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.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
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.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
a brand new level of grouch
I had a few thoughts swimming around in my head. I am grouchy so I may not be properly converting the thoughts into words. At present I do not care.
I started working at Pier 1 and I smell like potpourri (gross) and am covered in glitter. I like it though, as much as one can like a job that pays $8 an hour. I like arranging pretty things on shelves and helping to make people's fine home furnishing dreams come to life.
I promised myself that I would be a nicer person now that I am in my thirties. I would not judge or hate people for being "less-than". Well, that did not last long. I (insert synonym for hate) my co-worker Fuchsia (names have been changed). She has an annoying accent. She talked about eyeing up customers to make sure they are not stealing, especially pregnant women (make sure they came in the store pregnant!). I offered her an olive branch of a witty comment and she ignored me. All bets are off, Fuchsia. Yes, you can be my work-arch-nemesis.
I am so busy holding myself together when I am alone that I am unable to cry. When talking to another person about the current state of my life right now I am pretty consistent with the waterworks. When I am alone I mainly blankly stare at the TV or sleep. I am a real barrell of laughs.
Someone mentioned that they might go as my blog for Halloween since it is so scary and depressing. I am strangely flattered, the way a sociopath might be flattered that people stop and stare at the trainwreck that is their life.
I started working at Pier 1 and I smell like potpourri (gross) and am covered in glitter. I like it though, as much as one can like a job that pays $8 an hour. I like arranging pretty things on shelves and helping to make people's fine home furnishing dreams come to life.
I promised myself that I would be a nicer person now that I am in my thirties. I would not judge or hate people for being "less-than". Well, that did not last long. I (insert synonym for hate) my co-worker Fuchsia (names have been changed). She has an annoying accent. She talked about eyeing up customers to make sure they are not stealing, especially pregnant women (make sure they came in the store pregnant!). I offered her an olive branch of a witty comment and she ignored me. All bets are off, Fuchsia. Yes, you can be my work-arch-nemesis.
I am so busy holding myself together when I am alone that I am unable to cry. When talking to another person about the current state of my life right now I am pretty consistent with the waterworks. When I am alone I mainly blankly stare at the TV or sleep. I am a real barrell of laughs.
Someone mentioned that they might go as my blog for Halloween since it is so scary and depressing. I am strangely flattered, the way a sociopath might be flattered that people stop and stare at the trainwreck that is their life.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Sweet sweet slumber
Jon officially moved out on Friday. I scheduled a day of fun activities away from the house so that I would not have to witness the move. I agreed to watch Sammich for a few days so that Jon could unpack his things in peace. Tonight I am delivering Sammich to Jon's new apartment (across the street from the Capital building and one block from his work) and we are exchanging goodbye gifts.
My mom and I took Spencer and Sammich to the dog park today. Sammich befriended a Great Dane, Spencer humped every dog that would let him and I befriended a woman about my age named Meghan. I suggested to my mom that maybe I would have a heterosexual life partnership with a woman since men are so tricky. She agreed that women are easier to understand and that she had read about women sharing lives together for the companionship without necessarily being lesbians.
I like the idea, although I am all talk. I have the energy for nothing beyond watching TV and occasionally showering right now. I usually manage the energy for one thing (for example: one job interview) and then need to go home and take a 4 hour nap. I look forward to the day when I feel more like myself again.
My mom and I took Spencer and Sammich to the dog park today. Sammich befriended a Great Dane, Spencer humped every dog that would let him and I befriended a woman about my age named Meghan. I suggested to my mom that maybe I would have a heterosexual life partnership with a woman since men are so tricky. She agreed that women are easier to understand and that she had read about women sharing lives together for the companionship without necessarily being lesbians.
I like the idea, although I am all talk. I have the energy for nothing beyond watching TV and occasionally showering right now. I usually manage the energy for one thing (for example: one job interview) and then need to go home and take a 4 hour nap. I look forward to the day when I feel more like myself again.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Hundred Year Old Heart
I have been in a relationship with Jon for two years (27 months, to be exact). We did all of the wonderful, mundane things that millions of people do when they are in love. We dated: movies, hikes, concerts, vacations. We were there for each other in difficult and joyous times: funerals, weddings, births. It has been over a year that we have shared a home in Elizabethtown, which is equi-distant from our two cities: Christmas decorations, weekend cooking projects, home improvements, puppy adoption. Next Friday he is moving back to Harrisburg. In five weeks I will move back to Lancaster.
Our romance breathed its last on Tuesday, September 7 shortly before midnight.
It is difficult to articulate the pain of a break-up to outside parties. Most people have been in painful break-ups of their own at one time or another, but the nature of a relationship is inherently personal.
Other people do not know the thousands of reasons why we loved one another.
In the end, specifics of both our love and the reasons for our break-up do not matter.
Our hearts are broken.
Our futures will not run parallel into infinity like we had hoped.
Fond memories of when our hopes were intertwined still linger in the air.
Our romance breathed its last on Tuesday, September 7 shortly before midnight.
It is difficult to articulate the pain of a break-up to outside parties. Most people have been in painful break-ups of their own at one time or another, but the nature of a relationship is inherently personal.
Other people do not know the thousands of reasons why we loved one another.
In the end, specifics of both our love and the reasons for our break-up do not matter.
Our hearts are broken.
Our futures will not run parallel into infinity like we had hoped.
Fond memories of when our hopes were intertwined still linger in the air.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Inspiration
A friend I have known for 12 years just told me that she had always dreamed of writing books. We have a close friendship (in my estimation) but I did not know that about her. Often so much of our interaction with others involves temporal matters and we do not talk about our hopes and desires for our life.
I just finished reading The Alchemist. My sister Bethany gave it to me as a gift like 5 years ago and I had never read it. A few weeks ago I piled all of the books I own that I have not read on my nightstand (there are like 20). Some I have started to read and never finished because they do not interest me. Others, like this one, I have just been putting off reading. Now that I am done with school I am going to read all of those books, even the ones I did not initially care for...no books left behind!
The Alchemist talks about how everyone has a Personal Legend that they must accomplish in order to have fulfilled their destiny. In the book children know what their Personal Legends are, what they dream of doing and becoming in their lifetimes. But throughout life other people and experiences tell them that those dreams are not possible and they wind up not fullfilling their life's purpose. Although this was technically fiction, I thought it was really thought-provoking.
Do you remember the dreams you had for your life as a child? Are you pursuing them? Have them come true? If not, did you let go of your dreams or just make new dreams?
I just finished reading The Alchemist. My sister Bethany gave it to me as a gift like 5 years ago and I had never read it. A few weeks ago I piled all of the books I own that I have not read on my nightstand (there are like 20). Some I have started to read and never finished because they do not interest me. Others, like this one, I have just been putting off reading. Now that I am done with school I am going to read all of those books, even the ones I did not initially care for...no books left behind!
The Alchemist talks about how everyone has a Personal Legend that they must accomplish in order to have fulfilled their destiny. In the book children know what their Personal Legends are, what they dream of doing and becoming in their lifetimes. But throughout life other people and experiences tell them that those dreams are not possible and they wind up not fullfilling their life's purpose. Although this was technically fiction, I thought it was really thought-provoking.
Do you remember the dreams you had for your life as a child? Are you pursuing them? Have them come true? If not, did you let go of your dreams or just make new dreams?
Monday, June 7, 2010
Dog Days of (late Spring)
I have not written here in months because my last semester at school was quite the ordeal. I kept rescheduling appointments and postponing hanging out with friends until I finally vowed to just catch up on my real life after I graduated. I have never been that busy, stressed and tired for such a long period of time before and I hope to never be again. I would fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. But as of May 8 I earned my bachelor's degree in Speech Communication. As soon as I find that pesky library book I will receive my diploma in the mail.
In March I gave Jon a puppy as an early birthday present. After an online poll among his friends he named the 7 week old pug (with 1/8 Jack Russell in him for funsies) Sammich, also known as Glen or more formally, (the) Sammich. He initially did not sleep through the night (horrible), loves to bite our faces and chew our shoes. He is wonderful.
Although Sammich was Jon's gift, it was also a gift to Spencer: he was lonely. He was spending long hours alone sleeping in the middle of Jon's pillow and even preferred to be up there alone when we were home. We thought a little brother would cheer him up. For the past three months Sammich has been biting his face and jumping onto his back from his puppy perch on Jon's lap. Although Spencer still spends a lot of time hiding out in our bedroom, now it is because he is hiding from curious, teething little Sammich.
When we take them on walks, Sammich smells everything Spencer smells. He will even put his face into Spencer's pee because he wants that badly to be a part of whatever Spencer is doing (believe me we have tried to stop this; and yes, it has happened more times than I can count). He barks when Spencer barks but just sits down to watch when Spencer tries (unsuccessfully) to chase a bunny. (The) Sammich has no need for such activities. Partly because he loves all creatures and partly because he is already panting from the exertion of the walk down the block.
Spencer has been coughing for about 24 hours. I am worried about him but do not want to take him to the vet yet for a number of reasons: 1. My job is unpaid for the next few months and I need to make my cash stretch MUCH longer than it usually does; 2. He had a similar cough last summer and Jon and I rushed him to the doggy ER and I paid $100 to learn that Spencer had something in his throat. Cough away, Spencer.
I Googled doggy cough remedies and read about a hundred horrible things that the cough could be a symptom of. But none that really matched his situation. Hang in there, Sir Spencer Rooney! Mommy loves you very much but is too poor to take you to the doctor if you are going to eventually dislodge whatever foreign body is in your throat. Perhaps I will take you to the doggy psychic and she will tell me where it hurts.
In March I gave Jon a puppy as an early birthday present. After an online poll among his friends he named the 7 week old pug (with 1/8 Jack Russell in him for funsies) Sammich, also known as Glen or more formally, (the) Sammich. He initially did not sleep through the night (horrible), loves to bite our faces and chew our shoes. He is wonderful.
Although Sammich was Jon's gift, it was also a gift to Spencer: he was lonely. He was spending long hours alone sleeping in the middle of Jon's pillow and even preferred to be up there alone when we were home. We thought a little brother would cheer him up. For the past three months Sammich has been biting his face and jumping onto his back from his puppy perch on Jon's lap. Although Spencer still spends a lot of time hiding out in our bedroom, now it is because he is hiding from curious, teething little Sammich.
When we take them on walks, Sammich smells everything Spencer smells. He will even put his face into Spencer's pee because he wants that badly to be a part of whatever Spencer is doing (believe me we have tried to stop this; and yes, it has happened more times than I can count). He barks when Spencer barks but just sits down to watch when Spencer tries (unsuccessfully) to chase a bunny. (The) Sammich has no need for such activities. Partly because he loves all creatures and partly because he is already panting from the exertion of the walk down the block.
Spencer has been coughing for about 24 hours. I am worried about him but do not want to take him to the vet yet for a number of reasons: 1. My job is unpaid for the next few months and I need to make my cash stretch MUCH longer than it usually does; 2. He had a similar cough last summer and Jon and I rushed him to the doggy ER and I paid $100 to learn that Spencer had something in his throat. Cough away, Spencer.
I Googled doggy cough remedies and read about a hundred horrible things that the cough could be a symptom of. But none that really matched his situation. Hang in there, Sir Spencer Rooney! Mommy loves you very much but is too poor to take you to the doctor if you are going to eventually dislodge whatever foreign body is in your throat. Perhaps I will take you to the doggy psychic and she will tell me where it hurts.
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