I was in a text conversation with friends the other day and my iPhone took the liberty to autocorrect the words fucked up to flash caked, as if my mother is living inside my phone editing my potty thoughts as they leak out of the tips of my chubby little fingers, dear God.
Anyway, back to this riveting story.
I hit send before I could correct the message. When I read what I sent, I cracked up—"That feels like a fitting end to a flash caked up nine-year cycle"—at first I couldn't understand the sentence, but as I allowed it to sink in I realized that it made said cycle sound pretty delicious. In fact, I can almost taste the sugar on my lips right now.
I was referring to the last nine years, which in numerology is considered one full cycle. This year is considered the first year of a new nine-year cycle. Of course, I didn't realize any of this until it was brought to my attention back in early December. When that happened? I realized that nine years prior, almost to the day, I was shot out of the cannon I sleepwalked into with a mind that was blown open by an explosive ride through a completely miserable, professional experience. It was the start to a very wild ride.
And therein lies the reminder (and the blessing) that there are two sides to everything, hereafter referred to as fucked up and flash caked.
Consider this nine-year cycle I'm waxing on about: