ON PLAYING THE LOTTERY — Of Life.

Reflection from February 17th, 2006 @ Age 24

RE:  LEARNING HOW TO RELIEVE EMOTIONAL PRESSURE CONSTRUCTIVELY.

I feel melancholy.  I don’t know how to spell it but I feel it.  I’m slowly realizing that if I reject pain then I am also inadvertently rejecting joy.  Which clearly, then, can’t be the way to go anymore.  Sometimes I wonder if pain seems worse to me than it really will actually feel.  I haven’t been to a meeting in quite awhile.  About two or three weeks now and I’ve come close but I just can’t do it.  And then I finally called ——— yesterday and her daughter is pregnant!  For the fourth time and it will also be her fourth abortion and she’s not on birth control.  I’m not sure how I feel about this because my gut reaction is that it’s horrible!  But I think how ——— could help this girl get herself together and I’m at a loss.  Except for the patch…she should get on the birth control patch.

And mom’s business is not going well at all because they can’t sign up enough clients to break even and they just keep pouring huge amounts of money into it and I really do feel that they’re running out of money.  They have $100,000 equity in the house and dad wants to take out a second mortgage (or whatever it is that you do) so they can pay their bills.  It makes me cringe.  It’s scary, I mean they’re not going to ever retire at this point unless they win the lottery or something.  Maybe I should start playing the lottery.  Hmm…what to do.  I do worry about them you know, but that’s just a given because they’re my parents and I love them.  But then they think if I’m worried it’s a burden to me and they want to just pretend everything’s okay so I’m not worried.  Which obviously I’m onto their little scheme.  I don’t like it one bit.  That’s what friends and family are for!  They’re there to help you through the dark times and then help you celebrate when you break into the light again.

I want more than anything to be an author.  I suppose in a way I already am.  This is actually my sixth book I think.  Sixth or seventh.  And I love to write.  And ponder and read and discuss and ponder and write.  And then begin the process again.

Life’s hard.  I need to do what I love or work towards what will enable me to do what I love a little bit every day.

I’m obsessed with these cappuccino chip icys from Panera.  Today will be my third day in a row getting one.

I’m over Joaquin which I’m thankful for.  Those things just take control and try’n strangle the damn life outa me.  I feel like I’m suffocating when I want something so desperately like that.  It makes me want to cut my wrists open!  And I don’t like seeing my insides from the outside and I’m not so much a fan of blood either.

Life hurts.  I’m reading ‘The Prophet’ right now and it’s wonderful and the prophet was saying use your lips for to convey your soul.  Okay, I don’t think that was the correct use of ‘for to’ but I love it and I’ll figure it out.

So anyways, he was saying, allow your soul to pour forth from your lips because your soul is who you are.  Or something like that and I loved it because I feel like that’s what I do when I write.  Just let it flow from my soul onto the pages of my beloved journals.

I don’t necessarily think it’s therapy though.  You know because it’s a conveyance of me, not of me trying to be anything else.  I discuss my lightness and darkness; I don’t talk about how I need to change.  Well maybe sometimes I do, but I hope that’s not the focus.  But it is what it is and that’s my point.

Oliver is refusing to cooperate with me even though I keep showing him what’s a no, saying no, and squirting him with water in the face and putting him in the carrier.  Carrier sounds so much better than cage.  Or more humane I guess.

Okay, now I feel I am in my head rather than letting my soul flow so I’m gonna get ready for filing downtown.

Thoughts?

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