No. 311 1984

1984 was when I was born, ugh, the bad haircuts, the bad outfits, those ponytail holders-scrunchies and those tee-shirt clip things to hold your oversized tee-shirt at an angle-you know what i'm talking about, oh and don't forget the ruffled socks. You kinow life was once simple, I find myself constantly asking myself "will fate intervene" as it should and always have, because right now i'm swinging at a point above earth waiting to be released into the right spot, the "place" I was always suppose to be. No, this is not the quarter life crisis, this isn't the "omg what the hell am I suppose to do" crisis, and sadly this isn't even the "let me get motivated to make masses amount of money" but in fact, I find myself at polar opposites. I look at houses, 3 million or less, I quickly try to do the math, then I realized, am I really going to have to live in some suburb on the border of king county-jesus that can't be me, or will I be unable to even afford king county and move to like another county-I don't know my county's, but come on. This past summer I take roadtrips, I drive, I keep driving, my parents next to me, I drive and I look at the pleathora of trucks, the pleathora of wide open spaces and the simple way of life. I look, I feel a ease, I feel like I could led that life, drive a Ford Focus and rent movies and pick up some random boy at a bar that turns into a boring, yet "safe" relationship. I can see that, then I remember my perchant for shiny things and the need to capitalize on my potential, i'm also reminded by the obscene amount of money that is possessed at that current point of time, I quickly do the math, then I realize, I really need something to push me to be more productive-and by productive I mean money, and lots of people will say, it's not about the money, true it isnt' about the money, it never should be about the money, I know it shouldn't be about the money, thankfully I don't have to care about money, but I do, I count it, all the time, including the penny's, yes, I don't use change and only carry twenties, but I do the math-ALL THE TIME, and let me tell you, it isn't cheap, it never is cheap, and deep down, it's really about the money. Not the extreme amounts, no I don't need 250 million, I don't even ened 15, i'd settle for less then 9 million, it's the point of being rich yet a semi normal person, you can fly first class, but don't need a jet, therefore you don't need security and can still get away with fed-exing your hermes luggage. It's the point where you feel like you're perfectly at ease, you could live off your dividends-perhaps that is, you may have a great pension, and you can always take at least two vacations a year. One during the summer somewhere hot, and another during winter-maybe you can take up skiing-you're worth a lot where if you break a bone it could be devastating, but you've got the cash flow to say it's ok, don't worry about taking a year off, it's your company anyways, you can have your assistant and fed ex do half your job...anyways, my ramblings is that, sometimes it's all about waiting, it's not about aggression, or are you aggressive, it's not about scheming, it's not about plotting, it's not about planning, you don't have to do that shit, you know, when it's right it's right,and sometimes you didn't anticpate it, but it's right and it's appropriate, it's what is intended...that's when I will stop swinging and land firmly on my haviavana flip flops-consumerism is all about the 14 dollar flip flop you know and the 5 dollar cup of white chocolate non fat light chocolate extra hot mocha.