Are You Chucking Rotting Porkchops?

IN: Uncategorized

Life might be like a box of chocolates, (or slightly-chilled dark chocolate truffles, if I have any say in the matter).

But it’s also like a huge, daunting puzzle. A winding labyrinth* of tiny cardboard pieces that snap together, hopefully creating a big picture we’re satisfied with. One we’re proud of. One we want to shellac with a mixture of white paste and water and frame, hanging a completed picture up on our damn dining room wall because yeah–somewhere over the years, we’ve become that person.

*Note: David Bowie and puppets not included.

But in order to put together the puzzle we want, we have to consciously curate the pieces involved.

There’s no pre-packaged prettiness happening up in this bitch. We have to select the elements that get placed into our bigger pictures.

There are literally billions of choices out there, a good hunk of which we’re faced with every single stinking day. To sleep in, or not to sleep in? To go shopping, or not to go shopping? To stay at our jobs, or not to stay at our jobs? To bathe, or not to bathe? THESE ARE THE QUESTIONS.

Because you can’t spend 4 out of the 7 days a week marathoning every episode of Gilmore Girls on Netflix while wearing sweatpants that reek just a little too much of your lady garden and still build the successful Etsy wineglass shop you want.

You can’t hook up a Nutella IV ‘round the clock and still drop those twenty pounds in time to stuff yourself into a pair of Spanx and a sheath dress in time for that stupid high school reunion that, no matter how much you try to–ahem–manifest your old school catching fire, is still looming ever closer.

You can’t stay out every night and shoot the shit at the local bar, downing over-priced whiskey gingers, (extra ice), and closing out the joint with Willis, the 86 year-old croquette champion of Delaware, if you want to start your workday at 6:00 a.m. every day. (Cockle doodle-doo, motherlovers. The early bird might not get the worm, but it does get to clock out at 2:30 every day.)

Those are the wrong puzzle pieces for the picture you want to build. The wrong actions for the life you want to live.

It’s not about depriving yourself, robbing yourself of fun or missing out on happy hour. It’s about making your huge, hunk-o-hunk-o burnin’ dreams bigger than your measly excuses, (while including a well-timed hip swivel in a sequined white pleather jumpsuit).

About letting your passion not make the work easy, but letting it make the work possible.

It all boils down to this:

Is the present you’re building setting you up for a future you want? For that picture hanging on the wall? For your undeniably sexy endgame?

After all, you can’t expect to grow an apple tree if all you’re doing is walking around in unwashed clothes, scattering rotting pork chops on the ground, and crossing your fingers while wishing for rain.