Write whatever you want in the 'comments' section on this blog post. Play as many times as you like. #breaktheblog! You have two minutes (give or take a few seconds ... no pressure!). Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So, tell a friend. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play.
What do you want to be when you grow up? Happy? I want to work too hard for too little money and spend my free time in an ongoing panic attack. I want to have kids I can’t afford to take to Disneyland. I hate Disneyland, but it would mean so much to them. I want to see the disappointment in their tiny faces when I explain that just because "every other kid" gets to go to Disneyland, that doesn’t mean that WE can afford it.
I want to spend hours explaining to my kids why we don’t have a house. Why we live in an apartment. And I want to try and do it without giving them the impression we’re poor. I want to watch them smile and say, “I understand, Dadda.” I know they don’t understand. They don’t want me to feel bad. I should appreciate that more. I don’t want to, though.
I want to grow up and become a teacher. I want to get laid off with absolutely no warning after my first daughter is born. I want it to be from a job I poured my heart and soul into - I want to spiral into a depression where all I can do is write, drink, and OD enough to keep things interesting. I want to be broken when my youngest is small so it fucks her brain up real good. I want to hit rock bottom so many times that it doesn’t even hurt anymore.
I want people I love to die from bullshit diseases and overdoses. I want a sociopathic, narcissistic asshole to be president. I want people starving in “the greatest county on earth!” while politicians take private jets to get in a round of golf. I want to watch others worse off than myself. And I want to try and reconcile the fact that some people have more money than small countries and some people starve, stretching out their food stamps.
Before I get laid off from that teaching job I mentioned, I want to work with kids from the hood. I want to have to explain to them that, though it makes no fucking sense, they cannot talk to the police the same way I do. I want my white privilege to become a burden. I want to see their beautiful lives destroyed by bullets and bad decisions. Most made out alright. I want to be proud of that. I want them to be taken from me without warning. I want to try to pretend my heart isn't broken.
I want to drive a fifteen year old car with a broken seat. I want to be the dad some parents are wary of because I have tattoos and a motorcycle and I dress weird and don't care about wine or baseball. I want to be JUDGED. Constantly. I want to feel judged and I want to be judged. Dismissed. Written off.
I want to spend my whole life trying to perfect a craft that sixteen people give a shit about. I want to dedicate years of my life to creative endeavors that COST me money. I want to give people my songs and stories because I hate the idea of selling them. I want to be the worst capitalist ever.
I want to treat my body badly, so it turns on me when I’m older. So I can’t shoot hoops with my girls without being in pain. I want to play high school football and have the coach grab my facemask and scream into my face. I want him to tell me to plant my head in the runner’s gut. I want a broken back and chronic neck pain.
I want to be the kind of person who writes pathetic, emo bullshit and tries to pass it off as flash fiction. I want to fail, to have the things I’m most proud of ignored. I want to lose the respect of my peers because my brain can’t stop being sixteen, and I haven’t figured out the adult rules yet.
Above all, I want to live.
#2minutesgo Tweet it! Share it! Shout it from the top of the shack you live in! I will be out most of the day, but I'll be back...#2minutesgo Tweet it! Share it! Shout it from the top of the shack you live in! I will be out most of the day, but I'll be back...