another essay I hope nobody reads. why am I posting these? no sleep.
As I write this, I’m starting to believe more and more as the hours tick on that I actually died on my drive home last night, woke up dead, and that this whole airport experience has been nothing more than my first day in hell.
I know I shouldn’t be so cynical. I know that if I could keep a good mindset that good things will come to me, but I’m exhausted from all the traveling, and I have a lot of traveling to go.
When I landed in Las Vegas from San Diego, my connecting flight was cancled and I was scheduled to leave Las Vegas two days from now. At first I congradulated myself for my ability to talk so kindly to the ticket agent (and even make her day) among all the angry, screaming customers. I was rewarded for my patience and my kindness by being put on the next available flight, which has now been delayed. And after a connection it looks like I wont make it to New York untill 9am.
I don’t do so well when I’m tired and this scares me.
I’m so tired because there’s been a lot of partying this weekend. Nothing too wild or expensive, just a wine dinner Wednesday, a Bar Crawl thursday, and an early father’s day celebration on Friday. I was drinking all three of these days and I don’t drink much. I don’t drink much because drinking can make me weepy and insecure. And two days ago the drinking got me so insecure that I was up late into the night silently weeping and questioning whether or not I want to be alive. So now, it seems, it’s time to pay the piper.
I only have another hour or so before the delayed flight gets there, and maybe I can buy a sleeping pill from a vending machine and sleep on the plane. The thought that keeps coming back to me: It’s expensive being poor. If I were more organized with my time this would have all been different.
[Famous last words, I know, but I’m young, maybe there’s still time to turn my act around. Maybe these are just the tired airport thoughts people often get where they resolve to be different (and indeed it feels like I’m always resolving to be different), but still, I feel like I need to get this thought process down in writing so that I can look at it. ]
If I were more organized things would have been different. I would have never lost the last job, or even if I did I would have been able to find another job quickly. I wouldn’t have had any of the stupid panic attacks I’ve had relating to money, I probably would not have been paralyzed in my bed all the time I have been, and I definitely would not have to have purchased a ticket with Spirit fucking airlines.
All the employees are very kind people, I mean no disrespect to them, but you don’t get a checked bag with your ticket, so whatever you think your paying just go ahead and add another $100 to that cost. With all the money and time I’m spending on this stupid flight, I could have just bought a more expensive flight that probably would not have been canceled and I would have been well on my way to New York by now. I don’t know how I’m going to do this, but from now on, I’m only going to fly first class on airlines I actually like. When you add up all the expenses, having no money is an absolute rip-off.
I know I got myself here with a death of a thousand cuts, but to quote a terrible movie “powerful light, powerful dark.” Or maybe I should say it the other way around because for all this life-ruining self doubt, self flagellation, self hatred, and self saboutage, and all these other kinds of “selfishnesses” I know I also have an incredible ability to believe in myself, to pull off marvelously unexpected and interesting things, and (most remarkable of all) to take care of my basic needs and desires. So maybe it’s time to pull off my most remarkable heist of all: dulling the knives that gave me the thousand cuts, and then turning them into bandages, and then finally, turning them into gold.
I think that’s my issue. I always think that I need to fix huge problems “right away, and right now” because I know that it’s within my cerebral capability. But maybe it’s not. Maybe I need to humble myself, and by humbling myself, actually start to get some work done. They say the devil’s in the details, but maybe god is, too. There are so many small decisions I’ve made that have a hidden cost. A cost that accrues interest on a debt I already worry about being able to pay back. Maybe by giving more attention to each of those thousand cuts I can finally make some of those big dramatic changes I’ve deluded myself into thinking that I can pull off in one night.
Here’s the goal: I want to find a job that I enjoy doing that pays me more than I’ve ever earned for less hours per week than I’ve ever worked before. It sounds crazy, but I’ve done it before. The lesson I learned last time though, was that even if I could pull off the pretty cool task of finding a job in a very short period of time that paid me more than I’d ever earned before (thank you Four Hour Work Week) that wasn’t really the tricky part. Anybody can be impressive for 48 hours. Anybody (and maybe I’m not giving myself enough credit here) can lock themselves in a room and learn everything they can about a subject to sound impressive for an interview. The real feat is being able to produce reliable results over and over again. That’s what I’m after now.
I wrote in an earlier blogpost that even though I cringe for some reason at having a ‘traditionally successful job’ and also producing art through my writing, that’s something I’m working on not cringing at anymore. I know this is trailing off but it’s getting very late and I’m absolutely exhausted. I’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe I’ll convince myself of something helpful then.