Since I’m evidently in the realm of arrogant life advice, I thought I’d keep that trend rolling with something that came to me recently. In light of all kinds of circumstances, unfortunate realities and just day-to-day bullshit, I’ve adopted a new mantra (which you should adopt too) called “It’s not your fault but it is your job.” Which is simple, I promise. FEAR NOT you will not require a journal, or to repaint your entire house or to switch which team you’re batting for in order to get this life reinvention under your belt. To get you started, here are some common realities.
It’s not your fault that your father was absent for most of your life, but it IS your job to seek greatness, in spite of his absence. So your dad was gone, who’s dad WASN’T gone? Amirite? Are you going to spend your entire life blasting through male partners in a desperate but failing attempt to fill the hole that your father left behind? Are you going to resent the entire male species for his short comings? I promise that he has faults of his own, and most likely isn’t in your life for a good reason, so either make an effort to make amends, or move on. It is your job to be in charge of the role he plays in your life.
Bet you thought that one was only for women! It’s for males with mommy issues too, dear friends
It’s not your fault that your body is the shape it is, but it is your JOB to love the shape you were given, regardless. And don’t panic if there are days where you look in the mirror, pinch your fat and wonder why anyone lets you have sex with them. It’s OK. I don’t think it’s a secret that we’d all love to have that perfect, ideal shape. Unfortunately, for the vast majority of us that are without a completely disposable income or were unusually blessed from the lord up above, we aren’t perfect. It is your job to be okay with the things about you that aren’t perfect. You owe it to yourself to not drown in a vat of self hate. So you have cellulite? So does… literally everyone. So you have a ponch for a belly, that’s where you keep BABIES. Find something better to hate, like the state of the world for example.
It’s not your fault that some people are inconsiderate, feeble-minded and rude. It is your job to maintain a level of social decorum just shy of punching everyone you meet like that in the face. It is, unfortunately, completely out of your control how people choose to live their lives, speak their minds and be humans. I repeat, unfortunately. So don’t waste your energy caring about such folks, move onwards and upwards.
Just fantastic life advice
It’s not your fault that it’s raining for the 15th day in a row, your wireless provider fucked you up the ass, your mother unloaded her awkward sexual encounter stories on you, your boss has a god complex, your girlfriend is fucking your cousin, all music sounds the same ‘these days’, you can’t get a good cup of coffee, like, ever, a monkey in running for president of the United States, corporations own all the rights to fresh water, Goldman Sachs is a Goliath entity that owns all of our souls, you have syphillis for the 3rd time this year (that one actually might be…), the bus is running late, that you have 14 meetings, that your son won’t speak to you, that the earth is coming to a rapid and accelerated end. Is is however, your job, I repeat, your job, to not just survive, but thrive. In spite of peril, of negativity, of injustice and cancerous notions. In spite of everything that would make it so easy to be, well, blue. Thrive. Reach for greatness. And no, greatness doesn’t have to mean reaching the top of Everest or making $1 million in by the time you’re 25. Greatness is anything from getting through the day without yelling, having a movie night with the love of your life where you can focus your energy on something other than your full-blown shit show of a life, or actually finishing a book. Greatness people. Make it happen.
Because seriously. Trump is going to become president and it’s going to have vast implications for all countries and all genders and all walks of life and the world is going to LITERALLY end. Jesus fuck.
God every time I see his picture my ovaries literally dry up.