I Suggest We Learn to Love Ourselves Before It's Made Illegal - Incubus

Good Morning, kiddies.

I just woke up this morning and started my usual ritual -- which is to open my laptop and click on the icon for Facebook. I won't even reveal the time. It's pretty...darn...embarassing. What I will do is get into the topic of how Facebook (and some of its' applications) are slowly becoming such an important integral to my life later on. Later on can be tomorrow. It can be next week. It can be next year on Labor Day, for all I know and care. But it has to be addressed because the only way I realize my addiction is when I speak of it. Or in this case, post about it for the 10s and 10s of people that actually stumble into this blog. And I say "stumble" because it may be by accident. One minute you're on a popular blog, next you're on a page that looks halfhazardly put together with the tagline "Where Amazing Happens" which was joyfully jacked from this recent 2009 NBA Playoffs. Shit happens. Crap! I shouldn't be cursing. It's Sunday. Let me rephrase that bit: shit happens.

Anywho, what was my subject again? Oh yeah...

I was in my usual spot on Facebook when I read my cousin's status and heard some unfortunate news. My dad's brother passed away. I was like, "Oh damn!" When will this end? Just a couple of months ago, my dad's sister-in-law passed away from a disease that we later came to find out could've been leukemia. We're still unsure. Anywho, all these deaths and weird tragic accidents is really putting me in my place. I actually wanted the title of this post to be: She called out a warning, "Don't ever let life pass you by!". This line and also my title comes from the song "Warning" by Incubus. But I felt my current title is where I want to be headed because I'm having a problem realizing the potential I have. And if I do not realize what I have, it will be too late. Or illegal, says Incubus. Fancy words, Boys.

You see, I have a slight problem recognizing that people like me for me. That people want to hang out with me. That people see that "it"-ness in me. But I don't see it. Okay, let me not say that. I see it once in a while. Like a HARK! moment will come and I'll be like, "Aww shucks. They like me. They really, really like me." Other times I'm like, "The hell they see in me?" Probably that's why I'm in this rut right now. I really don't wanna explain much further what that "rut" is because I'm still not comfortable revealing what is going on in my life. It's admirable when other bloggers choose to. But I'm not in that zone. Probably will never be in that zone. I feel much more comfortable writing bout my shallow side.

But it's coming to me that the only way I move further in my life, the only way I can have some sorta peace in my life is to realize the person I am. I am special. I am (semi) funny. I am smart. I have what it takes to, honestly, be somebody in this world. It's true. No half-stepping. I have what it takes. And it is bout time that I get a hold of myself before it's too late. The tragedies that I (and most of the world, really) have endured in this past 8 months have been expected and totally unexpected. Those that have died, were they content with their lives? Were they questioning themselves? Did they love the life they were living? Let's use MJ (and if you guys don't know that abbreviation by now, then you should slap yourself and continue to do so to the tune of "Beat It") as an example. Clearly, he wasn't content with his life. In fact, never was. Infact, he was never content with HIMSELF. To him, black was not where it was at. He wanted to be white, have the white features: the bridge, the high cheekbones, the cleft, the curly hair (which honestly was leaning more towards Hispanics territory, but I digress). He never loved himself. And anyone can see that. This is not breaking news. With all the money and power and adoration he recieved from his cult-like fans, he was never, ever content with HIMSELF. And that's pretty darn sad. I do not want to be headed in that direction. When my time comes, I want to be content with myself. I want to have the wisdom that yes, I am somebody and I am making it somehow, someway. Yes, I do have people that love and what to be around me because of what I am and what I offer. But truly, even in my little rut, I should still be proud of myself. Why? Because I should, you minions! No. Because I have been blessed. And continue to be blessed.

When I wake up in the morning? Blessed.

When I look outside my window and see a kid playing the saxophone on the corner like it's cool to do that early in the morning? Blessed.

When I hear myself moving around to go back to the comfort of my pillow? Blessed.

When I reach for my laptop to see who has been tagged recently on FaceBook? Blessed.

When I begrudgingly get out of bed to walk to the bathroom? Blessed.

When I say "Good Morning" to my Dad & Mom? Blessed.

And the list goes on and on. I shouldn't feel bad bout the state I am in. But I shouldn't let it stay that way, either. I should find whatever will, whatever focus and get it crack-a-lackin'. Move one step closer to loving myself for what I have done (positive or negative) but also for what I will soon accomplish.

I'm out like doubting my awesome-ness.