I Am Human

Hear Me Live

A fresh day dawns. Since I took the picture, that means I saw the sunrise. Topside of the dirt.

Always a good start.

I can hear the Gangsta Girls clucking impatiently, waiting to be released from Fort Hen. 2200 pounds of beef rambles over for a head scratch.

The 34 year old horse, pissed that I am a few seconds late with his chow, grabs my hoodie and yanks.

He’s a bloody arsehole, that horse. And he simply won’t die.

The morning routine changes with the seasons. It’s a life lesson, right there. A metaphor for living, and life. You’re born in the spring, grow throughout the summer, mature (maybe) in the fall, live slower into the winter. The cast of characters, ever changing.

My childhood was better than some, worse than most. It defined the adult me, but not really.

I could be much worse than I am in my fall season. Fat, blind without glasses, opinionated, always right, sarcastic, loyal to a fault, brutally honest, champion of the underdog, a braggart. And STILL short, dammit.

Those are my good points.

Thinking back to my childhood, I have no idea how I came to be who I am in my fall. I hypothesize that I just watched the world, and it’s people, and like a Chinese menu, chose what I felt, in my heart, were the things that would define me as me.

Makes sense.

I don’t back down, whether I’m right, or not. This isn’t an admirable trait, trust me. However, prove me wrong, and I will gladly admit to being wrong.

THAT is a good trait, one people would greatly benefit from adding to their repertoire.

And, I learn. From every person I meet, from every situation I find myself in, from every obscure thing that catches my fancy, I learn something.

In this world, there are conspiracies about theories, and theories about conspiracies. I need black and white, 110 photos or Polaroids, or don’t waste my time.

Fads? Meh. My clothes come from BiMart, usually the 50% off rack. They have drawstrings and elastic and if they last a full season, I’m good. I don’t own a single pair of nylons or a dress. I have some skirts and ‘dress’ tops for work, just a few of each.

I thought Jimmy Choo was just some guy in the tech industry. I know, profiling, right?

If I see someone in need, I help. Don’t care who or what they are. Because they are human. Just like me. Back when we had actual money, I was forever getting rid of it to people and causes that truly needed it. Now that we have enough, but no overflow, I give my time and skills where and when needed.

My sun meanders just a bit past the halfway mark, heading for the horizon. I don’t mind; no one lives forever, and honestly, unless there are guaranteed flying jet cars and solar system cruises, I’m good with that.

I’ve lived much in my 57 years, because I had no reason not to. Horrific things happened; fabulous things happened. I have never even considered living the past. There’s zero point. The touch of my finger on the iPad’s screen is just as done and gone as what happened in a canal in 1972.

I’m reasonably sure that the neighbour has forgotten about 13 year old me driving his brand new combine into a different canal that summer. At least, I hope he has.

I’ve journeyed with so many great people, all of whom influenced who I would become, and who I am. Some in small ways, others, much greater. I learned who I wanted to be like, and who I could toss out with the rancid meat and rotting potatoes. Everyone teaches you something, if you are willing to listen, and learn. Many do it with actions instead of words. Most will never know they are teachers.

It’s up to you to decide which pieces fit into the puzzle that is you, and to discard the ones that don’t fit. But no matter what else you do in life, do one thing ALWAYS.

Live forward.

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