Day Twelve- "The Working Poor"

My mother told me, when I began my life as an independent woman, that I was the perfect example of the working poor. I asked her what she meant by this and she told me that no matter how hard you work and how much money you make, unless you set aside money you will always be living from pay check to pay check. I hate that she knew exactly where I was at in life.

My mother has always been a perceptive individual. As much as I hate to admit it, she's one of the three people who fully understands me. And I didn't want to admit that she was right. But... well.

I have never had more than a couple cents in my bank account when the first week after payday rolls around. I begin to get desperate: gas, food and other necessities become precious commodities and my ego plummets to my gut, proceeding to fall out my ass.

Yesterday was one of the worst days yet. My gas light turned on as I went to work. A. called me to pick him up from work, once I got home. In a desperate attempt to make it to A., I faked crocodile tears so a very large black man would spare $5.00 for gas. Once I picked him up, my summer tires began to loosen. I texted my best friend for someone besides A. to  talk to, but she didn't answer. Sunglasses did a poor job at hiding my tears of frustration and no matter how I tried to hide them, A. caught sight of them.

Once we got home, he made me tea and just held me. He proceeded to tell me how much he loved me and how we would keep each other afloat. I suppose he meant well. As much as I wished his words would bring me comfort, they made me feel even weaker. Staying afloat didn't sound stable to me. My life itself isn't stable I suppose.

I think at that point, I didn't even have to tell him my "crocodile tears" were 100% genuine.

When I got home that night, I walked past my roomate and her boyfriend, bid them goodnight and crawled under the covers, clothes and all. Cacooning myself in my sheets, I began to sob into my pillow. Why did everything bad have to happen at once?

Please, dear reader, don't mistake me.  I don't want you to think I ask for pity. And my situation may not even seem that bad to some of you that have gone through worse. A factor in all situations however is that sinking feeling of hopelessness.

What I do want to try and convey to you is that you are human. Shit happens. But no matter how frustrated you get, remember it could be worse. Surround yourself with people who love you. Drink some tea. Smoke a cigarette. Just let go, relax and keep your head up.

Or listen to Bob Marley ;)

Day Eleven- Routine

Routine is a word that can comfort one person and yet completely disrupt another.

 I like to think I straddle the line. I love coming home from work to relax for a period of time. Heading to the gym. Pushing a pencil. These are the things I like garunteed in my life.

And yet, I still love the adventures taken on pure whimsical fancies and spontaneous moments of life.

Last night, I was hanging out with my roomate and best friend, E. We were exhausted from a day of doing nothing all afternoon and our eyelids felt weighted down by anvils. Then I got a call. A. informed me he was on his way over. I glanced over at my laptop: 12:30. I had to work at 7am this morning. What could he possibly need at this time of night?

"You'll see," was all he said when I questioned  his motives.

Ten minutes dragged on. Tick by tick, I fidgeted awaiting my man. Finally, he rolled his old Ford into the driveway. As I buzzed him in and turned the corner to meet him, I saw a Safeway select pizza and a boquet of a dozen red long stemmed roses. I could feel the stupid grin spread across my face, but I made no attempt to supress it.

I could stay awake for this.

What makes this situation even better is in the first six months A. and I were dating, I bought him roses in an attempt to be romantically spontaneous and non-conformist. I left them on his door step with a love letter. He still has the dried roses.

For those of you who are convinced there is not one romantic bone in your body, please stop reading at this point.

But in all seriousness, I have never felt this way before. Waiting on pins and needles just to hear one word. One whisper from this person. You can't wait to see them even though you can count the hours you have been apart on one hand. Heart strings still get tugged, letting loose the butterflies that have been inhabiting your stomach from day one. And knowing that they feel the exact same way? It brings such a state of bittersweet bewilderment and assurance. It's a good feeling.

So, today dear reader,make time in your routines for love. It can't be planned so don't bother penciling it in. Just let it happen.
<3

Day Ten- Success

My wonderful roommate and best friend has proven to be a walking archives of useful information. Last night, just as the night was winding down, she gave me a packet that her boss had given her earlier that day.

"A lot of useful tips in there," she said.

The "packet" was four pages folded over to mimic a book. The title read: Secrets to Success. It spoke about self-motivation, positivity, and being a go-getter (except it sounded less archaic and cliche). It recommended setting goals for yourself and doing everything in your power to accomplish them because "your biggest asset and hindrance in success is yourself." So, here are my goals.

One year from now
1. Finish my book
2. Work for the University paper one more time
3. Save up enough money to get a place with A.
4. Go back to school
5. Make enough money not to worry about bills
6. Lose 25 lbs.
7. Be a better sister/girlfriend
8. Sky diving
9. Hot air balloon ride
10. Get another tattoo

5 years from now
1. Living with/Married to A.
2. Living in British Columbia
3. Backpack Europe (or at least Ireland)
4. Visit St. Paul's cathedral where Princess Di got married to Charles
5. Drink a Guinness in an Irish or German pub
6. Own a truck
7. Write a best seller or an erotic novel
8. Speak another language fluently
9. Teach piano lessons
10. Get another tattoo

Haha quite the to do list eh?

Anyway, dear reader, I want you to do what I just did, or at least get an idea of what you want to accomplish personally. Balance out personal goals with work goals and success will be biting at your heels. At least that's what the packet told me. And that's what I'm hoping for. So good luck! I'm off to work on my list....right after I finish my coffee....!

Day Nine- R.I.P

I am sick and tired of all your bullshit! Yes! America, I am talking to you! It has gone on long enough and frankly I feel the relationship died long before this, so if you look at it this way, I'm doing us a favor. There's just nothing left between us anymore (besides my annual PFD check).

But seriously, I am fed up with America. The cooperate business structure based on failing capitalism, president's set up to fail (thanks Congress), budget cuts, embezzlements, health care and racism...I could go on and on about all things (America )I hate but when it comes down to it, almost ANYWHERE is better than here.

If you're white and you're reading this, you're probably thinking to yourself, "Oh it's not that bad." I have some news for you. The American dream is dead and so is almost any chance we had at a decent future as a country. Our divided political powers are so preoccupied with matters that should have been closed ages ago, that they don't notice the corruption happening under their noses.

America is racist
America is facist
America claims monogamy
Promotes polygamy

Don't be deceived
Don't be pulled in
This country, tossed out
Garbage bin

As a close to my rant I ask you, the younger generation of America, to get involved in your country's affairs. Everyone else is screwing it up, but instead of just pointing fingers, let me use this as a wake up call to remind you that we are next on the chopping block. If we mess this up, we are no better than our current heads of state.

Otherwise, it's R.I.P. America

Day Eight- First Impressions

I am thankful that first impressions aren't always right. For instance, a new girl has recently joined the office forces of the reservation agent flank.

We'll call her S. S. and I went to high school together and although we never inhabited the same social circles, one was aware of the existence of the other. She hung out with the typical preps: always holding a coffee, American Eagle attire, that brown-slightly-tinged-orange skin, messy buns and manicured nails. I hung out with the drama/music geeks: always humming, over-expressive, loud and goofy. Needless to say, our circles rarely mixed. Pictures of her in her senior slide show outnumbered my pictures 10-1. So, what does any popular-but-not-popular-enough-to-really-matter girl do in that situation? Naturally, I grew to hate S. Guilty by association, that's what I said.

A couple years have passed and S. has crossed my path again. She was recently hired by the company that I work for and she was set to work along side me. I was hesitant at first, whether or not I could like her. After all, it was her group who exiled me to a life of slightly-less-than-popular. 'High school is in the past' I had to remind myself. With strained maturity, I began to talk to her. Her warm smile and easy going attitude were a complete surprise to me and when she asked me to hang out outside of work, my jaw nearly dropped.

High school is a fleeting blip in our lives, when examined with a realistic perspective. But for something that doesn't last, and something that really shouldn't matter to anyone, it never really ends. There is always that voice in the back of your head, feeding you everything self-conscience and negative. The social food chain is always there to remind us that no matter how we try to deny it, we will always have a sweaty-palmed teen inside of us. But in this situation, I saw S.'s relationship with me as progressive. Maybe they weren't all bad.

I am not the best human being. Maybe not even one of the better one's. And that's fine with me. But the fact that I was able to change my mind about someone I had once hated, increases the faith I have in myself as an individual. Just goes to show you, you don't always know as much as you think you do.

Day Seven: 4.20

Yes, ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, stoners of all ages, tomorrow comes the long awaited 4.20!

One day a year, American's unite to celebrate a common past time. Marijuana has been around since god knows when, but was brought to America for recreational use by Mexicans, who transported it across the boarder and into our lifestyles. Half of the memorable music we listen to is made by musicians under the influence. People are constantly coming up with excuses for substance abuse and to that I say: God bless America!

Medicinal purposes, relxation, remembering, forgetting, creative outlets, musical inspiration, peer pressure: there are so many reasons why people do it but the base reason is always the same: it's fun.

When asked which people preferred more, Californian residents claimed to enjoy marijuana more than they did alcohol. They said that while alcohol is fun occasionally, you lose more control of your inhabitions and it causes trouble, illness or addiction more often than not. When stoned, you're inhabitions are still lost to you occasionally, but you become to complacent to do anything about it.

Tomorrow, I wish you a happy 4.20 whether you smoke or not. Be happy, be merry, and remember that crack kills. Not pot :)

Day Six- Potential

When I went back to my old high school, I was approached by a younger classman of mine and he said "Oh it's so good to see someone who's gradutated doing so well for themselves!" I tried to suppress a smile because in Seward, it's hard not to see someone as "doing well". In my mind, I was doing anything but. My classes were dull, my grades were average, and my job at the time payed no where near what it should. I'm sure if someone were to see me now, they would say the same thing and yet I can't bring myself to agree with that.

I am not going to school as my parents hoped I would. I am not traveling, as I hoped I would. Disappointments to myself as well as my parents. Don't get me wrong, I am not doing too bad for myself. Reservation agent jobs pay more than people give them credit for and I am in the process of getting a book published. The best man I know is in love with me, and I with him. Plus, an airy two bedroom apartment with a fireplace and appliances for less than 500 a month is nothing short of ideal for a girl my age.

If I could be anywhere else in the world right now, I would be hitchiking the country roads of Ireland, selling my writings and poetry along the way for bread money. Drinking a Guiness with some washed up Irish sailors. Or maybe I'd find myself in Notre Dam, getting lost in the architecture and catacombs. I might raise some hell with the rebels in Egypt. But instead, I am in an office, left to dream of where I could be.

So, dear reader (whoever you are), remember the dreams you once had and incooperate them into the dreams you have conjured up lately. See if you can find a happy medium so you can meet your personal potential as a human being in general.