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And the Razzie goes to…

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Do you ever feel that you’re watching your life happen from a distance just far enough away that you can’t quite hear your own murmurings of advice?  Or perhaps the well-intentioned being that supposedly sits on your shoulder, swaying you between good and evil, is a lowtalker?

Either way, I need these forces to speak the hell up ASAP.  Screaming.  Megaphones.  Leaning in. Emails and/or texts in all caps.  Please, I beg you to find anyway possible to get through my thick skull with the nugget of wisdom that I know has my name written all over it.

If I could pop into the present scene of my life, I would.  I would basically jump out of my director’s chair, break the clapperboard in half, and yell “CUT!” at everyone in the near vicinity.  The dearly departed Roger Ebert would give the current state of my biopic a double thumbs down.  No Oscars for this chick.  I would sweep the Razzies and even deflect a few of the wayward glances being thrown at Ms. Clooney’s white opera gloves.

Or maybe I’m about to run smack dab into the edge of my own B-movie set, Truman Show-style, and walk back into real life.

All I know is that I’m already fresh out of flailing tickets for the year and however I’m going to do it, I need to pull my shit together, be mindful, and stop being a voyeur of my own life.  And to those of you who made New Year’s resolutions, may the force(s) be with you.


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