in Spain doing the same thing--meeting strangers who became friends. All of us were out-and-about because we had the guts to say, "Fuck you," to someone, or, a lot of someones in my case. I said, "Fuck you!" to cancer, too. That kind of fuck-you-attitude has kept me alive. Beyond just the deep waters of multiple high-grade malignant brain tumors.
Such a strange thing to consider when I meet new people...I know I was given a two-year prognosis 16-years ago, but they don't. That means that when someone meets me for the first time, no matter where I am in the world, that person has absolutely no idea he or she is meeting a miracle. Or, what meeting a miracle may mean for their lives. Impermanence allowed that. My miracle. It's also allowed me to share it with each of you reading this right now.
When you go to a Pride parade or event this year or in the future, you're witnessing another miracle. Love is the ultimate miracle of all human-life. Of our very existence. Isn't it sad, then, that even someone as gorgeous, as talented, as deep as Ed-freakin-Sheeran can be rejected by an idiot who is likely in love with him but too afraid to admit it or commit or whatever her excuse may be??? Happens to the best of us--typically perpetrated by the worst.
Ready??? Say it with me now:
Fuck. You.
Fuck you, social boxes. Fuck you, controlling families and friends who prevent love in bloom from reaching its full potential. Fuck you to the program directors and bosses who replace women with men. Fuck you to the CFO who asked me to sit on his lap in order to get paid. Fuck you, prejudice plebians of the world. Fuck you, racist-assholes of all shapes and sizes. Fuck you to the nasty in-laws who made anti-Semitic comments about my hair. Fuck you, unsophisticated pedestrians who think love is only one thing, one position, one person, or one God with only one name. Fuck you to every man who's treated me like shit yet comes back and reads my blog. Like we're friends. As if you still know me. As if I still know you. Come to think of it...fuck you all times one-thousand. In the ass, too. That's right, boys...each of you better bend over and take it like a man.
Don't you worry. I'll go slow. Promise....
I don't know if you're laughing on your end, but I certainly amuse myself. Now, I can finally start putting together the 1,329-piece Lego set. After I finish the Millennium Falcon, it's onto Kylo Ren's shuttle, and then, the rebel x-wing fighter! Hey, did you know Ed Sheeran sings about Lego, too??? It's true. Like I said, we're connected.
Isn't it sad to know that people who never say, "Fuck you," can also never go home again? Can never go after their dreams? Never be with the person they love? Never have real joy? Nor, happiness???
Perhaps saying, "Fuck you," to people who are already broken is a lost exercise. A waste of time, as it were. Although, I read that intelligent people often swear in the midst of getting hurt in order to lessen the pain. It certainly helps me feel better....
Saying, "Fuck you!" can be liberating, as long as you're saying it to the right people at the right time in the right place and for the right reasons. "Fuck you!" isn't just something we say with our words either--it's said through our actions, too. Something to remember. Because, once you say it--no matter what your delivery method--it can't be unsaid.
Words matter. Even when others say you don't. Even when that message is delivered through, not words, but silence.
#FU
Fuck. You.
Feel better??? I bet you do. We don't say it enough, "Fuck you." But we really should. We should say it to the limits others impose on our lives. We should say it to the labels people put on us because of things like gender, hair color, bra-size, dick-size...or, lack thereof. We should say it to anyone who wants to put us in a social box.
Boxes are what we live in when we die. Life is simply too large, too broad, too big in scope to fit into anything but the whole of our ever-expanding Universe. It's the same with love, too.
Ed Sheeran was in my head again this morning (see video below). By no small coincidence, he was right in front of me a few nights ago as well. Literally. Even singing to me. Live. And, very much in person. Apparently, our mutual fandom goes both ways.
My girlwood for gingers is no secret, but Ed Sheeran and I are connected in a way I'm still trying to understand. One of Ed's best-selling hits says, "Fuck you!" to some idiot who hurt him. Actually, that very song came out when I was experiencing a similar betrayal. Ed was thinking out loud; when I attempted to do the same, let's just say my song didn't go platinum. But it was a fuck-you-song. And, it made me laugh to write it and sing it and post the video. I think that's the key to Ed's ultimate success...he writes and sings and plays for his own benefit. The fact that others appreciate the way he expresses his particular art is a bit of a happy accident.
I can relate....
It's not a daydream to fly to Ireland. It's not a daydream to write in international volumes on mental health, or have one of my essays published in an anthology by an award-winning author, or have books that are sold in nine languages and 101 countries. Not a dream of any variety. It's real life. Real accomplishments. And, I'm not done either. All of that? Just a warm-up. Like when Ed played me one of his new songs on Sunday. He didn't remember all the words. It was beyond adorable. I do the same thing. Write essays and can't remember all the words--even though I wrote every single one.
This week is PRIDE in my area of the world. My friends in the LGBT community have invited me to a number of celebrations connected to the parade, both before and after. Thinking about Ireland, about why I woke up at 4:44am this morning with a song about addiction in my head, about why we need to have PRIDE parades in this world, and, about why I have yet to make my Star Wars Millennium Falcon Lego set...somehow, it all kind of made me want to say, "Fuck you."
I miss Ireland. Bad. Miss my friends there. One in particular. But impermanence is the theme-song of human-life. Change is what has allowed life and love to win all across the States and around the world. My nephew was able to get married to the love of his life as a result of impermanence. My cousin was able to marry the love of his a few years ago. As well as many, many of my friends. One day, that same impermanence will allow love to win in my world, too. Actually it already has. Gratitude is what makes that possible.
Just being asked to sit down at a table with people who were strangers mere days before was a win for me. While I was in Ireland, friends were at World Pride in Spain doing the same thing--meeting strangers who became friends. All of us were out-and-about because we had the guts to say, "Fuck you," to someone, or, a lot of someones in my case. I said, "Fuck you!" to cancer, too. That kind of fuck-you-attitude has kept me alive. Beyond just the deep waters of multiple high-grade malignant brain tumors.
Such a strange thing to consider when I meet new people...I know I was given a two-year prognosis 16-years ago, but they don't. That means that when someone meets me for the first time, no matter where I am in the world, that person has absolutely no idea he or she is meeting a miracle. Or, what meeting a miracle may mean for their lives. Impermanence allowed that. My miracle. It's also allowed me to share it with each of you reading this right now.
When you go to a Pride parade or event this year or in the future, you're witnessing another miracle. Love is the ultimate miracle of all human-life. Of our very existence. Isn't it sad, then, that even someone as gorgeous, as talented, as deep as Ed-freakin-Sheeran can be rejected by an idiot who is likely in love with him but too afraid to admit it or commit or whatever her excuse may be??? Happens to the best of us--typically perpetrated by the worst.
Ready??? Say it with me now:
Fuck. You.
Fuck you, social boxes. Fuck you, controlling families and friends who prevent love in bloom from reaching its full potential. Fuck you to the program directors and bosses who replace women with men. Fuck you to the CFO who asked me to sit on his lap in order to get paid. Fuck you, prejudice plebians of the world. Fuck you, racist-assholes of all shapes and sizes. Fuck you to the nasty in-laws who made anti-Semitic comments about my hair. Fuck you, unsophisticated pedestrians who think love is only one thing, one position, one person, or one God with only one name. Fuck you to every man who's treated me like shit yet comes back and reads my blog. Like we're friends. As if you still know me. As if I still know you. Come to think of it...fuck you all times one-thousand. In the ass, too. That's right, boys...each of you better bend over and take it like a man.
Don't you worry. I'll go slow. Promise....
I don't know if you're laughing on your end, but I certainly amuse myself. Now, I can finally start putting together the 1,329-piece Lego set. After I finish the Millennium Falcon, it's onto Kylo Ren's shuttle, and then, the rebel x-wing fighter! Hey, did you know Ed Sheeran sings about Lego, too??? It's true. Like I said, we're connected.
Isn't it sad to know that people who never say, "Fuck you," can also never go home again? Can never go after their dreams? Never be with the person they love? Never have real joy? Nor, happiness???
Perhaps saying, "Fuck you," to people who are already broken is a lost exercise. A waste of time, as it were. Although, I read that intelligent people often swear in the midst of getting hurt in order to lessen the pain. It certainly helps me feel better....
Saying, "Fuck you!" can be liberating, as long as you're saying it to the right people at the right time in the right place and for the right reasons. "Fuck you!" isn't just something we say with our words either--it's said through our actions, too. Something to remember. Because, once you say it--no matter what your delivery method--it can't be unsaid.
Words matter. Even when others say you don't. Even when that message is delivered through, not words, but silence.
#FU
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