a cork board


fighting the good fight
PMpFri, 23 Apr 2010 19:04:36 +000004Friday 1, 2010, 7:04 pm
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yesterday I was driving nice and casual with my wife and son in the back seat. then this red minivan comes and cuts me off. I won’t get into details about who was driving because then I’ll be racially profiling, just like the police. okay, so then he proceeds to slow down to 40kmh and completely stops on a green light so he can look down the street and read a sign. I’ve seen so much inconsiderate drivers on the road this spring, but that’s not even what I wanna talk about today. I honked my horn and drove around him.  at the next light he pulls up beside me waving his middle finger at me and cursing hard with his windows up. I was so mad. I was begging for him to give me a reason to step out of the car and whoop his ass. I could actually envision my fist pounding the side of his face until he fell unconscious. I’ve been feeling like I’m about to burst lately. not at people I love, but at perfect strangers.

growing up I always avoided fighting. I was pudgy (fat, if you will) and knew that I would only end up with my ass handed to me. plus I always had big brothers to both defend me and put me in my place. so I never fought. I was afraid. I was afraid of losing,afraid of being embarrassed and afraid of breaking something. as I grew a little older I started wanting to fight, and I did once or twice. but I never finished a fight.

people always told me to “walk away and be the bigger person.” and then I found myself not wanting to fight for a different reason. fighting always seemed pretty pointless to me, sure it would feel good. but in the end you’ve allowed a complete jackass the power to push you into a situation where you would never put yourself in unless your hand was forced. you allowed them to make you compromise something about yoyrself. to stoop to their level. people who want to fight provoke the shit out of you until you fall down to their level. and when you do, whether you win or lose the war, you’ve lost the battle. so I chose not to fight.

but now. I’m itching for somebody to fight me. I have these ballads of violence playing off in my head and I can see blood and pummeling and sheer vengeance. but I hold my tongue, I hold my fists, and I choose to be the bigger person every time. but sometimes (more lately) I have grown tired of being the bigger person. my wife says she knows I’m going to pop one day. and when I do, she doesn’t fear for me. she fears for the person I explode onto. because I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.

so I keep trying to fight the good fight. I’m trying to listen to the voices of reason and “be the bigger person.” one of my best friend’s Josh told me once “a true warrior knows which battles to fight and which ones to walk away from.” I guess I haven’t found one worth fighting. I haven’t found a battle where I wouldn’t feel like I would  be compromising my character. but I have to remind myself of these morals a lot lately. because I really have been wanting to kick some serious tail. but I’m trying to keep fighting the good fight and live like Jason Marz’s song ‘Live High.’

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