Welcome To My Mess.

 Hello world… Welcome to my mess… Some may choose to call their mess a life, but not I, I call it what it is on most occasions… A mess. most people would deny they have one, or worse yet, try to avoid the confrontation of their mess altogether. They do this I find, in a variety of ways, one of the most popular ways is usually by critiquing other people. They can do this better than you, or they can do that better than you. They have less character flaws than you, and their blond hair doesn’t have dark roots. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it, you’re perfect, right? Not that I would ever doubt your word, but I believe the proper terminology for this affliction would be “You’re In denial.” but don’t look at me. I am not perfect and have never been known to make such outlandish claims. In fact, I am quite happy with my mess.

Okay, Let me be the first to start. Hello world. My name is Rant, or Anthony if you prefer… And I’m a happy mess. Ok, I’ve admitted it, now let's examine some of the symptoms. I can’t balance a check book, hell I’m lucky if I can keep track of how much change I have in my pocket let alone how much I have in the bank. But with the help of some very patient tellers at U.S. Bank, I can keep track of my funds without ever really keeping track. Ok, I’ll admit it, I am bad with money, But even with that being said, there is much, much more to my mess. Here’s a good one, Food, (Usually Fattening food) talks to me. If it's bad for you, It seems to gravitate towards me, Country biscuits and Gravy, steak and eggs, Fruit pies, Donuts, Ok, ok, let's not talk about food. Here are a few other particles of my mess. Sometimes…

I talk too much and listen too little… But still manage to hear what is being said.

On Occasion, I lose my temper, Blow my top, flip my lid, and blow things out of proportion… But I always find a way to admit when I’m wrong and am never too big to say I’m sorry.

I have a tendency, usually when I am lost in my thoughts, to be aloof to the point of rudeness. I sometimes think with my heart instead of my brain. And sometimes it bites me on the ass…

I wear my emotions on my sleeve, and am loyal to my friends to a fault. I am bad with names, but can remember every smile that I have ever met. I am at most times overprotective of children, even with those that I don’t know. I drink way too much coffee, watch way too much T.V. I Hate the word Hate, but absolutely hate Mondays.

I don’t know about anyone else. But I don’t do a lot of things right, yet I find a way to get things done. I am a reformed drinker, an ex smoker, two difficult addictions in my life that I overcame for a time… I have high hopes that neither will resurface in my life, but know that resistance can be a fragile thing. Yet still I resist.

I have no delusions of grandeur, I am just a guy, a human being, doing… Living. Breathing… Loving life, just hanging around, for better or worse, just a man… Content with his imperfections and his mess.