I have more important things to do then fill up interweb pages with my empty ramblings, but I don't care. I feel like this is more relevant.
I'm lucky to have so many families that love me. Nick's middle name is Rocco, and there is actually a SAINT Rocco (fuck me, I love Catholics) and if you don't believe me, his day is August 16. I'm tempted to name my first born son Rocco, if it didn't break my cardinal rule of naming offspring (which I probably won't even have, but who the hell cares?!). If you don't know my cardinal rule, I think a name should fit perfectly in two instances: following "my dearest" in a love letter and Supreme Court Justice blank blank. I mean, shit. We have a responsibility to our kids. Maybe a middle name. Hm.
So anyway. I'm lucky. The Italians love me. Like, Linda will sit there and, without fail, after dinner she says "I love our family" and smiles and me and Jayboy on the couch, usually with fatcat Francis tucked between us. How did I get so Norman Rockwell by association? I repeat: lucky sucker am I.
A dude went crazy on me yesterday. Implied that since I didn't run his shitty article about going abroad to South Africa a year ago.. YES, a year ago... meant that I was racist and not in support of running articles for "the people". FUCK YOU MAN. I'm more African than you! First generation immigrant, you useless asswipe. But no, I didn't say that. I was polite, although I raised my voice. REALLY? Racist? Because I have standards on the quality of writing I put in my section? Eff that shiz. Uggh.
Overall, school is way better than I figured it would be. Even though I'm slacking off at the moment.. disregard the hypocrisy. Maybe someone up there likes me, because the capstone ish I could sleep through, and my geography classes that actually matter are headed by the two most frequently seen of my professors, and the most understanding. Thank my lucky stars.
If all this positive shit makes you ill, please understand: I write these things to remember why I stay hopeful when life takes a big poop on my head, which is often. I mean, all the plans I had for the next few years of my life have been demolished because of one freak hospital stay. I'm having to make long-lasting financial decisions in the near future: whether I'll say to hell with it about the debt, and go immediately for grad school; if I'll decide to teach in hopes of the gov'ment forgiving my loans because I'll teach at low-income schools; if I should move where the cost of living to wage ratio is higher so I can kill myself over the next five years to pay everything down, et cetera. And for the first time ever, I'm really banking on my dad making it through for me, and being able to support my mom while I'm gone. Because for the next five years, I can't consider her, which is a first. And maybe that's the root of it all.
I'm not going to be able to do what I've always done because my situation is so utterly fucked, and so I feel like a failure. I'll be literally meeting every goal I've planned on meeting, and because of something completely out of my control, I'll be walking into years of insane debt and the inability to meet my personal responsibilities. No wonder this thing is so discombobulating.
But frankly, there's no other option but trying to look out for myself and take care of this situation as quickly, efficiently, and granted, selfishly as possible, so I can take of her when she really needs it. And there's an undeniable freedom in that selfishness, which is probably why I'm considering jumping the west coast ship and going somewhere as random as Florida to work my way through it.
Hm. Saying all that out loud (figuratively speaking) makes me feel a whole lot better about it. Bueno.
If you read this.. I commend you. And probably love you. Have a good night!
Erin, dammit. I always have a crapload to respond when I read your blogs--but here I sit, 5:30am and it already feels LATE based on all the stuff that's waiting for me. Still...I can't just not say anything. So, first of all, I love the way you write, and it's so fun reading your blogs just because of how you write them. Which is not to say the content is no good--that's not what I"m getting at. I guess my point is: you could write about a fly crawling up the wall and I would probably enjoy it because you'd make it so readable. Anywho...about your financial situation: I'm angry. Because I can't stand how working hard and being responsible is not enough in this frikkin' society. By the way, I don't know if you are considering BK, but I wanted to tell you that I've been down that road--in fact, just recently. I'm only saying it in case it makes you feel slightly better knowing that someone else has had to make some of those hard decisions as well.
ReplyDeleteGood luck to you, girl!
My dearest Erin (as in a love letter), I too love and enjoy your writing skills. But as you must know, I too, can not remain comment-free :o) I consider a person a failure when they "fail" to either try again or try something different. Key word being "try". One can not fail if one does nothing. Somehow, I just don't see Failure (with a capital 'F') in your future. Look at each situation from a removed postition and make a rational and if necessary, selfish decision that will best benefit you in the long run. 'Nuf said. Aunt ZZ
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