This morning, after coffee and an english muffin with Mom, I found myself getting ready to head out. Mom asked why I was going and I replied how I just do what She tells me to do but it isn’t as if I hear God say, “Wayne, goeth thee out and part the Red Sea and smite the godless heathens and doeth righteous deeds and be blessed” or anything like that. I just find myself doing stuff before I even realize I’m doing it.
One thing I have noticed a lot lately is that it is exhausting constantly explaining myself. People always want to know why I do the weird things I do or think the weird things I think or feel the weird things I feel. I use to always have reasons for all my decisions or feelings or actions, but now I usually don’t have any reasons—at least any I can explain. You want to answer them, you don’t want to be rude or enigmatic or silent, but the duplex personality is almost like having a whole new set of sense organs. How do you explain the color fizule to someone who’s never seen fizule colored stuff before? It’s frustrating.
I signed up for health insurance today. Ended up going with a Blue Cross/Blue Shield plan. I had to play around with my expected income for next year to get it to accept me (yes, the Government rewards the precognitive). I figure I’ll earn next to nothing but I didn’t want to jump through the Medicaid hoops and I wanted a company that offered nationwide coverage to cover my nationwide nature. I’ll probably never use it but I went with a Silver level plan so I wouldn’t have to fork over a $6,000 deductible before getting any coverage (a common feature of the Bronze plans), so I’m paying about $11 a month and shouldn’t have to kill myself just because I break an arm or pass a kidney stone or get struck by lightning or wreck a motorcycle or am attacked by a sneaky ninja shark or a protective maternal alligator or a seriously big but very dumb barracuda or an entire pack of seemingly cognizant and evil waterspouts or blow a hole in my hand with a firecracker (the firecracker was just plain stupidity so that’s not likely to happen again). Wise men really do have scars.
As I was telling Mom last night, I don’t have any plans for my future. Right now, I’m just in growth mode and I have no interest in teaching or spiritual dialog or making an income or selling my books or my photos or extending my lifespan. This frustrates my mother to no end (yes, I am a 53 year old man who still can’t please his mother) who wants me to have a “plan for my future”, who wants me to “teach” and to “not give up on them” and to “be around people more” and to “sell my photos” and to “stop being selfish” and that the Gas Gauge of Death “just seems like quitting” so I say, “This is just a growth phase” and I stress the word phase and I imply that things may very well change (and they very well may change) but the truth of the matter is I have no clue if they will or not—nor do I care if they will or not—but the word phase seems to soothe her fears so I’m going to keep using it around her.
“I am the Eternal Loving Awareness. I am the Eternal Loving Awareness. I am the Eternal Loving Awareness….”
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