There were two instances of men picking fights with me today. One was in the water, right here off the shoulder on PCH. I found myself embroiled in a surf entanglement, ironically against ocean spray and the bluest sky. A hunched, older man – a salty dog – accused me of intruding on his wave and denied my apology. His bloodshot eyes bulged, his fists pounded his board like a toddler throwing a tantrum. I felt bad for this curmudgeon; he was consumed by an unbridled rage that preceded this argument and he’d be bound to for years to come. Any retort I could’ve given would pale in comparison to the toxins that orbited his universe.
The other, a streetwear beef thing. Even sillier. A snarky Instagram dig by a bitter ex-friend, a gossipy sizzle amongst the community. This news broke when I was out enjoying the holiday with my children. I was treating them to a trip to the Pokemon card shop. This individual did his best to steal our afternoon together. I didn’t give him the opportunity.
“Hate is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.”
It was either Buddha, Malachy McCourt, or Mandela who said it best (When quotes are hard to place, that tells me that they’re universally felt). So much of my young life was articulated by Hate, but anger and vitriol hold less meaning to me with time. I see them for what they are: impediments, nuisances. I’m on a mission, I wake up each morning with purpose, and Hate’s only job is to distract me from my goal. Or to derail me entirely. Fuck that. I don’t have enough time.
My problem is that Hate feels warm and familiar. It’s galvanizing and electric. Whether I’m projecting that energy or on the receiving end, it’s a shiny new toy to gnaw on. But, Hate takes more than it gives. It eats so much bandwidth. Like coming off a howling bender, Hate saps us of strength and leaves us cold and confused. It’s a debilitating, unmerciful cancer in the form of a fidget spinner.
Hate is a waste of everything, I really don’t know why we have it. I’m simply not interested. I’ve got so much to do and so much love to accept.
Tonight, I choose to sleep peacefully, having seen my children and our memories of today clearly.