Hello beautiful people. As you all know by now, I need a constant flow of entertainment or activities to keep me occupied. At any given time, I will have a book that I am reading, a book that I am listening to, tickets to an upcoming movie, musical or event and, usually, a planned vacation on the horizon.
I always feel like I have to have something to look forward to, and, if I don’t, I honestly get depressed.
Luckily, I almost always have something. Even if it is months away, something to look forward to keeps me going. Like right now, I have tickets to see the horror movie Until Dawn; then, a week later, tickets to see Thunderbolts*. I have also pre-ordered Stephen King’s next book, Never Flinch, and have a nearly-planned quick little vaycay with the hubby set. And I’m sure there is something else after that.
I am not sure if that makes me weird or not, but random things like that get me going each day.
I know a few people — mostly family — that never really have anything going on and have no drive to make anything happen. That baffles my mind. How can you live without the desire to want more out of life? How do you get up each day without something to look forward to?
Something to motivate you?
Sure, the excuse of being broke is an absolutely valid reason to not do some stuff. But being broke is my biggest motivator.
I always hated being broke and not having the funds to get what I wanted when I wanted it. I got my first job at 13 because I hated that feeling.
Now, I ain’t rich by any standard; I still have to save up sometimes before I splurge on something big. But that motivates me more. I work hard so I can live a life that satisfies me and makes me happy.
I hope I don’t sound like a complete douche bag by talking shit about unmotivated people, but I also do not care about their feelings anymore. I know that sounds harsh, but I doubt that the “friends and family” I am talking about will read this.
If they do and I have upset them? Good! Get mad and prove me wrong! I love a good ol’ “I’LL SHOW YOU!”
That reminds me of a story: One night in my mid-twenties, I met a guy while playing pool at the Village Station. He was kinda cute and had a very nice body. He was wearing a low-cut tank top that showed his lovely pecks, a pooka shell necklace, ripped acid-washed jeans and combat boots — 90s fashion was, well, interesting.
We started flirting and placed a bet that whoever won the next game of pool got to choose how our night was going to turn out (i.e. got to choose who was gonna be top and who was gonna be bottom).
I did not care; I was young and horny, and a guy with a great body was into me. It was going to be a great night regardless.
I am not a horrible pool player, but I let him win. Better to let him think he was in control, right?
We ended up at my apartment and had a lovely session. It started with a fabulous make-out session and ended with us both feeling completely drained — both physically and testically.
As soon as it was over he started to get dressed to leave, which I was totally okay with. But before he left, he got in my face, seemingly angry, and said, “I can’t believe you don’t recognize me, James Love!” using my whole name like it was a slur.
I was confused, I thought we just met that night. He didn’t look familiar to me at all. Then he said that he had asked me on a date five years ago at the Wave, but I told him no because he was overweight.
(For the record, I have no memory of that interaction, and I am 99 percent sure I didn’t say that was the reason. I was a much nicer person back then, and, as horrible as I am today, I still would not have said that.)
Then he gave this pathetic little giggle as he said, “I got you! Yup, I finally got you. You were the reason I lost weight! I was gonna show you what you missed out on! So, ha, Bitch! I got you!”
Then he walked out and slammed the door.
I sat there on my bed, (it was an efficiency apartment, so the front door was pretty close) and thought, “You sho did show me. I got dicked down and you got healthy, so win-win. But I’m glad you found your motivation.”
I think he thought I was supposed to be upset or that I would feel used or disrespected. I wasn’t upset; I was flattered. And I did feel used and disrespected — but just the right amount to curl my toes
So …. Sorry! Thank you! My bad. Congratulations!?
I’m not sure what he wanted me to say, but since he slammed the door, I didn’t have to say anything. I just rolled over and fell asleep pretty quicky.
Now, in the memory of that story, there is an 80s montage of him working out mad and losing weight to Blondie’s “One Way or Another” before he tracks me down at the club.
The sad thing is I don’t even remember his name. I’m a horrible person!
Be somebody’s motivation and always have something to look forward to. (God, I sound like the worst guru ever!)
Remember to always love more, bitch less and be fabulous! XOXO, Cassie Nova