"Bilta--you're an agresivo; you rush headlong towards me--when you should be chasing your dreams, yo; follow your, real, intuition." » Y G H M®: the stories, yo
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“Bilta–you’re an agresivo; you rush headlong towards me–when you should be chasing your dreams, yo; follow your, real, intuition.”

“Bilta–you’re an agresivo; you rush headlong towards me–when you should be chasing your dreams, yo; follow your, real, intuition.”

“What does that mean, boss?”, Bilta replies as he stretches out his arms in my living room, “I, already, follow what I think that I should be doing, yo.”

“Yes”, I reply as I roll my eyes, “I understand what you think–but, you bought the half.cut t-shirt impulisively after watching the commercial.  You don’t wear those clothes–you are being controlled.  Take a breath before you do, such, impulsive things–consider if those things are what you want or, if, you are caught up in the flow of others.”

“I only flow with myself”, he replies as he flexes his biceps.

“It’s very uncomfortable to be around you”, I continue speaking as I shrug, “your red pants and your half t-shirt are not really work appropriate apparel. You can’t go on mission looking like you are on the edge of a nervous breakdown and a fifty peso hamburger.”

“I am fine!”, he replies as he punches digital.Bilfty2.1 in the face.

“That’s misplaced aggression, Bilta–hostility towards the wrong area. Point the fist at you–make yourself–the hostage, and the ransom–your dreams.”

Bilta reaches over for a bag of digital.papitas; he opens the bag; grabs a handful of potato chips; shoves them in his mouth.

“So anyways”, I continue speaking as I roll my eyes again, “capture your interest in what you, actually, want–chase and hold on to your attention like you just did with those potato chips.  It takes time, and space, to figure out what it is that you, actually, want–you’ve probably been on auto-pilot for so long that you don’t remember how to sail your own ship.”

“I sail my ship like a motherfucking champion”, Bilta replies as potato chips fall out of his mouth, “I’m both captain and seamen.”

I roll my eyes.

“I’m not sure what you just said”, I continue speaking as I take a sip of my coffee, “but… start to recall what you want, yo.  What it is that you can stick with doing–what can you do, everyday, regularly, for a long period of time.  We call that a career–we call that work.  We call that, your, life.”

“I can keep eating this bag of potato chips for a while”, he replies as he grabs another handful of papitas, “I am an epic digital.papitas eater.”

“That doesn’t make sense, nor is it a job”, I respond as I take another sip of coffee, “you need to make something–you need to keep making assets.  What can you make or create, everyday?”

“That’s a good point–I’m merely a consumer, not a producer, yo.”

“Produce something–then, sell it.”

“I can produce excuses and problems for you, boss”, Bilta continues speaking as he punches digital.Bilfty2.1 in the face again.

I sigh; what the fuck is he doing?

“Why do you keep punching digital.Bilfty2.1 in the face, Bilta?”

“Yeah, Bilta–why?”, digital.Bilfty2.1 asks as he gets up off the floor, “like… it’s so unnecessary, yo.”

“Because, I can”, Bilta replies as he shrugs, “it’s my wicked intuition and my mean left hook on display–simply, because I can.”

“Can you”, I ask Bilta as I shrug, “find a more productive way to make your point?”

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