France

Sometimes when I’m anxious about the future, I think about what I have right now, plenty of food, an apartment, a job, clothes, friends, family.  I believe then that I’m completely taken care of.  All I have is now.  Read some zen.  They say that. Tomorrow doesn’t exist, nor does yesterday.  But it’s hard to live in the moment sometimes when there’s so much emphasis on planning the future.  There’s much to do to prepare for the future that would suit you best.  Right?  I also have to deprogram myself from notions in this culture that cause me to have anxiety about my status.

Fuck your gd status.  I have a cousin who broke the mold to do some wild things, after having owned a successful business for years.  Oh why oh why couldn’t I do something like that? — Because you, you’re me, that’s why – oh don’t be confused audience, see, I’m me talking to me, that’s all – I’m also talking to you, just having a conversation with me in front of you.

But like I say, I have food.  The café at the botanical garden where I work gives employees food they haven’t sold.  Everything they make has cheese in it which sucks. However the seductive qualities of cheese helps customers believe that the sandwiches are worth twenty-four dollars and ninety-nine cents.  At times my refrigerator is filled with cheese laden cuisine — quinoa with cheese, couscous with cheese, feta dates and herb salad, tuna and cheese, cheese snack bowls, mozzarella and tomato sandwiches.

I hate not taking free food.  If you eat cheese everyday will you die?  No silly heads – I know we’ll die die.  But I mean like, will I die sooner?  Is eating cheese everyday bad?  Don’t the French eat cheese everyday with wine and cigarettes?  Will I survive the next anxiety attack about my future?  Do you think I should move to France?

Don’t Eat Your Cheese Before The Eggs Have Hatched

I don’t have a problem telling you how I feel, about my financial status, or that I don’t know what I’m doing.  I’m open.  But I do keep secrets, and by law don’t blab what you’ve told me about yourself.  And I know what to tell and what not to tell even about myself.  I know that the world revolves around each and every one of us, that we all think that we are excruciatingly important, so, I’m selective about timing and choose the receptacles of my verbiage wisely to avoid a collision of universes.  I don’t always like to do a lot of talking, so I’m not a narcissistic drain.  Why, my ideal is to communicate telepathically.  When I do talk, I try to be considerate of other people’s attention spans, and to remember to turn on the TMI filter.  But if I’m in emotional pain, I might shit it out at the job to my boss or anybody.  When a girl’s gotta vent, a girl’s gotta vent!  I met somebody like that today who gushed all over about her issue though I’d only known her a day and a half.  I thought, ‘Gee.  I sound like that?’

But see, all that blabbing about yourself has pitfalls – I am a wee bit disappointed in myself for blabbing about my blog to ever damn body, because now I can’t write about certain people perchance they should look at my blog.  So I’ve messed up the opportunity for a couple of good blog posts.  Damn!  I could’ve told you all about this kid I want to cougar.  But I can’t tell you because the details are very important, and if I told you details, people surrounding the situation would figure out exactly who I was talking about.  I also can’t tell you the story about this other person who I’ve renamed “The Little Punk Ass Twerp.”  So friends, the moral of the story is, don’t eat your cheese before the eggs have hatched, and I have no idea what this means.