The One-Two Punch

Kinetic moths are circling the dim ceiling light, which is mounted hairy carey like on a beam, littered with heart and star stickers. A dying vine has made its way into the room through mosquito netting, pale and tired its limp entrails hang over a strung up telephone wire. My new landlord is outside, I can hear him enter through his gate, announce to his daughter where he's going and his footsteps as he enters the house, hers as she follows. His parenting style ranges from hard punishment to taunting to calm voiced direction, it seems- I find myself analyzing his methods as I prepare lunch in the kitchen- his unignorable voice ringing down through the plywood ceiling. Buttercup, an obese mama rottweiler, bellows suddenly- a deep grumble so jarring, I jump. She often wakes me from a dead sleep. Buttercup is one of three rottweilers that inhabit upstairs with landlord and daughter.
Mountain cold creeps through glassless windows, causing my skin to rise to goosebumps and my left and right toes find eachother for warmth. I've been here maybe a week. It depends, today's Wednesday, right? I just swept borax into the carpet to help with the flea problem, and now I seem to unconsciously hover my feet over it-as I sit on a side table. The only piece of furniture in this room. I was charmed by the replacement of screen for windows, the lack of cellphone service, my view of coffee trees, and the bungalow style cool. I was also charmed by the price, a find in my eyes, for this side of the island. Yet as I sit here, generator rumbling in the adjacent room, I can't help but push down that familiar thought that has seemed to follow me, "what have you gotten yourself into now". It's not necessarily the rats that tap dance on the tin roof or that frequent my kitchen cupboards, it's not that there are two more rooms to filled in this space- a wild card of who, or my landlords impolite glances. It's well, with all awareness of  being a drama queen, sort of everything.

 With every move there is two steps forward, and one step back, right? That's growth's golden rule.I've found that it's not relocating to Hawaii that's the chore, but becoming established. And there is never enough money. I lost my better paying job yesterday, for a reason unknown, except 7 blanks in a row under monday-sunday, adjacent to my name. I've never lost a job before, and I find myself waiting for something to happen. Maybe for a few grand to fall from the sky. I think about smoking pot more. I used to have a mental laundry list of time fillers incase of emergency, but it has seemed to dissolve into pushing play and scrolling facebook.  I should be spending this gift of time at coffee shops meeting strangers, hitchhiking to foreign island spots, and learning calligraphy but I'm frozen by the press of impending bill due dates. They seem to rattle around in my mind, reminding me multiple times a day. Maslow's heirachy of needs tortuously rules. Yet I feel like I'm at a stale mate, with no quick fix. There's hope on the horizon though, in late May I'll start back to school and be paid a living stipend through the GI Bill. A few years of service has turned out to be a priceless gift.

 Yet for now, I'm broke, my motorcycle is broken, and my motivation is breaking down. I know this is the same tune whistled by so many, not necessarily a coming of age trial anymore. I called the unemployment line three times today, so busy- an automatic message machine picked up every time. Unaccustomed to saving, planning, or thinking of tomorrow:  I'm used to eating salmon three times a week, buying not one but three, and taking impromptu trips- figuring things will work themselves out. I grew up comfortably, privileged enough to have what I wanted, although my parents came from a history of hardships themselves. Having been in control of my own income for years, I have no where to place blame. Budget- the dirtiest word, has been only instated after impulse purchase after impulse shopping spree, only to evaporate in a matter of weeks.  Money comes in and money goes out, right? Such has been my philosophy. I honestly wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for all the times I "shut my eyes" as I gave myself everything I wanted. So if you see this pampered girl, hitching her way to work, please remember the time you lived only for the moment, were too optimistic about what effect your actions had on the future, and never said no to a sale. Pick me up!! Thank you.



And after rereading this: all I can do is laugh.
P.s. Don't worry, my Mom and Dad always provide a mercy filled back up plan. They want to bail me out- a double edged sword- relief/ lack of suffering results in a missed lesson.

The Great American Race

Oh 9-5. You repeat promises of, same place, same people, same thing. Excitement races when I clock in and out. Yet I find that as I clock in, I check out. Hours compact into days, I find myself decompressing weekends in late mornings- bed retreats. Dreaming only of more unscheduled time. I'm out of practice, and find myself feeling like an uninvested performer. I'm there, but just playing along. I calculate my paycheck to and from each job, estimating tax deductions. Comparing expenses, mental budgeting.My, is this adulthood's burden?
If the process of accumulating money will bring me things I need, when do I invest in what I want? Late night salsa, ocean swims, running with my dog, by god- the simple things. Yet those simple things are pushed back in replacement of schedules, bedtimes, obligations- I find myself in a stress tail spin. So can I tap out now, call "mercy", declare..I just ain't ready yet? For aching feet, swallowing dinner inbetween work tasks, management pressure, no time for laundry, too tired for a shower, recreation-priority: last.
And so- working moms, business owners, 50 hours + work week devotees, career minded folk, I bow to you . But I wonder, what you're made of. What you're thinking of when you wake on Tuesday morning, and what you feel like when you get into your car to head home on Friday. I wonder what you love, what you do when no one's watching, and when it's all said and done, if you're happy with the day. Foremost I wonder if I could be you for 20+ years. I see in your faces signs of soul exhaustion, slumped countenaces: I hear you grumble about the little things, overweight, annoyed, sensitive, reactive, apathetic, humorless. 9-5ers you wear more than responsibilitys weight, your a family's provider, a mortgage payer, looking to gain so you can give. I wonder if your investing all this time, so hopefully, one day you can live. And I wonder- what's the alternative?