Gimme back my tootsie pop

So I'm on the trial team and it's like a half time job. How long should it take to come up with a few opening statements, closing arguments, and questions for witnesses? About 20 hrs a week for 2 months, apparently. It's like "how many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie roll brand tootsie pop?" "I'm a fucking owl, how should I know?" oh, no, wait, that's not what he said. he took the kid's sucker, licked it a few times and ate it. stupid owl. or stupid kid? i'm not sure. but stupid me, anyway. i'm home so little the other day i was at the grocery store and started back to school instead of my house. i didn't want to live here but there you go.

I have a zen buddy who teaches me a lot. Lately the thing is something about hungry ghosts. The idea is that when a hungry ghost comes knocking - the ghost of tired, the ghost of pissed off, the ghost of feeling disgusted, whatever, - you let them in and hug them. I don't know why. I'd rather just not let his ghost ass in. Lately I want to just go hide somewhere anyway and I certainly don't want to go open the door for a stupid ghost. I am not ghost food. I just feel like a ghost myself half the time. It occurs to me that life is making one mistake after another and that sometimes I just really wish something would come out just right. But it never does. There's always a hungry ghost taking away my tootsie pop. Yes, this is whining. I feel like the little kid wandering around in the woods asking a fucking owl questions about a sucker. How did I get here? What happened that left me talking to owls and wanting to hide from hungry ghosts? It's called life, fellas, and there's the door. I guess I'll get my suckers out, feed the owls and let the ghosts come in.