So close

I worked my first 40-hour week this week. Being on death’s door will do that to you.

I’d wish for this superbug to go away, but shit, it’s like having a vacation, only having the strength for 40 hours of work! (And nearly 10 hours of commuting, natch.)

I was on my way home from the converted alligator farm today (no joke — we’re in the middle of a swamp. Maybe since the job I loved most was Ye Olde Workplace Establishment, this should be Ye Olde Alligator Ranch?), lost in thought as usual.

I was trying to remember which politician said recently that you should get as much education as you can afford. I’m assuming since it was a pretty asinine statement that it was Mitt Romney.

But anyway, it got me to thinking about all the colleges I got accepted to. Sarah Lawrence was my top choice. And I was in … if I could afford it. And I couldn’t.

We won’t even talk about the letter from Princeton, which of course was my dream school but I really wanted Sarah Lawrence because Hillary Clinton had gone there.

Anyway, I am a big believer thanks to my history professor Ed Meena that college is college — it’s just the ticket to the audition. The name embossed on the diploma doesn’t matter just as long as you made the most of your time wherever you went.

But … I always think back to how hard I worked in school. How many extracurricular activities I was in. How many extra books and intellectual pursuits filled my free time in hopes of getting a full scholarship to an Ivy League (or close) school.

And it seems like it started a theme in my life of, “Oooh, SO CLOSE.”

I had no problem gaining admission to the best schools. I just didn’t have a pot to piss in, or a window to throw it out of.

Family contribution? Not so much. My family did sacrifice to get me bedding for my new room. And a word processor for typing research papers. And the occasional $40 for treating myself to Mountain Dew and cigarettes during those all-night cram sessions.

And I am who I am today thanks to all of it.

But I got to thinking about a lot of things in my life. And how I don’t even give 100% anymore because, well let’s face it, my 60% is better than most people’s 100%. And besides, I get the same return no matter what I put out.

I got to thinking about the boy, since I ran into him again yesterday. I was actually on my way out of the coffee shop and ran smack into him on his way in.

He looked good. Not a sad old man this time. Like, so good that I spent a lot of time wondering just how different life could be, if only.

And that’s another, “Oooh, SO CLOSE” for me. I was the best version of myself. I said all the right things and did all the right things and basically *I* fell in love with me, since he wasn’t so good about holding up his end of that bargain. 😉

He had sent me a song not too long ago that I am still puzzling over. And what I read into it is, “Yeah, I was almost there with you but something is stopping me and I don’t expect you to understand.”

I don’t know — you tell me.

Anyway, I don’t judge my self-worth over a college I couldn’t attend or a man I couldn’t tame. I’m just sick and feeling self-piteously and waah it’s my party and I will whine like a bitch if I want to!

I guess what’s sparking all of this is the bimonthly notification from my bank that my checking account is near negative territory.

After I pay the rent and the IRS and the student loan and the car insurance and car repairs and the gallons of gas … after I’ve worked my widdle bushy tail off … after I’ve downsized to having cable in one room and I have to watch the fucking housewives of whatever city or say yes to the fucking bridal dress even though your ass ain’t within sight of a wedding of your own you near-40-year-old and here comes honey boo boo child (OK, I DO love me some Alana. *hides face*) … and how I can’t scrape enough together for a new car and the car I LOVED got sold three days before I went back to try ONE MORE TIME to strike a deal … and damn it will I EVER get a laptop? If I don’t buy the iPhone 5 maybe I can do it, yes? … I feel like I need SOMETHING to make me happy.

My happy place this month was spending $70 in Total Wine. Whee! That was pretty awesome. And I had a coupon, which totally was free money and thus a pack of Dogfish Head Punkin Ale. Because, I miss Dogfish Head and I love me some wine.

Not that I can DRINK with this rabid case of typhoid I’m harboring. But, you know, whatever.

Anyway, this pity party is almost over. I guess I’m just sick of commuting, working, worrying, stressing the fuck out over shit that REALLY doesn’t matter one bit in this world, not wanting to come home at night and being resentful that weekends are for babysitting and not for friends because WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY and oh wait I have to admit I’m isolating right now anyway, I guess. So whatever.

Anyway, I notice that other than this last relationship-type-thing, I don’t give my best anymore. I don’t want to. I don’t get what I want, anyway, so why even try? I’ll get “close enough” and who the hell wants that?

Of course, I suppose I’d rather have “close enough” for trying my best than “whatever else” for only giving a close-enough level of effort.

I often think that when I get sick, it’s God’s way of slowing me down and forcing me to take a good hard look at my life. He knows I’m “happy enough” with “close enough.” I think He wants me to say, hey, I have all this fire and passion and innovation in me. Why the fuck am I living below my potential and, therefore, below my MEANS?



*lightbulb flickers on above my widdle head*

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