I can't do this
I have no idea. I really don't. Here I am, sitting here in a dimly lit little room in my "it's a place to live" sort of apartment, surrounded by hundreds of copies of My House, thinking about what the hell I did to make my life like this.
I have 500 dollars in my checking account. By the time I pay car insurance (around 300) and pay for a tune-up for a car I didn't even want to be driving in the first place (probably a couple hundred more) I will have nothing. I am supposed to get my stimulus check today, which is 429 dollars---less, of course, than the 600 everyone keeps saying they're supposed to get---which needs to be spent on rent for next month, and food. I was going to buy things I wanted with that, and now POOF, it's all gone before it arrives, if it ever does.
I went to Buffalo Exchange instead, to see if some of the clothes I never wear could be something someone else would want to wear; turns out my closet is worthless too. I don't own anything of value, I've never sold a piece of art in my life, and I work too far from home at a job I hate, that pays exactly 9.25 an hour.
Ian just handed me a check for 500 dollars, saying that he didn't know how to make me happy when I was worrying about money. I've never had anybody try to give me money before, and it feels wrong. I have money saved, but it was supposed to be for My House, not for Being Poor. Goodbye Bumbershoot, goodbye Chromeo, goodbye new apartment in a nice victorian with a yard where I can have a dog. The gas tank needs filling, my family ring needs re-plating, my bike needs its brakes replaced, and I don't know what I'm going to do.
In Portland, no matter where you run to have your mental breakdown, there are people around.
I have 500 dollars in my checking account. By the time I pay car insurance (around 300) and pay for a tune-up for a car I didn't even want to be driving in the first place (probably a couple hundred more) I will have nothing. I am supposed to get my stimulus check today, which is 429 dollars---less, of course, than the 600 everyone keeps saying they're supposed to get---which needs to be spent on rent for next month, and food. I was going to buy things I wanted with that, and now POOF, it's all gone before it arrives, if it ever does.
I went to Buffalo Exchange instead, to see if some of the clothes I never wear could be something someone else would want to wear; turns out my closet is worthless too. I don't own anything of value, I've never sold a piece of art in my life, and I work too far from home at a job I hate, that pays exactly 9.25 an hour.
Ian just handed me a check for 500 dollars, saying that he didn't know how to make me happy when I was worrying about money. I've never had anybody try to give me money before, and it feels wrong. I have money saved, but it was supposed to be for My House, not for Being Poor. Goodbye Bumbershoot, goodbye Chromeo, goodbye new apartment in a nice victorian with a yard where I can have a dog. The gas tank needs filling, my family ring needs re-plating, my bike needs its brakes replaced, and I don't know what I'm going to do.
In Portland, no matter where you run to have your mental breakdown, there are people around.