Guess I’m a Sensitive Romantic

Purify your thoughts, change your world

Tired of hearing about “lack of jobs”. People don’t want jobs, they want a steady paycheck. Problem is, we have to help each other too. And actually being helpful morally is far superior to earning a paycheck for no good reason. Psychic tells me if I am not getting the paycheck I need, I’m not being helpful, or at least not true to myself. I ponder this. I feel that’s kind of like saying you are all precious and unique and worth millions. Well, if each of us was giving and helpful enough that millions of people benefitted, that could be true.

If you *could* help millions of people do something, what would it be?

-to make them smile or laugh?
-to make them reflect deeply and think?
-to get them talking?
-to give them hope?
-to show them another world?
-to transport them far away, or deep inside?
-to help them heal or level-up?
-to make their lives just a little easier?
-to stand up for them when others won’t?
-to guide them through things you’ve been through?
-to show them greater pleasures, higher planes?
-to surprise or wow them?
-to captivate or charm them?
-to show them support, lend an ear, give an outlet?
-to fix what is broken

I could go on…there are so many ways to help that don’t seem like a “job”. I just hate that word.

Autism now linked to pesticides
ADD linked to pesticides
Nervous system disrupters
This is duh

We made food as perfect as it could be by controlling and sterilizing everything
We may be sterilizing ourselves now
I guess biodome really happened
Trapped now with our heat and exhalations
Need to pop a tube through our atmosphere and vacuum it out a bit ;-)
I kid! I kid!

What are my exhalations doing for the planet anyway?
Why isn’t my backyard covered in solar panels?
Why am I again yearning to be reunited with the world outside myself
Have I lost my way again?
So quickly?

Immersed in another’s world like a drug
Inhaling all its magic and delights
Forgetting my body and suffering
Getting fatter from the anxieties

And the fibromyalgia all around me
Which makes you talk a lot
And takes away your motivation
All clues

As if, if I were to solve the problems nearest me
The whole world would level-up
The heavy metal poisoning
The staff infections
The incessant gabbing
Hours of zoning out
Mold, allergens, strokes

As if enough of these things push at your door, that one day, it’s you on the receiving end.

But I’m lucky. Or I’ve done something right. If it’s the latter, I’m in no place yet to be helpful. As much mulling it all over as I do, alas, I tend to like to keep busy. Hyperactive maybe.

And who knows?
Maybe I’ll be a great financial manager.
My chart predicts it.
Others have tried to rope me in to their schemes.
But I’m romantic.
I need a good story.
There–now you’ve seen my Achilles.