The Fuck It Amendment
That font makes me feel alive.
Have you ever thought about moving? Like really picking up your shit and moving? I mean I’d love to be able to do that without any residual feelings of displacement, rejection, or abandonment. Stranger in a strange land isn’t a new feeling to me, it just sucks.
My boyfriend wants me to move. Like M-O-V-E. To El Paso of all places. That’s where he’s stationed. And why the hell not? I mean we’ve said the appropriate “I love you’s”, we’ve had sexual intercourse, we’re pretty sure we like each other, and he makes me laugh. If it were that easy I’d pick up and move tomorrow. Only there are a couple things holding me back.
Well….that would hypothetically hold me back….if I let them. But I’m not going too.
I’ve reached this “Fuck it” stage in my life that I’ve been before. It’s pretty much the same “fuck it” that Kat Williams claims is the main ingredient to that smoky green junk. But instead of being strictly applied to scenarios only while I’m high, this recent “Fuck it” has been following me around for the better part of a month. Kind of like a storm cloud with a silver lining. The potential to screw up my future, with the excitement of a drive to Sea World….or Kings Dominion…or Six Flags….or Disneyland. But definitely not Busch Gardens.
Anyway, it’s this Fuck it that’s propelled my decision to quick my job. Fuck it, that’s rewarded me with two court summons’ in as many weeks. Fuck it, which explains why I’m sitting on my balcony waiting for the carpet cleaner to dry. Why it shouldn’t apply to this hypothetical move to El Paso, I couldn’t hazard a guess. Therefore it will. Only I worry that the chance I take will end in a similar law enforced document or two and no income. That’s worrisome. Hey, can’t accuse me of not learning from my mistakes.
This time however, it’s a joint Fuck it effort. I’d be with my boyfriend. Who’s saved as much as fifty times what I have in my bank account. Not that money is our main concern, but I’ll be 21 in five days. The only summons, or arrest for that matter, that is applicable after my birthday is a Drunk in Public or any noise violation. Both of which carry a maximum fine of about 35 dollars plus court costs. (Goddamn court costs….) The point is, even if this particular “Fucking it” turns out to be just as stupid as this past month’s “fucking it”, I’ve got my bases covered.
Well, unless bf and I get sick of each other. Something I can’t control, nor can I know the answer to without first “fucking it”.
If my life continues to be so amusingly full of “Fuck it” I’m resigned to be either the happiest person on the planet or the deadest. Either way, there’s not a whole lot to complain about.
