For as long as I can remember, people have been telling me, “Parker. You need to have a plan for your future. What are you going to do with your life?”
Admittedly, I’ve never really known. More importantly, I haven’t really bothered to plan. It’s not that I think futures are overrated — in fact, they’re critical to the survival of humankind.
I just prefer to embody the mantra, “No shirt, no shoes, no problem.”
That’s not to say that I have no direction or drive — I have motivation oozing from my pores for the things that rev my proverbial engine.
However, that doesn’t seem to satisfy the palate of these busy bees who constantly push me to map out the rest of my days on this floating orb.
So the way I see it, I have two options. But because my mother says my relentless journey culminating in wanton self-destruction is a bad idea, I’ve instead gone with my backup goal and have focused on becoming a B.C.-based and Saskatchewan-bred reincarnation of Dallas Green (City and Colour.)
For those who aren’t familiar with Green, he is the most interesting man in the world. Whether he’s writing in self-prescribed solitary confinement or just buying some peaches at the shop, his approach to everything he does is simultaneously masculine and thought-provoking. Who wouldn’t want to follow in his footsteps?
He has cool, slicked-back hair, thick-rimmed glasses, and tattoos cover nearly every inch of his visible skin, all the way from his neck to his hands.
But for these people who are constantly pushing me to find my life’s purpose, it isn’t enough to say I want to be like Green, I actually have to do it.
I too have hair that goes backwards with the help of creams and no shortage of combing. I too have thick-rimmed glasses. But tattoos don’t cover every inch of my visible skin. My neck isn’t adorned with a rad anchor, and I don’t have a rose or a bird with a harp on my hand.
In fact, I only have three tattoos: a tree on my leg, a word on my wrist, and an oblong cloud that I drew myself in roughly four seconds on my arm. Clearly, things need to change if I want to be like Green.
The other day, I was sitting at home and killing time in the vestibule when I thought to myself, “Today’s the day. I need to push forward in my journey to keep the naysayers at bay.”
I looked up tattoo shops in Vernon, picked one that sounded passable, and decided on my tattoo. I was just about to leave my house when I remembered that, while I would like some new ink, I also would like new shocks and brakes on my truck and maybe something a little more highfalutin than mac n’ cheese for dinner. So I stayed home.
Here I sit, many weeks later, and I still don’t have that tattoo. I still can’t sing with the angelic voice for which Green is known, and I can only somewhat jam on the guitar.
Needless to say, I’m nowhere near my goal of becoming a younger Dallas Green.
So, it looks like my demise is back on the menu.
