I am The Man — beware my kung-fu wisdom
I recently had a three-week vacation from the internet and my absence was lovely with not one ounce of subtle irony. On my end, I was able to catch up on a few books and delve into some saved up lectures I stored onto my computer. I was a busy little beaver in more ways than one.
Meanwhile, my sister Liz and my writing comrade Hannah Sullivan both informed me that the people on Facebook (FB) had a near anxiety attack wondering where the hell I went. I had around 13 FB messages asking me if I was ok. I had around 50-60 messages on my wall of people asking me where the hell I went. It became quite clear that those who follow me and read me love what I do.
So, firstly, I wanted to thank all of you for the cyber love and I really do appreciate the support. To all my fan-girls: Daddy loves you.
From here on out in this column, I’m going to try not to be vulgar.
What do I have left — 700 words?
OK, I’m going to be brutally honest. Despite all the love and support I get, I also feel like a piece of shit every day. On any day, someone could compliment me on something I have done and I’ll stand there and think to myself, “I know you’re bullshitting me.”
I get messages from my editors, I get encouragement from fellow writers I respect and look up to, I get respect from local stand-up comics; my political science professor and I email one another and he’s convinced that I’m going to be a scholar one day. Despite all of this, I hate myself and want to be forgotten.
I believe the word we are looking for is paradox. Why is my self-loathing paradoxical?
Because some days I wake up and feel motivated to conquer. Oh wow Matt, you have good and bad days. It’s a little bit beyond having good and bad days. It’s more akin to having a talent and realizing no one else can do what I do.
There are funny people, there are smart people, and there are those who can write brilliant prose, but who exactly has my funk and flavor? Who can look into a mirror and see what cannot be seen? Who can write a dick joke like me? Who feels confident enough to talk about virtually anything and have an interesting point of view?
It’s called talent, and despite me hating myself and the world, I still wish to stick around and keep trying to make something happen.
What will happen with my life? I have no idea, but I have to fight, right? I think most of life is a test of your fight or flight response. In my case, I know how to throw a punch.
Sometimes I feel like Kwai Chan Caine from the Kung-Fu TV series. Kwai Chan Caine was a Shaolin monk separated from his monastery who came to the Wild West in California and gets into all sorts of fun situations. Fun as in he kicks some serious ass with his Buddhist wisdom and his kung-fu mastery while also scoring with a few hotties. Not a bad life.
Contemplating one’s own existence truly takes a lifetime. So in other words, my own personal situation is developing. Perhaps life is even better when you have no idea what the road map says. We are all told these little pearls of wisdom about life. What is the true meaning of life?
Here’s an honest question. Why is it when someone tells me the secret to life, I feel like I just had a cup of crappy instant coffee? Wisdom is for suckers.
I am not sure there is a meaning to life nor do I think there is a meaning to my own life. All I have to do is make the best choice to live every day. Right? Is it that truly and unsatisfyingly simple? Just live? Go? Try anything?
Should I just buy a pair of Nikes and “Just Do It”? Michael Jordan, help me.
I’m sure you are all rolling your eyes. That is totally fair.
In light of all of you groaning at my own self-reflection, I can only promise to keep hammering away. Despite my own depressions and feelings of worthlessness, I want to keep trying. I want to try for you and me. My work will make some of you cringe, some of you will laugh, a few of you might be inspired, but most importantly, all of you will react in a certain way. As long as I captivate you for 10 to 12 minutes, I’m happy. That’s the job, to make you react. I want you to jump out of your chair and scream “WHOO” like Ric Flair.
Once I hear America give a big Ric Flair “WHOO,” I’ll know my kung-fu wisdom will have worked.
I am The Man and I will fight for you.