Monday, July 15, 2013

The Suitcase

Today as I was walking through my city with a suit case that belonged to my sister that I stole from my fathers apartment I imaged what the other city-goers were thinking of me, walking around like that, on the hot hot afternoon, with just a small vintage suit case and a little purse.

I image that they think I'm going somewhere, somewhere far away and possibly tropical or European. I hope that someone will ask about the suit case so I can behave nonchalant about it, or perhaps I will pretended to be excited, perhaps I will tell them I am going somewhere tropical or somewhere European, with my one, small vintage suit case.

And perhaps they won't question that it is an overnight case rather than a full suitcase, perhaps they will think I'm rich and flying over for a day or two for business. I don't look rich though. They don't know my bank account is empty, empty except for next months rent and a few extra cents I'm trying to hold on to. They don't know I'm trapped here, in this city, for the summer, fall, winter. I'm trapped until someone takes pity on me and offers me a job, agrees to hire me, gives me money...

I imagine walking into a store, placing the suitcase by the desk and asking the friendly, sweet, down syndrome woman behind the counter to take it. I don't think anyone could be unhappy in her presence. But I don't go there, sometimes I just want to be alone and a little bit miserable, things feel like they're worth more if you suffer for them.

Nobody asks about the suitcase the entire way home. I simply exist in the world with it. People look, or even stare, but they usually do, it's not new, but I feel some strong sense of purpose or determination, but also a bit dangerous, like I've actually stolen the suitcase rather than taken it from my own fathers apartment, like it is full of jewels or cash, but nobody will ever know because they won't ask. I sometimes forget how determined I can be until I actually do something just because I want to and I don't give a fuck about anyone else. I empower myself this way, take charge.

I can't actually stand to be alone this much, but there is nothing left to do in this city I can afford. There is no where I can go to escape the parts of myself I don't want to look at any more or the memories I need to forget. I want some place to be safe, to feel safe. Some places that allows me a bit of peace and solitude, but I can't find that alone anymore. I can't stand it.

I wish someone had just asked about the suitcase. 

Tuesday, July 09, 2013

The Life of a(n) (almost) recent university graduate.

So I'm finished university. I guess I should be celebrating or throwing parties (tried that actually, three people came) or generally running amuck. But I'm not. I am completely and utterly fucking broke. I consider my university career a failure and I haven't been able to find a decently paying job that will get me anywhere beyond what I already do (retail). I can't pay my bills this month and probably not my rent either, moving home is out if the books and I seem to be going through a mini post-school melt down (which you probably noticed due to the optimism of this post so far). My roommate who has very generously been feeding and taking care of me for the last year is moving out and I don't have anyone to move in with me so far. I decided to transfer to a closer location with my current job (retail) and they told me that they will only be able to give me 2-4 shifts a week. So basically I'm screwed. Oh and my friends are sort of all MIA including the boy I'm sleeping with so that's going really fucking well (he's in Europe, we're not official).

I feel like crap, I need a new job and I hate all the options. I'm gonna be behind on bill payments so fast cash would be awesome, but short of selling all my clothes on usedvictoria and prostitution I really don't have any options left, unless I head to the bank of daddy, which I think I've almost used up anyway. This is what a university education gets you: not experienced enough for any job you'd actually want, but too well educated to actually enjoy any job you can actually get.

I get to be miserable and sad and pathetic for a moment here, this is my moment, I don't want to celebrate my failed university career. I don't want to talk about whether or not I'll go to grad school, truth is, I probably can't. I don't have the grades or the work ethic. This is especially frustrating because I'm really really smart, and no don't tell me I'm not based on one measly blog, I know my own mind and you can't possibly claim that. I know I'm smarter in a lot of ways than most people. It's going to make me miserable unless I can figure out something worthwhile to do, something that'll make me happy and stuff.

I spent my entire life just hoping I'd be happy and respected, always looking some where over there where I could see happiness happening and respect happening. I came to the conclusion that simple things make me happy. Laying on the beach on a hot day with a book, tea, friends, dancing, pretty pictures and people, candy, music, sunshine, it's so easy it's stupid. So why am I always unhappy if it's so easy? I don't know. I guess I have it knocked into my brain that I'm only supposed to want a certain kind of life with a certain kind of job and person and family and whatever. If I fail at that I've failed altogether and I won't be very happy at all.

This is especially confusing when I know that I've never wanted any of those things. I like girls and guys, how confusing is that when society tells you to choose and you don't understand how to not choose. I want to write, always, travel everywhere, have children to love and never ever have a white picket fence. I don't want to get married very much at all, but a wedding might be nice and I don't really like offices and places without windows. I don't conform to others expectations of me very easily unless I want to (and that's rare) and I'm going to have at least 10 or 11 tattoos as soon as I can pay for them. My hair is bright red and I intend on keeping it that way. I love makeup. I'm girly and tough at the same time and I have a tendency to waffle, but also speak my mind. I'm such a series of contradictions and confusing, fucked up statements that I don't even know where to start, but I do know myself. I've learned that at least, I know who I am, just not what I want, and everyone tells me that I shouldn't have to, but in the same breath asks me what I'm doing with my life and where I work and what I want to do.

Stop it. Stop asking. I don't have answers for any of you, I'm just trying to get by like everyone else. Just trying to get by without breaking down at the thought of a failed university career and a rather bleak looking future with no means of escape for the moment, and although it'll make me miserable for the moment I know my intelligence will take me somewhere one day, it will allow me to have a life I can be proud of and my self awareness gives me strength other people lack. Knowing your flaws and your strengths is valuable, denying you have and flaws or burring them or ignoring them is a failure to acknowledge you are human and you will make mistakes.

Maybe my degree choice was an awful mistake, maybe I won't be able to do something I love ever, but I had to try right? I at least had to give it a go. I need to write, thank you for existing words, you keep me sane. Insanely so, but still, sane.