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Scintillations
Surf’s Up
A Right to the Left
Hooray Soleil
The Power of Letting Go
Fuzzy Alien Antennae
Storms and Silence
Incredible Shrinking Woman
Apologizing to Mandy
Sex in the Outback
Dream Interpretation
Moody Girl
Younger Self
Single (again)
photography
Meditation
Single Sunflower
Porch
Park Feet
Smith Doors
Subway Guy
poetry
Courage
Fear
Change
Revelations
My Illusion
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Dancing Star Girl
Noire
Nude on the Side
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Play With
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Magic Money
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Issue Nine: Humor
Issue Ten: Free Write
The
Loophole of Life
Bonnie
Redmond
Today I had a cheap cheese omelet because it was
cheap – ha ha! I
scammed the restaurant because if you just order two eggs any
style it’s $4.95 … but I got a THREE egg omelet with
melted jack cheese for $4.95.
I have found the loophole of life.
I got a free egg and free cheese from them. And free guacamole, because my dining partner neglected to
ask to leave it off of her omelet.
I’m ahead of the game!
For the first time in my life.
I was feeling guilty for spending any money at all on myself
because I’m almost out of money.
I understood the concept that if I did not work I would
not be bringing in any money, that I would have no income.
And while the income stayed at a constant zero, my
outgo did not decrease in the slightest.
Except for today when I bypassed the
bacon/ham/cilantro/bell pepper/sour cream…and all the other
goodies that could have combined for the perfectly delectable
omelet. So there’s my big concession.
I saved two dollars and I’m all righteous about it.
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Then I hear a faint knock-knock sound.
Reality raps lightly upon my door.
Do you see that this two dollars makes no difference in
the entire scheme of things?!!!
Do you see that you need tens of thousands of dollars
to earn a living?
Yeah, but…. Yeah, but….
Yeah, but, but, but….
Yeah, well reality sucks!!!!!
I hate reality!!
Do you see that you have made no attempt to find any
meaningful sustainable income?
Do you notice how you avoid the J word? Yes,
you need a job. In
reality people have jobs.
But I’m not “people,” I’m me.
I’m a special case, aren’t I?
I’m a quasi-creative, overly intelligent, stifled
writer, and hypothetical artist.
Oh, and I’m an utter failure at being my ideal of a
carefree, bon vivant, live-in-the-flow, joie de vivre kinda
gal. I used to imagine myself as a free spirit who merely needed
huge expanses of free time and reams of empty paper and maybe
a few new colored pencils and some inspiration to turn my life
completely around. I
blithely quit my job and looked forward to the creativity
unfolding. Well,
it’s been more than two years since I left that job. Things didn’t quite unfold the way I expected.
Most all of the
paper remains blank and the pencils are still unsharpened in
their box.
That inspirational life looked much better when I imagined it
from the confines of my desk at work.
Inspiration is a fleeting phenomenon.
I just looked up inspiration and it says “the action
or power of moving the intellect or emotions.”
Well, it’s going to take an awful lot more
inspirational power to get me to move from this stuck place.
I have had moments of magnificent hope – those times
when reality was beginning to closely resemble my dream life.
But those moments did not last, and reality was right
there waiting to roll its eyes and scoff at me.
My nemesis is reality. I
despise reality. I
don’t like how the world is gray and made up of human drones
with the occasional homicidal maniac thrown in for interest.
Or am I just being overly cynical today?
It makes sense that I would define the world that
way…. See! The
world needs me! I’m
creative! I have
colorful pencils and I can write funny stories and I’m not a
drone and I only occasionally think about murdering people…
And now I’m back-pedaling.
Oh no! I’ve
just insulted 6 billion people by calling them drones – and
what does that term mean any way?
And, no, the world is not just gray.
There are rainbows and flowers and waterfalls and
sunshine and blah, blah, blah.
God! It’s
like I have to defend my reality all the time.
Hmmm…. Maybe that’s what I’m doing.
Defending my own reality.
What IS my reality?
How do I know what is real and what isn’t?
(Just in case you didn’t notice, this magazine is
called Be Real. How can I manage to be real?
What would that even look like?
What would my life have to look like in order to write
this story from a different angle – such as the “I’m
free, living in the flow, bubbling over with joy, and full of
inspiration” imaginary life?
What will I have to do in order to pass the impossible
self-test of my life?
I will sit on that…
Am I better at sitting around and daydreaming than I am at
doing things in real life?
I worry too much.
Worry and eat. That’s about the only real actions I take in life.
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