Malta Due

I have some more funny stories, but today is actually serious—go figure. There is a local pub I used to go to all the time, but now I do not; it is too loud and there are too many people for me. How interesting our tastes change over time. Mitchell was the bartender, and we really hit it off; there was something about him I liked from the very start. It got to the point that if he was not working, I would not go that night. He recommended the Conversations with God book series, which is a collection of spiritual dialogues written by Neale Donald Walsch, starting in 1995. The idea is that this is a literal transcription of questions asked by the author and answered through an inner voice he attributed to God.

When I first heard the title, I said there is no way I am reading a "God book." Mitchell asked me if I was happy, and of course, I am not. The gist of the rest of the conversation was that I am unhappy most of the time and do not know how to change that. I think I suck, I get into ruts that turn into rabbit holes that I cannot get out of, and I have no idea what I want the rest of my life to look like. This is not a complaint—others have it way worse than I do—but facts are facts. My childhood sucked. My parents were angry and self-centered; my mom was and is a very mean and angry woman who, to this day, still goes for the underbelly to inflict as much pain as possible because she is so miserable. I hurt so bad for her, but she never stops. I was so messed up that I had no idea how bad it was until my mid-40s.

These books basically say that if there actually is a God, he’s not some angry dude in the sky looking to punish you. Nobody is testing us, and there’s no big exam we’re about to fail. All that daily fear and anxiety we carry around? Society just made that crap up to keep everyone in line. The books show you that the real secret to being happy is just giving to the people around you and helping them out, without worrying about what you're gonna get back. It completely changed how I look at life.

The only people who read the crap I write are my friends, and I love you all. None of you are as happy as you'd like to be—well, maybe Dan is. I hope you look into it. If not for you, maybe you know someone who could use the help.

Shit, it is 7pm already, time to get on the Whiskey Sour train.