Once upon a time, Carguy and Lolclient were introduced through mutual car-loving acquaintances. Carguy was known for making good cars for people that didn’t know how to make their own or didn’t feel like paying somebody a lot of money to make one. Carguy liked to trade cars for stuff he liked. And Lolclient had lots of car stuff Carguy liked.

So they talked on the phone (different states) and they liked each other, and they came up with a plan to make Lolclient a really nice car. A car everybody would like that would eventually make Lolclient some good money when he raced it. Lolclient didn’t really know how to drive either, especially not racecars, but Carguy assured him that this car would be easy to learn and easy to drive.

It was a fairly common car, you see, and Carguy not only had a manual for it, but another, bigger, manual called “Google”.

So Carguy drafted up a few mockups of what the car would look like. Lolclient liked them. So one of the toughest parts was over, Carguy thought. He thought wrong.

He needed stuff from Carguy, some design specs and measurements. He couldn’t just build this car sight unseen, you see. He needed to work with Lolclient to make the right car for him. Carguy didn’t press it, but would get pretty annoyed when weeks would pass and then Lolclient would text and ask, “so can we race next week lol”

Carguy would remind Lolclient, every time, exactly what he needed for the car and why. Carguy would remind Lolclient that he preferred to communicate through email, because his life is crazy and busy and he’s not only very busy making cars but he’s also got a house full of dependents that are, well, depending on him, pretty much all the time. Email was the only way Carguy could devote his already-scattered attention to building the right car for Lolclient.

Lolclient emailed, but kept texting too, and requested talking on the phone nearly every time. Carguy would patiently remind him that it’s very hard for him to talk on the phone, and he needs to schedule specific times so that he can have peace and quiet. Lolclient didn’t seem to understand this, and every few weeks would send a text or email reading, “got time for a chat lol”. Carguy would patiently ask to schedule a call, only to find out that Lolclient only wanted to know, once again, what colour they were painting the fenders.

Carguy helped Lolclient along, teaching him how this specific car would drive. How the steering would work, the gas pedal, the brake pedal, the clutch and gearshifter. It wasn’t terribly complicated, nor that different from other cars that Lolclient had driven, but Carguy wanted to make sure he explained everything just right. He thought he did.

But then, weeks later, Lolclient would text asking “hows it shift again lol” or “whats the clutch do again lol” Carguy figured that he wasn’t explaining in the proper medium, and that it had been so long (few months now) that Lolclient had clearly forgotten everything from their first phone chat. So they scheduled another one.

Carguy figured that Lolclient was asking these questions over and over again because he was trying to drive and it wasn’t working out so well. Or maybe had a friend that had a similar car that was subtly different. Or even wanted to make further modifications while racing.

Nope, Lolclient had just forgotten all the stuff Carguy had told him. Carguy patiently explained everything again, assuring Lolclient that this would all work and he’d know how to race and drive that car when he was ready. Time passed, again, and Lolclient started texting and emailing questions through, again.

Carguy got fed up. He got as much information about the car as he could, and just built it. As much as he could anyway. He put all the bits and pieces in there that were needed. He did basically everything except put in all the important driver data from Lolclient. Lolclient, with all the information Carguy had given him, could surely do the rest.

Lolclient, being the most important piece in this project, needed to put the driver and racing data into the car’s computer. Carguy had explained that. A few times. He’d even explained that he could upload the bulk of the data if Lolclient would send it to him. He explained this a few times too. Carguy had many Carclients racing on his track, and they’d ALL learned how with half the info Lolclient had been given.

Finally, after several months, Lolclient started putting in data. It appeared to be working. There were still too many texts and emails with “lol how tall am i again lol” and “lol how hard to i hit the brake to stop lol”, but at least the data was making it in. Slowly, sure, but that’s good at first. Carguy felt that they would be ready to race soon. Because after all, it was Lolclient’s information that was all that was left.

Then the car’s program crashed, on a weekend. Lolclient hadn’t paid any attention to how much data to put in, and he was putting in very, very big pieces of data. Even though the car would never need to know every member of Lolclient’s primary school, it was in there. The car would never need to have the data for entire recipe books from Lolclient’s kitchen, but it was in there. There was so much information in there that it spilled out and was taking over Carguy’s other cars!

Carguy’s entire racetrack was ground to a halt while all this extra information spilled out of Lolclient’s car and ran all over the other cars. Carguy had a lot of work to clean all that up. He wasn’t very happy.

Still, he blamed himself. He thought he had explained to Lolclient how to load information properly. Lolclient was just dumping things in and hadn’t given any thought about how big it was. Carguy thought Lolclient would have checked with Google or the Car’s Manual on how to do these things without mishap, but he hadn’t. Lolclient hadn’t checked anywhere other than with Carguy, who had grown increasingly Less Patient the more Lolclient had asked.

Carguy explained all of this. He was pretty-well fed up, but he wasn’t going to leave Lolclient hanging. He still hadn’t received any of the agreed-upon barter from Lolclient, but he was going to make sure Lolclient was set up before he cut him loose and vowed never to work with someone so needy and lacking in attention and independence.

Carguy gave Lolclient all the options, listed out in an easy-to-read format, even for Lolclient. They nearly all involved Lolclient doing a bunch of work himself or spending a bit of money.

Lolclient told Carguy he had been sad because of This Disaster and That Disaster in his life recently. Carguy felt bad, because Lolclient did have a few disasters, and it’s understandable to be a bit more needy when life is busy disastering around you.

But Carguy kept wondering why Lolclient hadn’t told him differently. Lolclient, in his limited communication styles, hadn’t even said, “i’ve had some tough times, so I appreciate you putting up with my neediness. If you help me get through this I’ll definitely make it up to you… lol” Lolclient probably thought he said that. But instead it came out “sorry i’m a pain i had This Disaster and That Disaster but need you to pretty much do the driving of this car for me lol”.

Carguy didn’t want to drive. This not only wasn’t his car, but his own life is so full and so busy, there was NO WAY he could fit in driving someone else’s car too. He’d explained this to Lolclient before, but it didn’t seem to matter now. This was already costing his life too much, all this time and energy spent on somebody that only seemed to care about his own car and his own disasters, all without paying for any of it yet. When Carguy mentioned some serious changes needed made and most of the work Lolclient had done would need fixed, Lolclient said this was “annoying”.

Carguy hit the roof. Then he carefully, but frustratingly, explained why he couldn’t let this continue and Lolclient needed to move on to another racetrack. Carguy had built a fine car that could be driven nearly anywhere, but Lolclient would have to figure out how to move it, because Carguy was done working with Lolclient he said.

Lolclient told Carguy he was “sorry for being a pain lol” and casually mentioned even more disasters. Carguy was starting to think that Lolclient was the unluckiest guy in the world… or that he was someone that seemed to wallow in his own misfortunes. Lolclient also told Carguy that he “took the email wrong” and that Carguy was wrong for thinking that Lolclient was wrong for acting annoyed.

Carguy sat and thought about this. Took the email wrong? he thought. No, he thought, I didn’t. Carguy once again thought that Lolclient must have not been paying attention when Carguy was explaining things over, and over, and over again during all those months. Carguy figured that if Lolclient was somebody that couldn’t look at his own behaviour and recognise issues when someone else brought them up, but only have excuses and defensiveness, then he wasn’t even going to talk to him any more.

Lolclient persisted though. Sending nicely-written emails that said things like “sorry” and “i promise i’ll listen from now on” and “i can’t do this without you”. Carguy noticed that Lolclient still took no responsibility for driving the car and still acted as if Carguy was the one that was supposed to be driving it. The only mention of paying Carguy back for his immense patience, time and energy, was that Lolclient promised he’d live up to his end of the bargain. He didn’t say thanks, and he didn’t say when he would pay Carguy back.

Carguy was done being used, so instead of continuing this harmful relationship, he sat down and wrote this story.

But he changed it a little bit.

It’s not easy to be something other than what we are.  It’s made even more difficult when what we are keeps changing, as does the expectations from The World Around Us.

Of course, knowing what we are and knowing what The World expects of us makes all this being much easier, but can you count the number of times in your life that you’ve known that to happen?  Probably, and with one hand’s worth of fingers even.

Whether we’re conscious of it or not, we’re constantly measured against expectations from The World, and many times those judgements, those measurements, are unknown to us.  Even if we’re ever informed of them, it’s usually well after the fact when we find out how we measured up.  Too often, this leads us to move around through our own lives constantly trying to preempt bad judgements, poor performance, negative thoughts and feelings towards us.

If you were to look at it, you might find that notion preposterous.  You’re moving through YOUR OWN LIFE, trying to avoid the negativity found in less-than-favourable judgements made by OTHERS?!

Doesn’t some part of your brain, an instinctual and possibly primal part, rear up and say, quite loudly, “Well fuck them, it’s MY life and I’M the one leading it!  Who are THEY to judge ME on something they know next-to-nothing about?!”

I hope it does.  I hope some little part of your brain just tingled and said, “Yeah, he’s right.  I HAVE felt that way.”  Maybe you’ve never said it out loud.  Maybe you’ve never said it in the confines of your own psyche.

Maybe you should.

***

It’s not easy, but nothing worth it ever is.

But look around at others, then look at yourself.  You live in there, they don’t.  Many are unhappy about how they’re living, though they may not know it, and many may feel like they’re in circumstances that are out of their control and that they would change things if only they could.

At the end of the day, all you’ve really got is you.  And you can change that part.  You know how too.  You know enough about yourself to start asking questions.  You probably even know how to go about getting answers.  After that, change starts to happen, as long as you want it to.  It usually seems to come along best when you do a little every day.  Then it happens the way lasting change does: Gradually, then all of a sudden.

***

I saw a grown man dressed like a fairy today.  He was wearing a tutu and wings and carrying a wand.  He was singing and flitting about, trying his heart out to be the best fairy around.  And he was.

Before that, I was flitting about myself.  Leaping sprightly across cracks in the sidewalk and trying my heart out to fly as lightly as possibly, just like the fairies do across the tops of flowers.

Does it matter that the man-turned-fairy I saw was on a children’s TV show?  Does it matter that I was only following along behind my 6-year old on our morning walk to school?

I suppose it does, to The World Around Me, but it shouldn’t.  And to me, it doesn’t.

***

You don’t have to flit fairy-like to be you.  You live in there, and that’s good enough.  YOU’RE good enough.  Because nobody else is you, and if they tried their hand at being you, they’d suck at it.  Because you’re it, the only You around, and you rock at it.

Most of the time, usually.  You probably know when you’re rocking at it, and you probably know when you aren’t.  And I’m willing to bet that when you’re rocking at being you, everything is just that much better.

Good luck with that.  Fairy luck, the best kind.

It’s easy to get impatient about all of this.  To get up and get going in your day and only be aware of the Next Thing that you are meant to be doing.  The Next Thing is hanging there all Damocles-like because you’d rather be doing Your Thing instead.  And every day that you’re not doing Your Thing means that the Next Thing could kill you and you’d NEVER get to do Your Thing.

But the bait is there, to just keep doing the Next Thing and you’ll be rewarded someday.  Some.  Day.

But that day isn’t today.  Not.  Today.

Today, you are expected to just keep doing the Next Thing and keep your mouth shut.

So… it’s easy to get impatient about all of this.  Because you’ve probably never been encouraged to just do Your Thing and say, “Fuck it.” to everything else.

Today, say “Fuck it.” to everything else, and go do Your Thing.

Go.

I’ve just gotten his nappy off in front of the tub.  I’ve carried him in here, happily coated in pasta sauce, trying not to get any on me, stood him up in front of the bathtub and announced, “It’s bath time!”  He’s ecstatic.  He’s working his little feet back and forth like it’s Dance Party USA.  I get his nappy off and he steps up to the edge of the tub, one hands his doodle, and pisses all over the bath mat.

In retrospect, his nappy felt incredibly empty for being on so long.  He’s always had a penchant for pissing as soon as it’s off.  These are good things, I tell myself, that mean it’ll be easier to potty train him.

His next biggest sister comes in behind me while I’m wrestling him into the water.  For as much as he Fuckin’ Loves Baths, he’s always funny about the water until he gets used to it.  Before you think you’re smarter than me, I’ve tried different temperatures and depths.  It’s just how he is.

His sister is standing behind me, hovering.  I hate when they do that.

“WHAT.” I say.  It’s not a question, it’s a challenge.

“I just…”, she thinks about it.  She’s been contrary and challenging all day, all week, and she can tell by my tone that she better come up with something good or I’m going to land on her like a pile of friggin’ bricks.

“I just like to watch Boo play in the bath!” she says chirpily.  She thinks that by chirping I’ll be more tolerant.

I’ve got my knees in piss, my was-clean Bonds shirt is now caked in pasta sauce and veg, I’m wrestling shampoo into the eyes of a kid that just wants to fucking play and me to leave him the hell alone, I haven’t had dinner yet because I’ve spent the entire afternoon trying to get wife’s computer internetted, a report ready for a committee meeting that I missed because I wasn’t told the new time, teaching chess to the maniacs at my kids’ school and braving Kmart to get some phone wire to finally, finally, internet wife’s machine.

Dinner’s late because dishes weren’t ready because shit is sometimes everywhere and whenever it seems that I’ve got enough of a gap to get the pasta boiled and the salad chopped, Boo shits.  The older kids can’t seem to exist for 5 minutes without needing to ask me something OMG RIGHT THIS MINUTE and then spill dinner down their selves while trying to watch tv, despite the 864 times I’ve said “hold your food over your plate, regardless of what your head is doing…”

I’m not in the mood for chirpy.  I want left the hell alone.  I say so, nicely, and she backs out of the bathroom and pulls the door shut.

Surprisingly, nobody disturbs us after that.  I’m able to bathe the Boo and he is annoyed at me, but clean.  He then stands proudly in the tub and grasps his doodle, like a challenge.  With memories of the scar on both his brother and sister’s foreheads from bath taps, I tell him to sit down.  He does.  For about 45 seconds, then he stands again, an impish grin on his face.

I give him The Look.  I point at him, then I point downwards at the tub.  He grins even wider in recognition, and sits. Happily.

Finally, the kids are in bed and I’m seeking escape from the absolute fuck of a day that I’ve had, the end of which was heralded by me spilling a jar of turps on my crotch. Sometimes, the best you can do is just get to bed as quickly and quietly as possible, with zero expectations.

I lay down in bed, nearly luxuriating, and wife comes in to ready her side for nocturning. I tell her a little bit of my feelings towards this day, she sympathises. Then I open up the apptop and find this hidden inside:

It reads, “To maick love out of you” which I have interpreted to mean to make somebody happy using love. If you can see clear enough, that’s the boy and the girl (whether that’s me and 5-yo daughter or me and wife, I haven’t figured out) and they’ve got thought bubbles in the shape of hearts, with the top one that says “I wish” for each, and the one below has a picture of the other person in them. They’re thinking love thoughts, you see, about each other.

Here’s the inside:

The left side is her holding my hand with “I love you Dad” above us. The middle has a heart, with one half her and the other half me, and if you can see closely enough, the line between our eyes is Love Rays, with the word “love” above each of our heads. The right reads “I hope you love me” and has her on a chair with me in front of her.

Now, if read wrong, it could be interpreted as heartbreaking, that this little girl would need to live in confusion as to my love for her. That’s not what she meant though, I’m confident of that. It’s just her… way of writing. It’s like poetry.

Here’s the back:

“Love is the best” with a big heart overlapping a small heart. They look like they’re hugging.

Wife watched me open and read this, and then looked at it herself. One of those moments where you don’t need to say anything. You don’t need words for how this feels, because there aren’t any.