An awful lot happened yesterday, and not all of it was great. While I am still processing consequence, this morning left me open to honesty. What happened next is a story all of its own, which was recorded via Twitter starting here. The longer I spend on this particular Social media platform, the more apparent it becomes that some people can’t cope with fucking stuff up. Whenever it becomes apparent that circumstances have moved out of their control, everything changes, and the rules that used to apply simply cease to exist. It’s quite an effective way of living your life if you don’t want to feel restricted, but it makes consistency almost impossible.
Ironically, on several occasions this week I’ve seen something really good that I’ve wanted to tweet, but somebody’s personal bias has prevented me from gaining them a wider audience. I may not like you or get on particularly well with certain people but if they produce good work, it deserves a wider audience. It is wrong to allow feelings on someone to impede judgement, and yet watching this play out with depressing familiarity on a daily basis that’s exactly what other people love to do. For some, it has become almost a badge of honour. If someone does not ascribe to a particular mindset, undermining their position becomes a crusade. It is pettiness on such a grand scale as to be staggering, and I will not be a part of it.
Except this morning came the fresh realisation that my memory is part of the problem.
I remember exactly why I blocked my inspirational quotee, and why the bloke who made that great meme has me blocked, and every other person I’ve dealt with in similar fashion, because they all taught me lessons around how Twitter works. All those people at some point fucked up when it came to interacting with me, or I did the same with them. What happened after that defined everything else that then followed. In each case recalling both circumstance and consequence helped define the journey forward, and those lessons are as important as anything learnt elsewhere. It is why screwing up really matters too, and simply changing your name and vanishing does nobody any favours in the end. I’ll grant that sometimes circumstances present you with no choice but to disappear however, and I hope the day never comes where that is the last resort.
I know only too well how dangerous that form of obsession can be.
Regret is part of being alive. Learning to live with what is less than perfect is a tough ask for many, and it really shouldn’t be. Accepting this should be the norm, that everyone at some point fucks up horribly and maybe the trick when this happens isn’t to ignore it or run away but to stand and deal with the mess you made. Ironically, being able to say you’re wrong is a life skill many people will never grasp until it is often too late to fix the damage done. There doesn’t need to be an inspirational quote to grasp how lucky I am right now or how I’m learning to avoid drama before it happens. That’s just how it should be.
This is how life should be lived.
Today I am comfortable listening to myself. People are a problem, and more often than not if you allow them to derail your progress, the consequences are too terrible to speak of. I have no qualms about blocking the girl who pissed off someone I care more about than whether it’s right, popular or acceptable to do so. In life sometimes you make choices and have to hope they were correct. I don’t regret what I did, and I doubt I will.
Amazingly, life continues regardless.