"F**k It!" Moments

[Plan9]

What do I want? Oh, I want C9H13NO3 and vitriol-spitting and C19H28O2 and beating on chests. I want skinned knuckles. I wanna hear these stories about how ordinary pussy people grew spines the hard way. Physical and mental and emotional combat. People being assertive without a thought to consequences. Heroic or foolish and in success or failure. Impulses taken. Rules broken. Running away or wading in fists-first. I want passion. What have you done in your life that made you feel alive?

I want grand displays of danglitude from big brass balls.

...

2006. Summer. 2200 hours. I was laying on a holey cot in the middle of the northeastern Afghan desert wearing nothing but running shorts. My M4/M203 is tucked under the piles of clothes I'm using as a pillow. It's hot out and yet quiet fills space like some kind of cool blue-black Jello. The whisper of sand across sand teases my ears. The sudden, menacing buzz of incoming mortar rounds is rather shocking but I don't move. The other SLs/TLs are alert and the first impact sends them into action moving bodies into the crumbling concrete bunkers next to where our trucks are staged. I continue to lay there, rounds pounding the area like God's giant spiteful boogerfinger.

Given my super-sucky life circumstances at the time... my motivation to do basic things (like hide) was shot... my choice was easy. Do absolutely nothing.

I just sighed and said (to myself) "Fuck it." I just laid there on that creeky old cot staring up at the pinholes-in-God's-blanket stars with my half-naked body spread out to the heavens like a dead man on an operating table. "Do your worst." Apathy had crawled up in my soul (ass) and started picking out curtains.

Somehow I wasn't afraid. They dropped well over a dozen rounds right on us. Explosions put moon dust all over everybody.

I think about it sometimes and it was probably the stupidest thing I've ever done in my life. Damned if it didn't seem like a good-fine idea at the time.

[Willravel]

I can't really compare to your moment in Afghanistan, but I'll play.

I used to take rather intense fight courses in high school and into college, but I've not always been capable of defending myself. When I was a freshman in high school, I was skin and bones in a big way. I looked like half a q-tip (big dome), and I wasn't hard to push around. Neeways, a particular blonde caught my eye in my freshman english class. Cheerleader, blue eyes, great smile (with braces), and totally smart. Needless to say, I wanted to ask her out. Erin was that girl. Everyone was in love with her, and everyone was scared shitless of her older brother, Matt.

Matt was one of those kids who did varsity wrestling as a sophomore in order to rest between beating people mercilessly. We all suspected that he had somehow gotten his hands on steroids from a scientist that defected from the Eastern Bloc. He would literally ram his head into brick walls. He also loved his little sister dearly.

Maybe I'd seen one too many inspirational made-for-TV movies, or maybe I had eaten something that didn't agree with me, but I somehow found the fortitude to bashfully walk up to her desk while we were doing something like free time in class and ask if she'd like to join me at a dance. My heart was beating so hard that apparently the part of my brain that warns me about predators shut down for a few hours. I had been walking on air for about 2 hours when I realized that Matt was likely tracking me like a wounded deer.

This was my moment. "Fuck it" is as appropriate a name for it as anything, but my small balls grew three sizes that day. I found Matt, told him I was taking his sister to the dance, and I had the living shit beaten out of me for what seemed like weeks. He thought he could beat me into not dating his sister. He was wrong. A broken nose later and he figured out I wasn't giving in.

Booyah.

[Plan9]

Originally Posted by willravel

We all suspected that he had somehow gotten his hands on steroids from a scientist that defected from the Eastern Bloc.

Originally Posted by Ivan Drago

I defeat all man. Soon I defeat real champion.

[Willravel]

"During this fight I've seen a lot of changing...the way you feel about me and the way I feel about you... in here, it's two guys killing each other, but I guess that's better than 20 million...I guess what I'm trying to say, is that if I CAN CHANGE, AND YOU CAN CHANGE.... EVERYBODY CAN CHANGE!"

[SSJTWIZTA]

My story is kind of similar to wills, but different in alot of ways.

I started Tae-kwon-do when i was just under the age of 4. i guess it was my parents fucked up way of babysitting. none the less i had almost no muscle mass and was skinny as hell (i still am, check out my picture if you need too.) in 9th grade i weighed probably all of 125-130 lbs.

One night before a punk show (Clit 45 is you care) my friend, a total stranger who we just met and myself were walking around Orlando, trying to consume half our body wright in jim beam and old english. Normally whisky keeps me calm. Hell, im pretty peaceful 99% of the time, just the way i was brought up. But on this night something snapped.

Some older guys, maybe in their mid 20's said something to piss my friend off. I didn’t hear exactly what they said, nor did I care. mind you, i was only about 15 at the time. Well, at this time the beast came out. Foolishly, i walked over to the trio and pushed over the first bike of theirs i came upon. The guys bike who i kicked over walked up to me, shoulder out, chest puffed, incredible pissed off and tryed to push me to my ass. i got 1 solar pexus/nut sack combo in before i got the living shit kicked out of me by the rest of his "posse.”

i woke up infront of the venue we were walking towards, no memory of being knocked out cold. i was carried over by the guy I was trying to defend. It’s a night ill never forget.

[girldetective]

Wow, CDaddy. Your post is very provocative. It is passionate. It is the stuff of life that I'm afraid of and seek out at the same time.

The most alive I have ever felt was the first 48 hours after giving birth, and the last 120 hours of my dad's life.

Although I have certainly never been in the most hellish of situations you were, I have felt that "apathy" a couple of times and each time it was related to death. It was sort of empowering until...

I like you and your passion. I like your writing, your word choices. I'm glad you're back and that I didn't miss out.

[Plan9]

Yeah, maybe I'm trying to get stories about "weird life situations with apathy in action."

[girldetective]

Weird life stories with apathy in action?! I'm filled with those, but the bruising isn't apparent.

[PonyPotato]

There are quite a few of these moments in my life.. the "feeling most alive." Very few of them involve other people. Most of them involve horses.. I've been kicked, bitten, trampled, bucked off, etc. and a lot of my "life lessons" have come from them.

One of the most intense moments of my life came on a normal day of riding my instructor's big warmblood gelding, Livingston. I had essentially re-started his training from scratch, so this 12 year old gelding who was nearly 6 feet tall at the shoulder (with a head bigger than my torso) behaved like a three year old on a regular basis.

On this particular day, I had decided to introduce a new movement into his vocabulary, trying to teach him to haunches-in to prepare for further movements. He wasn't a big fan. He'd shake his head, buck, twist, throw his head down to pull the reins away from me.. anything to get me to quit asking. I backed off and returned to easier requests, hoping he would lose the attitude. No. Instead, when asking him to canter, he decided to throw rearing into the mix.

Now, he was the biggest horse I've ridden so far. 7 inches taller than me at his shoulder, his head well above 6 feet (closer to 7 feet if he was trying to keep it away from me, hah). Rearing up, this horse was a monster. He reared a few times on me, half-rears letting me know that he wasn't happy with my requests. Coming out of one of the rears, I finally lost my reservations. I'd had enough, and who cares if I got hurt? Who cares that I was out riding, alone, with no one at home and no neighbors within earshot? This jerk needed to learn to respect me, like I had respected his confusion and backed off.

The next time he reared up, I popped him between the ears with my whip.

He just reared higher, passing the point of vertical and starting to tip over backwards.

Luckily, I kept my wits and pulled his head to the side, pushing myself in the opposite direction. I hit the ground hard; he thumped down on his side, then quickly stood back up. We both shook ourselves off, processing what had just happened. I just got right back on and continued with what I was trying to teach him.

That bastard never reared on me again.

[Tully Mars]

After joining the Navy in 1983 I found myself in on a ship at Subic Bay in the Philippines in what seemed like a flash. Prior to the Navy I'd been out of the state of Oregon exactly twice, once by less then 30 yards. Anyway one day a group of us left our ship and headed out to Subic City. The Naval base at Subic was basically part of Olongapo City which was filled with brothels and bars. Subic city was a 10 min. Jeepney ride and had a really rough reputation. We went into a local bar/brothel and ordered drinks. Mojo juice and Sam Magoo's beer I'm sure. Any way the minute we walk in the door we're surrounded by young girls, many I'm sure are under 18. They all want two things. "Buy me drink?" and "Pay my bar fine?" Personally I'm not interested in anything other than the Mojo, and was suspect of it. The girls look way too young and the rumor was the Navy didn't do health checks on girls outside of Olongapo. After less then an hour we all decide it's time to head back to Olongapo. As we head out the door we're confronted because no one bought any drinks for the girls and the girls spent time with us. Basically we played pool on a table that was painted green but had no felt, had a few drink and were ready to leave. I quickly noticed the number of guys around us had nearly doubled. I'm assuming the bars next door sent their guys over to make sure we paid our way out of the place. One of the guys in our group asked what the bill was at one point. Turns out the bar fines total whatever cash we're currently carrying. I remember thinking "screw that I've nearly $60 on me." Lot of money for an enlisted sailor in those days. Butterfly knives start flying around and the conversation went from heated to physical in a flash. We were out numbered at least 3 to 1 but I know, as did everyone else in our group, that one of our guys is some Dojo, 3rd degree black belt, master. Little guy, last name Kelly, didn't look like much but I'd seen him kick a hole in a iron pipe three feet above his head once. I have no idea how many guys he took out. I managed one. He swung a pipe at me, I grab the pipe with one hand and hit him in the side of the head with my other. He started to go to the floor and before he hit it I grabbed the back of his tank top, pick him back up and hit him again. After that I looked around and the bar floor was covered with Filipino guys and the girls are all screaming at us in Tagalog and broken English. We hit the door and ended up walking most of the way back to Olongapo, none of the jeepney drivers seem to want to be seen picking us up. We all said later that it was "over in a flash and we left with our cash." Sounds lame now but was funny at the time, might have been the Mojo.

Several guys had a hats made with that logo when we hit Korea. I bought a coffee mug that said "Just Another Shitty Day in Paradise," that was my reminder of that day. But that was a "fuck it" moment for me.

[Plan9]

Originally Posted by Tully Mars

"over in a flash and we left with our cash.".

Originally Posted by merleniau

The next time he reared up, I popped him between the ears with my whip.

Works on men too, I'd imagine.

[ngdawg]

It was a dark and stormy night. (No, really, it was) I was driving home in a rented VW bug because mine was getting a new front end. Now, it was a long time ago, so I don't remember if it was after I'd gotten robbed at knifepoint at work and had my stereo stolen soon after, or before those two, but....
The road bent just a bit. Being it was raining and very late, I didn't dare go fast. Didn't matter....the car didn't follow the bend. Instead, it went straight. I tried to steer, but it wouldn't do anything. A gasoline tanker was heading the same way. Missed hitting him. The car then fishtailed and began to spin. It was at this point that I let go of the wheel, said "Fuck it" and decided to take my fate. I knew I was about to die.
I didn't
Still spinning, the car went up the median, back down and came to rest facing its correct way, albeit a bit askew. I snapped out of my stunness of being alive, felt around myself and stepped out of the car into the rain. It felt damned good.

[SSJTWIZTA]

jesus fuck!

i thought germans were supposted to make good stuff.

[ring]

My now ex-friend, well skilled in Brazilian Jujitso and sword-making,
was drunk one night..I happened to be right next to him in his knife and
sword display area of his workshop, (I wasn't drunk)..and said something
on the order of "hey its pretty dumb and dangerous to play with swords when your loaded ya know"..(he didn't have one in his hand at time thank god)

but he did kick me multiple times in his lightning fast way,
and finger stabbed me also..

I just stood there and took it..I wasn't going to let him know how much
agony I was in....and oh I was, believe me...also it hurt more,knowing
that at that very instant I was losing what I thought was a close friendship,
and the respect I had for him. I was in a mental state of calm furious apathy.

The dumb part is I should of turned him in for assault and didn't.
I still have a big indent scar on my right calve muscle...that damaged
tissue will never heal correctly. Yikes.

[ngdawg]

Originally Posted by SSJTWIZTA

jesus fuck!

i thought germans were supposted to make good stuff.

Normally, yea...that time, someone forgot to make sure the tierod was securely bolted to the axle-came clean off, leaving me steerless.

[Push-Pull]

I was taking the trash out at my old shop, when I heard a commotion going on in on the second story of the apartment building across the parking lot. I look up in time to see a young lady being forced down the steps hurriedly. I dropped the trash, ran around the fence between us, and waited in the parking area to decide what I would have to do. In a few seconds, I saw him force her into his car, and at that point I dialed 911, and promptly gave the operator all the details I could before he got out of sight. They caught him just a couple of miles away. What makes it a "fuck it" moment for me is that I had opportunity to grab my 9mm out of my shop, and I also had opportunity to stab his tire with my pocketknife, but I was much more concerned about making sure that the girl was not going to be hurt, and getting the cops as much detail as possible. Apparently it worked.

[ring]

Bravo! it turned out well in the end,
and hindsight haunts us all at times.

[cj2112]

2 days after my 29th birthday my now ex-wife tells me she doesn't want to be a wife or mom anymore, leaving me w/ her 11 y.o. son, our 4 y.o. daughter, and our 21 month old son. 4 days later she has shacked up w/ what used to be one of my best friends. 2 weeks later my 21 month old comes down w/ pneumonia, I have to be @ home with him, because he is too sick to be @ the daycare. I inform my employer of this and they fire me. I go to work for a competitor about 2 weeks later, for more money...2 months later the new company closes the doors owing me 3 weeks wages, which means rent is gonna be late for the first time in my life. Yeah...you guessed it, the landlord decides to start the eviction process. Fast forward...10 years...my kids are now 12 and 14, they are well adjusted, respectful and polite kids. I am happier than I've ever been in my life and, thanks to the lessons my parents taught me when I was a child, I could not just give up.

[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.

[Punk.of.Ages]

I was 13 years old. I had an addiction to fire. The shit fascinated me. One of my buddies and myself had an ongoing bet of sorts. Pull off a stunt bigger than the last one done by the other. Basically, who's flame penis was larger.

He came in one day, put hairspray on his hand, and lit it up. This was the first time either of us had pulled a stunt involving our own body. It was huge in my eyes. He didn't use much hairspray though, so the flame didn't last long.

I was determined to do something bigger. I decided I would light my whole shirt on fire. An hour of planning, a bottle of cologne, and one spark of the bright pink lighter later: I was a blazing ball of light.

In that hour of planning we decided I would just take the shirt off after a couple seconds of it being lit. Turns out that is much harder done than said.

I ran around for what seemed to me like hours (seconds in reality), and I remembered the lesson from the fireman at school. I stop, I drop, I roll. What they don't teach you in school is that this technique is not effective for chemical fires. One part gets smothered, and then re-lit as soon as it's exposed to another part again.

So, there I lay ablaze. No idea what to do from there. Incapable of even breathing anymore. I'm about to die and I know it.

The feeling hits. "Fuck it." That's exactly what went through my head. I looked death in the eyes and said, "Here I am." The most complete apathy I've ever experienced.

My shirt comes off. My buddy throws it outside to burn away. I'm alive.

I spent three months in the hospital, I learned a mean fucking lesson, I gained utmost respect for the flame I'm so fascinated by, and I will never fear death again.

[Tully Mars]

Originally Posted by cj2112

2 days after my 29th birthday my now ex-wife tells me she doesn't want to be a wife or mom anymore, leaving me w/ her 11 y.o. son, our 4 y.o. daughter, and our 21 month old son. 4 days later she has shacked up w/ what used to be one of my best friends. 2 weeks later my 21 month old comes down w/ pneumonia, I have to be @ home with him, because he is too sick to be @ the daycare. I inform my employer of this and they fire me. I go to work for a competitor about 2 weeks later, for more money...2 months later the new company closes the doors owing me 3 weeks wages, which means rent is gonna be late for the first time in my life. Yeah...you guessed it, the landlord decides to start the eviction process. Fast forward...10 years...my kids are now 12 and 14, they are well adjusted, respectful and polite kids. I am happier than I've ever been in my life and, thanks to the lessons my parents taught me when I was a child, I could not just give up.

Well that certainly puts my trying to get out of a brothel with $60 in perspective.

[Martian]

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.

[cj2112]

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.

Wow....I am seriously flattered.

While it's true that life kicked me in the teeth repeatedly for a while, my children kept me sane. I had to look those kids in the eye every day. They looked to me to know that every thing was going to be alright. Though I wasn't sure that I was gpnna be ok, and inside I was terrified of the hand that life had dealt me, they NEEDED me to be ok. I held their futures in my hands. I had no right to give up. It was that knowledge and that responsibility that kept me going. It wasn't that I was sort of superman or better than anybody else, as a matter of fact, through most of it, it took everything I had to maintain some form of composure and normalcy. I wanted to freak the fuck out, I really did. I could not do that because I owed those kids better than that. Seriously, it was them who pulled me through it.