NOT KEEPING SCORE

After dinner one night I unwrapped the plastic cover of my dessert and cracked open my destiny: “Your life will be prosperous if you use your creativity”

I should be happy about this fortune-received, but I’m not — and it’s not just because I’ve acquired a $150/week to-go Chinese food habit while living the single professional life — which leaves me feeling neither “prosperous” nor “creative,” let me tell you.

(It leaves me feeling lethargic and ripe for a heart attack*)

Those who know me well will vouch that I take fortune cookies very, very seriously (after all, they are the most reliable forecaster, second only to the Magic 8-Ball®).
The fortune didn’t mean much to me at first. I pinned it up on my “Chinese fortune cookie board” and forgot about it (yes, I have a “fortune cookie board” — don’t ask)

But over the past few weeks I’ve found a growing knot of tension chewing on my rib bones like some sort of deeply disturbed pit bull. And his teeth are damn friggin’ sharp. Here’s the problem: I’ve been liking working a little too much lately — to the point of… I’m starting to worry I’m turning into one of those “workaholic” rather than “creative” types.

This past weekend — “one of the most beautiful weekends of the year” — when a friend invited me out I responded, “nah, I don’t really think I’ll join you at the beach. I’ve got a lot of, um, emails to write.”

But when I hung up the phone I knew I didn’t have any emails I had to write. Or work I had to do. Or… anything I had to do. Or anything I wanted to do.

And it scared me shitless. Especially that last part. (So I hung out in my closet for a good hour and a half hoping the sun would go away already. Then I came to my senses and realized there was plenty more of my job I could hide behind so I went into work.)

I’ve let my job become an addiction of sorts — an addiction that has served as a nice distraction from some other more pressing issues. Like: why haven’t I applied for that writing program I was going to apply for? And: since when am I afraid to ask someone out on a date? And: why have I not left the house for the 7th consecutive Saturday night when I’m 25 years old?

And: what the fuck am I so afraid of?

And then suddenly I found that damn fortune staring me in the face last night.

“Your life will be prosperous if you use your creativity”

“Fuck you!” I said out loud (yes, I do speak to small scraps of paper out loud. This is why I live alone) “I’m going to negate your words by opening up a new, more relevant fortune. That’ll show you!”

So I grabbed for a new cookie to prove that my life and fortune had NOTHING to do with being creative and I certainly was not being defensive and was not in the least bit scared [scoff].

It read: “Being aware of your fears will improve your life”

* * *

Life is so much simpler, you see, when we follow a path that is easy, passive, predictable — that doesn’t require questioning, challenge, risk — doesn’t require a creative approach.

And living a “prosperous” life? I’ll let you, Dear Reader, “be creative” in that definition. Figuring out and then admitting what you really want to do / want / be — and then taking some risks… now that’s fucking scary.

Just in time for Halloween.

And so, in the true spirit of the holiday, rather than wonder what I’m going to dress up as, I ask the more difficult question — per the advice of the All-Knowing Fortune Cookies — in what ways I’m living my life out of fear; in what ways I’m failing to live my life creatively.

And you, Dear Reader, I ask you — what are you going to be do for Halloween?

Just a question.

*Creative license purposes. Ordering of Chinese food comes from Bamboo restaurant–neither greasy nor MSG-laden. In fact, I usually special order raw tofu with steamed (not stir-fried) veggies, and they are wonderfully happy to accommodate. The fat and lethargic part comes from the fact that I sit on my lazy ass in front of a computer all day. Just had to make that clear.