It is Saturday Morning. Woke up around 6:05 am? I think. It’s now 7:20 this 20th day of September, 2014. I woke up with the stupidly catchy song in my head – the one with the line “nothing’s free“. No. Nothing is free. Nothing. There is a price to be paid for every damn thing. I’m poor with nothing to show for it. There is something wrong with that picture. If you’re going to be paying through the nose (as they say) for everything, then there should be something to show for it. When you’ve given your money to the person at the window. ..After they have given you the ticket and you’ve proceeded to the ride, event, arena, grandstand….then what? What now? Sit back and enjoy the show? Yeah, sometimes I suppose. In more cases than not however, it is simply a price paid for “admission“. To get you in. Like in the old days. You paid a cover at the door of the club. It got you inside. First step. After that you look for a table near the stage or a good spot at/near the bar. You order a drink, wait for friends to show up, check out the place, wait for the band. When the band comes on stage, it all connects back to the price of admission. Now the only variable is whether or not the band is going to be playing well or if they’re just not “on” that particular night. A risk. But you know there’s the “law of probabilities”. What is the probability the band will suck? Past experience to support a higher probability (they will suck)? Is consistency on their side? What’s been their “history“? Let’s face it, past performance is an indicater of (future) success, non? Except there’s a shitload of variables to consider if you’re talking about your own damn self. Geez. This is looking more and more like a post and not “my morning words”.
“Ahem…want to take it outside m’aam…” After dusting off the cover of tube tops, tattoos and TimeLines, I can see I invited people (you) to a conversation about…change, moving forward…I’ve never been very good at starting, encouraging or otherwise being the source of conversation. Except in those times I relate to the world as a scott. Which is to say, when I’m moving about the cabin more scottian than my predominant clarklike self. If you’re familiar with GirlieOnTheEdge, then you know that I’m a clarklike female. You also may know what that means. If not, let me give you this link. It’s a link to a virtual resource of IRL “self-development” tool(s). It’s also a pretty damned enjoyable place to simply wander about. There’s good conversation, jokes sometimes!, a nice collection of music vids,some excellent linkage out to other blogs all the while presenting, for free! a life tool the likes of which has never been presented on a mass scale. Until now. Ok. Not entirely true. It’s been around for years but the blog itself has only been around for what? 5 years? Somethin’ like that. the Wakefield Doctrine. It’s a life tool that is simple in premise, a little more involved in “application”. I like to say “the Doctrine is simple, not always easy“. It’s a life tool that goes to “real change”. Over time. Over the time it takes to learn, over the time that allows for you to observe the changes in your own damn self which in turn can’t help but affect those around you. In small ways. Sometimes in large ways. It is a tool “for you, not them“. It challenges an individual (you and me) to pick up the mirror and look. Yeah, go ahead. Take it under the bright lights. Let’s take a real good look. It takes strength. It takes courage and the willingness to look. The lines, the blemishes, the scars. They may be slight, barely noticable or they may be long ingrained, deeply etched, seemingly perpetual. What do you do about them? With them? If you’re a clark, like me, you want to “examin ’em”. But then, we clarks have spent the first part of our lives trying to figure out why we are “different’ and what it is that other people have that we don’t. And why we don’t do things “normally” like everyone else. We often wonder what is wrong with us. Seems I’ve gone on a babble today. Let me try and wrap this up.
When life arrives on the doorstep of a strange house, or there’s a knock on the door and the delivery person hands you a package you totally did not expect or otherwise want…what do you do? How do you do it? Where do you start?
