arsy-versy, or my life as a lottery ticket…
Those who love me will know what a strange few weeks it has been. In the immortal words of TMBG, “Everything right is wrong again.” Not bad, just a bit disconcerting.
April was a doozy of a month. Thank goodness it’s over, as there is only so much my little heart can bear. Highs, lows, excitement, boredom, and weekends filled with moments of “?!” With all that is said and done, I can begin with May and think, huh. Second verse, same as the first. I begin this month in the same place as the last. Except not.
You see, April was my life as a lottery ticket. It goes something like this. When I buy a lottery ticket, I go through the process of choosing numbers. Maybe I will pick the numbers with some semblance of meaning. Maybe I will leave it up to chance. Dollar and a dream.
I buy the ticket, and think about what I would do if I won. Maybe I can get that apartment in Paris, or open a recording studio, or buy a house for the Changs. You see, I don’t kid myself. I don’t really expect to win the booku bucks, but it is my moment to imagine. Flights of fancy and all that. Easy and fun. Something kind of nice.
A few days might pass, and I wonder when the numbers will be drawn. Maybe I will stay up and see what will happen. The first number will fall, and I think, well, that seems kind of lucky? The second number will fall, and I think, yea me! But alas, the third ball falls, and the wings begin to melt. Then the fourth, and the fifth. Sigh. Fancy spills everywhere.
But then again, there is always ball number six, the Powerball. That one that says, “Hey, you may not be the big winner, but you are still a winner to me.” The small payoff, with a chance of a mere one in seven hundred and forty-five point forty-five (check the math Mr. Math).
That, my friends, is what brings me to May.