Accountability and Shit. It’s a pretty intimidating set of words.
Accountability is one of my triggers. I consciously make an effort to be accountable in my daily life. To me this means that I take responsibility for my actions, for my reactions and for my daily activities and responsibilities. Blah, Blah, Blah. I expect others to do the same.
Shit? You know what shit is. Shit is when the guy behind you doesn’t slow down enough for you to take your right turn into that driveway, even though your blinker has been on and you’ve been slowing down. Then he flips you off, after he has to slam on his brakes.
Shit is when your day turns to garbage even though you got up this morning thinking it was gonna be roses and kitty kisses.
I consciously also make an effort to not make shit of my or anyone else’s daily life. But sometimes you just cannot help it, because shit rolls downhill.
Tonight was my favorite little Chucky’s 4th birthday party, and I missed it because I worked late, and I worked late because of deadlines and schedules, and I worked late because I was being accountable, and someone else was behind on their shit. Neither here nor there really, it could happen to anybody.
That tourbook is for a tour tomorrow. It had to be done.
Then there’s Chucky, he might remember I wasn’t there. He’s four but we have a special evil recognition and love, me and Chucky. Maybe I’m just feeling guilty.
My Rooster…… he took me out to dinner tonight, once I finally walked in the door, because he wanted me to feel better about my hard day and wanted to allow me to “not cook” (a discussion in itself), but then he acted out at the restaurant because he had been drinking, and ruined the whole thing for me. True story, yes. Tainted by my bad day, maybe, but not really, I have a witness.
No worries though, I will always love my Rooster, no matter what. Things just go that way sometimes, you know?
See how everyone is playing a dual role here in all of the stories? Like I was being accountable when I stayed late at work, but being shit when I didn’t make to Chucky’s party? And etc, etc. I wonder if that’s the balance of life.
Sometimes being grown up super sucks. And to quote someone famous in my life, “That’s what I get for trying.”
Pssssst. We’ve stumbled upon one of life’s secrets just now!
I shit you not (lol).
If you can consciously do the right thing and also make everyone around you happy (including yourself), you score one for the good. Because Heaven is about Love and Happiness (for sure, no matter which way your mind can twist it).
But when things backfire, or your intentions are less than stellar, or even when someone accidentally gets butt hurt, it all goes nuts, and that’s one point for the bad side.
Although usually, (from my experience) generally things are even-steven, on a day to day basis, if you live a fairly good life. There will be lots of tie games and no score days.
So ultimately, you have to get more good points than bad points to get into Heaven. Life is so long that no one could ever keep track, even if they somehow managed to figure this extremely easy concept.
OK, carry on. Maybe we did all already know this. Duh.
Feel free to discuss amongst yourselves.