Take Me Back

It's never too late. You only live once (YOLO). If I see that, hear that, one. more. time. I am all about using acronyms. They've helped me many of times. Acing the sciences would not have been possible without the invention of such alphabetic usage. However, my gratitude has come to a crossroad. Simply do not take a motto and shorten it for monetary purposes. I don't want to hear Lil whatever his name is chant this to a ripped off melody. Society has come a long way. The third graders who can't get YOLO out of their heads don't even know how to interpret the letters. The moral high road is clearly out of reach for much of the population. Are we shrinking? Rarely is a stance black or white. Shades of gray linger, just ask Anastasia. We rush around filling 24 hours with mundane, thoughtless nonsense to avoid actual thoughts. How else could YOLO be profitable? Take the time to think about it. Top dogs smurk at lunches away from the office, co-workers boost about 80 hour work weeks, graduate schools are over crowded. Hell, McDonalds even has a commercial about it. Genius. The early bird gets the worm. Yes, but the early bird went to bed when the sunset.

I won't go on and on nor shall I nag, this is not an invitation to a pity party. This is a rare black or white issue. The warning sign has been flashing for as long as I can remember. Neon, bright red, metallic, sunshiny blinding. Work life and home life will inevitably merge. Cloaked in nomadic tendency, this merger is fully acceptable. Well, to I. The one insistent on never loathing her job. Money can't buy happiness, nor is it everything. Vowing from the moment I crossed into reality, leaving the bubble too many have yet to pop at an age appropriate time, from purely a beaten societal creed, that I shall never loathe my job. Circle back. Life's just too damn short. Thus, work life and home life should merge. Further more, one should actually enjoy the punching of the time clock. Now, let's be realistic. Some days are just not all roses and honey. Shit happens, the water spills, everyone just can't get along. Completely following the happiness is a state of mind mantra, let shit it the fan and go on about your day. The problem is the lack of quite possibly knowledge of this mantra. Living selflessly may be too much to ask. The ability for Lil whatever is name is to exist may have given it away. Then again, it may just be me. Living in my very own tasty bubble. Maybe my time, that credited to home life, should be spent searching for Mr. Grey. If it truly is never too late, if everything does happen for a reason, if the belief that life is too short and to avoid hesitation at all times is a motto echoing through my subconscious, then I've found him. The battle is letting the merger unravel. The battle is giving up, giving in and forgetting why the bubble popped. Forgetting the new flavor of the one I perfected.