Knowing Woosie

 

#Winning

I know what Charlie Sheen meant when he winged about winning. Go read my first post on learning badass and you’ll start to get the picture. I’m finding it’s harder than I thought. I won a few times today but I also didn’t – quite.

First it was the shoes I had in for repair and picked up yesterday. I wore them for the first time today thinking man, this is great – I have, finally after like two years of staring at the grubby leather slats, got them repaired. Just some heavy buffing and…oh, oh, a new heal piece where the others had worn.

I’m trying to deliberate if the new heal pieces are made of harder rubber or that I am just not familiar enough wearing them to know what they should feel like. Come on, that’s not winning. I know there is something different with them; something not quite right.

Then there’s the guitar. It’s my big acoustic electric which I just like to look at. I got it at a sneak of a deal almost a year ago and haven’t played it too much since last summer because one of the strings broke and I replaced it – then the string broke again.

This time I took my beloved guitar into a high end shop – not where I bought it – and right away one of the guys at the service desk told me he thought the frets were too high in two places and there was something wrong with the “saddle” where the strings go into at the bottom.  Off course the ‘expert’ would have to look at it in a couple of days when he’s back, but you get the picture. I’m deliberating on taking the guitar back to the place where I bought it

But I am afraid. I am afraid of winning because it will cut out a piece of me to do so. Will they take a complaint at the shoe repair for unsatisfactory heel replacement? What about the belt I bought at the same time. I haven’t worn it yet but what if it doesn’t stand up to wear as promised. Did they mention a guarantee? I don’t remember now. Maybe if I don’t wear the belt as often I told myself as I scrutinized it for flaws. It was a custom measure but now it feels like it is too big – I worry. What if I continue to loose weight?

Then there’s the guitar: I really know, like, and respect the owner of the store where I bought it. Is it under warranty still? When did I buy it? Oh, I’m afraid to look into my wallet where I should have kept the receipt. I remember him saying he’d give me a year warranty on it. But then there’s the cold weather I may have played it in, I can’t remember how much I did. I have another guitar I have been using in and out the workshop and in the cold all winter – and it’s doing just fine. I may have done this with my broken guitar but probably not – I worry. What if I ask the opinion of the repair guy? My wife is ‘suggesting’ I go and talk to the owner of the place I bought it and let him know I’m not happy with my broken guitar, but I don’t know – I’ll make him feel bad. More importantly I’ll make me feel bad too. I’m feeling bad just thinking about it!

Wow – how do I go from Charlie Sheen to a puddle of Jell-o on the floor? I can’t even decide on a name for it – woosie, spineless, I don’t know, all of them. It’s just a general fear that eats away if I let it. Fortunately life is full of moments in time where one failure can be quickly erased as yesterday’s news. It’s up there with forgetting pain. The mind has the ability to NOT remember the last time you were a woosie, and allow you to do it all over again even though if you thought about it for half a second you would be ashamed. So how do I protect myself? How do I build a woosie shield!

The only thing I can come up with on the spur of the moment is to establish boundaries. But that’s not right either. You can’t just say I don’t want to or have to deal with conflict. Maybe that’s the key here. I’m not actually dealing with conflict; I am dealing with the fear of conflict. Conflict hasn’t even happened yet. I am not going to be a woos, I am not going to be a woos, I am not…wtf?

I could also come out and promote woosieness. Sort of like a self help – no, that would mean there is a problem and I don’t want to accept that.  I’m talking about acknowledging woosiness and embracing it. I have other qualities. I could even raise funds to support research into woosieness, after all, it’s a freeking pandemic I think. “Watch out – there’s another Woosie, don’t look him in the eye” kinda thing.

Then there’s the first elected woosie campaign for parliament. We woosie’s need representation in government – especially if we are a majority! The rights of the woosie must be protected. It would be a landslide win.

Somehow these don’t seem to fit what I need. Well, maybe nothing does right now and I have to hit the books on the subject again, this isn’t getting me anywhere after all.  If you have any solutions or advice for me let me know. I’m just going to listen to some sad songs and grab that box of tissue. Woos. Maybe I’ll watch some re-runs of Two-and-a-Half Men for some advice!

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