Can I write 1000 words on Saturday?I mean, Saturday is a lazy day, the one day of the week when I do not have to get up too early, and go to work or church. Writing one thouseand words on Monday through Friday is relatively easy. I sit down at work, and type away. It even looks like I am busy with something productive. So here is my first Saturday attempt. On the nature of anger. Especially towards one you love. Why do we do it? I feel angry when she is angry at me, especially when I have done nothing wrong. But do you know what really gets me hot under the collar? When she is right. When I have done something wrong, and she is completely justified in her anger or frustration. If she is mad for no reason, then I can ignore it. Write it off to hormones, or whatever. However, when I have screwed up, and I really have done something stupid, and she gets angry at me for it, then what recourse do I have? I must admit that I am not perfect, I must admit that there is a need for me to change something, and I must then go forward to make that change. That is the painful part, that is the part that makes me angry! I don’t want to change, I don’t want to make an effort. I want my life to just flow like a river, I come and go as I feel is right. That is the fantasy. Problem is, I had that kind of life once, and guess what? Outside of the chemically induced periods of complete numbness, I was miserable. And the periods of numbness came with their own pain, once I began feeling again. I was miserable. I was even more stuck than I am now. I had much less freedom, much more loneliness, and much more fear. I had a crappy job, I had a crappy life, and all the money I had I poured into becoming numb once again. You would be surprised how much money you can blow at the club on Friday night. In not much time at all I might mention. I remember feeling the disappointment when the money I had allotted for my night of numbness had run out, and I was not yet completely numb. I remember wandering around the casino at Jackpot Nevada, not yet as drunk as I wanted to be, but out of money, and out of luck. (Which is a BAD thing to be in a casino!) I even threw my “luck” fifty cent piece into a slot machine, hoping to turn some kind of profit so that I could return to the blackjack tables and get some more free drinks. No luck. Literally. I had lost my lucky fifty cent piece. (And how lucky was it to begin with? Probably not that much, since I lost my whole wad less than an hour after hitting the casino…) I was miserable, bored, and wished that my friends would hurry up and lose their money so that we could go. But they seemed to be doing fine, they continued to win enough to at least stay in the game. When we finally left about two or three in the morning, all of us were tired, drunk (or semi-drunk, like me) and none of us had any business driving that night. Even the designated driver, who hadn’t had anything to drink fell asleep at the wheel a couple of times. I am surprised to this day that we survived that trip. One of my memories of that trip was being awakened by the violent swerving of the car as the driver snapped awake just in time to realize that he was headed off the road. Was I preserved for some reason? Or had I exorcised my bad luck by flushing that fifty cent piece down the slot machine? No, that probably has nothing to do with it. I remember another time when I almost died in a car, with this same group of friends. This time no alcohol was involved, just staying out way too late, too far from home and on the other side of a winding canyon road. This time I was awakened not only by the violent swerving as the driver pulled us back onto the road, but by the actual impact with the guardrail. The driver had actually fallen asleep, swerved into the guardrail, and then woke up and corrected. How did I survive that? We all should have been dead. Falling asleep in a dark canyon while driving is an almost certain death sentence. Why did I survive?Well, I will have to question that later. The baby is crying, and Emily has gone yard saleing. (No, that is not a typo. It is a word we have coined. It means wandering from yard sale to yard sale looking for items to be sold in our next yard sale.) I am pretty sure she just wanted to get away from me. She is mad at me. And has a good reason. How do you think I feel?Only 874 words. Close enough for a Saturday.
Saturday October 14, 2006 - 10:48am (EDT)
© 2006 Tyler Willson. All rights reserved
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