Broke man walking:

I know you want the end to the sacred item story, and that’s in me somewhere, but before we get there I just need to bitch for a second and move laterally on the topic of prosperity. I am bad with money. I want to be good with money, but I am bad with money. You, you are the ants and you’ve been socking money away since kindergarten. You are already planning for your children’s retirement. I am the grasshopper, I have fun while the summer is here and then I die. It’ll be quick, because I have no health insurance, I can’t afford it. I can barely afford car insurance. I may even be dying now and not know it because I haven’t been to a doctor in years, four and a half years to be exact. Of course I am dying now, as birth is the leading cause of death.

It’s worse than just being a grasshopper though, because I work a fifty hour workweek, I have one week vacation a year, you get the idea. I work hard, I have a strong work ethic, I arrive 8:30 and leave after 6. I work like an ant. I also play hard, if you worked like that you’d want a drink too, and then that’s it – no net gain, but in experience. I have huge debts I am paying off and so all the money I make goes to them and only a fraction of that goes to principle – most is just maintenance. In three years I’ll have the credit card debt paid off and then I can start on my student loans.

I went to my boss at Meramec and explained to him why I was quitting, I ran up all this debt to get the education to be a teacher and now I can’t actually afford to live on what a teacher makes – catch 22. R said I had a lot of anger. I did have a great deal of anger about that then. I’ve never really fit into the culture in terms of what I value or think should be valuable, versus what is actually esteemed and rewarded, but I was never more at a loss or had an stronger sense of idealism betrayed when I had to leave teaching because I couldn’t pay my light bill. Ah well.

Not that much has changed. Confession, I have two dollars and eighty cents in my bank account. Now that’s my checking account, but in my savings account I have, oh wait I don’t have any savings account. But my home is worth, oh, I rent. Well my stocks and bonds are worth… nothing cause there are none. Some people might tell you they have two dollars and eighty cents and then mean “I have two dollars I can spend before I get to my cushion” – I have no cushion. I get paid on the fifteenth, that’s my cushion, payday. I have half a tank of gas, I own a bike and could bike to work if need be. I have twenty dollars in cash that I got by selling my office mate my warthog grass edger. I would have a garage sale tomorrow, but it’s supposed to rain all day.

I don’t have a drug habit, I don’t gamble, what I earn I spend on my life. I am a drinker, but not generally in bars anymore – too expensive. I spend eleven dollars a week on my Monday night bowling, but I can’t afford to go Monday. If you’re saying, “see even no when he’s making more money he never has any” that is in part because I am trying to pay off all the debt I ran up living half on my teachers salary and half on my credit cards, which have long ago been cut into small pieces.

I would be doing much better right now had I not been financially fucked by my dearly departed ex-roommate, may she waste oxygen as far from me as possible on this our green Earth. All trial roommates thus far have fallen through so I am going to have to go post a sign at Wash –U out of desperation.

How will this affect you dear reader? I am shutting off DSL and possibly my cell phone, so these posts will be less frequent, maybe I should keep the cell and cut the landline. Ah well good riddance. Milk is spilt – let’s be grateful, I have a job, I have food, I am not living in my parent’s basement, the pets have food, I have my health, none of the utilities have been shut off yet and I get paid on the fifteenth. But why do I always live check to check? I’ll ask Wayne Dwyer when I see him. See things are looking better already – Brad has just called to offer me gin and a movie at his place. I am always provided for, the universe loves me. I need to go bask in the emanations of the sacred wall hanging and then look for a second job. (I actually did have a second job for a few months, but the hours were crazy and I finally had to quit). Thanks for tolerating my rant. Everything always works out, until it doesn’t, and then you just go in a different direction, right?