One in one-hundred-seventy-four million.

Well, I didn't win the lottery. Again. It's funny how that ticket, in my mind, acts like it is in some sort of quantum state: it is both simultaneously a winning and losing ticket until I actually observe it. It's as if the numbers are actually continuously changing right there on the page, and only freeze in place when my hand tentatively reaches into my wallet and grasps that smal slip of a hopeful future.

I often think what it would be like to suddenly have millions of dollars at my disposal. When I was younger, I thought the same way as I suppose a lot of people do: give the job the one-finger salute, buy an outrageously expensive house, travel the world in first class, steak dinner every day. Now though, I think my lottery dreams have become as dull as my everyday dreams: find a humble home to call my own, save for not only my future but all my descendants futures as well, get myself through college, take the time to find something that I really want to do for the rest of my life.

I'm never going to win the lottery, so I had better start doing something on my own to attain those dreams.