The weekend looms near. I haven’t even had the chance to explain why that makes me just a little bit nervous. It’s a good story. But another obvious reason is the paltry sum of bills in my wallet that comprises the only money I have to last me till next Friday. The rest remains under lock and key for upcoming bills. Away in my bank account. Bills that I will only be able to cover by the skin of my teeth mind you. And it’s not just my happy beer money that’s in my wallet. No this needs to cover groceries and any other household expense that comes along (Such as… Oh shit running low on shampoo… and god damn I need to do laundry.) Certainly I’ve had moments. Moments where I feel that miniature population of me’s running the brain inside my head gets a little restless. Tired of manning that super computer of impulses and logic that I seem to ignore no matter how hard they try to steer me the right way. Yes the chief administrator of levers in sector 72 of my brain he’s… he’s just lost it entirely. He’s pounding on the inside of my skull as I look worriedly over my budget sprawled across an excel spreadsheet. He’s screaming what are you DOING? Meanwhile, my left eye hasn’t blinked in 3 hours since he abandoned his post.
I laid in bed last night, and by bed I mean mattress. More really… it’s a mat. A mat on the floor. My new guitar, bought on credit, laying on my right side. A small fan from my roommate blowing on me on the left (Air Conditioning? Ha!) I thought about the numbers I’d just stretched and pushed so that I would be able to pay rent come July 1st. I thought about the realization I’d made that on the salary I just accepted Monday, it wouldn’t be much better next month. Or the month after that. And so on and so forth. And as I’m prone to do my brain began to crunch the possibilities. Moving home was one. Make no assumptions about what sort of viability it had in my mind though, even in the middle of the night; yet, I have to admit that there was a small thought of, “Wow. How much easier would it be to be free of a few bills while I pay down my debt.” My debt is from previous moves by the way. When you’re job hunting for a month in a new area those things can kinda creep up on you.
Yet, every time I find myself walking the streets of this city my heart breaks. I stroll through some of my favorite books and movies everyday here. I’m fulfilling a childhood dream.
So please don’t misconstrue any of this as complaining. My struggles are generally of my own design. I don’t a grudge for becoming a New York transplant stereotype. It’s perfect. Would I be ever so much happier if I was making more money? Living in a place of my own drinking chilled Pellegrino, stroking the head of my fuzzy lap dog. Well. Maybe. I do love pretentious water and ugly dogs. But I’m pretty happy being a kid, being stupid, being a bit of a rat. That’d explain why I keep moving whenever I start to get settled anywhere. And hey, there’s not much else for a 22 year old to do, unless I’d rather just start storing up my resentment for life right now. I certainly don’t want it to be in short supply when my hair starts turning grey, it’s all I’ll have to hold onto.
So the plan is to keep on hanging on. Maybe I’ll get a second job. Something nice and decent. Or maybe not so decent. Whatever works. Or maybe I’ll find a way to cut my grocery bill further and spend a couple more hours out on Saturday night drinking a couple more beers to forget about that silly debt thing. But basically… we’ll see how it all pans out. I’m still here. Still kickin’.
