Fault

Although I don't write with any frequency now, I told myself that when I did write it would not simply be one of those, "Durr I haven't written in a while so uhhh last weekend I went someplace and drank something and came home and that's it." I don't enjoy reading that kind of thing, and I wouldn't expect anyone else to either. I'd rather just not write at all.

I actually felt bad when I called to tell my mother that I wouldn't be coming in on Easter. She called around three Easter Day asking where I was, telling me I'd said I'd be there at one and so on. Which of course I hadn't said that; she just can't hear and/or hears what she wants to. When I told her that I wouldn't be there until the day after, she said sure, no problem, come whenever you'd like and the whole spiel like it was nothing.

When I did get there the next day no one was home. Raiding the fridge, I found two plates of quite nice food wrapped up, which had obviously been meant for myself and Dunkel (who was supposed to go with me). I felt pretty low since she'd gone through all the trouble for us only for us to flake out on her at the last minute (whether she'd misunderstood or not). If she had just yelled at me like always, I wouldn't have cared, but it made me feel like shit to see the trouble she'd gone through just to have it blown off.

I took out one of the plates and unwrapped it. It wasn't exactly the best food going from the stove to the fridge to the microwave, but it was still better than anything I'll have at my own home any time soon.

Knowing that I don't really eat well due to the fact that I save money by cutting necessities more often than luxuries, she put some food into a bag for me when i was leaving. Poptarts, donuts, some lunchmeat, chips, pretty much whatever she could find that she and my sister weren't going to eat or felt guilty after they did.

Back at my own apartment, I opened one of the mini-packs of donuts to find them held together by mold. I broke out the chips, and they were stale (not that I didn't eat them anyway). This morning I opened some of the pop-tarts to find that they were so old that the sugar on the top had crystalized. I haven't found the courage to open the lunch meat and see what surprise is waiting for me there.

Ordinarily I'd point out how she probably knew it was all bad considering she even pointed out to me that I should check the meat first. But, for once, there's really nothing negative I can say. At least, I suppose, she somewhat tried.

I'd also phoned a few days before and asked her to withdraw some money for me. The town I'm in now doesn't have the bank my account is with, so I was just going to write her a cheque in exchange for cash. She turned down the cheque and said, "I never get to do anything for you," and pretty much left it at that. Knowing me, I'd probably normally just be suspicious and waiting for the, "by the way can you fix my computer/car/whatever." And from experience, I'm kind of surprised that wasn't thrown in.

Of the hundred dollars she gave me and told me to buy food with, forty of it went into gas already. Alternations between ramen, water, and hunger are just a way of life. And again, I probably wouldn't have really thought that much of it. As I've said numerous times before, my family tends to show affection through money rather than actions or words. My mother, however, never "gets to" do anything for me in part because she doesn't really think to, and in part because she simply can't if she wants to.

On workman's compensation, she makes 2/3 of her normal salary and has been for the past couple years. 2/3 of a teachers salary is nil to begin with. My sister, who just had a daughter, doesn't even have health insurance. We just can't afford it. To make things better, my mother just got fired on the excuse that the students' education suffered at the hands of poor substitutes (which, if the substitutes are of poor quality, is in all fairness no fault of hers).

I also have yet to find a job and am currently unable to contribute to pretty much anything at all. I'm on the fast track to broke as hell and the rest of my immediate family has been waiting at the finish line for quite some time now.

I'm not saying I'm going to go out and jump off a bridge or something; I'm not, but it's hard not to wonder what the fuck the point of bothering is. My family is only one in the loosest sense of the word, I'm on my way to a job that I don't really want in a place I don't want to be. Pretty much I have no friends left, no desire to go out and make any new ones, and will probably never marry and live and die alone.

On the one hand, I could learn to like my job and could force myself to go out and be more social. I could do like 99% of people do and marry someone just because she's willing to put up with me to a certain extent. I could be content, and content is better then blech.

But, again, it doesn't really matter. Birth to death is a very fast transition and what happens along the way for most, myself included, will not really affect much of anything if indeed it affects something at all.

I'd like to say that I believe I could learn to like whatever I do or that things can change and all the happy stuff, but really, I'm probably just still here because suicide is a really asshole thing to do. It freaks people the fuck out and I do that enough already. So no bridge jumping. Just a lot of whining and bitching.

My only interaction with people who matter or did at one point has become online. I really don't know (m)any people in this town yet, and it's not exactly a place with a lot going on to go meet people. Any given street is bank, gas station, bank, church, church, bank, gas station, church.

I thought there was like a theatre/rental place, but come to find out it's a porn store. I'm sure I could meet some interesting people there, but...no. I'll pass.

I've been thinking pretty hard on why I should go ahead and be a cop if I'm going to hate doing it in America and why I should invest all this money into it if I'm just going to try and leave it behind in the next 3-7 years. Why not just invest the same money into becoming an English teacher and doing something I really enjoy?

Well, one, I suck at it now, and two, it'd still take a minimum of two years. I need money pronto, and being a cop will only take the better part of six months for probably twice as much starting pay.

I think if ever I was making a huge mistake that would fuck up the rest of my life and was totally conscious of it, it's right now. I kind of wish someone would walk up and talk me out of it, but I know damn well I wouldn't listen and would just think he was an asshole for talking about crap that doesn't impact him at all.

Secondary goal: Get to Canada, live at least acceptably as a socialist. Probably take no action on anything important whatsoever and just put in my hours until retirement.

Primary goal: Learn Spanish fluently, move to Latin America and help nationalization, independence and export foundations. Probably be relatively poor but happy as a pig in shit.

Current course of action: Survive at all costs no matter how bad the outcome and attempt to convince self that primary and secondary goals are silly and that working at Taco Bell is sensible and acceptable.

.....if only I had a job at Taco Bell right now. If only I had a job fucking anywhere.

I won't apply to Wal-Mart, though.

I would do anything for love, but I won't do that. Oh no, no I won't do that.

Meh, I don't know. I know I'll be happy enough and do a great job when all is said and done. I just have to bitch and moan now and then. It seems like everyone around me is either getting married or is coming close to it. I know and they probably do too that they're too young and immature and shouldn't even be thinking about it for another five years at least, but it's hard not to want part of the same thing for yourself (which I know is easy to say when you don't have it). Most of my good friends are also doing the great jobs: finishing out their school to become programmers, engineers, analysts, lawyers or whatever and running off to internships at fancy companies. I, on the other hand, am in the process of throwing away two years of schooling to become almost universally hated in an occupation that someone who barely got a GED could probably do better than I will.

I guess long story short, I have no realistic ambition whatsoever, and rather than correcting this and setting attainable short term goals, I choose to piss and whine about unattainable long term imaginings.

I should correct it.

But I won't.

I'm taking the easy way out like I always do. And while I blame my parents or the country or whatever comes to mind, I'll always know that everything that happens and everything that never does will all be my own damn fault.