STAY THE FIGHT! STRENGTH, EFFORT, AND DISCIPLINE. THESE ARE THE WATCH WORDS OF A WARRIOR -- Kevin Michael Vance
Title - Kevin Michael Vance - writer/musician/purveyor of raw materials
STAY THE FIGHT! STRENGTH, EFFORT, AND DISCIPLINE. THESE ARE THE WATCH WORDS OF A WARRIOR -- Kevin Michael Vance
STAY THE FIGHT! STRENGTH, EFFORT, AND DISCIPLINE. THESE ARE THE WATCH WORDS OF A WARRIOR -- Kevin Michael Vance

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Kevin Michael Vance
Writer - Portland, Oregon


November 30, 2006

It's the end of the world as we know it!

Yet again, I find that I am right.

Mind you, I do not wish to be right. Honestly, I wish I were wrong. I wish that most people acted with a sense of honor and humility. I wish that most people were not prepared to maim, injure, even kill for the sake of their own petty lives and meaningless existences. Unfortunately, however, (and you can argue this; in fact, please do) I am not wrong.

I was riding my bicycle today, when I was nearly run over by a forest green Plymouth PT Cruiser with, no less, yellow and red flames painted on the side. You have to understand, this was on Fremont, and normally I do not ride in the road, owing to how the road is both dangerous and narrow. Instead, I ride on the sidewalk, which is my right as a bicyclist if I find the road too hazardous. However, this city is doing so much construction that I am forced to ride where I would not normally. So, I yell at the driver, "WATCH IT!"

That's it. That is all I did. I didn't cuss, I didn't fume, I did not gesticulate wildly and threaten this person in any manner, I simply pointed out the obvious fact that he had passed me too closely.

The driver of said ridiculous car proceeded to slow, allowing me to catch up with him, and roll down the drivers' side window, out of which stared a distinctly dismayed female. He yelled back at me, "WHAT?"

I replied, "you came inches from me!"

Upon hearing this the man huffed and puffed to such a degree that if he were a toddler standing in line for Jell-O fruit cups I would've expected him to stomp his feet. He eagerly begins arguing that he was "nowhere near me", and that he "rides a bike". (This is all in the middle of the street: I'm still pumping pedals, and his wife/girlfriend is looking more and more mortified.) What he does not do, and what he should have done, were he not a pile of stinking, steaming shit wrapped in flabby, human skin is this:

1. Realize he made an error in judgment. As we, all have the capacity to do.

2. Humbly apologize for his lack of attention. Which is what a Warrior, or even a true, and honorable human being would have done. And--

3. Quietly gone about his business.

No.

Instead, this dunderhead, this malcontent, this miscreant, this moron of epic proportions takes it upon himself to decide that I (being the one far better to determine how close he was, or was not, to my person - he passed me on his passenger side) was, in fact, wrong, and that I had, in some way, insulted him as a man. It's so much easier to go straight to anger than to, once again, accept responsibility for your mistakes and your actions (believe me, I know).

The story ends as such -- the thick-headed muggins, his seemingly idiot/savant girlfriend/wife, and his ridiculous car (did I mention it was a forest green PT Cruiser with yellow and red flames painted on the side - ?) sped away.

Not wanting to be undone in any fashion, feeling the ire rise in the back of my throat, and, in retrospect, realizing this wasn't the most intelligent of choices, I yell at him one, last time, "WATCH IT!"

You may ask; how does this font of wisdom, this Rhodes scholar form his retort? Well, I will tell you. For it is such a scathing rebuttal, such a brilliant repartee, such a blinding, profound insight into the depths of this waste-of-human-space that I almost dare not utter it here on these humble pages. But I must and I shall.

Here is his rejoin. "YOU WATCH IT!"

And there it is -- me being right again. I can't stand it! I want to be wrong! I want to know there are strength and honor and discipline still remaining in this wasted world. I want to believe that people, if given the chance, are naturally good and kind. But every year it seems to get worse. Every year, hell -- every day, I get on my bike my life is in danger from people who assume that, somehow, they are "above" common courtesy, not to mention the laws of the road. (It wouldn't be so bad if this wasn't my fucking life were talking about here!) And not just that - it's the bloody holidays. A time when people are expected be on their best behavior, but predominantly and overwhelmingly act horribly.

Oh well. I'm still working diligently towards that cabin in the mountains.

We all make mistakes. You've heard me beat this drum repeatedly through out these Random Thoughts. You make mistakes. I make mistakes. We ALL make mistakes. But that's not what matters, we are human, therefore we are fallible- imperfect by design. What matters, what really, really counts is how we deal with our mistakes. You can never accept responsibility and accountability and go through life thinking you're perfect and everyone else is wrong, or you can be a man (or a woman, as the case may be) confront the truth of your own imperfection, and attempt to live with integrity.


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