There was a time in middle-ish school (I’m horrendous when it comes to recalling any dates other than my children’s bdays….) that the goofy boys in our class started a word -association lingo all their own.
They would try and converse using associations so the ladies or teachers within earshot wouldn’t catch on to their ridiculousness. Yeah goofballs.
As I have always prided myself in my sports knowledge, I was particularly proud the day I cracked one of their codes. It wasn’t THAT hard. They kept using “James” when referring to themselves in regards to women and their test grades, in that order.
“We aren’t James…..”
First time I heard it I knew……the number one NBA draft pick in 1982……James……WORTHY.
They weren’t James. That’s for damn sure. They spent more time concocting sentences to use associations than they did on their grades or girls.
I actually had this come to me tonight as I’m in deep reflection this week. There are days that are so full of bs and challenge that I wonder if I’m doing the right thing anymore.
Where do these tough, no-nonsense people get that edge? Is it a gene? Is it an invisible
Shield? Was there a sale on emotional armor at Target and I missed it? A Diagon Alley-esque trinket? Or is it a facade???!
You know what I mean…that trait that separates the weak from The (seemingly)STRONG. Emotional strength. Like Cutting off People when they need to be cut off. Yea….I don’t have that gene.
I will give you 75 chances to be a hurt me. Lunacy? Probably. Are you James? That’s yours to Answer. I’ll see something good in you and I hold on to that MF’er like it’s the last possible possibility on earth.
I refuse to let go and let people get what they deserve. Maybe it’s time for me to start believing that,finally at forty-freakin-eight
And a half——————I AM JAMES. You are James, too. Do not forget it.
I love you all tonight, make yourself a priority tomorrow. And, next time you spot that sale on visceral armor at Target, let this girl know.