mid-life crisis

I was at the bookstore just now, and it was completely vile. And i just wanted to leave, very badly. I realized, I don't want to be in this place, I don't want to be around horrible greedy people doing their X-mas shopping, it was vile. I realized taht I want to be somewhere funky and hip, like the laundromat/coffeehouse. I don't want to work at a horrible company, like the movie studio, surrounded by greedy people. I think I do want to do massage for a living, I don't want to be in a normal world, surrounded by boring people. I only want to do things that interest me, like write.

I was thinking about my writing. And ... I realized something. I sort of write ... in a rush. I write, because I'm dying to escape the horrible people at my work. But ... even though I write things that interest me, I don't write from my heart. I write from this place of ... writing what I think people will like.

I'm supposed to go to this stupid country club tomorrow, to have a lunch with my sister. And I don't want to go. I realized, I'm not that person, I'm not a country club guy. I'm a guy who works at a cheesy spa, maybe, who just lives a funky life.