Sorry, grandma

My problem was I believed too much in fate and destiny. That if something is meant to be it’ll happen, right?

Wrong.

So unobtainable incorrect.

I should say I did believe because fate and destiny were no longer two I called pals.

If we want something, we need to work for it. If we want a certain life, a certain job, we need to work our asses off for it, not just expect it to fall into our lap. At least, I needed to because nothing was falling into this lap.

Truthfully, even that cliche is misleading. Just because we worked for it, doesn't mean we will get it. We may work our whole lives towards one single thing, just for it to always be just at our fingertips, yet never in our grasps. So, the moral of the story, you can't rely on fate and you can't count on your hard work paying off.

You may be wondering what it is we need to do to achieve our wildest dreams then, right? If so, let me set the record straight by putting this disclaimer here because you came to the wrong person - I am a trainwreck. No what's worse than a trainwreck? A shipwreck? Or a train that crashed off a bridge into a ship? Whatever, you get the point, I can't even figure out my own head. Let me repeat that, in simpler terms...

I am not a life coach. Do not take any advice - live, relationship, or otherwise - from me. I mean any because trust me, at times I may offer it.

You see, when I was a kid, my grandmother passed. I know, we all lost someone, and yada yada, but hear me out. She was the most free-spirited woman I ever meet. Her name was Viola. Viola Mable.

I don't think she ever followed a single rule. Swore like a sailor. She had a lead foot and would always wear a baseball cap backward. Don't ask me why but it made her all the cooler when I was 10. She loved angels and gambling - especially poker. Our family got together every Sunday for poker night. Sweet right? Some families go to church together, others have an illegal business but mine, we chose gambling.

The woman by no means was a saint. Thinking back through my adult lens, Viola may have been a bit racist, which was her only fault (a big one I admit). I like to think if she was alive today, she would have become more colorblind and just saw everyone for who they were and not their race. I guess that is one thing I got right, we are all the same on the outside, no matter your race, size, sexual preference, or gender; it's what the inside holds that makes the difference between a good samaritan or just a shitty human.

Anyways, when I sit here, with my own life in shambles, I think of her and what I could have learned from her if she was still here today, now that I’m grown and experienced so much more of life. Aka - now that I actually know how the world works and how it just loves to slap you when you're down.

Instead, I got don’t chew your nails, that it’s okay to eat ice cream in bed, to brush your hair and that one day I’ll be famous.

Yup, that I would be famous.

You might even say that’s where my belief in fate and destiny came from, where my problem was derived from. Not to put blame on a dead woman but when you’re a kid and your grandma says you’re going to be famous on her deathbed, you just assume that’ll happen someday.

Growing up I always just thought to myself, one day it'll happen. Viola said so, she believed in me and all my pipe dreams. No reason to sweat it or worry.

But at 25, I’ll tell you I’m not special. And I’m not going to be famous.

Sorry, grandma.