Annual event

I hate my birthday. Most years, it's my karmic low point. Things go wrong. Things get bad. While Winter is typically the season where I have to white knuckle it all the way through as far as my finances, the weeks around my birthday are worse. This is when my car will suddenly need a new exhaust system, someone I know will die and that one check I wrote six months ago I've forgotten about will inexplicably post out of the blue and send my bank account into a tailspin.

This is where my luck runs out --most of the time. I've come to expect it.

Worse, there is little anyone can do to help. My wife has tried a couple of times, but the bad mojo gets stuck to her more often than not. I become withdrawn and not as appreciative of her efforts as I ought to be.

And sure, I've tried forgetting it. I've tried rationalizing since I'm a Buddhist, it doesn't matter. It's all just an attachment. That hasn't worked so far. Ignoring it doesn't make it go away. Somewhere in my imperfectly rigged mind I think I deserve to have one really good day every year. I have a lot of bad days. You'd think there'd be some sort of symmetry.

Anyway, it's starting again: the weird, bad luck. I thought I was going to draw a good year this time around. I do get those (about 1 in 5 or 6). I'm overdue, but I don't think it's happening. So... I'm not blogging about it. I'll do my book count (which isn't much more than what I've been doing lately), but that's it until I'm safely and sanely into July.

I hate June. See you on the other side.

PS: Looks like I was wrong about the tolerance thing in Charleston. Nobody read the drag queen story. I'm guessing somebody must have brought it up in a sermon or a meeting. The story ran over a week ago, but the comments didn't start trickling in until Tuesday. It really took off this morning. They weren't as bad as the k.d. lang fans, but funnily enough, some of them were along the same lines. Just kind of disappointing.