What Really Matters

Life is funny sometimes. Not always in that "haha I just farted during sex" kind of way, but more in the "how the fuck did that happen" kind of way. Maybe unpredictable is a better word.

As young adults we rarely take the appropriate time to step back and enjoy everything we've got. This time of our lives is fraught with anxiety about our college lives coming to an end, having to enter the dreaded "real world", relationships, money, any number of things.

The day that puberty turns us into awkward, sexually confused pimple poppers, we begin to slowly lose sight of whats really important. Year after year our consciousness becomes more clouded with frivolously inconsequential concerns. Will the guy I like ask me to the prom? Does that hot cheerleader think I'm cool? Do you think anyone knows that this isn't a real Lacoste shirt?

It takes a shock to the system to snap us out of our own petty self absorbed realities and take a look at the bigger picture. We get so caught up in trying to grow up so fast we forget to savor the moments as they pass. How many of us got to college, and on the first day of class had that feeling that this would never end. It's just an endless stream of papers and projects and group meetings. In the blink of an eye you are fighting a hang over and shuffling across that stage, looking out at your parents thinking "shit, college flew by".

You move on to the real world, and as you sit at your desk in the khaki's and a polo shirt that you were forced to buy because hoodies and capris don't cut it anymore, you finally start to reflect on the years past. You wonder where the days went, where the years went, why you haven't talked to your old teammates in while. But you put it off because I mean, we're in our 20s, we've got forever for that shit. 

But then something happens. That catalyzing moment that rips you feet first from your myopic day to day routine. Maybe it's you. Maybe it's a friend or a family member. You're immediately thrust into forced self awareness. You hate yourself for what you left unsaid, what you wish you had done that you didn't, maybe what you wish you didn't do that you did. You begin to finally realize that life isn't about the hand your dealt, it's about what you do with that hand. It's not about where you've been, but who you've been there with, and you can't fight the tears as you chuckle at all the childish mischief you caused with your best friends, even in a city as dull as Thrilliamsburg. You come to the realization that you aren't going to be friends with everyone, and not every body is going to like you, but you better damn well hold on to those closest to you. You begin to understand that in the blink of an eye the world can be turned upside down for no reason at all. That bad things do happen to people who absolutely don't deserve it, and somehow the shitbirds skate by day after day without consequence. You try and reconcile these facts with religion and faith, which sometimes only serves to make the issues more convoluted because you can't help but question why would God, or Allah, or whoever you believe in, let bad things happen to good people?... To my people.     

This cocktail of emotions is capable of reducing a grown man to tears. The volatile combination of helplessness, uncertainty, fear, and anger is overwhelming. Growing up as guys we are taught to be strong, it's ingrained in our psyche to "not be a pussy", but in that moment you couldn't give a shit because it finally dawns on you that you have no control. Sure you can play the percentages. Don't smoke, don't drink, don't walk your pale ass out into the sun without sunscreen, don't sit down in oncoming traffic. It all makes sense.

No shit Paula Dean is diabetic everything she eats is wrapped in bacon. And of course Uncle Herman died, he was 99, drank malt liquor like it was going out of style, and smoked unfiltered Marlboros for 55 years.

But how do you plan for the time it doesn't make sense? What do you tell every kid at every children's hospital who has been diagnosed with cancer? What do you tell their parents? Bad luck? Bad genes? What about the incredibly healthy 43 year old father of 2 who's heart just stops? What do you tell his family? It's these cosmic curveballs that ignite the introspective fuse necessary to make life worthwhile.

We've all been touched by it in some way, some closer than others, but it's there. Many of us are going through it now. You ask yourself why. Why now? Why him or her? And selfishly you ask why me? Why us? You try and wrap your head around the fact that there is absolutely nothing you can do except be there, and you underestimate just how powerful that is. You reflect on the nights you partied together, the nights you got in fist fights, the times you triumphed together and the times you came up just short. You recognize that in every instance you were with the people who had become your family. These guys who initially were just names on lockers, just pictures in a media guide became your brothers, and the universe should know better than to fuck with one of your own.

All of a sudden you're able to parse out the things that really matter. That C on your chemistry test isn't that important anymore because you've been given a crystal clear new perspective.

Don't waste a single day doing shit you don't want to do. Don't waste time with people you don't want to be with. Don't miss an opportunity to tell someone you love them, to tell someone how important they are to you.   

Alright Reg, Rupe Fiasco, you've both made your point. Logistically it would behoove the both of you to get healthy. Fuck your bad we can still make it to happy hour.

We're all thinking about you both. Right side strong side