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2008-05-04 - 1:17 p.m. Walking and thinking, that's what I'm always doing. Walking and thinking about how two months ago I was on top of the metaphorical world, and now I am ridiculously happy that I have enough money to buy a $.99 burrito. I have lived a charmed life, up until now. Things happen, and then they turn themselves around, and I come out just fine. Now, I am waiting for another forty-three minutes before I send my mother a text message saying "I messed up." Forty-three minutes for something magical to happen, for Ed McMahon to knock on this door, for one of the dozen people who owe me money to call up and say "Hey, I got that for you", for the tooth fairy to come and punch me in the face. Right now, I don't contribute to society. I don't do anything worthwhile. I am a negative impact. I should not be allowed to go on like this. I should not be allowed to speak my mind. I should not be anybody's hero. Six minutes has passed, and I'm that much closer to giving in. Giving up and going home. Perhaps I will get a job and work at it for fifty years and then die. Perhaps that's all I was ever meant to do. Perhaps I can pay my taxes and get a mortgage and pay my bills on time. Perhaps I will force myself to wake up early, work a mind-numbingly dull routine, mingle with coworkers at happy-hour, and go home and watch tv until I fall asleep, and then get up and do it all over again. Perhaps I was never meant for anything greater.

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