Born Again – in About 20 Years

Posted: October 4, 2011 in Uncategorized

If I get any more setbacks, my mother should give birth to me in about 20 years. By that time, she will be close to 100 and she will become famous.

It’s my own fault – not that my mother isn’t famous, but that I sabotage myself constantly. I have written about it so many times, in fact, that I’m getting tired of writing about it, but here I go again – writing about it – because I can’t believe I’m still doing it.

Somebody must have placed a hex on me – that has to be it – I must be cursed. Either that, or I am being punished for some past life transgression and will forever be doomed to live with my sabotaging self.

I won’t bore you with links to the numerous blogs and articles I’ve written about sabotaging myself, simply because I don’t want to take the time to find all of them (or to remind myself about all of them), but I would like to vent in this blog about my latest sabotages.

First: my keys. I have two sets. Correction: I HAD two sets. One of them fell into the black hole that accompanies me everywhere I go. My usual places to put my keys are on the trunk in my living room, on one of the counters in my kitchen, in my purse, or on my bed. I have torn the house apart searching for those keys. They are nowhere.

What must have happened was this: While on my way into the kitchen to place my keys into my purse which was sitting on the counter, my phone rang, or an airplane flew overhead, or one of the thousands of cats roaming outside my home (I’m allergic to cats) caught my attention, or a piece of lint flew in front of my eyes, or I breathed funny – something (anything) distracted me.

And so, instead of placing my keys into my purse on the counter, I instead dreamed I was in a Hollywood movie, and that I was the star of the movie. That really blew my mind – and my concentration, because in my mental trip to Hollywood, my keys were sucked into the void known as the Black Hole, and now I’ll never find them.

Another recent sabotage event occurred when I called the Writer’s Guild of America to ask them if I had registered a script I had written, because now that I’ve rewritten it with the help of a friend, I need to re-register it and re-copyright it with both names.

The guy I spoke to told me that I had to send him a copy of my driver’s license. No problem.

But for some reason (there always has to be a reason, right?) my printer, which isn’t all that old, decided to go on strike. Not only did it refuse to acknowledge that the new ink cartridge, which I had bought at Staples, was actually a new cartridge, but also the printer – which had been working for the past couple of years – decided to ignore the driver I had previously downloaded when I purchased the printer. My printer now claims that I no longer have a driver.

Whatever happened to “Baby, you can drive my car…But I’ve got a driver and that’s a start”? I’ve got the printer. WHERE’S MY DRIVER? I wish I knew more about printers, because then I might be able to understand how drivers can just up and leave the laptop into which they were put! I thought only people got divorced.

I had forgotten that this hardly-used printer, which also came with scanning capabilities, also no longer scanned. So when the guy at WGA West said I could send a copy of my driver’s license, I tried to scan it in using my printer, thinking at least the scanning part of it would work. But it didn’t.

So I thought, why not take a photo of my license? That would have worked if the battery charger hadn’t taken a trip with my keys into the black hole THAT IS MY LIFE. I’m just one giant black hole. Scientists are searching for what resides inside what they think of as mysterious black holes. I could save them years of research and tell them exactly what’s inside them.

My printer driver, along with my keys, not to mention the missing battery charger are all located inside the black hole.

Everything comes clear in retrospect. I should have signed my name on everything that disappeared into that black hole. A kajillion years from now, when all of my missing items are recovered, I could be famous.

AFTERWORD: My youngest daughter told me yesterday that she has been carrying my keys around in her purse for the past couple of weeks. How did they get there? She borrowed my car. 😉 Sadly, my charger and print driver are not there (I looked). Perhaps I will find all my missing items in my next life – when I’m born again.

If you would like to read more from this author, click any of the following links:

All Craft Connection

Your Weird Dreams
Your Blog Connection
Help For Single Parents
My Heart Blogs To You
Writing Creatively
Paranormal Minds
Product Favorites
Theresa Wiza’s Blog
My Associated Content Articles
My Xomba Articles 

Thank you for visiting!


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