Sunday, September 27, 2009

Pick A Box

Pick a box. The proverbial "they" have provided an assortment. You need only check those that apply.

Male - Female
Gay - Straight
Conservative - Liberal
So forth and so on.

The "they" say pick your box, purchase a matching wardrobe and play your part.

My question is, where is that box marked other?

If we were honest, I think we would all have to admit that that is where we would fit.

But life is scary and when we don't understand, we try to identify, classify and stratify. And whether or not you choose a box for yourself, there are plenty of folks more than ready to pick one for you.

Recently, I was referred to as 'crawesome' Equal parts crazy and awesome. And while I will gladly take it as a complement, it is still a box, a label to try to explain away misadventures and what makes people - in this case, me - tick so that others can feel safe.

There was a time when I would have given anything for a clearly defined box. I tried on a multitude of ill-fitting options just to see if anything would work. But that is just life, right?

Today I say fuck it. And no, I didn't say f-it or forget it, I say fuck it. Because really, who cares?

I can't make everyone happy all the time and I don't have the energy to squish myself into easily distinguishable parameters.

I like me. And sometimes that is messy and impulsive and, well, crawesome. And as long it doesn't hurt anyone else, I am not going to apologize for a life well lived. For oversight, for inconsideration, for fallibility - sure. For being human - absolutely not.

And if I wake up with a retched hangover and mild regrets, you can be sure that those regrets will be mine and mine alone, not the laden suggestion of others.

We all have to live in, outside and around our boxes, but sometimes you just have to kick the sucker over, climb up on top and have yourself a good ol' rant.

You just might feel a lot better when you do.

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