“When I’m feeling tired, when I’m feeling upset, when I don’t want to get out of bed, you know what I say? I. Love. My. Life.” She paused, looked at us, and yelled, “I LOVE MY LIFE!”

A couple years ago, a motivational speaker came to talk to our division at work. The numbers were down, which in any industry is bad, and we needed motivating. This woman was a sparkplug.

“Let’s say this together.”

People shifted in their chairs, a hundred silent prayers of No, God, please no almost became audible.

Everyone started at different times: I. Love. My. Life.

Lady: Great job everybody! Again!

I half-screamed: I LOVEMYLIFE!

“Now I want you to remember this: any time something goes wrong, take a second, sit back, and say out loud, I love my life.”

This is the opening line of a movie called Real Life. In this movie, the main character goes to work every day and comes home and picks up a pen for a minute, then puts it down and watches Netflix. On a Thursday night he gives his number to a Hungarian bartender while she is working and fully expects to never hear from her. If he does hear from her, he knows it won’t work out.

I Love My Life

I know you’re supposed to write when you don’t want to write. So here I am. I’m listening to rock music on a Sunday morning and I’m looking at an old photograph and both my brothers have new children and they are beautiful. I know you’re supposed to do things you don’t want to do. I know I should take risks and step out of my comfort zone and a bumper sticker told me to do one thing every day that scares me. I know I’m supposed to be thankful when I’m not thankful and I know things are going to be fine but every now and then I think maybe they won’t. And please let me hang out there for a moment. Let me live on the first and second day for a moment, when Jesus is still in the tomb and all is lost. Don’t rush to tell me that everything will work out.

Love. Laugh. Live. “There’s no shame in that,” someone told me when I said that I’m living with my parents. When people say “there’s no shame in that,” it’s a sure way to know that they think there’s a little shame in whatever that is. Because they are the one who is bringing shame into it. I didn’t even mention shame. “I just ate the entire quart of ice cream. With my bare hands.” “Aw, there’s no shame in that.” Yes, yes there is. There is shame in that. I’m moving out after a year of living at home and I’m thankful for the time with my parents, thankful for my own spot.

My life has been the true meaning of being introvert and extrovert.” This was a sentence in a college essay that I received that doesn’t make sense. How can you be both introvert and extrovert? I get it now. I know how. I’m alone, sorting stuff. My, mine. How did I get all this stuff? Every time I move I look at all the clothes I have accumulated, the trinkets and junk drawers and shoes. I only wear three pairs of shoes, why do I have all these shoes? I want to live simply and I see an outlet mall and I go for it. I want to eat healthy because it’s my body you know, and I do until I don’t. My stuff. That’s my car. It’s my life, and it’s now or never.

Life is different than I thought it would be, a memoir.

Bart Tocci
Bart Tocci (’11) lives in Boston where he write essays, performs at open mics, and threatens to start taco restaurants. He’s been told that he looks like the kind of guy who stands up for what’s right. And who goes to the store before the party. Read more here: barttocci.wordpress.com