Sports and Paycheck

How time flies, how I got comfortable with time flying, and how to accept aging in an era when time has wings.

If you have plans of asking me why I haven’t written in a while, I will beat you to it. My ex got married. And at once I realized that a major part of why I wrote was to speak to my ex without courage. It’s like I wanted her to see me wrestling with character flaws that she saw, I wanted her to be proud of me. I low key wanted her to read one of my posts and be intrigued and read the others and see how much I think about her. I wanted the hopeless romantic story to turn a new page.

I legit was looking forward to a day when I will write with one or more of these titles:

The Prodigal Girl Returns

Love wins again

The Holly and Wood of Breakup: when moaning becomes attractive

Dolapo’s girl is a HOLLABACK girl

All is well with the world again

You get it. You get it. Welp, I had to eat that giant loaf of the reality dose from the gutcheck pharmacy on Permanence street.

Did you know that I loved a girl for 13 years and we never really officially dated. She also got married within the past year. That was my first feeling of love that got away smiling in white and heels and sexy pretty.

Uhhmmm… so yeah, it sucked to realize that motivation was there. In the moments, I didn’t Feel it but in the moment of reckoning, it pierced through and tore a veil and smashed my mood but it had no money for repair cost. So I had to pick the tab, hence my absence.

Do you find yourself looking forward to the next mini major event that time in between becomes a blur?

That is what paycheck and soccer has become to me. It’s like I made a decision that I will begin my grand plan to live when I buy a house. So in the meantime, the most important thing to do is spend as little money as possible and figure out how to kill time cheaply.

This equates to sports — because I don’t have to pay anyone to watch Chelsea lose today to City or watch Tampa Brady Buccaneers come to LA to duke it out with the RAMS! It’s cheap, and it’s a great way to look forward to the weekend every single day until the day comes here and those 2 hours, or 3 hours are no more.

What isn’t no more though is the Friday when my pocket goes ding in the up direction. But herein is the problem, I keep paying down debt and it keeps rising and I keep taking a big chunk out every pay day only to be back where I was in the next payday. But my longing for sports has me so disinterested in anything else but ticking off the end of another day that I don’t even want to scrutinize my balance sheet to figure out how I keep staying in debt.

See that is the beauty of numbing. It erases pain but pain is the indicator that something if off or out of alignment. Pain is present. It is how things are right now. It is what is true today. It is grounded in reality and repercussions. It is fact.

But there is something about truth that is ugly that it has become an enemy instead of a friend.

Pain is a friend, but she is locked out.

So many times, I treat pain like it’s a BDSM sex partner. Hands tied, mouth tied, legs tied. Collect.

OR

I am the one tied and handicapped for the moment and pain is just whipping my lashes and my back.

Pain is like a sex partner except, I choose it’s position. It can be a love experience or a lust experience or an abusive experience.

Please just make sure it’s AN experience that treats it as a partner. It is not an annoying female dog that needs to be silenced. It’s a friend warning sometimes gently, sometimes yelling, always appealing to my sense of now. Listen, there is a truth that is damning that needs your attention. Come and pay.

This weekend, Chelsea has already lost but I am deciding to stand up from putting my full weight on my pain and choking out its voice. This weekend, I will enjoy the next second until Tampa Brady smashes the Rams because the very next second that isn’t promised is the cherry, the cake and the icing.

Subomi Olobayo. You asked me for something and I wasn’t there for you. I was focused on numbing and protecting my plans. I wanted to seal off any loop holes that could jeopardize my balance. But more tellingly, I assumed, you were young and had time and when I see you next, I will hug you and explain and all will be well again.

Then you took your own life. Months before I was scheduled to see you. According to my timeline, and my plan, you were gonna be a statue of time. Present when I come. You reminded me that life is not in my hands to dictate.

Though, I have not processed your loss fully. This weekend, I will let pain speak because I know your voice will shine through.

Momma Olobayo. They say you died of a heart attack and I didn’t need to wonder why. Your son, your favorite is dead. What good does life have to offer when the one you wanna see has eyes still in the grave. You didn’t take your own life, you just let death in. Because why resist a burglar’s knife when your torturing kidnapper’s on his way home. Home, I say with a devil’s grin.

Oh mommy, you made Jesus a beauty I couldn’t resist because He had you smitten. I surrendered like the blind at the shore when I came with you to brother Gbile’s retreat.

Your status says dead. In this life, it maybe true but I feel you alive and rejoicing with Shubby and the midnight crew.

PaaaaiiiiNnnnnnnn!!!!! You need no invite but look at the mess you already creating and I am only 10 minutes in.

I feel like the coward who summoned courage to take three steps onto the tightrope. I’m dead if I return, dead if I take no other step. The only living is to walk and keep moving.

Pain, welcome.

What message has God sent you ?

I’m an aspiring story teller that is learning to let stories tell their own morals. You’ll find me where Faith-Tech-Art meet.