Currently I'm trying not to vomit.
Today ranks pretty high on the list of worst days ever. Funny- well, no, not really- how the phrase "nine-eleven" is no longer two numbers off from a popular convenience store or a general date or time of day. No, now it is a noun with its own particular meaning; a day or event of total destruction and despair, where one feels that the only choice to make is to leap from a window 105 stories above the pavement below. That is right now.
I've watched the hours get shaved from my work schedule for the last couple weeks. I'm drowning in debt. School is about to start kicking my ass. I have four weeks tops to find somewhere to live that I can both tolerate and afford. Financial stress has been eating me alive for months now. But I had one thing. One thing that made me happy. One thing I loved and looked forward to and saw a future in. One thing I thought I could believe in. I was wrong. And that one thing has slipped away.
He told me he loved me. He's been telling me that regularly for the past month, the past 8 months. But what he wasn't telling me was that he was spending his time with another. He didn't cheat, not yet at least. And he said he couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't. So to the trash pile I go. She's prettier, younger, thinner, and less work since she has a much more carefree lifestyle. She also just broke up with her boyfriend and oh-so-conveniently lives upstairs. He said he still loves me, that he's not in love with her. But he wants easy. So I am discarded.
My own 9/11.
So I sit here and watch the flames grow closer and feel the heat singe my eyebrows. I have nothing left, but the decision to either let the fire take me or have one more moment of control and hurl myself from the window and get to experience freedom one more time.
I can't do this again.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
Back For More
Today I did something I haven't done in a long time. I went to Espresso Royale, got a drink, and sat at a table in the corner and read. It was nice; an activity I've missed since I've stopped being a constant downtown fixture. However, I did notice something.
If you sort of go away for a year, and then reappear in your old habitat, it looks very similar, but is different. As for Espresso Royale, there were a couple new baristas (one was familiar). There was still coffee and art from local folks hanging on the walls. The soundtrack was indie-friendly artists like Bjork and Jeff Buckley. Most of the tables still had to have stacks of napkins and Flagpoles stuck under a foot or two to keep them from wobbling. And most of the people hanging out there were of the hipster/artistic/cool-student/townie-in-the-making (if they don't leave for Portland or NYC after they graduate) ilk.
But these were different hipster students than were there the last time I was there. Hipster students that I had never ever seen, in my multiple years of frequenting that coffee shop, sitting around and loudly blabbering on about all the shit that hipster-students talk about like they own the damn place and like everyone else in the room cares what they're saying. A strange feeling came over me, one like maybe I'm getting old...
And suddenly, I wanted to stand up and yell, "GET OFF MY LAWN, YOU FUCKING KIDS! KEEP YOUR GODDAMN FAKE-TOWNIE HANDS OFF MY AZALEA BUSHES!!"
This moment was spurred on by a hipster-student-chick in her early 20's wearing a lip-ring and mismatched prints who felt it necessary to sing along quietly, but not quietly enough that I could not hear her from 4 tables away, to three Jeff Buckley songs in a row. Congrats, kid. You know the words to some songs off the most popular album of an indie-loved artist that died when you were 10 or 11. You are so cool.
But what happened that almost make me puke was this: she went to the counter to get a drink. While waiting and chatting with the barista, the song "Dream Brother" came on. She enthusiasticly announced, "I love this song!". The barista said something along the lines of agreement back to her (so I assume; he was using his inside voice so I didn't hear him). Then I heard her proclaim, "I have this album on vinyl!!"
VOMIT.
Jesus. I'm so glad she left before "Hallelujah" played. She might have piddled on the floor from excitement.
Other observations of today:
Office Depot < Office Max.
I was behind an ACC sheriff deputy all the way down Hancock from downtown in front of the station by the federal building to N. Billups St. He went 20 mph the whole time. I think he was trying to figure out if I was sketchy or not since I drive a car that I rarely see white people driving. Either way, he completely ran the new 4-way stop at Chase St. Didn't even slow down. I started laughing, and I think he saw, because he turned at the next street.
If you sort of go away for a year, and then reappear in your old habitat, it looks very similar, but is different. As for Espresso Royale, there were a couple new baristas (one was familiar). There was still coffee and art from local folks hanging on the walls. The soundtrack was indie-friendly artists like Bjork and Jeff Buckley. Most of the tables still had to have stacks of napkins and Flagpoles stuck under a foot or two to keep them from wobbling. And most of the people hanging out there were of the hipster/artistic/cool-student/townie-in-the-making (if they don't leave for Portland or NYC after they graduate) ilk.
But these were different hipster students than were there the last time I was there. Hipster students that I had never ever seen, in my multiple years of frequenting that coffee shop, sitting around and loudly blabbering on about all the shit that hipster-students talk about like they own the damn place and like everyone else in the room cares what they're saying. A strange feeling came over me, one like maybe I'm getting old...
And suddenly, I wanted to stand up and yell, "GET OFF MY LAWN, YOU FUCKING KIDS! KEEP YOUR GODDAMN FAKE-TOWNIE HANDS OFF MY AZALEA BUSHES!!"
This moment was spurred on by a hipster-student-chick in her early 20's wearing a lip-ring and mismatched prints who felt it necessary to sing along quietly, but not quietly enough that I could not hear her from 4 tables away, to three Jeff Buckley songs in a row. Congrats, kid. You know the words to some songs off the most popular album of an indie-loved artist that died when you were 10 or 11. You are so cool.
But what happened that almost make me puke was this: she went to the counter to get a drink. While waiting and chatting with the barista, the song "Dream Brother" came on. She enthusiasticly announced, "I love this song!". The barista said something along the lines of agreement back to her (so I assume; he was using his inside voice so I didn't hear him). Then I heard her proclaim, "I have this album on vinyl!!"
VOMIT.
Jesus. I'm so glad she left before "Hallelujah" played. She might have piddled on the floor from excitement.
Other observations of today:
Office Depot < Office Max.
I was behind an ACC sheriff deputy all the way down Hancock from downtown in front of the station by the federal building to N. Billups St. He went 20 mph the whole time. I think he was trying to figure out if I was sketchy or not since I drive a car that I rarely see white people driving. Either way, he completely ran the new 4-way stop at Chase St. Didn't even slow down. I started laughing, and I think he saw, because he turned at the next street.
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