BULL $*#!

I’m calling bull $*#!. Yes, Universe, I’m talking to you.

Stop giving me these BS lines of Laws and Attraction. Stop telling me that all I have to do is think about what I want, and BOOM, it’s staring me in the face. I spend a lot of time listening to birds chirp while watching clouds move overhead in animal patterns, all while dreaming and wishing and practicing and trying to become someone important. Come to think of it, I would except greatness—or never-ending power, like a genie.

How many self-help, find your greatness, and meditations do I have to partake in before the dumb Universe does my bidding? I haven’t seen a dime prospering from my labors. And don’t give me another crappy line about it makes me better. I’m not having it.

You lied to me, Universe. How many countless people who struggle for fortune, or a cookie, or a fortune cookie to tell them something awesome is happening, or at least learn one word in Chinese, or is it Mandarin? (I apologize in advance for my ignorance. I only know one word from a language other than English—cerveza—and trust me, that word is very important.)

All these disheartened feelings came about while driving. A song came over through the Universal Radio to speak to me. It was supposed to send me some special lyrics that gave me inspiration, to somehow through mystical enlightenment, comfort me as though everything was well in my world. Turns out, that song helped inspire these thoughts you’re reading now.

I feel as though I’m the main character in a Weezer song, Beverly Hills. Here’s a few copied and pasted lyrics, minus the chorus, to help prove my point.

Where I come from isn’t all that great
My automobile is a piece of crap
My fashion sense is a little whack
And my friends are just as screwy as me

For a mere three grand, my thirteen-year-old vehicle could be good as new and my zanny friends point out that my clothes never match.

I didn’t go to boarding schools
Preppy girls never looked at me
Why should they? I ain’t nobody
Got nothing in my pocket

If I had money in my pocket, I would have either fixed the multiple oil leaks, as well as the ball joints, or would have bought a new vehicle with the cash that I would call, pocket change. And all this would have happened if the stupid Universe would have been paying attention to my requests.

Look at all those movie stars
They’re all so beautiful and clean
When the housemaids scrub the floors
They get the spaces in between

I’m the maid, and the cook, the launderer, and the lawn service company.

I wanna live a life like that
I wanna be just like a king
Take my picture by the pool
Cause I’m the next big thing

I’m also the pool boy, I mean, gal.

The truth is…I don’t stand a chance
It’s something that you’re born into…
And I just don’t belong…

Should I just start blaming my parents now? Maybe this is one of those ancestry shadow issues that has marred my family for centuries.

No I don’t – I’m just a no class, beat down fool
And I will always be that way
I might as well enjoy my life
And watch the stars play

I watch the stars sparkle and twinkle at night. Does that count?

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to read another Rhonda Byrne book and mediate with some HeadSpace, while exercising to increase my pheromone levels…Hmm, maybe after I watch some cloud-animals pass overhead while lounging in my new anti-gravity chair.