Quote:
|
Originally Posted by The_Jazz
Every day I'm in the office. Cold calls. Each and every one is a "fuck it, I don't care anymore" moment. It's like asking pretty girls out, only you get to do it over and over, all day long.
I could tell heart-rending stories about when I was a runner and thought I was going to die, but those are all just cases of my body not knowing what it was talking about than anything that matters.
I think I've successfully redefined the spectrum of this thread with Crompsin and cj2112 at the "cool" end and myself at the "lame" end. As per usual.
|
You've also done something unprecedented: the middle sentence is not grammatically correct.
I've had 'fuck it' moments. I don't really tell the stories. The time some dude twice my size broke a pool cue over my back was a 'fuck it' moment. The time I was in the hospital with a fever of 103 and didn't know on December 17th if I was going to see another Christmas was a 'fuck it' moment.
The wonderful thing about these sorts of experiences is that they give a sense of perspective to everything else. If you've had mortars dropped on your head, what do you care about giving a public speech? If you've stared death in the face, what is it to ask a girl on a date?
It's also been my experience that 99 times out of 100 the bad shit sorts itself out. I'm going by the working theory that the one time it doesn't it's not going to matter to me particularly anyway.