Regeneration X Read Online Free PDF Page B

brave and adventurous and take the risks I could not in real life. The only consequences would be for the characters I played.
    If I were seventeen.
    Instead, I’ve been floating through life, working solely to pay bills, generally putzing around, occasionally going out doing this and that, or taking a vacation during the approved three-week time frame every year. My life revolves around PTO. I know it’s what everyone on the hamster wheel does. But is everyone else ok with it?
    Chances are slim: I’ll be walking down the street when the producer of Masterpiece Theatre will approach me and say, “You have this quality we’re looking for and would be perfect for the part of a Lady and detective. It’s set in a 19th-Century town called Tymony.” So grasping at straws, I wish on stars and passingly pray for divine intervention. I know it sounds hopeless and helpless, but what else is there for me to look forward to? Every job I’ve had since I graduated college has been a step further away from hope, and now I am pigeon holed and without promise.
    I seriously sound depressed. How does keeping this journal help, exactly? Inez suggested I pour myself out without the interruptions and segues that happen in conversations, and somehow I’ve managed to feel worse about my life, thinking somewhere long ago I made a wrong turn. I rather knew it already, but now I’ve put it down in writing.
    Perhaps it was because she was a writer, the words on paper, figuratively speaking, seemed so manifest. Charley was tempted to erase her journal entry, as if the feelings would dissipate once she deleted the words. The rational side of her mind was glad to release a black worm that persistently wriggled in her mind.
    She sat there, fascinated by these revelations. Suddenly, the barrage of thoughts was organized; writing managed this better than painting. The very first time Inez had suggested it, she had cast the idea aside as being something beyond her abilities, or more precisely, a corruption of her capabilities as a writer/editor, like asking a surgeon to administer a flu shot, and frequently.
    “Can you chat?” she texted Inez.
    “Calling.” Inez texted back almost immediately.
    “Hi. You and Becks free tomorrow?” She asked, but continued talking without waiting for an answer. “So …” She paused, but again resumed. “While this isn’t stop the presses news or anything … I feel kind-of giddy. Uh, that is sooo sad, something so small gets me excited. You can tell nothing changes much around here. Like nothing. It’s the same ‘ole same ‘ole, every dang day.”
    “Charley! You know you’re actually talking to me and not to yourself? Out with it, what’s this news?
    “Right. So, I’ve been writing in a journal.”
    “Good! Finally. I’ve only mentioned it once or twice. And …? Do you want to share? You always have so much going on in your head. I think it will help.”
    “Surprisingly, it was an immense release. Umm that sounded just a little orgasmic. Anyway, it completely organized my cluttered brain, which for me is rather mind-blowing. For now. But, not sure it makes anything better.”
    Inez laughed and then said more seriously, “Hmm, yes. I don’t think it will solve all your problems. It just helps to figure out what the problem actually is … or problems .
    “I hope you know I wasn’t trying to tell you to shut up. But it’s cool right? I imagine especially for you. You’re a smart cookie. I knew you’d see the advantages and make the connections. It was just a matter of trying it.
    “And if you get hung up on semantics, you should practice jotting down whatever comes to mind really quickly, or writing exactly how you feel as if no one will read it. Burst mode it’s called. I always find it surprising, and it makes me feel like a kid hiding something from my parents.”
    “I’ll try it—and I was thinking the same. It’s similar writing in a diary, but the adult version. And screw the