A woman I know once told me her mother taught her to never cry in front of men. I told her that was a coincidence because I was taught to never cry in front of men either.
Of course that is/was different and regardless of what some of you think men who cry in public still receive a certain amount of grief for doing so unless it is under specific circumstances.
Ask if that means that I cried in public and got grief and you’ll get a big head shake no. I am not a big crier, but I do watch and observe people and circumstances around me.
And I can tell you I have been told, seen and heard men and women tell other men to man up.
I responded to one by giving a mischievous smile and when they asked why I was smiling I said I was remembering them naked which made them do a little air suck and then struggle to decide whether to be angry or happy because it wasn’t said with disgust.
At the moment the roof of my mouth is on fire because I made the mistake of heating cheese to 982 degrees and then ate a bunch without letting it cool or ice.
Since I get softer and weaker by the week it is possible that tear may have welled up in my eyes as a pace similar to the time I ate the extra spicy Chicken Vindaloo.
That was an experience, the chicken was quite tasty and for a little while I had no reason to believe there would be consequences.
One would think it be a badge of pride to say you could both spit and fart flames but one would be wrong.
That shit hurts.
I am going to try to go to bed at a more reasonable hour tonight as I think my mind and body have decided to go on an extended walkabout.
There were two or three moments today where I was parked in the car responding to calls and emails and I lost a few minutes.
Just drifted off into nothing, not sure if I got lost in thought or fell asleep.
Figured it was nothing and then at the gym tonight my legs decided to assault me midway through my time on the treadmill.
I had the brain send a message to the legs saying insubordination is unacceptable and will be punished and the right leg kicked me in the ass.
For a moment I stood say, an extended oooouchhh on my lips and then I started to realize how impressive this act was.
Kicked my own ass while run walking on the treadmill and didn’t fall.
After a few minutes of allowing the mutual admiration society to run rampant I had the brain remind the legs to STFU and get back to work.
The right one said same to you and suggested if I didn’t like its behavior I could cut it off.
Never knew the right leg was so damn cruel, be careful around it because he plays for keeps..
Some of y’all might think I just threw on the jumpsuit and am making like Elvis but that is not the case, but if you want to sing along anyway you can.
Or you can go the opposite direction and ask if the only truth you know is you or understand most of what I once knew as true I have come to doubt.
‘Cuz the thing is these monuments, goals and statues we have erected make me shake my head and wonder what the point is.
Instead of creating I stand here tearing down walls and clearing rubble for a purpose yet to be defined and demonstrated for more than a few.
The old man slammed int0 the wall over and over daring his body to break before it did and now both lie in shambles.
Going to take a little time to rebuild the body, going to be harder than it used to be and once was.
But the time of what once was and what could be is past. Now it is what will and what might.
There is a difference and most is based not upon skill, but upon luck and will.
Who can keep going and who has fewer obstacles to walk around, under, over or through…
Damn, I am so tired.