Three Words That Shattered My Excuses

I'm obsessed with words. Not in that English-major-with-a-tattered-thesaurus way (though respect to my dictionary-loving friends). I'm obsessed with how the right words can crack open the universe and conjure precise imagery or feelings. If you told me your company’s computers were obsolete, I might think of laptops that are a few years old. But if you told me your office computers were moribund, now I’m picturing those dusty old beige monstrosities that Compaq used to make.

Words have more than meaning. They have weight, baggage, and intention.

Nowhere is that more evident than in lyrics. Some of my most profound "holy shit" moments have come through song lyrics. Those perfect combinations of words that feel like they were written just for you, that moment when the artist somehow crawled inside your head and turned your mess of feelings into perfect poetry.

There's this underrated '90s post-punk band, The Dismemberment Plan, who wrote a track that's been my personal wake-up call for years. Three words that both welcome and challenge, that throw open the doors while asking, "So what are you going to do about it?"

You. Are. Invited.

Boom. No qualifications. No fancy handwritten card with your name spelled wrong. These words have become my rebellion against every internal "I can't" and "I shouldn't" and "I'm not ready yet." They were the antidote to imposter syndrome, the permission slip I'd been waiting for, and the kick in the pants I needed.

Think about it – when was the last time you held back because you were waiting for someone to give you permission? To validate your ideas? To tell you it was okay to be exactly who you are? Because here's what I know now: You don't need to wait for the gatekeepers to recognize your unconventional brilliance. The invitation has always been there. It's written in the stars, encoded in your DNA, embedded in every weird and wonderful thing that makes you uniquely you.

So the next time you catch yourself thinking "I'm not ready" or "I'm not qualified" or "I'm too weird for this," remember: You are invited. You’re invited to take up space. To make noise. To bring your whole, unfiltered self to whatever table you choose. Not by following someone else's rules but by writing your own.

You are invited. For all time.

What will you do with your invitation?

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