No Shortcuts

person using macbook pro on brown wooden desk

I’m going to cut to the chase today guys.

There’s no shortcuts to get what you want. You have to do the fucking work.

Anything else is just an excuse to not do the work.

You’re out of shape and fat? Your fault. Do the work. How did you get that way? By not doing the work. Getting out of shape and being fat wasn’t an overnight phenomenon. You didn’t wake up yesterday or today and you were suddenly fat. No. You spent years getting there.

It’s going to take some fucking time to get your ass into shape. Do the work. As Rich Cooper would say, “Pick up heavy shit and put it down.” It’s that simple. But it may not be easy. Most of your life, you have had it on easy mode. That’s why you are fat and out of shape. That’s why you don’t have someone in your life to have sex with. That’s why you aren’t making the money you want. That’s why you don’t have the career, job, what-have-you that you want. Do the fucking work.

I saw a friend over the weekend, last time I saw her was at my Mom’s funeral. Before that, I don’t remember. It’s been at least a couple of years.

She’s a good person, don’t get me wrong, but man can she sing a tale of woe. She’s been singing it for over 20 fucking years.

I first met her back in high school, that’s how long I’ve known her. Most of my life now that I think about it. When she was younger, she had long blonde hair and she was petite with an ass that just went “pow!”

I miss the old her. She was hot. She was good looking. She had energy. Now days? Not so much.

She’s probably put on at least 50 pounds since back in the day. The Wall has not been too kind to her.

And she still keeps on singing that same old tired fucking song:

“I’m too tired to work out.”

“I need to go to the gym, but I don’t have enough time in my day.”

“I’m sick. I don’t feel good. I’ll go another time.”

Same old song and dance that she’s been singing and dancing to for over 20 years.

Her life is her fault. She doesn’t want to do the work. She wants to keep it on easy mode. She wants credit, but doesn’t want to actually earn it.

So she’s fat and has a bunch of health issues going on. And she’s 47 years old.

Bitch, you have the same amount of time in the day as everybody else. 24 hours.

How you spend it, how you use it, is up to you.

Do the work.

There are no shortcuts.

On another note, I’m getting ready to go to Portugal. I’m going to fly across the pond and see the sights. I’m looking forward to it.

I’m sure I’ll have things to talk about when I get back. Until then:

Do the fucking work.

 

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Ever Forward

road sky clouds cloudy

Where do I go from here?

All of the things that used to get my blood up, get me going, even give me a bit of outrage, they are all pretty much gone now. They seem pointless.

I don’t say this from a nihilistic, depressed perspective. The shit just doesn’t really matter now.

Men are going to go the direction they are going. Same with women. We are going to do what we are going to do. Either our way or quality of life will continue, or it won’t. Either way we will adapt, we will survive for yet another day or more.

The planet will continue spinning around the sun like it always has. It’ll keep doing that until the day it doesn’t. Most if not all of us won’t be around to see that day when it comes.

So again, I ask the question to myself. Where do I go from here?

I’ve started going back to the gym. I’ve had fits and starts. Some weeks I’m steady going. Sometimes I slack off and don’t go for several days. I don’t have a great track record so far, but at least I am going. At least I’m doing. I don’t beat myself up too bad when I miss a day because I wasn’t feeling it. I just push a little bit harder the next day that I get there. And I get there. I imagine it’s a lot like going to AA or something. Every day is a new day. Every day is a chance to start over to a degree, to start anew.

I want to get back in on the “War on Feminism,” but I’m not feeling it. At least not right now. Maybe never again. I don’t know.

Women are going to do what they do because we as men give them a pass. We allow it. Hell, we condone it. In a lot of ways, we as men have created it. We created it by giving women the rights and privileges that we all enjoy. I don’t have a problem with that. We all should be able to enjoy a good life and be able to mostly do what we want to do.

We created it by giving women technology to make their lives easier. To give them more free time for leisure.

We created it by “liking” and “hearting” their stupid selfie posts and by becoming followers and orbiters of them. I don’t really know for the most part if we as men as a whole, can get away from it. We are biologically hardwired to want sex, so we chase after it in whatever fashion that we can and that we think will work to get us to the sex that we want.

All hail the Golden Pussy, forever and ever, amen.

It really sucks sometimes to be so driven by the sex drive. At least for me.

Where do I go from here?

The problem isn’t that there aren’t enough choices in life. There is an abundance of them. I see many many roads before me that I can take. Many paths to walk.

The problem right now is that none of them seem interesting or worth the time.

Oh well.

I’ve tried a couple new cigars. Ashton makes a fantastic cigar. I highly recommend it if you like cigars or are thinking of trying them out.

I now see what the big deal about smoking cigars is. I get it. I think. It’s not something I’m going to do on a daily basis, a good cigar isn’t cheap, nor is it probably too good for your health, but I’m going to enjoy them on occasion. The trick is, you have to take the time to enjoy them for what they are. Smoking a cigar takes time. You aren’t going to get through one in the time it takes to smoke a cigarette. Or a probably a pipe for that matter. I’m not positive on that one though, as I’ve never smoked a pipe, but I’ve been around friends and family members who are pipe smokers. Cigars seem to take longer, at least to me. And that’s a good thing. Gives a man time to think, to ponder. To exist. To just be.

More cigars and less outrage. Maybe that will be my new motto. Maybe that will be my new path, my new road to follow. At least for a time.

 

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