Meet My Therapist

Consistency has never been my friend.  Initiation?  My bff.  Enthusiasm?  We were childhood sweethearts.  Mr. Consistency is to me as gays are to cattle farmers.  We tend to stay away from each other.

It's not that I don't like Mr. Consistency.  If I had things my way, he would be my husband.  I could look in the mirror, wave, and see the giant wedding band he bought me sparkle as it catches light, serving as a reminder of his relentless, unfailing, cyclical love.  But the Universe had something else in mind when it created me.  For whatever reasons, the molecules that coalesced to create Luke Charles North at the moment of my conception happened to lend themselves less toward sturdy, reliable guys like Mr. Consistency and more toward shifty, mysterious rebels like Captain Confidence.

I don't do well with consistency.  It is for this very reason, though, that I feel it's my living duty to dedicate myself to finding it.  (That, and I love a good challenge.)

I'm not even being consistent with the way I'm writing this blog post.  Where am I going with this?  Who knows?  There's not much more to say about my lack of consistency other than it's like any other addiction waiting to be shown who its boss is.

And it's not that I've been too lazy to write a new blog post since April.  I've just been too lazy to get my computer fixed.  So now, sitting at a desktop computer for the first time, I remember the consistency that always rekindles my hope in myself when I sit down to write my feelings.  I'll be doing this til I'm eighty.

Have you ever noticed that your best friends bring out the worst in you?  What I mean is, the people closest to us have a tendency to highlight our imperfections, kind of like a teacher proofreading their student's essay.

Letter after letter, sentence after sentence, paragraph after paragraph, I live my life in hopes of getting a message out to anyone who will read my essay.  But the more I think about it, the more I can't help but wonder why I invest so much energy into writing the book rather than living it.  For every word that goes unspoken, an action is ready to take its place.  Nobody remembers the speech itself that Martin Luther King, Jr. gave at the Lincoln Memorial; they just remember that he GAVE it.  The very act of doing something imbues it with this kind of intangible thread of credibility.  More likely than not, it's because anyone can write a speech, but not everyone can give one.

The truest, most effective messages don't live on through printed words or eye-catching Facebook statuses.  What we remember comes from what stands the test of time!  What's here today may be gone tomorrow if it doesn't serve a purpose to anyone.  For instance, why do people use the same trite phrases like "What goes around comes around" or "Actions speak louder than words" when trying to understand life?  Or even "Only time will tell"?  If those phrases weren't true, people wouldn't say them.

I say all that to say this:  When all you wanna do is dance, you better stop worrying about what the outcome will be and just fucking dance because you never know when you're gonna get pushed off the dance floor.  Didn't Lady Gaga write a song about that?