The Blogtastic Blogfest That Is Getmeoutofthis.net!

So, last night, after some moody confrontation on my part, I retired to bed where I proceeded to talk with Brer for a long time on the phone. It was pretty awesome, actually. He opened up a lot more than he normally does, and I felt really close to him. It cheered me up. It served a purpose. Hopefully I helped him out too. Maybe.
Anyway, it was just kind of nice of him to admit his issues to me. At least, you know, part of them. I do kind of worry about how often I’m… whatever. Open towards him and how little he is towards me. I’m used to it, and that makes me worry sometimes that I’m not taking it seriously enough. At the same time, I want to trust him that if there was something important, he would tell me, you know? I dunno. Just as long as he knows I want the best for him and I do want to be there for him, I suppose that’s enough.

However, the conversation also made it dawn on me how much my life has improved my adopting a stance of “Who cares?” to a lot of things.
Everyone is going to have things they are really passionate about and really care about. Friends, family, projects, there’s always going to be some things. Those should be taken seriously, of course. But there are just so many things in life that society or your friends or your parents or whatever makes you feel are important, but really aren’t in the least. What kind of shape you’re in, what kind of clothing you enjoy wearing, what your opinion is on this and that… sure, some people probably put a lot of stock in these things, and if you’re one of them, more power to you. Be sure to do it in a way that brings you happiness and not sadness. But if you aren’t, who the fuck cares about them? Worrying and trying to change something that you are not actually concerned enough about to work hard on is an exercise in making yourself feel like shit for no reason. I don’t dress to the best of my ability. Who the fuck cares? I enjoy what I wear. I’m not in the best of shape. Who the fuck cares? I’m not HORRIBLE and it’s never been important enough to me to worry about, so I don’t. I enjoy acting weird at times. Who the fuck cares? As long as I keep up that happy confidence, everyone can laugh with me and move on. I’m a great person either way.
I used to worry a whole lot more about all that shit, and, honestly, I probably still do subconsciously, since when I really break down, it’s a lot of that stuff that comes out. But how much I enjoy life has increased so, so damn much since I adopted this attitude. Confidence and paying enough attention to know when you’re being an ass or pushing it will overcome basically all potential barriers such things can create.
You just have to go for it, go out, and enjoy being yourself, dammit. You do.