Let’s fucking rain on our parade.
I go on Facebook and it’s one of those blue moons in which I brace my stomach and check my newsfeed. I’m instantly swamped with the same motivational quotes that folks keep churning out. It’s never the really succesful ones that spam you with a Ghandi or Churchill quote.
Then there are the ones who list all their accomplisments. If you feel the need to list them, you’re a needy egomaniac.
This nauseating narcissistic drab poo. Look who got ripped this year. Look who got fucking castrated, I mean engaged. Look who launched a ‘business’ (usually selling motivational talks to other wanna be business people).
Let’s talk about FAILURE. About getting your ass kicked. About not getting what you want. About drowning in your own emotional vomit. About NOT figuring it out. About suicidal thoughts. About smashing your head against the wall.
Here are some of my failures. I hope you all have the shrivelled up cojones to take a good look at your own failures and stop sharing only your sucksesses.
I went around being everyone’s free therapist in a desperate drive to prove to myself that I really am a therapist. If someone had a trauma I fucking pulled it up to the surface. Yeah! O wait, have I just gone and listed a sucksess? No, I haven’t. While I was doing this I invested zero time in actually getting the right credentials. I read 27 psychology related books this year and not one of them was on the required reading list. Hell…
In 2015 I staged a play with my writing partner and then threw something of a nuclear bomb on that writing tandem. Also, I didn’t stage a play in 2016, which is pretty fucking dumb, because staging plays is one of the few things I have an inkling of talent for and some experience.
For the better part of 2016 I neurotically ignored my best friend just because I was envious of his little sucksesses. Which makes no sense, because we don’t even have the same goals in life…
I ‘launched’ Bratislava Live to copy an interview show called London Real and then didn’t do any interview.
I wrote 3 novels, but stopped mid way to start an other one.
I wrote an authenticity diary, and have absolutely no idea how to market it. It might actually be the first commercially viable thing I’ve come up with. No thanks to me, because after writing it I left all the execution, the cover, the layout, the translation, the editing, to other people.
I got a ridiculously low paid (note: not underpaid, the salary is totally correct) job that makes me get up at 5 am just to get there on time. When people tell me I’m so smart I laugh in their face and throw my bank statements in their lap.
I fell of the wagon. I stopped drinking in the fall of 2015 and started drinking again in the summer of 2016. Nothing too dramatic, am not an alcoholic, I’m addicted to other things, but it’s just not consistent. I’ve got this rule now that I only drink when it pays off.
I rented an overpriced appartment.
I didn’t go running. Not even once.
I lift in a way that’s destroying my back.
I got a borderline couple as therapy clients and I have not the faintest idea about how I did with them. Truly fascinating case, but did I do them any good? No idea.
I lost one of my best friends back in 2014 and failed to reconnect with him in 2016.
In March we got in the local newspapers with a comedy video. Our follow up reaction? We stopped making comedy videos.
I saw my candidate, Bernie Sanders, get butt raped by Hillary and the Democratic Party.
I saw Israel sucking the blood out of Palestine yet an other year while I was obsessing about how to make more money.
I saw a proxy war between Russia and the United States of Arrogance in Syria and did nada, zilch, nothing.
This blog has no readers.
I was glued to YouTube when I should have been glued to work, people, the running track and my fitness equipment.
I almost took the suckess lists of people I don’t even know seriously.