I started this little blog 3 years ago feeling very focused and thinking that I would be propelled into a successful career upon college graduation. I thought that I had spent years wasting time and being "unsuccessful." Huh. Am I back to wasting time? Or are some years just more difficult than others? It is easy to look back and say something was wrong when you are feeling right.
When I am in a relationship I pity people that have been single for a long time. When I am thin(ner) I wonder how the hell I could have ever let myself go...wonder why I was eating like shit and not exercising enough. When I have money, I forget just how stressful it is to not have money. Goddamn I can be a self-righteous ass.
I quit my job as a customer service supervisor 2 months ago and have been waiting tables (more money, flexible schedule, less responsibility) in the interim while I decide on my next step. I have been thinking about grad school. I have been thinking about barber school or beauty school. I have been thinking about moving to NYC or Philly or DC. I have been feeling frustrated and depressed because what I wanted was to find a job using my degree in Lancaster. That has not happened.
I just watched the movie Limitless where this dude in a depressed slump takes a drug and is able to fully reach his potential. His "before" life totally looks like mine does now. What do I need to do to fully reach MY potential?
Or is that the wrong question? Should I instead try harder to be content with the life that I do have? Is this me being ungrateful and thinking that there is something wrong with my nice life?
What am I missing?
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Occupied Thoughts
I have been following the Occupy Wall Street movement and began to get involved a little bit with the local chapter, Occupy Lancaster. The outcry is necessary. The 99% are tired of the pipe dream that if they would only work harder, pull themselves up by those fucking bootstraps, then they too can have it all.
Here are some statistics for why I feel so strongly about this movement:
51.4% of Americans will live under the poverty line at least once before the age of 65.
15.4% of Americans are under the poverty line right now.
$10,800 is considered the poverty line for individuals.
$22.400 is the poverty line for a family of four.
14.5% of US households struggle to put food on the table.
9.8% of households with children struggle with food security.
1% of households with children (400,000 households) do not have enough to eat: "the most severe food-insecure condition measured by USDA, very low food security, in which meals were irregular and food intake was below levels considered adequate by caregivers (Coleman-Jensen 2011, p. vi)."
A few years ago when the economy really started to tank I read an article talking about the increase in what the press coined the "economic homeless." This was meant to distinguish from the homeless that have severe mental illness and other "regular" homeless people. People that had owned homes, dental plans, 20 year careers that were laid off and left to rot, losing it all and having no where to go. Although I understand "economic homeless" distinction for the purposes of explaining the sudden increase in homelessness, I think it is more helpful to lose the distinctions of "us" and "them," and realize that these days all of us are just a few thin safety nets away from being a part of that statistic.
Did you know.....
25% of people that are homeless have severe mental illness. The first signs of mental illness are often exbited in early adulthood.
6% of the US population has severe mental illness.
My use of these statistics is not meant to draw any lines of separation but to demonstrate the range, breadth and proximity of the various human conditions.
Did you know that there are homeless kids in their late teens, 20's and 30's that live in Lancaster, our little city? The men and women that have told me their stories of how they became homeless have ordinary coming-of-age stories: high school graduation, college, jobs, apartments, car payments, trips to Europe. And then they got kicked in the teeth by the economy and did not have a net.
I have spent the past year feeling sorry for myself that things have been pretty difficult economically and that I have not been able to find a job that utilizes my college degree. I occasionally think about what I would do if one or two more things go wrong and I find myself with no means to pay my bills and no home as a result. But I do have a safety net: Mary and Dominic, my parents. They would never let me go hungry and I know that I am always welcome to move back home with them.
If the Occupy movements do not succeed in changing the ways the 1% get to do what they want, elect their own politicians, lobby their own causes, write their own tax breaks, etc I think that the movement will not have been in vain. It has shown us that times are hard for everyone. That we need to be there for one another. That we do not need to be embarrassed that we are having a hard time because our neighbors, friends and families are having a hard time too. I think that it is establishing a community of people that will act as one another's safety net.
You are hungry? I have bread.
You are cold? Please have my extra coat.
You are tired? Me too.
Regina Spektor "Laughing With"
No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one’s laughing at God
When they’re starving or freezing or so very poor
No one laughs at God
When the doctor calls after some routine tests
No one’s laughing at God
When it’s gotten real late
And their kid’s not back from the party yet
No one laughs at God
When their airplane start to uncontrollably shake
No one’s laughing at God
When they see the one they love, hand in hand with someone else
And they hope that they’re mistaken
No one laughs at God
When the cops knock on their door
And they say we got some bad news, sir
No one’s laughing at God
When there’s a famine or fire or flood
*Chorus*
But God can be funny
At a cocktail party when listening to a good God-themed joke, or
Or when the crazies say He hates us
And they get so red in the head you think they’re ‘bout to choke
God can be funny,
When told he’ll give you money if you just pray the right way
And when presented like a genie who does magic like Houdini
Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket and Santa Claus
God can be so hilarious
Ha ha
Ha ha
No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one’s laughing at God
When they’ve lost all they’ve got
And they don’t know what for
No one laughs at God on the day they realize
That the last sight they’ll ever see is a pair of hateful eyes
No one’s laughing at God when they’re saying their goodbyes
But God can be funny
At a cocktail party when listening to a good God-themed joke, or
Or when the crazies say He hates us
And they get so red in the head you think they’re ‘bout to choke
God can be funny,
When told he’ll give you money if you just pray the right way
And when presented like a genie who does magic like Houdini
Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket and Santa Claus
God can be so hilarious
No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one laughing at God in hospital
No one’s laughing at God in a war
No one’s laughing at God when they’re starving or freezing or so very
poor
No one’s laughing at God
No one’s laughing at God
No one’s laughing at God
We’re all laughing with God
Here are some statistics for why I feel so strongly about this movement:
51.4% of Americans will live under the poverty line at least once before the age of 65.
15.4% of Americans are under the poverty line right now.
$10,800 is considered the poverty line for individuals.
$22.400 is the poverty line for a family of four.
14.5% of US households struggle to put food on the table.
9.8% of households with children struggle with food security.
1% of households with children (400,000 households) do not have enough to eat: "the most severe food-insecure condition measured by USDA, very low food security, in which meals were irregular and food intake was below levels considered adequate by caregivers (Coleman-Jensen 2011, p. vi)."
A few years ago when the economy really started to tank I read an article talking about the increase in what the press coined the "economic homeless." This was meant to distinguish from the homeless that have severe mental illness and other "regular" homeless people. People that had owned homes, dental plans, 20 year careers that were laid off and left to rot, losing it all and having no where to go. Although I understand "economic homeless" distinction for the purposes of explaining the sudden increase in homelessness, I think it is more helpful to lose the distinctions of "us" and "them," and realize that these days all of us are just a few thin safety nets away from being a part of that statistic.
Did you know.....
25% of people that are homeless have severe mental illness. The first signs of mental illness are often exbited in early adulthood.
6% of the US population has severe mental illness.
My use of these statistics is not meant to draw any lines of separation but to demonstrate the range, breadth and proximity of the various human conditions.
Did you know that there are homeless kids in their late teens, 20's and 30's that live in Lancaster, our little city? The men and women that have told me their stories of how they became homeless have ordinary coming-of-age stories: high school graduation, college, jobs, apartments, car payments, trips to Europe. And then they got kicked in the teeth by the economy and did not have a net.
I have spent the past year feeling sorry for myself that things have been pretty difficult economically and that I have not been able to find a job that utilizes my college degree. I occasionally think about what I would do if one or two more things go wrong and I find myself with no means to pay my bills and no home as a result. But I do have a safety net: Mary and Dominic, my parents. They would never let me go hungry and I know that I am always welcome to move back home with them.
If the Occupy movements do not succeed in changing the ways the 1% get to do what they want, elect their own politicians, lobby their own causes, write their own tax breaks, etc I think that the movement will not have been in vain. It has shown us that times are hard for everyone. That we need to be there for one another. That we do not need to be embarrassed that we are having a hard time because our neighbors, friends and families are having a hard time too. I think that it is establishing a community of people that will act as one another's safety net.
You are hungry? I have bread.
You are cold? Please have my extra coat.
You are tired? Me too.
Regina Spektor "Laughing With"
No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one’s laughing at God
When they’re starving or freezing or so very poor
No one laughs at God
When the doctor calls after some routine tests
No one’s laughing at God
When it’s gotten real late
And their kid’s not back from the party yet
No one laughs at God
When their airplane start to uncontrollably shake
No one’s laughing at God
When they see the one they love, hand in hand with someone else
And they hope that they’re mistaken
No one laughs at God
When the cops knock on their door
And they say we got some bad news, sir
No one’s laughing at God
When there’s a famine or fire or flood
*Chorus*
But God can be funny
At a cocktail party when listening to a good God-themed joke, or
Or when the crazies say He hates us
And they get so red in the head you think they’re ‘bout to choke
God can be funny,
When told he’ll give you money if you just pray the right way
And when presented like a genie who does magic like Houdini
Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket and Santa Claus
God can be so hilarious
Ha ha
Ha ha
No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one’s laughing at God
When they’ve lost all they’ve got
And they don’t know what for
No one laughs at God on the day they realize
That the last sight they’ll ever see is a pair of hateful eyes
No one’s laughing at God when they’re saying their goodbyes
But God can be funny
At a cocktail party when listening to a good God-themed joke, or
Or when the crazies say He hates us
And they get so red in the head you think they’re ‘bout to choke
God can be funny,
When told he’ll give you money if you just pray the right way
And when presented like a genie who does magic like Houdini
Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket and Santa Claus
God can be so hilarious
No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one laughing at God in hospital
No one’s laughing at God in a war
No one’s laughing at God when they’re starving or freezing or so very
poor
No one’s laughing at God
No one’s laughing at God
No one’s laughing at God
We’re all laughing with God
Monday, October 3, 2011
Oh recession, you scamp
I quit my job. Too much stress. Too crappy of a schedule. Too little money.
Going to start working at Chili's again.
Not sure where to go from here.
Grad school?
Move to a bigger city?
Civil service tests?
Run away?
A lot of wheel spinning is going on....
Going to start working at Chili's again.
Not sure where to go from here.
Grad school?
Move to a bigger city?
Civil service tests?
Run away?
A lot of wheel spinning is going on....
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Aunts Club
Six weeks ago my sister Bethany visited for 5 days. She lives in Chicago and I had not seen her in a year. I picked her up from the airport and 10 minutes into the drive home it felt like our spirits synced up again. Here's to a lifetime of being there for one another (you too, Ben & Lauren).
Growing up Beth & I were only 2 grades apart and often shared (and occasionally feuded over) friends. As adults this is still true (we no longer feud over ladies we love...we share so nicely, Mom). Two days into her visit we were out with a group of girlfriends at Lancaster Dispensing Company. After a few stories were told about nieces and nephews we realized every woman at the table was a proud aunt and that none of us were mothers. We laughed about this, took a few pictures and dubbed the group Aunts Club.
One month later I am still thinking about that night. Two things stand out. The first is the obvious one: being an aunt is awesome. When I moved back to Lancaster 4.5 years ago Orla was 3 years old and Kara was 8 months pregnant with Naftali. In such a short amount of time Orla has blossomed from an adorable, chubby toddler to a big girl who just finished first grade and is so smart and athletic and beautiful. Naftali is imaginative and stubborn. He figures things out and has amazing coordination. Newest edition Ursa Honey is a perfect delight. Her laugh, her faltering steps, her delight at the world...Le Sigh. Aunthood. Thanks, Ben & Kara.
The second thing: this community of women with whom I share fun and fears, heartbreak and hijinks, love and loss. And amazing alliteration. I love them for their individuality and desire for authenticity. I share in their desire to follow their bliss rather than subscribe to a societal ideal.
I am honored to partake in this community of women with generous, rich, textured lives. We make time for one another. We get each other birthday presents. We talk about books we have read and political issues we care about. We pore over Vogue and shop at thrift stores. We help one another move and support each other's causes. We accept flaws and praise strengths.
I look forward to the long lives our friendships will have. I look forward to sharing in the various stages of my life with my fellow Aunts Club members. My heart is full.
Growing up Beth & I were only 2 grades apart and often shared (and occasionally feuded over) friends. As adults this is still true (we no longer feud over ladies we love...we share so nicely, Mom). Two days into her visit we were out with a group of girlfriends at Lancaster Dispensing Company. After a few stories were told about nieces and nephews we realized every woman at the table was a proud aunt and that none of us were mothers. We laughed about this, took a few pictures and dubbed the group Aunts Club.
One month later I am still thinking about that night. Two things stand out. The first is the obvious one: being an aunt is awesome. When I moved back to Lancaster 4.5 years ago Orla was 3 years old and Kara was 8 months pregnant with Naftali. In such a short amount of time Orla has blossomed from an adorable, chubby toddler to a big girl who just finished first grade and is so smart and athletic and beautiful. Naftali is imaginative and stubborn. He figures things out and has amazing coordination. Newest edition Ursa Honey is a perfect delight. Her laugh, her faltering steps, her delight at the world...Le Sigh. Aunthood. Thanks, Ben & Kara.
The second thing: this community of women with whom I share fun and fears, heartbreak and hijinks, love and loss. And amazing alliteration. I love them for their individuality and desire for authenticity. I share in their desire to follow their bliss rather than subscribe to a societal ideal.
I am honored to partake in this community of women with generous, rich, textured lives. We make time for one another. We get each other birthday presents. We talk about books we have read and political issues we care about. We pore over Vogue and shop at thrift stores. We help one another move and support each other's causes. We accept flaws and praise strengths.
I look forward to the long lives our friendships will have. I look forward to sharing in the various stages of my life with my fellow Aunts Club members. My heart is full.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Really, Regina?
I overslept Monday and was an hour late for work. I wish the world would just be ok with the face that Regina does not always wake up to her alarm and will sometimes be outrageously late.
I work ALL of the hours the other supervisors at my job do not want to work: evenings and weekends. So in many ways I kind of feel like my occassional tardiness is nothing compared to me spending every weekend sitting at work while they get to have normal weekends.
It does not help matters that I do not get paid a living wage. What kind of an incentive is that for a timely arrival at work? I guess the incentive is implied, ie: get to work on time or stop receiving any kind of paycheck, even a crappy one.
I bought a new laptop Monday after work. My reasoning being that I cannot be expected to find a better job if I am searching on a computer that does not always work. Hopefully this will really motivate the old job search rather than just get me hooked on watching youtube videos all summer. Fingers crossed.
I work ALL of the hours the other supervisors at my job do not want to work: evenings and weekends. So in many ways I kind of feel like my occassional tardiness is nothing compared to me spending every weekend sitting at work while they get to have normal weekends.
It does not help matters that I do not get paid a living wage. What kind of an incentive is that for a timely arrival at work? I guess the incentive is implied, ie: get to work on time or stop receiving any kind of paycheck, even a crappy one.
I bought a new laptop Monday after work. My reasoning being that I cannot be expected to find a better job if I am searching on a computer that does not always work. Hopefully this will really motivate the old job search rather than just get me hooked on watching youtube videos all summer. Fingers crossed.
Friday, May 13, 2011
The Perils of Online Dating
I have been single since last September. I have been enrolled in 1 or 2 dating websites since October. I love to meet new people and kind of love first dates. I have zero expectations. If it goes well, then I have a potential love interest or a new friend. If it goes horribly I have fodder for excellent stories with which I entertain my friends.
A few days ago I messaged a guy to check out my profile and write back if he was interested. He did and we messaged a few times. Wednesday night I gave him my phone number and yesterday he contacted me. I have documented our communication as a cautionary tale to any who care to read:
10:10 am I missed a call from the guy, Jeff. He left a long message apologizing if he had left me any rude messages the night before. He had not....
10:50 am I text him: Hi. Sorry I missed ur call. I did not receive any other communication from you yesterday so you are in the clear.
I then left to go to work until 9 pm and forgot to take my phone with me.
11:55 am He texts me: I like what I hear.
4:30 pm He texts me: Hey, I'm free Saturday now anytime. Do you think you could do something? :) I'll call you later.
4:31 pm He texts me: Had plans with someone for a first date meeting an hour and a half away. On second thought, nah. ..So I canceled.
5:48 pm He texts me: Alrighty maybe I shouldn't call later since you're not responding. I thought it was a good gesture to cancel plans to be with you. I'm a dork obviously.
6:00 pm He called and left a normal sounding voicemail that he wanted to call me before he went out to dinner with friends.
6:39 pm He texts me: Makes me pretty upset when a girl says call me and misses it and apologizes via text and doesn't answer subsequent calls but another to make someone feel like you're playing mind games. So I'm not available on Saturday anymore. Peace.
9:40 pm I leave him a message saying that I had left my phone at home while I was at work and that I did not think he had reason to get upset since we have never met.
10:03 pm I Text him: As my vm explains, I left my phone at home and was at work. I think you overreacted- we do not know each other.
11:06 pm He texts me: Ok, I'm impatient sometimes. It overcomes any common sense I have and I figured you were at work or something. Still awake?
11:07 pm I text: Yes
11:10 pm He tries to call me but my phone does not ring.
11:11 pm He texts: I can't text marathon. I don't like it. But we can talk another time since you are not available again evidently. Lol.
11:12 pm You're right. We don't know each other, so call me back if you want- I'll be up for a bit.
11:12 pm I call and we talk for a few minutes. He had apologized for jumping to conclusions but I still felt cautious. I did agree to meet him on Tuesday. When he asked why I did not sound excited and got upset when I did not have a response that suited his idea of what I should say. There were too many red flags so I canceled the date. He hung up on me.
The rest of this communication if from him, I did not respond at all. Caution: strong language.
11:30 pm Jesus Christ someone has a fucking temper on her...why would I be excited to go on a date with someone who sounds like a fucking bitch? Ooooh, she agreed to meet...
11:31 pm I'm all fucking excited while you sound like a bitch on the phone. Why don't you try sounding happy, or like you could give a shit instead of uh huhs as responses.
11:32 pm I'm so sick of bitches like you. I bet you think you could fight a man too because you're tough. And probably think "I don't need a man" either. Well fuck you.
11:33 pm Why don't you lighten the fuck up and stop being a combative cunt like you were in your first email to me. "Tell me more" you say! Ha ha fuck you bitch, see ya.
11:34 pm You have that fucking tone of voice because of men who treat you like the fucking cunt you are. It's all your fault, why don't you try harder to act NICE and maybe you wouldn't be single dating fucking SCUM!
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Fuck that shit
I finally commited to being a vegetarian 3 weeks ago. I was doing great. Today I was watching my brother's kids and fed them their dinner. I ate with them and one hour later remembered that vegetarians do not eat hot dogs, even organic ones on whole wheat buns. FTS.
Among other things, I am still sad and feel angsty about the events of September 2010. FTS.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Cue Death Cab for Cutie
Last week Jon Crum got engaged to his girlfriend of three months.
In fall of 2008 I read an article that said women want to marry the right man and conversely men want to marry the woman they are with when they feel it is the right time for them to get married.
Although I cannot quite manage to be overjoyed that he has found the One, I also do not wish it was me which gives my little heart a break. I have managed to be congratulatory. Look at me...
In other news, I saw crocuses blooming yesterday. I had yesterday off and it rained the entire day. The rain beat against the windows and washed the last of the snow away. Cleansing. I am looking forward.
In fall of 2008 I read an article that said women want to marry the right man and conversely men want to marry the woman they are with when they feel it is the right time for them to get married.
Although I cannot quite manage to be overjoyed that he has found the One, I also do not wish it was me which gives my little heart a break. I have managed to be congratulatory. Look at me...
In other news, I saw crocuses blooming yesterday. I had yesterday off and it rained the entire day. The rain beat against the windows and washed the last of the snow away. Cleansing. I am looking forward.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Two Beers
I have had a love/hate relationship with winter ever since I moved back to Lancaster 4 years ago.
Winter is exponentially improved if you have a good coat that you love, which I got last year. Previous years I had a combination of warm coats I hated, vintage down vests that stank of wet feathers, cute coats that were not warm and an overabundance of sweatshirts left over from when I lived in Texas and a sweatshirt was all you really needed for the cold.
Last winter we got an enormous amount of snow but I was content to nest: cooking delicious dish after dish.
This year I had to shovel the intersection of Spruce and Pine streets in Lancaster since I knew that a plow would never make it down Spruce. I was content with the work. The sore arms reminded me of the work associated with winter but also the satisfaction of it. While shoveling I warmed to the task, forced to be outside. I looked around and watched the fat flakes drift lazily down from the sky. I was content. Content with my life and content with this winter, for all its inconveniences.
Tonight I was invited to the soft opening of a bar. I arrived after they had closed but was given a free beer. Combined with my empty stomach, the strong beer made me feel warm and cozy. At home I drank the last of the Pabst Blue Ribbon's I had in my minifridge. I feel completely satisfied. As the freezing rain pours out of the sky, covering the streets outside, I am content.
Winter is exponentially improved if you have a good coat that you love, which I got last year. Previous years I had a combination of warm coats I hated, vintage down vests that stank of wet feathers, cute coats that were not warm and an overabundance of sweatshirts left over from when I lived in Texas and a sweatshirt was all you really needed for the cold.
Last winter we got an enormous amount of snow but I was content to nest: cooking delicious dish after dish.
This year I had to shovel the intersection of Spruce and Pine streets in Lancaster since I knew that a plow would never make it down Spruce. I was content with the work. The sore arms reminded me of the work associated with winter but also the satisfaction of it. While shoveling I warmed to the task, forced to be outside. I looked around and watched the fat flakes drift lazily down from the sky. I was content. Content with my life and content with this winter, for all its inconveniences.
Tonight I was invited to the soft opening of a bar. I arrived after they had closed but was given a free beer. Combined with my empty stomach, the strong beer made me feel warm and cozy. At home I drank the last of the Pabst Blue Ribbon's I had in my minifridge. I feel completely satisfied. As the freezing rain pours out of the sky, covering the streets outside, I am content.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Work A Day World
In my last year at Millersville I took two classes that I find myself thinking about as a work my two little jobs and remain well under the poverty line: Comm 401 with Dr. Greg Seigworth and Existential Literature with Dr. Ian Carballo.
In Comm 401 we read books, essays and had discussions about consumerism, capitalism and the idea of work. While taking this class I was also reading a CrimeThink books called Days of War Nights of Love, which raged against today's consumerist ideals. In Existential Literature we sought authenticity and encountered literature that (though not specifically existentialist) dealt with the work-a-day world: it is winter, how will I heat my house? what will I eat? how long will it take me to travel to work? if my car is out of gas, how will I get to work? These are all mundane questions, but they are authentic. These are the questions that have been constantly on my mind since I have been working 40 hours a week at an average of $8.75 an hour. I am one of the working poor.
When the economy started tanking several years ago, then-President Bush encouraged everyone to keep shopping to bolster the economy. But those that work in retail and similar fields, service industries that are capable of keeping our economy afloat, do not have retirement plans. Or health insurance. Or vacation or sick days. Making $15,000 a year they will never (or perhaps should never) own a home or be able to retire.
I know that I am merely visiting this place in my life and that I will soon be able to get a better job (knock on particle-board). But there are so many people that are scratching away at life's surface, trying to pull themselves up by their fucking bootstraps only to be given another bill that they will struggle to pay.
Oh look: $10 parking ticket received while checking email at the library because I cannot afford the internet. $40 to fill my tank with gas. One movie ticket is now $9.75. My credit card interest rate is 23.99% so the $5000 I have to pay off due to paying my rent and other bills with it while working my third unpaid internship will take me five years at the rate I am going.
Bitch bitch bitch. Boo hoo. Being broke is boring.
Dr. Rita Smith Wade-El taught a psychology class I was in where we talked about what it would take for a person to change their society. She said that big changes are usually made by people who are independently wealthy.
It is hard to start a revolution when you are worrying about having enough food to eat.
In Comm 401 we read books, essays and had discussions about consumerism, capitalism and the idea of work. While taking this class I was also reading a CrimeThink books called Days of War Nights of Love, which raged against today's consumerist ideals. In Existential Literature we sought authenticity and encountered literature that (though not specifically existentialist) dealt with the work-a-day world: it is winter, how will I heat my house? what will I eat? how long will it take me to travel to work? if my car is out of gas, how will I get to work? These are all mundane questions, but they are authentic. These are the questions that have been constantly on my mind since I have been working 40 hours a week at an average of $8.75 an hour. I am one of the working poor.
When the economy started tanking several years ago, then-President Bush encouraged everyone to keep shopping to bolster the economy. But those that work in retail and similar fields, service industries that are capable of keeping our economy afloat, do not have retirement plans. Or health insurance. Or vacation or sick days. Making $15,000 a year they will never (or perhaps should never) own a home or be able to retire.
I know that I am merely visiting this place in my life and that I will soon be able to get a better job (knock on particle-board). But there are so many people that are scratching away at life's surface, trying to pull themselves up by their fucking bootstraps only to be given another bill that they will struggle to pay.
Oh look: $10 parking ticket received while checking email at the library because I cannot afford the internet. $40 to fill my tank with gas. One movie ticket is now $9.75. My credit card interest rate is 23.99% so the $5000 I have to pay off due to paying my rent and other bills with it while working my third unpaid internship will take me five years at the rate I am going.
Bitch bitch bitch. Boo hoo. Being broke is boring.
Dr. Rita Smith Wade-El taught a psychology class I was in where we talked about what it would take for a person to change their society. She said that big changes are usually made by people who are independently wealthy.
It is hard to start a revolution when you are worrying about having enough food to eat.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Baby it's cold outside
I am at my brothers house soaking up the delicious warmth of the internet. It is nice to be online stalking people, checking my pitiful bank statements and selling my belongings online.
I recently sold a necklace I had received as a gift 11 years ago. I got $14 for it and have been wrestling with that significance. On the one hand the necklace does not do me any good if I can't put gas in my car. One the other hand, it was a meaningful gift and $14 comes and goes with no meaning at all.
I am also thinking of cashing in my quarters. I have been collecting the state quarters since they started coming out like 10 years ago. I have tried to get 2 from each state: one from the Denver mint and one from the Philly mint. I think the value is less than $30, so again- would it really make a difference in my life right now? But does my little collection (still missing about 8 quarters) mean anything at all if I can't pay my rent?
My roommate Erika, experiencing a similar season, quipped that this is the winter of our discontent. For Christmas I got her fingerless gloves because we were talking about how things feel so post-apocalyptic right now (yes, we are dramatic little women). But in many ways I am content. Anxious and getting gray hair but not entirely discontented.
I live on the third floor of one of Lancaster's townhouses, complete with crooked windy stairs and a ceiling that slants. It is a darling design if you need the room for storage or for a sewing room. But since this is the room that is my entire home, I find it tedious and poetic at the same time. I spend more time thinking about how I will maximize the space in this room than I have ever spent thinking about any home I have ever lived in. Everything has to be just so.
To make the diagonal walls work for me, I pushed my bed into a corner facing the wall. On the back side of my headboard is my couch and a few feet away in another corner, my TV. I was proud of this feat since it gives the illusion of two separate living spaces. Plus I have never had a TV in my bedroom and did not want to start. I firmly believe that a TV in the bedroom is bad for your sleep. I have enough problems. I do not need to add troubled sleep to the list right behind TV addict.
A small window is visible when I am laying in bed. I can see rooftops and some wires but primarily I see the sky. It is comforting and makes me feel hopeful.
I recently sold a necklace I had received as a gift 11 years ago. I got $14 for it and have been wrestling with that significance. On the one hand the necklace does not do me any good if I can't put gas in my car. One the other hand, it was a meaningful gift and $14 comes and goes with no meaning at all.
I am also thinking of cashing in my quarters. I have been collecting the state quarters since they started coming out like 10 years ago. I have tried to get 2 from each state: one from the Denver mint and one from the Philly mint. I think the value is less than $30, so again- would it really make a difference in my life right now? But does my little collection (still missing about 8 quarters) mean anything at all if I can't pay my rent?
My roommate Erika, experiencing a similar season, quipped that this is the winter of our discontent. For Christmas I got her fingerless gloves because we were talking about how things feel so post-apocalyptic right now (yes, we are dramatic little women). But in many ways I am content. Anxious and getting gray hair but not entirely discontented.
I live on the third floor of one of Lancaster's townhouses, complete with crooked windy stairs and a ceiling that slants. It is a darling design if you need the room for storage or for a sewing room. But since this is the room that is my entire home, I find it tedious and poetic at the same time. I spend more time thinking about how I will maximize the space in this room than I have ever spent thinking about any home I have ever lived in. Everything has to be just so.
To make the diagonal walls work for me, I pushed my bed into a corner facing the wall. On the back side of my headboard is my couch and a few feet away in another corner, my TV. I was proud of this feat since it gives the illusion of two separate living spaces. Plus I have never had a TV in my bedroom and did not want to start. I firmly believe that a TV in the bedroom is bad for your sleep. I have enough problems. I do not need to add troubled sleep to the list right behind TV addict.
A small window is visible when I am laying in bed. I can see rooftops and some wires but primarily I see the sky. It is comforting and makes me feel hopeful.
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