Ageless Struggle

It's not rain...

It's a fucking downpour. I sit in my comfortable room, dry as a motherfucker. I remember those days out in the open, during the rainy season here in New York. I blogged about that shit, where I was soaked 24/7. That really sucked.

Even though it's raining, I feel pretty good today. No bitching from me. I'm resting and relaxing. That means that I'm saying fuck you to the BMT, because I'm not going downtown. I skip out on both of my Doctor appointments. Dr A I just over slept. Dr. L I begged off. I wasn't feeling up to dragging myself and my gear through the rain, through the Way, walk all the way over to her office with no umbrella, because I never use the bastards. To her office and then keep up a cheery mood for nearly an hour. From there, to come back home or go to Starbucks. But without his laptop, my brother will most likely not be there.

So I weighed all of this shit in one hand, and I weighed staying home, staying dry, napping and surfing the web in the other and you can probably guess who won. I wrote e-mails and blogged. I'm just feeling relieved that my brother is alright. I was really getting worried. I know at this time people say its time for 'hugs and slugs', but I don't care about those things. I'm cool.

I have to work on me. I have to work on my nerves more. It's not so much a nervous condition than an overactive imagi- nation. My imagi- nation works wonders for problem solving, creativity, imagery, but when it comes to real life events, it can also make a raft of alternative scenarios, some good, but because of my attitude after being homeless for so long, mostly bad. Yeah, being homeless for a period of time, believe it or not, makes you expect disappointment. It makes you accept failure from yourself and others before it actually happens. You begin to see your life as a magnet for bad events.

Nothing good happens to you or for you. Happiness is a lark. Believe in nothing because nothing is promised and nothing is given. You expect this. It fucks with your mind. So with an imagination like mine, I only expect the worst. The worst case scenario in all things, ergo catastrophizing. I never used to be like this. I wasn't this negative towards life, my fellow man, my circumstances. I held high expectations in myself and my abilities. Not so much now. Well, my life has taken a turn for the better recently, which is excellent. I should stop whining.

Not that I'm whining. I'm just giving the facts, ma'am. That's how things go.

But I think I'm doing pretty good now, because I KNOW that I'm catastro- phizing. Before I didn't know that. I just went through it. Which makes your outlook dismal, your days gray, the need for WELBUTRIN stronger. Now, not so much. I'm doing good. Now there is a compensating struggle in my head. One lobe battling the other. Worry against not worrying. That's good. That means that one day I will win out and my outlook will turn sunnier. Especially if things keep going my way like they are. I have a lot to be grateful for. I don't have much, but I'm happy with what little I have. Because this too can be taken away from you.

Well, I write, I eat, I sleep, write some more. This is what I like to do. This is what I do.

Tomorrow will be another day.

Tomorrow is the SHOUT OUT.

Hobobob