Wasted Time?

9.2.21

Wasted Time?

C. Derick Miller – Head Writer

Your Stories On Video

As many of you already know, I get most of my blog ideas for this website from my daily personal life. Sometimes, I have no idea what I’m even going to write about until something causes me to snap to attention the day before, and sometimes an hour before. I mean, nobody wants to read a bunch of made-up stuff, right? I have an entire collection of books I’ve penned for that! No, my blogs for Your Stories On Video are the real deal, and you fine people deserve nothing less.

As you may recall from my previous blog, I recently performed a wedding. Now, here in North Texas, we have an astronomical COVID rate, and you need to be pretty cautious of your surroundings to stay out of harms way. I’ve recently heard of someone who poked themselves in the eye with a plant hanging hook and couldn’t get seen in an emergency room. Guess what? This person will be a pirate for Halloween for the rest of their life. Not a bad thing, if that’s what you’re going for, but I’m certain they weren’t! It’s bad here. That’s all I’ll say.

Anyway, I performed this wedding and I thought I was being safe. We were outside and only a handful of people were attending. We were as socially distanced as social distance can be, following all the guidelines the CDC recommends when interacting with other people…except for one, tiny, miniscule, fraction of a second. A gentleman in attendance shook my hand and placed money in it. That was all it took.

I received a text message the next day from the bride stating that the one gentleman who broke COVID protocol to shake my hand and secretly donate to my cause tested positive for COVID on that same evening! So, we all left the office, got a rapid test, came back negative, and called it a day…until my son came home from school symptomatic. Guess what we did the next morning? Go ahead, guess!

Now, even though this ended up being a dangerous situation doesn’t mean I’m going to stop performing weddings in a time which I’ve coined “the lamest apocalypse ever”. A lifetime of science fiction and horror had me prepared for zombies and aliens. Nope, we got whatever this is instead. I love performing weddings and I refuse to stop. I’ll just be a little more careful next time. Use Cash App. It’s safer.

To make matters even more lame, my wife and I spent our two-year wedding anniversary in quarantine. I’ll save that experience for another story if I can ever find relevance in the lack of events that took place. Still, not worthy of me stopping what I love to do, which brings me to the events of today.

Again, as some of you already know, I’ve become quite the cyclist over the last eight weeks. On average, I bike sixty-five miles per week and sometimes more. It’s another thing that I absolutely love, and the health benefits are amazing! I still look horrible (by supermodel standards) but, underneath, I’m a monster who gets a little more in shape with each ride! Today was different, and it almost made me begin to question why I put myself through such torture, especially in the afternoons of a Texas summer! I had my first heckler.

The gentleman was probably about my age, in his mid to late forties, but way heavier set than I am. He, too, was on wheels, but in a totally different situation. No, it wasn’t a fellow cyclist. This man was in a wheelchair, and, for some reason, he was just sitting at the edge of the street watching the world go by. This, to me, seems like a horrible way to pass the time but, if that’s all that there is for you to do, then…why not?

The first time I passed him we made eye contact, but nothing was said. He looked me over in probably the same way he interpreted the look I was giving him. Honestly, I figured that would be the end of it. Oh, how very wrong I was. Starting with my second lap around the park, the gentleman let me know what he really thought about my cycling.

“You’re just wasting your time,” he said.

Wait. What? Did this man just tell me I was just wasting my time? I just let his harsh words roll off my shoulders as I peddled on. I live in a rather unique neighborhood, and you do come across some odd inhabitants from time to time. This gentleman was obviously one of them. Still, he was in a wheelchair. There was no telling what kind of negativity he’d endured while living in this cruel, unforgiving world. He was different, and, for some unknown reason, society fears difference. Then, he said it again.

“You’re just wasting your time.”

He said it repeatedly as I rode by. His tone increased with every passing and eventually bordered the realm of angry. I journeyed deep into my own psyche with every telling of the phrase. Am I truly wasting my time? I questioned myself as to why I was out in the hot afternoon Texas sun sweating like a (insert overused semi-humorous comparison here) and for what? So I could look better? Live longer? Feel better? Spend more time with my wife and family in the grand scheme of things? Find out how The Walking Dead ends?

Yes, all those things, and…for the simple, most important reason I could think of.

Because I love it.

It’s something I enjoy doing. With that being said, I don’t believe I was wasting my time at all. Perhaps I was wasting his time. Perhaps he was hoping that someone much better looking, potentially of the opposite sex would ride by him rather than some out of shape, middle aged man. The possibilities are endless because I never stopped to inquire as to what he meant. If the only joy you have in life is sitting there in a daze watching the world go by…I would definitely want to look at someone other than myself!

The bottom line is, there are a ton of things and people in our world right now that are trying to stop us all from enjoying the things we like to do. What’s the point of living if you’re not going to live? I’ll continue to send people on their marital journeys but accept monetary reimbursement from a distance, or virtually. I’ll still continue to ride the heck out of that bicycle every afternoon, just take a different route or even turn my music up a little louder. We’re living in times where others take joy in being the heckler. This is where our confidence and sense of purpose kick in. We must keep going.

Was there something in your life you encountered that caused you to veer from your chosen path? Perhaps it was a teacher who didn’t believe you could achieve their desired level of perfection in a chosen art. Maybe it was a parent or relative who wasn’t supportive of your dreams or a “friend” who chose to be less than friendly.

Did you keep driving forward and make it all happen or did you fall victim to the criticism and choose another path?

Here at Your Stories On Video, we want to know! These are the stories that lead to greatness! Your words could encourage a future generation of your family when faced with a similar moment at the crossroads or even a current relative who secretly battles their own conundrum! You never know…your courage to persevere past the hecklers from your own life may be the push they need to succeed! I personally can’t wait to hear all about it.

See more at http://yourstoriesonvideo.com

Published by GonzoWolf

C. Derick Miller is an award winning (Splatterpunk/Indie/Cult/Horror/Dark Fiction) author, Gonzo journalist, producer, screenwriter, poet, ordained minister, and songwriter born in the town of Greenville, Texas. A seasoned paranormal investigator and administrator for the fine art industry, his influences include Hunter S. Thompson, Kevin Smith, Shawn Mullins, and Del James. He is the Head Writer for Your Stories On Video and is Sr. Writer/Jr. Producer for AtuA Productions. Chad is also an active member of the International Thriller Writers organization, the Horror Writer’s Association, and co-host of the “American Justice” podcast. He resides in the Bishop Arts District of Dallas, Texas and has a price on his head for his short story “Hell Paso” contained in the #1 Amazon Best Selling/Award Winning Death’s Head Press Anthology “And Hell Followed”. He wishes he was making up that last part but…it’s nice to be wanted.

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