Fighting destiny

So last week, Mom decided she didn’t want to move in with me and be a burden to me (her words, not mine). So I got another apartment, a 1BR/den. And today? She asked if it was too late to go back to the original plan. Sure, whatever. I’m cool. But then, I went to make it happen, and that brought another day full of adventures.

The place I wanted, well, they decided a surprise $1,500 security deposit sounded reasonable to them. So I said fuck it and went back one more time to my landlady, who had Four. Perfect. Units. Available. I toured them all and would take any one of them, quite honestly, but I had issues with the two biggest ones, which I’d prefer for the price. (At this point, what’s another $50/month?) I slapped down the standard $400 deposit (flat, no extras), and went back to the other place to tell them I’d take that original amount and slap it on a vacation for Mom and me.

But at the other place? They are SO nice to me. They have been rolling out the red carpet — well, I assume they would, if they had one. 😉 They all know me when I walk in and the one guy calls me “Smiles” and always hugs me when he sees me. (Before you ask, very cute and VERY married. Damn.) But he and the other girl refused to give me back my holding fee — they said they’d ask the manager about waiving the extra $1,100. I said forget it, they’d lost me, and they asked me if they could at least try.


(Is it any wonder why I drink more than Lindsay Lohan?)

IF IF IF they can waive it, it’s a fair fight. Still more expensive there, but I do love that washer and dryer. But my place has finally hopped to it and is doing its damndest to keep me. I mean, anything I want them to do to the available units (new carpet, new windows, whatever — I asked, and I shall receive), they said they’d do. That’s a powerful bargaining chip over here in Never Never Land.

I don’t know what to do. I figured the decision would just make itself, and that effed-up security deposit based on my effed-up credit was enough to do it for me.

Quite honestly, I was pissed. Sure, my IQ is higher than my credit score, but come on already — just because I *can* pay that deposit doesn’t mean I WANT to. I mean, $1,100 can buy a COUCH or, hell, that cruise to Cozumel that I’d been eyeing for Mom and me because we really do need to get the fuck away from it all and really, truly, make a fresh start at some point. Or, hell, maybe I can pay off one of those credit cards I blew off when I wasn’t working. Jeez!

I was just in my car, blathering on to my best friend for a solid two hours about destiny and how it’s like we do our best to go against it, but it always presents itself in the end. Que sera sera and all that bullshit. And it’s more than the housing issue — god, it’s dating, it’s friends, it’s everything. How it’s the second you give up on something you wanted, that it runs to you and attaches itself to your side.

I was talking to another friend yesterday, and I said you know, work trusts me so much to make huge decisions that can either make us a million dollars or sink us in an instant, just based on whatever my intuition happens to be on any particular issue, various times a day. And I can’t even get my fucking shit together elsewhere — how am I supposed to make the important things work when I can’t get the “other” important things secured? How am I supposed to make good choices for the people who pay me when I can’t even find some peace outside of there?

There’s something to be said for making your own miracles, but when they’re contingent upon so many extraneous factors, what’s a girl to do when she truly doesn’t know whether to shit or go sailing at any given moment? I think a lot of other people just wait for others to make their decisions for them, so that if everything blows up, there’s always someone or something else to blame.

But that’s not me — there are things I wish would just decide for themselves, but when they do, damn. I’m the asshole who’s been drinking for a solid week, trying to overcome a relationship decision that is probably the right one, but how do you let a dream just go and die? Even when you know it’s time to start shoveling dirt on it, how do you give up when it’s the one thing that’s been getting you out of bed every day because it was something to look forward to? What do you do with the now-vacant real estate in your thoughts? Or was it all too hasty and needs to be revisited?

Everything on this blog seems like it’s a metaphor for something else. And I know that once I resolve my housing situation, other things will fall into place in lockstep. But to be at this point, where everything leads to a big, fat question mark, is exhausting.

But still, I’d rather have choices (right now, anyway) than resolutions. Answers aren’t final ones, but they do feel like it when they’re not what you were hoping for.

And sometimes, I feel like I’m staring my destiny in the face, and it’s daring me to move. But all at the same moment, it’s like it renders me immobile. Because I have no problem running away from things, but running toward them? I don’t want to fall and have nothing to catch me. And this whole walking-the-tightrope shit is hard to do when you’re afraid that you’ll reach the other side and then there’s nothing there, if you had actually thought there would be.

I don’t know. At this point, I’m just going to let everything resolve itself, and choose if I can among what remains. And, of course, I’ll always hope for a dark-horse candidate to enter the race at the last-possible minute, as that’s what always seems to happen. And when it wins, destiny will be on course once again. …

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