July 24: Doughnuts, Hard as Hell to Swallow, Worries in General

...So I went in this very cheap-looking restaurant and had doughnuts and coffee.  Only, I didn't eat the doughnuts.  I couldn't swallow them too well.  The thing is, if you get very depressed about something, it's hard as hell to swallow.  The waiter was very nice, though.  He took them back without charging me.  I just drank the coffee.  Then I left and started walking over toward Fifth Avenue.

When he orders these doughnuts, Holden's pretty much at the end of his journey to a nervous breakdown.  I believe, in today's medical parlance, he's about to suffer a psychotic break.  Whatever you call it, Holden is very sick.  Sick with worry and sadness.

Worry is a strange animal.  It can literally drive you crazy.  Ask Holden.  It can kill your appetite, give you headaches, cause insomnia, and make you chain smoke.  Again, ask Holden.  In my experience, worry makes me eat entire bags of snack-size Milky Ways, drink Diet Mountain Dew by the keg, and want to sleep all the time.  Any way you cut it, worry is unhealthy.

Worry also asexually reproduces.  One worry becomes two very quickly.  Two worries become four.  If you follow that progression, in the space of a couple of hours, one big worry can grow as large as the gross national product of a small African nation.  No wonder Holden ends up in the hospital at the end of Catcher.

I'm not going to dwell on a specific worry today.  I think I'd get a little overwhelmed if I did.  For example, if I write about how small my paycheck is this week, then I have to talk about my car payment that's due by Friday.  If I mention the car payment, then I'll start dwelling on the $800 repair the mechanic says my car needs.  If I dwell on that repair, then I'll think about the problems with my wife's car.  If I do that, I might as well worry about the roof on my house, which needs new shingles.  As long as I'm focused on my roof, I can think about my mortgage, which is worth more than the value of my home.  Then...

Well, you get the idea.

So, today, I'm trying to avoid worry.  I'm living in denial.  The world is great.  It's 80 degrees outside.  I weigh `160 pounds, and I have a full head of hair.  I've just been offered a full-time professorship at the university with a six-figure salary.  My new collection of poetry has been awarded next year's Pulitzer Prize before it's even been published.  Because it's that good.

Yup, Saint Marty's life isn't falling apart.  It really isn't.  Really...It isn't...

My life is great...