Excuse: I don’t have enough time to do such and such. BORING. Just stop talking do it, don’t do it.
Point being: This is probably my favorite episode of Pete and Pete:
Skip to 2:37 for the heartbreak, if you are a pussbucket. Otherwise watch the whole thing.
Context: It is daylight savings time so the Petes are time traveling. But older Pete forgets his brother to try to start a romantic relationship with his long time friend Ellen.
Lesson: We all think we are little Pete. But actually we are all big Pete. For every person not making time for you, there are ten you can be making time for. You have a choice when you don’t here from friends, call them, write them a letter, visit them, or wallow in your loneliness and curse them for their selfishness friend failures. If you feel like little Pete, don’t act like big Pete. Grab the world and call it a blowhole. It is easy to forget that we have all the time we want. Don’t get mad when other people forget it.
Also: I have been working on this thing that is not done. It won’t be done for a long time. Here is a taste:
A Story About A Man With No Money Who Became Important.
There once was a boy born in-between a pile of shit and a pile of hay. He was the son of an illiterate carpenter and a sixteen year old child. He was born poor and dirty, just like his parents were and their parents before them.
He was either too happy or too busy to write things down, so the only things we know about him come from stories told by other people. What we know is this, He spend most of his life with piles. He was from a backwater hick town that was made up of piles of dust and piles of sand and even in this backwater hick town there were people that even the poor and dirty cursed at and spit on. These people lived as piles of people in heaps of disease and mounds of garbage. These people, he loved.
He went from backwater to backwater, telling stories and helping people as best he could. He could do magic tricks like healing the sick. He could make piles of food out of only a little. Once he even did a little dance and brought someone back to life.
He saw green places approximately twice in his life: Once in a olive grove just before he was arrested for making outlandish proclamations and generally being a nuance and the other time in the private garden of the Roman Procurator who sentenced him to die. There was a beautiful fountain there, with cool clear water.
It got around quickly that, even though this boy was born next to a pile of horse shit, he was important. That was the biggest magic trick of all. Somehow, without any money, people paid attention to him. It is not hard to believe that poor people talked about him, peasants are disposed to idle chit-chat, but even rich kings and emperors came to know this man. After he died, they somehow got the notion that he was the son of god.
As impossible as it sounds, it didn’t take long before anyone who was anyone west of the Agean knew, without a doubt, that this poor man who was important even though he was born next to horse shit was the son of the one true God.