Sing it again, my dear

One more time, loud as you can, how does it go?

I have no prospects.  What does that even mean?  I’ve decided to be cheerful about it.

I had no prospects when I was ten, and it didn’t bother me.  I had a skateboard and a doll house, and some pens and pencils and toy cars, and that was plenty.

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So, just kiss and be happy, is what I say.

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Go ride your bike, or have a laugh with your friend,

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Or eat some chocolate or some cake,

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Or read a book, alone or with a friend,

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Just remember to have fun.  Prospects don’t matter if you live in the present.

ciao

 This is a post I wrote before, and I am putting it here now, again, for fun.  I liked it the first time, and I like it now.

Is it a sickness?

So don’t you just hate being told what to do?  I do.  It drives me crazy.  I’m really odd about it.  I can’t stand being told what to do.

One example which might seem unusual is that I hate those inspirational quotes which say:

Go out there and make the most of your life!

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I take it as an accusation and an instruction and I hate both.  You can’t tell me what to do, mother f.  So don’t even try.  How you you know I’m not already making the most of my life, you presumptuous p**ck.  So f off, and take your inspiration with you.

I don’t like pushiness.  I do not respond well to being pushed.

Another example is that when, say, you are running a race, and people shout encouragement?  I really don’t like that.  They shout: go on!  Keep going!

It drives me insane.  It makes me want to sit down in protest, to spite them.

I think it’s a sickness.  What do you think?  I’m definitely not normal.

ciao