Them’s fightin words
My damn cat is a bastard.
Or I guess it grieves me to say he was a bastard. Since coming to Germany, and the long flight he doesn’t bite much anymore.
There’s just something good that’s been snuffed out of his soul it seems. I remember the good old days when my arms looked like they had a passing dalliance with a weed eater from Rowdy’s unique brand of affection. My bathroom floor can tell you all about my aim when Rowdy would attack me when I tried to pee before bed.
From eating my christmas tree to biting my Dad while we watched the Duke Nukem video on EBaums World, I miss the bastard in my Rowdy Cat.
At the time I didn’t appreciate how taking three seconds to open the fridge was long enough for him to jump on the counter and start eating my food.
If I knocked him off the counter he’d jump back up ten times until he broke my will. He made me his little bitch, and I can’t lie, I respect him for it.
Eating a meal the cat sampled first is better than a cat with a broken spirit, I kinda wish I didn’t get him to stop after six years, just don’t tell company that, unless they are really cool, that is.
He doesn’t bite much anymore, but he does like to belch when Eva isn’t looking and blame it on me. He gets around, kinda like Marty McFly on Back to the Future he ties his skateboard to our car so he can frame me with his indiscriminate displays of mouthly flatulence.
Maybe he’s just gotten smarter, and more subtle in regards to his bastardry, and if so, I approve.
I have been paying more attention to him lately, and he’s a little more willing to attack me. I hope with enough love and therapy he will see fit to sink his teeth into me and try to gut me with his rear claws like the love child between Garfield and a Velociraptor he is again someday. It’s this kind of hope everyone needs to go on.
Rowdy you magnificent, furry bastard you.
The real tragedy of it all is he’s lost his fight. Having fight in you has got to be the most underrated virtue I can think of.
I’ve spent many a year with no fight left in me, and growing an appetite for it makes me feel a swell of pity for fightless folks.
I didn’t sleep last night and waffle night ended up being waffle morning, we watched “The Hurricane.” A movie about Rubin Carter, a boxer played by Densel Washington about a man wrongly imprisoned for murder for 20 years.
Dude had fight.
He had an ocean of fight in him, and a brilliant mind. He had fight in the ring, but it’s not what I respect about him. In the ring and out the fight that matters most is the fight you fight against yourself.
He fought to train himself, he fought to learn, he fought to free his mind from the prison he was in everyday, he fought to learn from great minds, to not give them power over him, and to never confess to what they tried to pin on him.
If I grow up, I want to be like Reuben. He’s a hero to me.
Sometimes you pick your battles, sometimes your battles pick you, but there is always a choice. Do you give up and get stomped on, or do you fight it.
Fighting back can look like a lot of things. If you're in the ring and someone pulls your trunks down, losing your head is losing the fight. Engaging with people who are trying to get a rise out of you is often letting them own your emotions. Sometimes fighting means taking the power they have over you back, you have nothing to fear from their lies if the truth is on your side. Sometimes you let it slide, sometimes you strategize, but if you keep your head on straight there are times when you can hit them with their own punches.
I’m not one for getting offended, it’s no secret to me that there are a lot of stupid and bad people out there, dealing with them is to be expected.
I don’t spend much time pathologizing behavior, and drawing negative attention to ideologies and demographics. I have done it from time to time, sure, but it’s a very inefficient way to make someone’s life better. Personally I think at the end of the day it’s better to laugh at what used to make you cry than to not cry for a lack of reasons.
No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.
In the Hurricane Reuben gave up all the things they could take from him so he couldn’t lose them. It’s kind of like that, if you want to overcome your triggers, it’s an inside job. You can’t give that to them.
Sometimes you do have to respond with a little force. If you are scared to death of ever confronting someone, it might help to tell someone what’s what for your own sake more than to change them or the situation.
Telling someone to fuck off well and not spend three days thinking about it is a skill, a skill that can be learned. It’s not always going to give you the best outcomes, but it’s a good way to learn that your fears are unfounded and that you can stand up for yourself.
Getting pissed off at life when it gets you down is a good way to make your life go up. Learn, adapt, figure out how you can do it better, get up and pop life in the mouth.
Fuck you Life!
Autistic people often have a lot of intensity that can be channeled into fight, we are determined in our singlemindedness, and we persevere. It’s only fitting we have an attitude worthy of us.
Let what pushes you show you what you need to push back on, things that make you feel helpless are opportunities.
Fight your laziness, fight your distractions, fight your fears, fight the things that make you lose hope.
As much as anything, simply changing your attitude about fight makes you see your problems in a whole new light.
