I was in a text conversation with friends the other day and my iPhone took the liberty to autocorrect the words fucked up to flash caked, as if my mother is living inside my phone editing my potty thoughts as they leak out of the tips of my chubby little fingers, dear God.
Anyway, back to this riveting story.
I hit send before I could correct the message. When I read what I sent, I cracked up—"That feels like a fitting end to a flash caked up nine-year cycle"—at first I couldn't understand the sentence, but as I allowed it to sink in I realized that it made said cycle sound pretty delicious. In fact, I can almost taste the sugar on my lips right now.
I was referring to the last nine years, which in numerology is considered one full cycle. This year is considered the first year of a new nine-year cycle. Of course, I didn't realize any of this until it was brought to my attention back in early December. When that happened? I realized that nine years prior, almost to the day, I was shot out of the cannon I sleepwalked into with a mind that was blown open by an explosive ride through a completely miserable, professional experience. It was the start to a very wild ride.
And therein lies the reminder (and the blessing) that there are two sides to everything, hereafter referred to as fucked up and flash caked.
Consider this nine-year cycle I'm waxing on about:
Now let's consider what happens when those three things are:
See? Much better. More flash cake, please.
I don't really believe that anything is ever in vain unless you miss the markers, you know, fail to connect the dots along the way. Truthfully, even if you do fail at that a few times, it is impossible to fail at it f-o-r-e-v-e-r. Eventually the dots will roll toward you like giant boulders, or delightfully huge flash cake crumbs depending upon your outlook, and even if you are highly skilled in all matters of diversion you will eventually be forced to rise up from the bottom of either avalanche (obviously one being more pleasant than the other).
It's just life, people. Mystery solved.
The way I see it, we all have the choice to see what's fucked up or notice what's flash caked. And I don't know about you, but I didn't really enjoy the plate of 2016 fuckedupness, so I'm going to order me some flash cake for this glorious FIRST year of the next n-i-n-e.
Might I suggest you do the same? Let's go grab us some forks and ice cream...