Me Tarzan

Okay, so one time (in band camp?) I experienced something beautiful... No bill worries. I mean, EVERYTHING was in order. Heck, if I got up one morning with the random urge for cupcakes... So be it. All was financially sound, money back in the bank et al. ... Walking back from the bakery one morning though, I started feeling off. Something... Was off. Then I realized what it was: I was at peace. I hadn't been at peace for so long that when I found myself IN IT, my mind got worried. What's up with this good thing? ... For a little over a year, I had a plumbing problem; the main valve inside the apartment was leaking. Drip. Drip. Drip. We devised a catchment device to catch all the water but still, we were slaves to it. Sleep was not sound; couldn't go out for any real length of time without worrying about leaking/flooding. Now I found a plumber, but as a freelancer who wasn't working regularly, monies went to other things of note (mortgage etc). Long story short, yest

In the end, intellect may only take you thus far; a thought that -even for my theist sensibilities - is troubling. But truly, unless you are or embody the attributes of an empath, you may not necessarily understand a person or situation unless you're wearing the other shoe [i.e.: theirs]. Which brings us to this: Two weeks ago, we had my grandmother's funeral. Through the swirling vortex of emotion, I tried to keep my head up and my eyes dry. But as the days drew closer I started to get all the more agitated. That is, until I poured the Rum Punch. Oh glorious rum punch; ye splendid algorithm of alcohol. One night I poured a small amount and drank with one gulp. No ice, no ceremonious concoctions; just a glass and a swig of rum punch. I felt GREAT. Peaceful. Calm. ... I understood right then and there WHY people drink. In that moment, I became the settled nerve at the prescription of Dr. Alcohol... And that's just rum punch. I already subscribe to the belief of hypothesi

I think an award should be given to people who, though not knowing the what where why or how of [their] life, still get up every morning and trod on. Also, I'd like to be the first recipient. A fabulous secret was revealed to me today: I have no idea how I feel about anything. ... Nope, correction, I know exactly how I feel: aimless. I got off the phone with a friend and businessman who feels excited to wake up every morning and get to work (his work of course; he owns a business). He's excitable. Hearing him speak gets ME excited about HIS plans. I realized however, I do not accurately remember the last time I actively got excited for the morning or anything. Let me stop here and say, it's not like I live in a constant state of limbo and/or eternal despair; truth be told, once I actively pull myself away from bed, I tend to be fine. But of late, I just want to lay in my bed till the world (my world) makes sense. I'm not in the mood to keep writing; I'm not su