The Longest Summer

This summer has been hard. I don’t mean to complain, even though I’m directly complaining. Boo, meaningless introductory paragraphs with no content and failed attempts at funny. Contradicting your own contradictions – check.

So let’s imagine that that last paragraph didn’t happen, lest our brains explode in circular fashion. And jump straight to the point. The summer started on a note. I won’t call it a high note or a low note because I can’t decide which of the two that it is. It’s the end of my second year of college. It’s also my last semester at my current school, which is exciting – going to a new college in a new city is exciting! – but it’s also rather unhappy. I’m parting on bad terms with this college, forsaking connections that my career field demands. I am in a profession that requires you to know peopl eand for people to know you. That’s why it’s unfortunate that I had a big falling-out with my former cello professor who happens to be the sister of the head of the string department who by chance happened to go to Juilliard and Eastman.

Fuck me, that’s a lot to lose in one blow. But, alas, it’s for the best. I wasn’t happy at this school, I was certainly not happy in Conservative-town, USA. The Bible Belt of the nation is not so easily digested by someone with such a fickle stomach for ideologies as my own. I hate religion. I wish it would all go away. It’s founded on experience and reason, but the emotion is as visceral as it gets. But in any case, I’m getting out of Christianville, Texas and moving to Dallas, TX. Attending a more liberal school with a great music program and a bigger city for better things to do.

So, yes, the summer started on a note.

I set some goals for myself over the summer. I wanted to buy a new car. I really needed to, as my 13 year old Buick Riviera which was falling apart slowly and got nearer to 15 mpg every day, wouldn’t quite cut it in the big city. Not to mention it’s an enormous beast of a car, and I will be much happier in my smaller car.

Now, setting goals to buy things means your process involves making money. That’s where the hospital comes in. The hospital’s a nice enough place to work. Much nicer than, say, a restaurant. Slower paced, for the most part, although it has it’s intense moments. But watching people die slowly isn’t exactly my cup of tea. It isn’t the cup of tea for any normal human being. That’s why nurses and doctor’s are so fucking crazy. Trust me, you’d be crazy too.

So I’m working overtime, I had about 5 days off, literally, in the month of June and July. That includes weekends. I didn’t get weekends off, actually… weekend after next will be my first since the summer started. Between 50 and 60 hours a week. That’s not awful, and alot of people would deck me for complaining about such a work load when they are struggling to get enough hours to put food on the table for families of 9.

Well, guess what folks, I’m not that person. I made better choices than that. I didn’t put myself in that situation. (And if you have 7 children, trust me, you could have stopped fucking at any time and been just dandy.) Alas, 60 hours a week is hard on a poor college student who doesn’t have much in the way of work ethic. And at eight bucks an hour, it’s that much harder to swallow.

Exhaustion starts setting in about the beginning of July, and I slowly start losing my mind completely. I stay up way too late and wake up way too early and I start seeing bloody knives at the edge of my vision and voices telling me that dying people need to die faster and … no, I’m kidding.

Kinda.

This article’s getting long enough, so I’ll summarize. I need to get together 2 grand for a down payment, which ironically turns out to be the ENTIRE MONTHS OF MAY JUNE AND MOST OF JULY OF OVERTIME TO MAKE WHEN YOU TAKE INTO ACCOUNT MY EXPENSES GRAAAHHHH DAMNIT I’M SO TIRED. pardon. Needed to let that out. Taxes are a bitch, living expenses are a bitch, especially with a bum roommate. (Roommate, if you’re reading this, no offense, but you’re a financial stress.) I’m short between one and two hundred dollars on my roomie’s portion of the rent and bills this month, so that cuts into my down payment savings and so I’m struggling to stay afloat of a hard-fought battle towards this goal.

Did I mention my girlfriend’s gone all summer? That’s a bitch too. Deserves more mention than this tiny little paragraph but my current stress has all-to-do with money.

I finally have enough for the down payment, even though I’m cutting it back to fifteen-hundred instead of two-thousand. Oh well, it’s still well-financed. In case you were wondering, I’m getting an ’08 Ford Focus. Feel free to comment but any anti-Ford bullshit will be met with the most severe and unwavering apathy. (Love contradiction.) And then my parents, who are my cosigners and are necessary for me to make the decision and sign the paperwork, start blowing me off. Poker is more important and doctor’s visits they ‘forgot they had’ start appearing right around the time I’m ready to commit to financial disaster.

I also forgot to mention that I calculated my debt after my 4.5 year undergraduate degree: $66,000. That’s right, sixty-six thousand dollars. Yeah, Fuck America. (Financial stress…… compounds like the most filthy bloody interest rates.)

And the roommate bums, the parents blow me off, the girlfriend’s gone, and then my BACK starts killing me cause I’m overweight and undermuscled. God it hurts. Right now, I’m hunched over in pain because it hurts like a bitch. And while I’m writing this my nose starts bleeding like the Fountain of Pure Hatred and Murphy’s Law Reincarnate.

But hey, I’m probably gonna have a new car tomorrow. Pics incoming! Hah. Silly contradicting conclusions.

Advertisements

2 Responses

  1. My friend, I seriously need to introduce you to the “fuck it” plant. It’ll help your back pain too.

  2. Dude, seriously. Listen to your friend BP. He’s got the right idea. Smoke the plant. And then you won’t mind exercising as much.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: