I’m pretty laid back… and possibly lazy. Sometimes I blame my laziness on being from the South. There’s something about the humidity and the deep roots of racism that weigh on people there. I’ve also had a dead-beat dad that wasn’t a good role model. I’ve never had a mother so there wasn’t anyone to tell me to do chores. I could go and on, but in honor of this blog, I won’t.
But even with all those excuses, am I really lazy?
I mean, I started this “eat my prune” thing. I exercise sometimes. I typically fold my clothes. I work some days. (Well, I’m an actor).
So if I’m not really lazy, maybe I’m just…scared? Ugh! How come everything is always about fear?
I’m even afraid of writing. I don’t think I can call myself a writer because I never graduated from college. I know, I know. I lied on my resume. Sorry. Not only did I not graduate, I got kicked out. But that’s another story for a different blog.
And that’s another reason why fear is creeping up. I’ve had an unusual life, and I’m afraid you won’t like it.
But yet…you’re reading this.
So let’s just address the pink elephant in the room…fear. Now, what the f*ck is this pink elephant doing here? How did it get in here? Will this thing attack me or can it just sit in the corner and chill? Does this pink elephant make any sense in this room?
Perhaps the pink elephant doesn’t make any sense. I mean, it's a pink elephant. But I think I just need to acknowledge this weird beast, nod my head, and continue on and try not to feed it too much.