You Can’t handle the truth

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Whoo-ah.  got cha.

Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Then, I’m going to lie down on my big beautiful bed, and blow my brains out.  The day we stop looking, is the day we die.

Many scenes later:
[Headmaster Trask drives into the Baird School driveway in his brand-new Jaguar. He gets out, to hear a voice on a loudspeaker] 
Jimmy Jameson: [on loudspeaker, but unidentified] Mister Trask is our fearless leader. 
[students hear this and gather, looking on at Trask] 
Jimmy Jameson: A man of learning, a voracious reader. He can recite “The Iliad” in ancient Greek, while fishing for trout in a rippling creek. 
Trent Potter: [Trask grins slightly, trying to figure out where the voice is coming from] Endowed with wisdom, of judgement sound, nevertheless about him, the questions abound. 
[We now see the same three Baird guys who set up this prank the night before; Harry opens the valve to an oxygen tank connected to a large balloon on a lamppost as Trent passes the microphone to him] 
Harry Havemeyer: How does Mister Trask make such wonderful deals? Why did the trustees buy him Jaguar wheels? He wasn’t conniving, he wasn’t crass… he merely puckered his lips… and kissed their ass! 
[balloon spins around to reveal a cartoon bearing the words being spoken; the students laugh and mock Trask] 
Harry Havemeyer: [Trask pulls out his car keys and opens the Jaguar door, then jumps up to try to pop the balloon with the key. He misses on the first try. On the second try, he succeeds, and a flood of white paint splashes down onto him and all over the car. The students applaud loudly and shout obscenities at him as this catastrophe concludes with Trask kicking the car door closed and attempting to dry his face with handkerchief] 
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I just ran across and article that said the first line is the most important. I also know sometimes what we do is more important than what we say. So I hope you enjoyed Scent of a Woman. Pacino (thanks auto correct for knowing the proper spelling of Mr P’s name) is a master of his craft or as I like to put it good at his job. Oh and Mr Goldman I reworked that first sentence to better fit my needs.

God I love the interweb…like tiny spiders that I control finding all the right words for me.

So back to the point. What are you good at? Not what you do dummy, what are you good at? Have you ever sat alone or looked into a mirror and asked yourself that. Just a heads up it gets harder if you wait longer. Kinda like how insecure you were in HS then looked at the photos and said in your head damn I was hot.

I belong to a face group that is entitled “do something” now belonging to this group of forward thinking artist. I thought we would “do something” I posted on the page I wanted to collaborate on a piece about the churches abuse of power and its long term effect on children. Not that highbrow but just a poke to get a response. 19 of these self proclaimed forward thinking artist “saw” my post and a few even liked it….but not one said Go.

My recent look into the mirror reminded me of my own mortality and how much time I have spent not doing what I am good at…now I will toot the provable horn for a moment. Yes provable….just google for the proof in the pudding. Great stuff pudding..sorry did I mention my litany of attributes which include being easily sidetracked.

AND NOW THE BOX WANTS ME TO SELL BACK MY DVD’S

Alas I digress again. Point is I have taken many lefts when I should have taken rights. Now I do not regret for one moment the lefts that produced the writer, the poet, the scientist who by the way will find a cure for something someone you love might die from, the actors and the captains of industry.
I just find myself wondering if that right would have taken me a different direction….memories like the corners of my…crap….

So my comrades I ask you to go to the mirror look deep into those beautiful holes you call eyes and ask yourself what are you good at, what feeds your soul, what in essence makes you happy.

Then just “do something”

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