Or, "I am what I am."
The great thing about being home and spending time doing things alone, or with just my roommy or Muffin, is the amount of introspection this allows.
On New Year's Day Muffin and I had dinner with an old friend of his who recounted a story about me. On a night out drinking with a large group, Muffin and I detoured to 7-11 before following the others to the condo to post-funk. My eventual entry to the condo was described thus:
"Fuck y'all, I've got a Slurpee."
At the time I objected stating I said no such thing and, furthermore, there is nothing wrong with a good late night Slurpee and given the proximity of the 7-11, this was not totally crazy.
It was pointed out to me that it was December and below freezing; also I was eating beef jerky from the beef jerky bin. He clarified that there was an air of such casualness and coupled with such great enjoyment and utter disregard to norms, that "Fuck y'all, I've got a Slurpee" was wafting off me.
I didn't understand how weather or norms related to Slurpees, or the sweet perfection of salty chewy beef jerky softened and chilled by a sugary slurry of semisolid "cherry" beverage.
After thought, I realize that this is essential to my character. I don't allow things like the relative distance between my self and the sun, or the unsanitary nature of open jerky barrels hold me back from what I want.
In the same way that I sewed a large rubber lobster squeaky lobster on my backpack in high school, I do whatever I want and simply don't care.
So you know what? Screw it. As personal mottoes go, it isn't classy, but it is absolutely accurate.
Fuck y'all, I've got a Slurpee.
Yes, this is me, with a limited edition Iron Man Slurpee, grilling in the snow while wearing a 600 pollyfill coat and Batman gloves.