Hero.

I’ve been listening to a lot of Weezer lately. By a lot I mean two songs have me playing them on repeat. Mr. Blue Sky and Hero. Go find them and push play. I’ll wait. Mr. Blue Sky is on the Teal album also originally done by ELO; it also plays during the little fight scene in Guardians of Galaxy part 2 as baby Groot dances around.

Everybody needs a hero. Don’t they? I mean I have one. It’s me. No really. Well, it’s actually Mess. She is me and I am her. She’s evolving a little more every day. Mess use to be around because I was a complete Mess. I drank too much, stayed out too late and; well, I had too much fun.

Mess was also who I called upon when I needed to feel a little extra bravery. I felt that I couldn’t handle it, but Mess would be fine. I know what you’re thinking; isn’t that called multi-personality disorder. No, it’s not. I looked it up. Plus I only have two. We are more like twins. Twins with anger issues and a love for whiskey.

It’s funny how we see ourselves versus what is put out into the world. I am not as forward as I could be, I don’t always speak my mind and I am pretty reserved with my feelings. And then I sometimes listen to the words coming out of my mouth and think none of that is true. I speak my mind a lot more than I probably should. The funny thing is I honestly don’t understand why the things I am saying are so shocking. Some of them I know the rest of the people at the table are thinking. I just happen to be saying them. Not all heroes wear capes.

I don’t wear a cape. If you watched The Incredibles you know why.

Most importantly Mess shows up to remind me who I am. On days I am tired, I have prayed about it and just continue to be in denial that it’s more than just some sleep I need; Mess shows up. When I am tired that’s the most important time for me to get my mind set back on track. Those negative thought can easily pull up a chair and the Devil will start to play the Greatest Failures thus far part one. Mess is the Guardian Angel in my head. She shows up in ripped jean, a bad ass Joan Jett t-shirt and black boots. I picture her hair blowing in the wind like one of those really cool slow motion movie fans. Making her seem all bad ass and we both start to squint a little. Mostly because we cannot believe we are listening let along believing half the shit we think.

So when I’m tired and life is particularly rough for a number of reasons that can vary; I remember I am my own Hero of this story and the only one who can pull me out of this funk is me.

Well, everybody needs a hero, but I’m not everybody else
I walk alone, yeah, I walk alone, yeah, I walk alone, oh, yeah

Some days that looks like Pendleton and 7up. Some days that looks like a good cry or a nice bubble bath (with every animal I have outside the door wondering why they can’t come in); but most days it looks like me looking myself in the eyes and reminding myself that I love me , I love this life, and I am pretty bad ass.

Mess is more self help these days. We have turned to work outs to get rid of all the anger so most of the snark isn’t there or a podcast because we sees the value of improving our brain.

We all have to be our own hero; otherwise, we are just a damsel in distress waiting on some one else to save us.

Not all heroes wear capes.

My manager’s slacking so I gotta’ move quick
I’m lacking in natural gifts
I’m an ugly motherfucker but I work hella’ harder
And you can write a blog about it