Hmph. You telling me you had those animal balloons since November and your first time trying to create a 3 twist dog is today, the day you’re scheduled to upload your next video?! The script was memorized, your hair was cut, the lightening was right. But the reason you’re gonna be a day late is because you can’t make a got-damn giraffe?! A got-damn swan! Oh, something you could have practiced on yesterday, Sunday, your birthday, you know, days you wasn’t doing shit anyways. When I looked at you in the mirror earlier at the gym and said “I hate you” I wasn’t trying to motivate you. I meant that, literally. Who the hell are you, now? Because even Har-old was better than this shit!
Every year, between my birthday in October and New Year’s, I give myself what I call a “holiday period.” For three months, I try not to judge myself quite as harshly as I might during the rest of the year. During my “holiday,” I might have a drink or smoke a cigarette or sneak a bite of fish or stay out too late at a party, even though I know those actions aren’t contributing to how I ultimately want to live my life. But by giving myself that “break,” I’ve found it relieves some of the pressure I might feel during the rest of the year every time I turn down a drink, or don’t order the fish, or leave a party early. So while I might not always be a perfect yogi, or a perfect vegan, or a perfect father, I try not to feel guilty or anxious about the slipups I have during my “holiday,” or frankly, the slipups I have during the rest of the year too. I’ve learned that there’s no value in an emotion like guilt. It’s like empty carbs. They might seem to fill you up at the moment, but in the end they’re going to slow you down.
Remember that from Do You? This concept has been on my mind for a while and I was going to build off this and write this huge post about taking a vacation from yourself, but you need a complete relocation. Move and don’t come back. Not even to pay “Har-old” a visit. As I was brainstorming on how to expand on Russell Simmons’ idea, I started thinking about snakes and how they shed their old skin for new skin to symbolize their continuous growth. Poetry was born. I wrote this for you. It mirrors your current predicament. I hope you like it. Call it Skin I’m In.
I was between a rock and a hard place
Rubbing my head against the rough surface
My already stretched skin splits from my face
To the noise that makes predators nervous
It’s like taking off a sock inside out
Goodbye parasitic relationship
This new skin will not be your fucking couch
Lived rent free off your host, where was the tips?
Only left when I was watched like a hawk
My fresh new skin symbolizes my growth
Not just physically but mentally sharp
Recognize I’m anaconda in both
Rebirth is something I cannot avoid
Why a snake is my umbilical cord
I Love You!
It’s real now. You got your gas station polo. You can realistically get down to 200 pounds in 19 days. Other than food, the only thing standing in your way of a great performance on May 27th is practice, practice, practice. And the only thing standing in your way of doing numbers is marketing. Time won’t wait.
- 50 cents less an hour.
- Bi-weekly pay periods.
- Under 40 hours weekly.
- And most importantly, what you were doing it for in the first place, the bonus money. It’s a tax preparer’s second refund, which would have definitely recompensed for the peanuts the first one was. You won’t get any! Not even one thrown at you. And that should make you feel salty for being roasted. Why? 3 reasons.
- Although, when you was marking locations you preferred to work at, the ones nearest you, they still put you in an unchecked box like a pair of Adidas. A location that barely did over a 100 returns last season.
- Nobody really knows you’re a tax preparer on the outside. Remember when one of the managers said 40% of her clients are co-workers, people from her full-time job. You know, people who you definitely shouldn’t practice selective mutism with. Good thing you overcame it on your last day and announced to everyone who had been continuously posting THAT article on the walls in the bathrooms. Whew!
- You depended on your earth dad for clients. You really bought that 10K, 15K stuff? How many times has he lied to you, again? Yeah, okay!
- You get to see what Eric Cartman meant about fusing your ass into a chair. No more warehouse floors! But I question the goodness of it when treadmill use has been inconsistent.
- It’s on a bus line; you can get to it on your own. But sometimes you still …
- The third time was the charm. This, along with getting your first marketing/sales/customer service dollar shows just how persistent you are!
- Your fine ass co-worker ❤
speaking of initials
Futuristically Yours. The F is you, Har-old, the defeated, a body laid out on a canvas. The Y is me, Har+new, the victor, hands in the air. I’m not sure who’s who anymore!
P.S. I guess I will know on May 27th.
One day you will indiscriminately hire a co-worker from a shit job to help with something in your dream job. This will be somebody you worked at least 3 months with. Y’all only exchanged hellos and goodbyes. But now, the words y’all are putting in-between is over lunch, over fulfilling projects, even over each other houses. Y’all aren’t just co-workers anymore. Y’all are best friends in real life. One day they will ask you, “Why didn’t we do stuff like this before?” And you will say, “It wasn’t personal. It was strictly business. Even the steady conflicts. Had I didn’t practice selective mutism at that shit job and engaged in small talk to make time go by quicker I would’ve been 65 before I knew it and there for 25 years with my own parking space. I wanted slow time. I didn’t want to have fun. I wanted to feel like SpongeBob in that episode where he was trying to make time go faster and did all this stuff and only 1 minute had pass. I wanted to feel every damn second of my 8 hour shift. I wanted my entrepreneurial spirit to suffer. I knew it was strong enough to not get crushed. I don’t know what happened in my dreams that night, but one morning I woke up and said FUCK THIS … now here we are!”
I know taxes is seasonal but quit your job. Don’t play it safe! Focus on doing taxes. This been 3 years in the making! Make as much money as you can. Save. Keep your goal in mind. Your next employer should be Google/YouTube.
To: Cj 31
My dearest Cj 31, You are closer to me now than when we first met. I can see you picking up the pieces from the past three years of your life. You have seen some dark days; days I could not prepare you for. And you felt pain that cut deep to the core of your soul. I heard your screams from nine years away. And during that time you blocked me out – trapped in the darkness of your experiences. I watched you sleep-walking through your days. I watched you at nights when you twisted in your sleep – disturbed by dark memories of the past that your mind replayed. And I watched, always frustrated that I cannot tell you if nine years from now you will be just fine. So I waited. I tapped on your shoulders and you shuffled. I tapped again and you answered. I was so happy that you finally responded to me so that I could let you know that:
Life teaches us…because you will never be able to put the broken pieces together again you must clean up and move on. Remember that the cleaning up process is different every time. Don’t compare one process to the next. It keeps you stuck. Sometimes you will get out of the situation unscathed. Other times – you will feel great pain; the sharp edges of the glass will cut you deep or the splinters will penetrate your flesh and you will bleed. This is not a reason to leave the broken parts of your life untouched because it is only through cleaning up that you will learn the techniques of removing the splinters (the source of your pain). In time you will.