Goonies Never Say Die

Much to the dismay of many people I know, I've been on a bit of a self-imposed seclusion for a while now. It's necessary. Believe it or not, it's social depravation that inspires me. As I said in my last blog, misery motivates.

Aside from a few, rare occasions where I've agreed to meet someone for a quick cup of Starbucks, I've been a real recluse.

The other night, however, a chink in my armor was exposed as a friend of mine forged a two-pronged attack. There was an unexpected knock at the door, and when I answered, there she was - holding a bottle of wine and two DVDs; The NeverEnding Story and The Goonies. Not unlike a temptress, she knew exactly where to strike - my inner geek.

I couldn't say no.

We laid on the couch for hours of nostalgic bliss. We laughed, we cried... and I was inspired. The next morning, I couldn't wait to write again. Armed with my new mantra, "Goonies never say die!" I was ready.

"Don't you realize? The next time you see sky, it'll be over another town. The next time you take a test, it'll be in some other school. Our parents, they want the best of stuff for us. But right now, they got to do what's right for them. Because it's their time. Their time! Up there! Down here, it's our time. It's our time down here. That's all over the second we ride up Troy's bucket."

We all go through times in our lives when things seem almost perfect. Times when you can throw caution to the wind. Times when you put your fists against your hips and stare out triumphantly over the world, your world, as your cape waves in an almost poetic rhythm with the wind.

It's during these times, when you least expect it, that the ever watchful hubris gods with their grubby, sweaty palms start grasping at your marionette strings and shift the ebb and flow of the universe as you've come to know it.

A karmic kick to the nuts.

As you regain a handle on things, your first arduous task is almost always to take an inventory of the inevitable collateral damage caused by this kismetic fallout. You'll find that the word friend is as disposable as the people it once described. Through a fog of familiar faces you'll find not an ounce of sympathy. Not a shed of compassion.

"You reap what you sow," they mumble as they slip away into inconsequence.

With no shoulder to cry on, no one to catch you fall, and no words of encouragement in earshot, you'll begin to feel exposed. You'll lose faith. There'll only be one person left for you to count on - yourself. A hollow shell of what you once were, a mere shadow of your former self, you're expected to now be stronger than you've ever been.

There are days it seems impossible.

You are now both Atreyu and Artax, watching yourself sink into the swamp as The Nothing slowly consumes you. Some days you feel like Atreyu, shouting not to give up, not to quit. Other days, you're Artax - defeated, accepting your slow demise.

"Yeah, but you know what? This one, this one right here. This was my dream, my wish. And it didn't come true. So I'm taking it back. I'm taking them all back."

You may be alone, but you're a Goonie - and Goonies never say die.

Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, it is those of us who have stared bleakness in the eyes and told him, "Not today" that will reign tomorrow. A man without demons is no man at all, if you ask me - and any man worth his salt will have to face his demons not just once, but on a regular basis throughout his life.

It is overcoming the obstacle of shattered hopes, and picking yourself up to have a new dream that makes life worth living.