Saturday, 11 June 2016

Commitment

Have you met those 15 year old boys and girls, in relationships, who claim to be 'committed'? Ask them to spell committed. We Millennials are vagrant. We can rarely make up our minds about things. But lets face it, people like a bit of constancy in life. I like knowing I can always come back to the same house, to the same family, because its familiar and its safe. But we can't make up our minds about the things we have to choose for ourselves. Not restaurants, or clothes or even colleges. Why is this generation, that can't even commit to a subject so willing to commit to a relationship? Maybe because its easier.
 The reason I'm really thinking of this is because these same 'romance-deprived' people are the ones I have recruited for an internship. Its a legitimate business I tell you but these people feel like they can just up and quit anytime they feel like the work is hindering their social lives. The same person can give me two different excuses within 3 hours, the same person can have a ligament tear in two separate body parts at two different times of the day. The excuses, the squirming, the carelessness don't end. But the 'Get Out Of Jail Free' card does not exist.
 A person, at the end of my whining about a really shitty semester gave me some advice that would have saved my ass from the beginning. He said, "its not gonna get better, so suck it up and work." I am stupid for completely ruining my entire semester , not doing anything productive. But by Hell, these are the words to live by.
 Maybe commitment isn't everything. Like school and stuff, sure as hell isn't voluntary. But responsibility is. It is our responsibility that we see through everything once we give our word. Getting out easy never made anyone stronger. You do your time, maybe even do shit work, and then you get out. But you do your time. You commit, even if it is as half-heartedly as to the girl you find annoying but really want to bone. 

Thursday, 9 June 2016

Holes


You know like a pinboard once stuck with pins has permanent holes. You can use them again, the holes, without having to punch more all over its surface. That is my back, stabbed in places with open wounds. Stab me in the back now. In the crevices between gorges of blood and sinew, the notches have already been carved. Knife-shaped indents, waiting to be filled because it cannot tell the difference now whether the pin completes the board or penetrates it. They are together as one.