(no subject)
i've been coming and staring at the post page for the past few days now, and it's finally time for me to just sit down and write, even if this is going to be the most disorganized piece of ... thinking? stream-of-consciousness writing?
whatever.
in the past, i've had boys who didn't agree with me writing about them here (most vocally cmkill) because it seemed biased... that i wrote here only when things were going poorly. i think in general this is true; that human beings in general tend to be pushed to creative expression a lot more easily by the darker aspects of our nature. that writing is cathartic and we don't need or particularly want catharsis when we feel good.
i've determined not to tell boys about this because of this fact. i also know that many times when i come here to write, i come here to vent, because i can't go around throwing things in real life (though i hear tell that in greece? or some mediterranean country you can ask people for chipped or unwanted dinnerware, and go throw it at a wall, and this is an acceptable means of diffusing one's anger or frustration or whatnot) and so my words tend to be engorged with a sense of urgency more intense than is true pretty much once i've finished writing (it's like a cool down through words).
that's not the case now, so i do my absolute best to present things as fairly as i can, reserving the right that, in the end, this is my journal. if it pleases you not to hear/read my perspective on things, don't. much easier said than done, i know. like fruit flies to vinegar, words you've heard rumors of are so much more enticing than the safe option of ignorance.
about two months ago, minus a few days, i moved down to SJ. i know, it seems like it's been much longer. i arrived in the middle of the week, gave myself that week to unpack and settle in before trying to find myself a job.
the next week, i hooked up with a temp agency, which so far has been the laziest i've ever been with, and got to realize how much i would be walking due to my new location near absolutely nothing.
weeks have passed in kind of a slow haze, with me more or less becoming frustrated with my lack of employment and lack of ability to do much of anything. of course, right when i was getting to that point of breaking, my parents gave me money. curses. so i sat on my ass for another few weeks until, now, that too is starting to look like pennies.
the problem being, things here are expensive. see, my medication: aprox $100 w/o insurance in oregon, aprox. $200 w/o insurance in california. wonderful. i gave up my depression meds, which has made the last four weeks interesting to say the least. if nothing else, i'm much more aware of how much they really did help take the edge off of my everyday inability to cope with things.
i tell myself this will all get better with a job, but a job requires me to get out there and sell myself. not something i'm terribly happy about at the best of times. not something i'm at all happy about now. more than ever, i feel myself in an early midlife crisis. what am i doing? i think. why does no one believe me when i turn in my resume and application and insist that i am qualified for just about any job you'll give me a chance at? okay, not any job. i'm far from being a programmer or a mathematician or even a competent biologist, though i'm sure i could be assistant lab girl.
i could whine and blame it on the economy, the fact that even "entry level" jobs are taken by people with years of experience who have lost their own positions much higher up. i could whine that truly entry level positions are denied to me because i'm "overqualified".
but the fact of the matter is, i don't think i could possibly work at the boston market that's 20 minutes walk away. maybe the bagel shop, because i can pretend that i'm tangentially involved in something i love (baking), but i can't do the dress barn.
i say i can't because i remember the 8 hour days standing on my feet at mill end, and i think, well, at least it's better than the eight hour days of stapling papers, like i did the summer after i graduated. and i think of both of these things and try so hard to believe that if i got through these things, i can get through anything.
but the fact of the matter is, while i can summon up enthusiasm for working at a fabric store when it was either that or starve, i did not have to sell myself as being competent and able to staple, sort, or stamp papers for eight hours a day. and i did get singled out as one (from over 70 people) to do more specific sorting work. i was and am intelligent, and i think that some part of me will just go dull and die if i have to work somewhere where that's not a factor in my work environment.
at the same time, i feel like shit for living off of jason. it really makes me want to move back home, not that that would solve anything (jason and my roommates, matt and gabrielle, still have to pay the rent, and i doubt it's going to get split three ways if i move out). i hate where i am in my life right now, and i hate having to beg for a job that i don't want and am over-qualified for anyway. i can't stand the thought of working a shitty job for less than 40 hours a week, because goddamnit i need those benefits, and that will be the only thing keeping me getting up each morning.
as things stand, i can see myself slipping. i have no schedule, so i enforce no action on my part. things that are important to me... i get there in a sliver of time. i just can't motivate myself to do anything. and then when i do make plans, i can't get myself to go to them because everything i've put off suddenly seems to need to get done. so even though i'm supposed to be walking out the door, already 20 minutes behind schedule because i waited until the last minute to get everything together, i suddenly find myself doing laundry, or the dishes, or chatting with a friend. something, anything that suddenly gives my life importance and seems inescapable. then i feel like shit because i either don't do what i was planning on doing, or do it so late...
i know it's ridiculous, but i look around at where i live and imagine all the things i would do and the way i would organize my life if i had a job and a steady income. i have goals, albeit small. i have desires far too large for my pocketbook.
i sit here at home, slowly digging myself a bigger hole of debt, unable to pay my student loans, unable to hold onto the money from my parents, watching myself eat a meal out and calculating how many meals that really ought to be eaten in knowing that i really shouldn't but i can't help it for the sake of my sanity.
okay. i'm being melodramatic. stop it.
i don't let myself think about these things consciously. i'm surprised by how much i've written and how much it bothers me.
i feel like i'm being a snob, not wanting to be the only white girl with a college education working at the boston market. i feel like i shouldn't be shopping at the expensive food markets that are close by, but i am unable to motivate myself to walk further. so i buy a few things and try oh so hard not to think about it. i only check my bank account to make sure i haven't overdrafted. i can't think beyond that.
i can't explain how much it scares me to be here again. to feel like maybe i haven't made it after all. like maybe my life is nothing and means nothing because i don't know where to go or what to do.
the flip. i'm glad that i have friends who keep me honest to myself. especially keishi_gomu. even while she's going through some really rough times, she's still asking me how i am, how things are going with me, with my relationships.
really, i don't have many people to talk to, so i'm very grateful. i've got pretty much her, jtsquish, and ca_iconoclast to talk to about personal stuff. i wish rah_bop were online, or someone could give me some good advice about relationships and poly and my messy life, but alas... we all wish for death at some times the impossible, ne?
no. i'm sorry. i just still can't say anything yet. i know i really should, but i think it might remove the last pillar that's holding me together. and while crying is nice, crying alone is rather sad.
the only thing i can say, and i'm aware i'm talking around things, but bear with me, is that it seems to me that i'm not quite certain what i want for myself. my life, my future... they're such wonderful and big concepts... that, in the end, i really, truly, have no guidelines for. all i can determine is that i want a cat, a car, and my own place to live. probably even in that order.
i don't know anymore if i want to be married, or be in a serious relationship, or have children ever, or buy a house, or anything. some days i want those things. most days... it's like i have no emotional response whatsoever. still other times, i selfishly admit that i don't want kids. i'm going to save up and spend my money on me, damnit. not some ungrateful podlings.
so how does one make plans with me for the future? i guess you can't. i think i'm starting to realize that i can't make plans for my future, because i don't know what i want that to be. in some way, i feel i've lost track of who i am. and, terrifyingly, why i am.
the more lost i am, it seems, the more people care about me. which frightens me. how can you care for someone who isn't really there?
at the same time, i feel like that caring is ripping me apart, its very nature showing me how truly horrible i am. do i really have the capacity to do what i say i am doing? or am i just lying to myself and everyone around me in order to keep smiles on faces?
why do i always feel like the only solution is for me to disappear?