Mia Hamm, Spilt Beer, Who Cares?

A few weeks ago I wrote about “rules” and if there were any. I still don’t have an answer for that, I hate rules, I hate worrying that the next thing I do will be wrong, or will be misinterpreted. Screw it – who cares, if I didn’t say this or that or do this or that, I’d be sitting here saying “Oh I wish I said/did that”. I have spent too many nights worrying about that stupid “what if” scenario that I created for myself, a dark mouse hole in a wall undiscovered. So many of my past poems focus on the “what if” – but not no more. You might know what its like without the “what if” – its liberating, a breath of fresh air, just to go and do it or say it, whatever that might be. That silly 3-day waiting period doesn’t exist– just pick up the phone dammit (just an example). I admit, sometimes I think about it, might be only a few minutes, might be a day, I might actually sit here and write it out first. But that one second it takes me to think about it means I’m worrying about “rules” and being PC. Heck, 4 years ago after we won the championship, I took off my shirt in the outfield and pulled a Mia Hamm – (for those of you who don’t know, she took off her shirt after they won the US soccer game)! More recently I spilt beer on a semi-important person that I work with…and yes, it was 90% intentional. Today I might just be babbling, but if I wasn’t then I’d be following some predetermined set of rules and conforming to being PC.