As most of you have surmised I’ve been a bit off lately.
I kind of hit a mental wall and just sort of shut down. My limp nodes swelled up a few days ago, and I decided it was time for a break. No more thinking of “what’s her name” getting married tomorrow, and no more thinking of this damn package. I went shopping and got some nice fresh foods & juice, turned off the VHF, and have been hiding out for a few days. I pulled out a thick hard cover book (The Gold Coast) that I’ve been carrying around for a while and decided to loose my life in someone else’s for a while.
The Gold Coast is about a successful attorney who gets caught up with a Mob-boss who ruins his perfect, up-scale life. After 2 days of reading about mansions, Jag’s, and so on, the main character looses everything (Home, money, wife) by the last chapter. In the last paragraph of the book he is able to scrounge enough money to buy a sailboat and leave on his life long dream to circumnavigate the globe.
Why is it so hard for people to figure out that the pursuit of money is not a life worthy dedication? We gauge our success by how much money we have, and I guarantee you that in the last hours of our lives, money will not be the gauge that we weigh our accomplishments by. I’m not saying I’m the poster boy for success, Christ I made under 9k last year, that has to be some sort of record. But what I do know, is that I’m happier perusing my dreams, spirituality, and trying to ask not, how much I can get, but how little do I really need?
I think my life lays somewhere between being a royal screw up, and half getting it. Who knows, I’m just babbling again, and kind of disappointed the my main character didn’t figure this out sooner.
Anyway, I’m going to give the package thing another week or so, and if it doesn’t arrive, “so be it”!
Peace, love, and gangsters!
Alex
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