Still going strong…

Why I Cried After ‘Fast and Furious’ Won MTV’s “Generation Award”

And yes, I’m pathetically pathetic

I watched Vin Diesel and his family accept the MTV Generation Award during the MTV Movie Awards on a day that seemed to mirror my bipolar tendencies.

Sunday evening in Los Angeles was a wet bag of emotions as the clouds gathered and then dispersed — before coming back with a vengeance of high winds and hail.

I like to think that Mother Nature always has a way of reminding us why special occasions can’t ever survive without the blessings from above.

I also imagine that there is a bond between present dispositions and the elements that rearrange to match where we’ve been and where we hope to end up.

Not too long ago, I chose to live.

It’s really not as dramatic as it sounds. I just simply woke up one day and took a long hard look at my reflection. Getting older hasn’t been as pleasant as I had hoped. Those who arrived before me — swore that it would be empowering, uplifting and honorable.

It has literally taken me almost four years to finally conclude that they were right.

Before I got to the point of gratitude and realization — I was mentally rife with the responsibilities that come with accepting the beginning of an era that signals the end of another.

We all know this day is coming, and yet when it shows up — we can’t fucking believe it.

I suppose it can be likened to the way we approach death. We hear about it, we are personally affected by it, some of us even witness the transition first-hand — yet we carry on as if what we know to be true will somehow correct itself when it’s our turn.

I’m enjoying the spiritual manifestations of a self-indulged cleanse that has me targeting a simple diet with the required aid of gallons of water.

The process has left me weary with contentment and acutely prone to moments of intense pain.

In the darkness, with just my lit-up keyboard as an accompaniment — the sun begins to filter through the blinds. My state of mind shifts to sorrow as I lay back with a belly full of water — and watch my eyes serve as the evacuation of memories.

Damn it! Why can’t we live forever and be young while we’re at it? How did 2001 become 2017 and where in the world is Paul Walker?

I cried when Fast and Furious was honored for being iconic and the beacon for a generation past and present, because I remember who I was when the film opened — and she felt exactly the way I do now.

She was emotionally erratic with a clean soul and body. She had dreams that were pending and no real clue how to make them come true. She definitely had more than enough faith to battle her demons. She loved her family and the feeling was mutual, but she still felt misunderstood and often times distanced from the center of relations.

She wasn’t scared of the future except when she admitted that she was really scared — each time she caught wind of how much time had passed — and tried to calculate how much was left with no concrete evidence to support the latter.

I’m grossly nostalgic and sober. Too sober for my liking, and that’s the way it has to be. We think drugs and alcohol help to drown the drilling in our ears — when it actually pounds even louder during a night’s sleep that turns into a tumultuous concert of our lousiest hits.

I guess The Fast and the Furious is the rebel yell that whips me into shape and dares me to disappoint the person I was, because that could be the race that never ends.

I’m still on that road heading for the finish line, except I know I won’t be the first or the last to make it.

I’m no longer sorrowful. I’m pathetically pathetic, but in a good way. I’m older and younger, thinner and wider, louder and quieter, wilder and calmer.

And, I cry when Fast and Furious wins awards — any award at all — which could be a generation thing or maybe it’s a “me” thing.

Either way — I’ll take it.

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