"Abandon all hope, ye who enter..." -Welcome sign above the City of Dis. "Kaos is my son."- Ravager

No, I didn't give my cat a bath, though he probably needs one. Instead, the fuzzy little guy is asleep on a blue afghan, curled into a ball and holding his paws over his eyes to keep the light out.

Instead, the cold water stems from our water heater. Yes, after 6 years of service, the craptastic thing sprung a leak and the pilot light keeps going out. One of my roommates figured it out when taking a shower. I smelled the gas and shut everything down. He asked me to put the pilot light on again, but I refrained saying, "Maybe it would be best to let the gas dissipate before lighting any fires."

So, showers are cold and all the faucets have about half pressure. I suppose the water pressure is from gravity now instead of a pump sucking more water in. I don't know, I'm not a plumber.

Still, I find it funny how I can take hot water for granted. what a marvelous invention. Hygiene certainly is easier to keep up with showers and hot water. Still, I'm dissapointed in the body's design, that we didn't come equipped with some kind of anti-musk or something. Or perhaps we have evolved beyond pheromones? I doubt it, but I haevn't run across anyone who naturally smells like Chanelle's Number 5.

Ah, back to a recap of my life. Ashamedly, it hasn't changed much. I turned down two jobs at the temp service and told them i had a job, so they took me off their files. I was just so sick of waiting for that damned federal background check. Now, I'm applying for anything clerical in my area.

Oh, today I get to pick up a new car. Well, new for me anyway. It was kind of sad gutting my T-Bird of its stereo, speakers and wiring, but I'm not letting phoenix gold wire go to waste. While I still have no real money, I'm loaning myself the cash to do so. Don't ask how I'm doing it, I'd rather not say.

Still, it will be the second car I've ever owned and I'm 23. My brother has owned 15, and still owns the last three. He's trying to get down to just one, but the fellow is never satisfied. Maybe he just likes working on engines?

My book is continuing. I broke past the hundredth page. What good does it do to write? No one will read it. Which is fine, i'm not sure I want anyone to. It has become my new journal of fictional lives, serving as a supposition of "what if." Isn't that how we live our lives, on a series of "what if" questions? How do we plan our future? In reality, one can't. It is impossible for mere mortals to do so. Rather, we can decide on some kind of response if certain events happen. We are powerless before reality... we must roll with the puncches and get up grinning.

That's the way of it... challenge us. Crush us. Dismantle us... but we get up until can't anymore. The ones who can't, they lie on the ground and let the sand pile up until their bones glisten in the sun. It doesn't really matter if you don't get up, one of these days, none of us will anymore.

I've waned on hope for a long time, trying to figure out a way out of this trap. Hope is exactly that; if you want to catch a monkey, find a jar with a openeing barely bigger than a moneky's wrist and drop a shiny object inside it. The monkey will grasp it, and as its fist is now bigger than the opening, it cannot get it out until it lets go of the shiny object. Most monkeys refuse to let go and so are trapped until the hunters come and take it away.

I refuse to pick up the shiny objects. It's not worth the fight.

So what are left with? Most pick up some kind of fatalism or nihilism. I say there is no alternative. it is not a simple choice of yes or no. rather, we have a choice of preference. Some can declare hope the greatest thing in the world. I say it is a sure path to destruction. I want to build on something better, more stabile- I choose to accept the things that happen without complaint, just acceptance. The only thing worthwhile in this life is a simple connection to creator. That is all.

I do not expect justice from God, or gifts or any other sort of blessing or favor. I accept the bad and good that happen and continue my walk home... but the journey is long and there are many sights to behold. That is life, that is what living is for. Some of us get to go home early, but others have many miles ahead. Sometimes I hope to find home around the corner, but even this is false hope. With life expectancies of 80 years for my generation, I suppose my walking shoes will be bare and and my brow will be sunburned before I can rest.

At the very least, I can watch a blissful cat sleep on a blue afghan.