ya get what ya ask for

With the way things have been going lately, specifically last week, but also over the past couple months, I’ve been really trying to get myself together. Having said the lines “it must be your time” and having heard it said a lot lately as an explanation for events that happen out of our control, I’ve found myself looking for signs. I’ve been looking for guidance and answers as to what I’m supposed to be doing right now, whether or not I’m on the right track and when will it be my time. I’ve even gone so far as to ask the people around me and who know me best if they’ve seen any impending signs that I may be missing. You know your real friends are good for pointing out real obvious shit in your life that you seem to miss (like girl your man aint shit, and oooo girl that weave color just doesn’t go with your newest contacts).

Well last night I think I got a sign. Signs sometimes like to come in traumatic ways, which is why we miss them. And although this trauma is probably only traumatic to me, may even be minute on some scales, it nonetheless worked! The omnipotent one knows which tactics to use to reach his children. So last night as I snoozed on my couch, snuggled warm and cozy under my comforter, one of Georgia’s critters scampered across my face jerking me out of dreamland where I was ruler of some quaint world and jarring back into the present. After I popped up off the couch, half rolled and ducked across the room, grabbed my pistol and peeked my head around the corner, I realized that I was the only human in the house. After the cause of my alarm was identified, and my level of danger had gone down, I put the pistol away, thinking about how much I have to save now and cant be wasting bullets on non-humans. Anyone who knows me knows that I have a horrific, terrifying fear of critters. I will bitch up in a heartbeat when it comes to critters. My voice gets all high and I find myself either hiding behind someone or on a chair or clear across a room. People don’t scare me, this economy doesn’t scare me, not even a bad hair day scares me as much as critters. I haven’t always been this way, it must’ve been all those years I spent hanging with the wonderful ladies of a certain sorority, being oh so pretty! anywho, critters cause me trauma.

After the trauma had passed, and I relocated to my bedroom, where I shoulda been to begin with, I turned on the tv to my favorite tv network, Adult Swim, and waited for the antics of the animated characters to lower my heart rate and lull me back to sleep. Mission Hill was on (one of the underrated cartoons that had a short life but was just dammit good, new episodes please!), and for those of you who have never had the chance to see it,

its about two brothers who live in a loft apartment with a few roommates in a super cool town somewhere filled with artists and eccentric types of people. On this episode Andy, the oldest brother, decided to give up his career as a cartoonist to become assistant manager of a mattress store, after receiving quite a few rejections from his cartoons. In the beginning, as he was presented this opportunity, he hesitated, likening it to selling off a piece of his soul. But he stuffed that lil voice in a box and let the lean mean green make his decision. Soon he was assistant manager, making money, driving a fast and fancy car and having sex on the regular. He was selling waterbeds, driving his bosses car and doing the dirty with a prostitute. He knew this wasn’t the life for him, that the perks weren’t that great, but he resigned himself to being a sleazy suit wearing sales man. Eventually he saw the light when he saw one of his cartoons published in a local free newspaper, one of which he scoffed at in the beginning because he didn’t think it was big enough. He saw how the lil cartoon made the people around him laugh and began to remember why he did what he did as a cartoonist. He remembered his purpose and sucked up his pride and went back to cartooning (with a $35 residual check, yeah boy!).

I took last nights events as a sign, I mean, I’d been looking for one been asking out loud for guidance and I believe I got it. I don’t think I need anymore traumatic, psychologically scarring things to happen to me. Do you hear me? I get it! It’s not about the money for me, it never has been, its about staying true to my gifts and using them as was intended. Thanks big guy, and thanks to the readers for letting my borrow your eye time with this post.