Have you ever had a cast? There are a bunch of annoyances that come with that, the most obvious being the general immobility of the limb. The other is the itchiness and the stench inside the cast. If you’ve had it, you’ll know. The craziest one, however, is people asking you what happened, kinda forcing you to explain the same damn story over and over again until it is reduced to “I hurt myself”.
The reason for us, mere mortals, is usually not something like “Oh you know, just saving this girl from being gang raped on the street while trying to dodge bullets…” Now that’s a story I would have no problem telling x times. Yet when It’s more in the lines of “I cut myself making a sandwich”… I mean it was never interesting to begin with!
The more the closing day of my annual calendar marathon was approaching the more persistently people were asking me what I’m gonna do next. “Do you have another job lined up? What will you do after this? Are you gonna miss us?” All this questions about the future firing away while I can hardly figure out what I’m gonna have for lunch. I’m pretty sure one of the clerks in the post office was asking me on purpose, knowing how annoyed I get with it. Not because of the questions but because the only true answer I can think of is “I don’t know. I have no plan. Completely clueless. I think I will do something but by the time I get to doing it I will have a completely different idea. And you know why? Because plans are for pussies. Anybody can plan and then make it work one way or the other. It takes true balls and bravery to throw yourself into the mercy of Life, live it moment by moment and have unwavering faith that things are gonna work themselves out at exact time they need to and I am ready to take them on.” That would be my answer. I mean how on Earth should I know that walking into an internet cafe would attract attention of the guy sitting across, him being all excited that I’m writing a blog on a smartphone with the aid of a bluetooth keyboard. And next thing you know he offers: “Brotherman, you will be calm, but when trouble comes, you can take care of yourself. I will train you. I will stay in Ireland for three months. I can train you in boxing.” Do I want that? I don’t know… It’s sounds interesting though. It sounds like Life o’clock. Where the hell will it take me?