I’m not a religious person. I even once bartered the baptism of my unborn child for the recovery of lost luggage. I had good shit in those bags worth saving. No regrets.
But this post isn’t about religion. It’s about how God has a way of fucking up your plans sometimes.
I planned to be a millionaire.
I planned to know what to do with my life.
I planned to have children by now.
I planned to have met, made out with, and dumped at least one celebrity. Potentially two.
I planned to been famous. Or at least recognized in the grocery store because my face is on the cover of a trashy tabloid. Dreamy.
I planned a lot of things that just didn’t work out the way I planned.
Should I be disappointed? Pissed? Discouraged? Probably.
It has absolutely occurred to me that my List is a plan of sorts. A way of creating a path to the things that are important to me. It has absolutely occurred to me that my plan could fail. But I happened to know that there is something more powerful, more intense, more gravitational, more deluxe, and more stupendous than a plan…
[to be continued. just because.]