Should – Revisited

Posted by LittlePiecesofMe:

The question is….If I could permanently ban a word from general usage what would it be and why?


Hands down the word for me would be “should”. I should get out of bed, I should have called my mother, I should have hit the shot, I should go to the gym instead of eating ice cream. “Should” is a horrible reason to do anything, it carries with it guilt and it does not motivate at all.

According to the dictionary “should” is the simple past tense of “shall”. I like the word “shall”. It implies conviction with a pleasant overtone, a promise for the future. Turn that “shall” to past and make it “should” and I brace against it. “Should” is a hollow uncertain auxiliary verb that makes no promises, but merely offers a weak excuse for a possible attempt at action.

Instead of doing something because we “should”. I think there should be real concrete and positive reasons to our actions. I am getting out of bed because it is a new day and I am happy to still be on the ride, I am calling my mother because she birthed me and I’m thankful for the life she gave, I didn’t hit the shot, but I will next time because I will practice and I will get better, I will go workout because I will feel amazing afterward.

I believe what I say to myself is very important and the reasons I provide as motivation for all things I do will come from a place of energy and desire, not a place of guilt.

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Hell or…

It’s tough…

The low-high blood sugar roller coaster…
You showed me the first time we were together…
I had to get you food from a truck…
Sway back…
You had to be selfish just to survive.
I navigated.
The selfish, the disregard.
Weak pretending to be strong.
Insecure pretending to be secure.
Will you ever see it’s enough for me?
Probably not.
And it hurts.


What is Real?

What is “real”?

Are the organic, free-range thoughts I got at Trader Joe’s more “real” than the genetically modified, preservative packed thoughts I got from Walmarts?

Are my smiles, my words, my actions just an affectation? An attempt to wear the Emperor’s clothes?

Getting real is a virtue, until it is not. Until it is too uncomfortable. Too divulgent. Until being real breaks the social norms of no tears, no fears, no anger. Professing love or lust or hate.

We wear our mental Spanks to cover up the unsightly bulges we’re ashamed for anyone to see. We look in the mirror and tell ourselves “sure, they’re uncomfortable to wear, but, damn, they make me look good.”

And it becomes our uniform.

Tiny Me


This is a poem I wrote in 2007 – I was reminded of it when I read this post by the same name. .

Hiding deep inside my mind, lives my tiny me
Tiny lives in tiny house inside my brain you see

Tiny’s house has tiny door, window but no view
All he sees is curly brain, spongy grey in hue

But Tiny has a vital task, does it every day
He keeps me from the scary facts, he locks them all away

He has a box of mom, he has a box of dad
Not every thought about them, just ones that are bad

He has a box of lost fist fights, and stickings of the pins
He has a box of old dog bites, and banging of the shins

Another box holds Grandpa’s death, brought on by heart attack
Another holds stood up dates named Beth, and failure in the sack

But his biggest blackest box of all, sits high upon the shelf
Even Tiny won’t say what’s inside—can’t deal with it himself

When I get too close to what’s boxed, Tiny let’s out piercing squeal
And tells me now don’t be shocked, what’s in the box ain’t real

Tiny whispers really close—there’s really nothing inside
And tells me stories grandiose, building up my shattered pride

As Tiny lulls my mind to sleep, with stories even greater
I don’t have to think about the keep, not now maybe later

So I go through life pretending to be, greater than I am
Disabled to the truth you see, I’m a deeply wounded man