KEEP ON TRUCKING

I met a dude named Dimerson.

Okay, I know this sounds like this first line should delve into a dirty limerick, but can we be adults for a moment?

Passer-byers had told me on our way out of the Midwest that Northeasterners are a bunch of angry, tough people that I should steer clear of. Well, of course, I took this as a challenge. With my charming good looks and charismatic personality, who could resist my magnetism, right?

I may have been partially wrong. These people are kind of gruff; so much so, that at the locally owned pet store, I was so excited to meet someone who had just recently moved from—dramatic pause—Indiana. First of all, she smiled at me. It was so thrilling, I almost had to clean up my own mess in aisle three with the store provided dog poop bags.

After a week of living in our new apartment, which if you recall, we spent a month in a hotel, I’ve met more people, and I must say, I’m tickled pink. This town isn’t so tough—I haven’t visited Philli yet, so there’s that—but I did meet a new crew. Actually, a family was having a reunion at the community grill and I eased my delightful personality into the party and now we’re best friends (they don’t know this yet).

Anyway, one of the family members is young Dimerson. (I need to interject that I love his name and shall name my first born the same, or at least my fifth dog.) Carrying on, this twenty-something year old is trying to find himself, which basically means Dimerson and I are more alike than either of us choose to believe. First, we are both stunningly attractive people. Second, and most importantly, I see his fear, because it’s shared. To have the world’s possibility at your fingertips, with full support from those who matter most, is the scariest position to be in—at least I think so.

Society, our friends, our family, try to tell us what we should do and how we should do it. Except, when they did it their way, we didn’t have a say. And if you didn’t have a say on the way they chose to live, why should you allow them to order you around? It doesn’t make sense. Hell, call it hypocritical. (Don’t tell your loved one that. It hurts their feelings.)

This is only my opinion, but I think we are born with a spark, or at least a smoldering ember ready to flare. And every time we feel a deep-rooted love, compassion, or emotion of something that forces our energy to tingle and our hearts to pound, that’s when it’s real. But those damn voices pop up in our head, you’re not good enough, or smart enough, or whatever those horrible little destructive creatures we’ve created speak in our head, not our heart. Those little crappers have too much power, don’t they?

Well, stop letting the scaredy-cat side of you win. I mean, I just picked up my life and moved to a foreign land with a lot of cranky people, but somehow, I am making it happen. Have I cried far too much for my age? Yes, Yes and Yes. But I’ve managed just fine—look at all the wonderful people I’ve met. It’s one big learning process, and this whole crazy life is one big learning curve; so, suck it up and enjoy it, dammit.

Oh, and before I forget, I did write that limerick. Sorry, it’s the clean version…