I’m not much of a gambler, not because I don’t want to win, but because after I spend the money I feel horrible for spending money that could have went for something else; anything else, more important. This week I decided to swallow my pride and actually agree to “gamble” with money that was hard earned. What happened and what I learned is as follows.
Wednesday, January 6, I was digging through some of my mother’s stuff that she had in her purse (the coupons that expired in 1997 made me laugh out loud) and in it was two lottery tickets that hadn’t be bought. Basically what I think happened is that my mother went into a store, more than likely with my grandmother, and filled out two lottery tickets. Walked around the store for a couple minutes & then decided to not buy them for the fact that she probably didn’t have the extra ten dollars to do so. So instead, she shoved them into her purse which eventually fell to the bottom where she forgot they were and went on with her life. But then, I could be wrong.
From that point on that’s all I heard about. The Powerball is over 500 million. All day – every time I turned around – I joked about it at one point saying “If I believed in signs I would totally buy me a lottery ticket.” I was joking, of course, because I’m not a gambler.
By Thursday night the boyfriend & I decided to buy a ticket – nothing special just a couple numbers. It wasn’t anything to get in a fuss over but I will say this much, I can’t speak for everyone that gambles or who has bought a lottery ticket in the past, but for a brief solid minute when I was handed my ticket I was calm. Nothing bothered me and I felt free. I felt as if there was nothing that would bother me again and all my problems were taken care of. I felt a sense of being free. Quickly many things ran through my mind that I could get or help with. I pictured a house and a new car (need a bigger house & have had the same car for ten years), kitchen full of groceries, and new furniture. I pictured the looks on family’s faces when I handed the more money than they could even count in their heads. I pictured tipping a waitress 100$ just because it would make them smile.
For a single, sad, brief moment…
I slammed myself back into reality because logically I knew that I wouldn’t win & wouldn’t be a multibillionaire. That’s common sense but we did play. We bought us a ticket and spent 15$. I waited two days until the numbers came out and nothing. I didn’t match one number on five games.
It’s a saddening feeling when you realize that you’re not lucky enough to win something that could change you & everyone around you in an instant. Now I sit here and I wonder whether I want another ticket, or two, to try for the 1.3 billion dollars that it’s up to. The only thing I do know is what my grandfather once told me, “You will never win if you don’t play.” It’s the truest thing anyone has ever said. But I don’t know if I can afford to blow 15$ to 30$ again just so my numbers aren’t drawn.
Now I find myself wondering how other people feel. Do they sit around and mope for hours afterwards because their numbers sucked and didn’t win anything? Do they just toss the piece of paper into the trash and go about their day? Did they, for a single brief moment, think this could change my mind & I hope I win?
The only thing I know for sure is that life goes on and I have dreams and such. Will my dream make me a multibillionaire? Probably not – I’m not Stephen King, E.L James, or some other author that has sold 10,000,000 books, made 5,000,000 movies and receive 100,000,000 dollars. (That seems exaggerated.)
On a totally new subject, I haven’t talked about it much lately because I haven’t done much on it (still editing) but the book is slowly coming together. However I came to a stop – sort of. Ever since I began writing this story I have decided that it was a sandwich. Beginning is the bread, middle is the bologna, cheese, mayo, pickles, and the ending is bread. For a while I have felt like something was missing that I couldn’t pin point not that I haven’t tried. Tonight I finally realized what was missing. Of course, though, I cannot go into great detail. We’ll just say that now that I have figured it out, I can fix it. Sadly, at the moment, I don’t have the answers && I’m pretty sure it’s going to add at least three chapters into the story. This may be complicated… But all I do know is if I want this book to be half way decent, I have to figure out this pickle. Without the pickle I have a whole in the whole story. I wouldn’t worry about it but I have mentioned some of it. I could just take it out, but then I have to take out a lot more && I feel like this needs to be in it.
I just don’t know – I just know there is way too much to think about &&& not enough time to figure it out. Okay, that’s a lie – I have all the time in the world unless I want to finish this book completely by the age of 30. Yes, I gave myself a two year gap. It’s not unreasonable to put a two year gap to finish a book that I’ve basically finished. All I have to do is finish the edit process – figure out my pickle – edit again, read it completely through, throw it away because I hate it – dig it out of the trash because I worked too hard on it, flick off the nasties that the trash left on it, notice all of the pencil marks throughout it, edit again, and then print the finished project. Then of course I’ll stare at it and explain to the boyfriend the 5,000,000 reasons why I should not try and attempt to publish this book – one of which being, this book sucks butt and no one is ever going to want to read it let alone buy it. He will of course tell me that I’m wrong, because that’s his job.
But then again, I’m still in the early stages of this whole deal – so what do I know?