Silence, it really is one of the sweetest sounds I’ve ever heard.  Almost immediately after filing for bankruptcy, my creditors and bill collectors have finally stopped calling. No more playing Hide and Seek with the bill collectors.  I’m sure it wasn’t by choice, some of them really seemed to enjoy badgering me for money that I didn’t have, but by law, once you’ve filed for bankruptcy they can’t call you directly anymore.  I swear it was every single evening; I was getting calls from one collection agency after another –each one more harassing than the one before it.  These people apparently don’t even take weekends off; in fact I think I got more calls on the weekends than I did during the week.  I couldn’t pay them, I just didn’t have the money, it would have been like trying to squeeze blood from a stone.  I’m sure a lot of it was probably my own fault, making stupid purchases and grossly mismanaging my money but nobody deserves to be treated like that.  I know my financial future is going to be a bit hazy for the next few years, but it will definitely be worth it to have my debts taken care of and to have those vultures off of my back.

Roy and I were shooting baskets in the gym during lunch period.  After a while, we started talking, which is pretty much the routine if we find ourselves in the gym together.  He mentioned that his wife, Cindy, needs to have a colon operation.  I wished him luck with that and asked him if they could afford it.  No, he told me.  We’re going to declare bankruptcy next week sometime.  This way they would be able to get a loan from the government to help pay for the surgery and the hospital visit.  Roy explained how serious this situation was.  He said that they certainly have medical insurance; however, he had already consulted with their agent, and the agent had bad news for them.  The agent said that only a small portion of the expenses could be covered by the insurance, and recommended that they see a lawyer to arrange for a loan to help pay for the rest.  I really felt bad for Roy.  We don’t know each other all that well, at least not beyond the structure of Fridley High School, but it seemed like a nightmare of a situation to have to depend on the government.  It didn’t seem to stop Roy from doing his usual fantastic job on the court, though—if anything, his anger and resentment drove him all the harder.  He made three times as many baskets as I did that afternoon.

I guess if you’re going to become addicted to something it may as well be sports betting. It can’t be worse than suffering from some other type of addiction, like crack. Can it? I mean, instead of being addicted to something that is either going to slowly kill you physically or suddenly kill you physically via an overdose, you’re addicted to something that’s draining your bank account, and possibly destroying your marriage, your career, and your family life. I suppose you can always file for bankruptcy, get another job, and get someone else to marry you. You can’t really repair your life if you get addicted to something that kills you. If I ever get into betting sports, it would probably be horse betting. I suppose it’s just because I like the fact that it involves animals, and the idea of going to a horse race is kind of cool since I’ve never been. I would love to have event tickets to a horse race. I wouldn’t even know where to begin, but I tend to have great beginner’s luck so I’d probably win in the beginning somehow then proceed to do something stupid, like get addicted and go lose my life savings, steal from relatives, pawn their furniture and jewelry, and finally achieve my lifelong dream of stardom by winding up on Intervention.