You know, while it’s great to have dreams and goals to strive for, to help keep us on the path of life rather than the road to ruin, it occurs to me that sometimes we may reach a point where the best thing we can do… is simply stop trying.
No, I’m not switching tracks and taking the “Not” out of this series’ title, I’m going to ask you to ponder this:
What if this is it for you, pally? What if your existence has reached its maximum potential?
#18: Accepting Your Fate.
I am a (almost) fifty-year-old white male who, in spite of having a lifelong dream of being a professional writer, has been a Niagara Falls bellman for over twenty years. (My God, that number really lands with a thud in my consciousness when I ponder it.) I have fought to be recognized by innumerable publishing houses, agents, fellow bloggers, the CBC, and even the odd celebrity or ten. I write a blog and I even self-published a book once.
In every instance I have failed. I have failed like Nancy Pelosi trying to be gracious at the State of the Union.
And the worst part? As a (sometimes) taxpayer, I help fund the damn Canadian Broadcasting Corporation and they still took eight months to respond to my last pitch, so that really stung. To make matters worse, I’ve been watching dozens of my fellow bloggers gain ground in their fight to realize their dreams while The Hook stays behind.
And IBS has become a cinder block strapped to my neck, weighing me down and impacting areas of my life that I never could have dreamed would be disrupted. My worries range from failing to be an inspiring father to surviving the early morning walk to work. (Those horny skunks are deadly, man.)
But who gives a shit?
I am a (almost) fifty-year-old white male who, in spite of having a lifelong dream of being a professional writer, has been a Niagara Falls bellman for over twenty years. So I’ve had the same job for over twenty years. In Justin Trudeau’s Canada that makes me a winner!
I have fought to be recognized by innumerable publishing houses, agents, fellow bloggers, the CBC, and even the odd celebrity or ten. I write a blog and I even self-published a book once. So I’ve learned all about rejection and how to survive it. (Of course, I’ve been learning that lesson ever since Cindy Day started turning me down in elementary school. And junior high.)
And IBS isn’t that bad. Okay, so it is. But at least I have constipation IBS and not the other, ridiculously-messy variety.
So I’ve failed. I’ve lost. I’ve been rejected.
Big whoop. At least I’m alive, goddammit!
And I intend to stay that way. Until God decides otherwise, of course. And at least then I’ll see Ronnie again so it won’t be all bad. (Fair warning, Ronnie: I intend to kick your ass for leaving me so soon.)
Accepting one’s fate is freedom. I have friends, a hot wife, a cool kid, and a crazy-ass dog (Yes, I realize even homeless people have dogs. Don’t take this away from me.) Sure, I miss my hair and my IBS has given me a gut but I’m not completely bald (yet) and my bellman’s uniform is basically a tent that hides my gut, so it’s not completely hopeless. I’ve been told I’m quite amusing when there isn’t a camera aimed at me and (most) guests find me hilarious once they accept that that they’re not drunk/high/hallucinating and I’m really saying the things I’m saying to them.
I am battered, bruised and certainly broken. But so is America and it keeps going. My life is too small to change the world and that’s a good thing; who needs all that pressure?
A home. A family. A fully-stocked fridge. A reliable wi-fi signal. What else does a man really need these days?
Celebrities lead glamorous lives – on the surface. The rich are usually more tortured and screwed up than any of us “lower class” folk. Power corrupts. A big life brings big problems. A supposedly-small life is more manageable. So take stock of your blessings and hold ’em close to your heart, kiddos, they’ll give you a reason to keep living.
Dreams are for suckers. Reality sucks worse than a two-dollar prostitute but just like the prostitute, at least you know what to expect so you really can’t be too disappointed.
See you in the lobby, friends…