The art of fucking up
If you have not fucked up you have not lived. Or, you are an exceptional coward. I give no apology for all the dozens of fuck-ups, failures, or ridiculous mistakes that fill my history. Without them I would not be who I am. And I am entirely contented with who I am. Are you?
I have made many big and small mistakes. Learning comes through making mistakes. Every big mistake I have made comes down to the mistake of trust. I trusted friends, family, neighbors, church members, co-workers, and God. When I saw a problem, I looked for a way to fix it. I needed help. Help was never very forthcoming. Not even from God.
Fuck-ups are badges on the breast of elders who have lived with courage and determination.
Some people never seem to fuck up. At least it appears to be so. People born with wealth and great health and exceptional intelligence fuck up fewer times than poor naive dreamers like me. Even so, they have made mistakes, just not obvious ones. British author Joe Abercrombie said, “I have learned all kinds of things from my many mistakes. The one thing I never learn is to stop making them.” Theodore Roosevelt said, “The only man who makes no mistakes is the man who never does anything. Do not be afraid to make mistakes providing you do not make the same one twice.” I have to confess I have not always kept the last part of Roosevelt’s quote. Such as it is.
Over the next weeks, months, and years BACK DAYS will become an archive of the long and mistake-ridden life of a man who, after all, survived. Take this hay-ride with me. Laugh and cry and get angry with me. Find out what happened to that nerd in the corner with the weird name. You know you’re dying to know.