In '07, I continued to develop the business relationship with the arts-oriented email software company I'd discovered/been hired by in June of '06. It turned out to be a mutually benefcial relationship, so I chose to continue continuing said relationship. 'Nough said 'bout that.
The result was the highest on-the-record, year-end gross income I've ever earned to date.
To which I need to add another $10,000 in net real estate earnings earned via renting out apartments for my Polish Hassidic Jew landlord -- who not only can't work Craigslist, but who can't even pronounce the word "masturbate." (If you want to know why I know he can't pronounce that, you'll have to write in... Sorry... My agent tells me so.)
All of which is to say, Gregory has grown up -- at least, fiscally speaking. But '07 also helped him grow up in other ways.
Don't pretend you don't know how else. How else? How the fucking else?
"She" DIED.
THAT'S "how else."
"She's" dead. She's dead.
So from this point on (or rather, from October '07 on), I ought not further entertain all the thoughts you all know I've had re: How "She" affected me and how "She" fostered my ostensible inability to achive my potential.
Nope. From this point on (or rather, from October '07 on), I no longer have an overbearing, un-understanding mother to blame for my present lot in life.
All that having been said, just let me add that -- after careful evaluation -- I've recently (re-)realized that my lot in life isn't all that bad after all.
Especially now...
Heh.
Don't hate me for being human.
A symptom gone is something to celebrate, no matter how hard one tries to be Politically Correct. Ergo, a dead enemy no longer attacks -- unless, perhaps, from the grave.
But lest ye think she's haunting me from the grave, let me assure you: She was way too narcissistic to linger anywhere near earth. Nuh-uh. An ego like hers ventures off to seek whatever praises it might receive from God as soon as it possibly can. There is no ghost. There are no paranormal echoes recalling her time on this planet. There are only memories, photos, and scrapbook clippings.
God help her get them. The praises, I mean. I mean it. The dear soul. She tried so hard. She deserves something.
As for me? I'll keep meandering, throughout '08, along my own karmic path, imperfect as it is (too).
Love, G
