Not only that but my illustrious friends are kicking ass and taking names despite what life shovels their way. It behooves me to remind my sorry self of this so, for my benefit and maybe the benefit of my readers (both of you), I present:
Three inspiring things friends reminded me of last week.
My friend C. recently broke up with her long-time partner. It was pretty amicable as these things go – the partner bought C. out of their shared condo and though C. lost access to the dog (sniff), she knows another pooch is in her future. But here’s the kicker: C. has already, fearlessly and unreservedly, shacked up with another lover. And you can just tell by her calm, reasoned approach to the matter that she is not in a rebound phase. This is for keeps. Or at least, it’s for now... and C. is OK with that. It’s written all over her smiling face. Lesson learned? Love can happen if you are open to it. I myself have opted out of the hideous love racket and will never EVER date again. But it’s nice to know it’s out there for those who want it. (Suckers!)
My friend B. recently quit her job even though she doesn’t have another job lined up. Nothing much is even on the horizon. And she doesn’t have much in the way of savings to fall back on. Her rationale is that if she continues to pour her energy into something negative, nothing positive can possibly emerge. Also, she needs 100 percent of her working time to devote to finding work that is meaningful and fulfilling. So she just up and quit. I mean, gutsy huh? Not only that but she hit the gossipy party circuit with a vengeance in order to network, deflecting awkward questions about her former job and her future plans with aplomb. Lesson learned? Sometimes you just have to take the damn leap even if you might end up needing help down the line.
My friend J. has no money. None. To say that he has lived life recklessly would be a staggering understatement. But the reality is this: he basically has some clothes, books, an iPod, a mobile phone and a bunch of swanky tools he COULD potentially sell. But he really has nothing, not by the standards we Westerners generally live by. Yet I stress about money roughly 147 times more than J. even though I actually have some squirreled away owing to my crippling fear of poverty (hard-won fear, I might add). J looks at his rental space and his full dinner plate, his full pack of smokes, new library book and bottle of Pepsi and thinks, ‘Yup, a fine Tuesday awaits.’ I mean, obviously he is shithouse-rat crazy, but still. Lesson learned? Don’t forget to inventory the small stuff.
So…the unifying theme and proverbial moral of our story? Worry less and live more. And for fuck sakes tuck $100 at the back of the underwear drawer just in case. Also, thank my lucky stars I have friends willing to overlook my unshakable neuroses long enough to let me bask in their awesome presence. I really ought to get that tattooed somewhere.