Not driving SUCKS. But every time I think of how much money I will NEED to make to be able to drive, it frightens me. How do people do it?
What with the price of gas and insurance and the cost of a car, you're paying almost as much as you would for rent. So hypothetically, 400 a month for a car, 500 for rent. Then you have utitilties. Depending on the season, 100 for electic and heat if your rent doesn't cover it (NYC it didn't; PA not sure), 50 for cable, 75 for phone, perhaps 30 for water (not always in apartment living). Then there's food. For one person (me, for instance) that's about 300 a month. Then there's the buying of the household essentials - cleaning supplies, toiletries, clothing, shoes, coats, hats, gloves, et al. If you wear contacts, add 50 a month to that. If you don't have a washer/dryer, add another $100 a month to that.
So, to make ends meet, you'd have to make almost 3000 a month. Viable, IF YOU HAVE A CAR. A Catch-22. NY, this would be poverty level.
How do I move up from not having a car?
Friday
Thursday
Written to Damned Prayers' PlayList - www.myspace.com/damnedprayers
I stopped envying people who had idyllic childhoods - where the parents were loving and life was wonderful and you dream about those halcyon days of youth.
I HATED MY CHILDHOOD. I lived in a dreamworld of my making because my reality sucked. My parents were together because they had committed adultery - I'm sure they loved each other, but the fighting and the backbiting and the hoops they jumped through for each other and that fucking religion that shadowed our lives overcame any love they could show.
We were poor. But not as poor as both my parents had been as youths; that was poverty of the kind you fear in the very core of your being. My parents strove to provide us with some material stability so that we would neve go hungry as they did, or have to work at the ages they did. But on the flip side, it was awful.
We weren't really allowed friends, because friends of the 'world' was anathema to the religion. And friends within the religion could turn on you, because everyone was a backbiting bitch. My parents had very few friends. They were loners either by choice or circumstance. So we grew up as loners.
I loved attention and loved to dance. Unfortunately, I was the first child of their sin, and I know that colored how they treated me. I was the eldest, and I was female. I was both responsible for my younger brothers and less than they were. I was worthless and easy to punish. Sensitive, every word found it's mark and it hurt for years. And lets not get into the scars on my body; the physical manifestation of the determination to train me to the long and narrow. Which obviously, if you know me, didn't work all that well.
Dancing was nipped in the bud. My natural exuberance was twisted somehow. Taken advantage of by predators and unfortunate circumstances, I became what my dad called me - worthless, a slut, a whore, a prostitute. I own those names, because they were mine, it seemed.
I believed I was a succubus. I read two languages very early; I loved to read. It was my escape, and it peopled my dreamworld. And I read about succubi and incubi and knew, without a doubt, that this was what I was. And so my exuberance was channeled into something dark.
I was afraid of everything. My parents weren't a comfort. My own body rebelled against me and rejected everything put it in. I was a contantly sick child. My mother says I was a good child until I grew up; because I was a broken child inside (background: And One, Sometime). They were stunned to find out about the predators within their own midst and never thought to really believe me. How could they? They were trapped in their own hell, and this was the only way they knew to be.
My idyllic memories were the times spent away from my family. The everpresent fear of angering my dad (easily done, as dad held lots of anger) was gone; my mom the martyr wasn't around to preach to me. I was free.
When I had kids, I screwed up, and cursed them with the same childhood. I didn't trust anyone, not even myself, and so I left them to my parents. My parents encouraged this distrust and it turned into a disaster for my children.
I don't envy you with lovely childhoods anymore. I don't wish for what you had. I was dealt this card in life and it has made me who I am. That which doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I was broken inside and still survived.
I'd rather be an adult, and aging, and where I am in life, than ever return to those memories or that life again. I will enjoy my present and my future, and retreat into my dreamworld when I desire reprieve. Enjoy the present with me as well.
I stopped envying people who had idyllic childhoods - where the parents were loving and life was wonderful and you dream about those halcyon days of youth.
I HATED MY CHILDHOOD. I lived in a dreamworld of my making because my reality sucked. My parents were together because they had committed adultery - I'm sure they loved each other, but the fighting and the backbiting and the hoops they jumped through for each other and that fucking religion that shadowed our lives overcame any love they could show.
We were poor. But not as poor as both my parents had been as youths; that was poverty of the kind you fear in the very core of your being. My parents strove to provide us with some material stability so that we would neve go hungry as they did, or have to work at the ages they did. But on the flip side, it was awful.
We weren't really allowed friends, because friends of the 'world' was anathema to the religion. And friends within the religion could turn on you, because everyone was a backbiting bitch. My parents had very few friends. They were loners either by choice or circumstance. So we grew up as loners.
I loved attention and loved to dance. Unfortunately, I was the first child of their sin, and I know that colored how they treated me. I was the eldest, and I was female. I was both responsible for my younger brothers and less than they were. I was worthless and easy to punish. Sensitive, every word found it's mark and it hurt for years. And lets not get into the scars on my body; the physical manifestation of the determination to train me to the long and narrow. Which obviously, if you know me, didn't work all that well.
Dancing was nipped in the bud. My natural exuberance was twisted somehow. Taken advantage of by predators and unfortunate circumstances, I became what my dad called me - worthless, a slut, a whore, a prostitute. I own those names, because they were mine, it seemed.
I believed I was a succubus. I read two languages very early; I loved to read. It was my escape, and it peopled my dreamworld. And I read about succubi and incubi and knew, without a doubt, that this was what I was. And so my exuberance was channeled into something dark.
I was afraid of everything. My parents weren't a comfort. My own body rebelled against me and rejected everything put it in. I was a contantly sick child. My mother says I was a good child until I grew up; because I was a broken child inside (background: And One, Sometime). They were stunned to find out about the predators within their own midst and never thought to really believe me. How could they? They were trapped in their own hell, and this was the only way they knew to be.
My idyllic memories were the times spent away from my family. The everpresent fear of angering my dad (easily done, as dad held lots of anger) was gone; my mom the martyr wasn't around to preach to me. I was free.
When I had kids, I screwed up, and cursed them with the same childhood. I didn't trust anyone, not even myself, and so I left them to my parents. My parents encouraged this distrust and it turned into a disaster for my children.
I don't envy you with lovely childhoods anymore. I don't wish for what you had. I was dealt this card in life and it has made me who I am. That which doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I was broken inside and still survived.
I'd rather be an adult, and aging, and where I am in life, than ever return to those memories or that life again. I will enjoy my present and my future, and retreat into my dreamworld when I desire reprieve. Enjoy the present with me as well.
Wednesday
When I love, it's pretty deep. It's strong. I fall hard. And I can be very loyal. But I've had my moments.
So what happened to Capt A? I loved him strong; all his annoying habits, his girth (which really was NEVER a factor; I still find him attractive), his inability to accept anyone else as having reason, whatever it was, I loved him despite it and with it.
What was the reason for my turning away from him? Oddity and Temptation would have NEVER had a chance had it been a year earlier. Even six months earlier would have made a difference.
What happened? I ask myself this every day. I will say, it eroded with the rather offhand comments he made about not wanting to commit, or the rather painful comment about the cable guy he could see me with; I need to be the most important person in your life next to your mother, your brother and your kids, if any. Then there's the lack of interest in sex. I'm sure it wasn't a lack of interest; I'm convinced I simply didn't do it for him. THAT can knock your confidence down low.
I adored him. I doted on him. But I didn't get back the kind of acceptance I gave. There... I accept and he couldn't. That may be a problem with Oddity, but I will give it time. There are other situations that make Oddity a better balance. The sex, for instance (yes, I know, TMI, but this is my private blog and I can say what I want). We are the same generation, even if we're from different backgrounds.
And I may be wrong, but Oddity NEEDS someone who will willingly dote on him, who wants to take care of him, who enjoys being his companion no matter what. I listen well; I am patient and I can understand. Even when I can't understand, I will accept. He finds it hard to accept some things, but I attribute it to the life he's lead, which in every aspect was as hard as mine and in many ways, even harsher and more painful.
And.. I know what turns him on. THIS was and still is a big issue with me, for it is tied with my self-confidence, my self-image, my self-perception. 'nuff said on that.
No one else has a chance, however good looking or accomplished or suave or clever or interesting, while I am with Oddity. It is ultimately a choice one makes, and I want to stay with him. It is my choice if I find that the going is not going to result in acceptable ends.
And THAT is gist for another blog, for another time.
So what happened to Capt A? I loved him strong; all his annoying habits, his girth (which really was NEVER a factor; I still find him attractive), his inability to accept anyone else as having reason, whatever it was, I loved him despite it and with it.
What was the reason for my turning away from him? Oddity and Temptation would have NEVER had a chance had it been a year earlier. Even six months earlier would have made a difference.
What happened? I ask myself this every day. I will say, it eroded with the rather offhand comments he made about not wanting to commit, or the rather painful comment about the cable guy he could see me with; I need to be the most important person in your life next to your mother, your brother and your kids, if any. Then there's the lack of interest in sex. I'm sure it wasn't a lack of interest; I'm convinced I simply didn't do it for him. THAT can knock your confidence down low.
I adored him. I doted on him. But I didn't get back the kind of acceptance I gave. There... I accept and he couldn't. That may be a problem with Oddity, but I will give it time. There are other situations that make Oddity a better balance. The sex, for instance (yes, I know, TMI, but this is my private blog and I can say what I want). We are the same generation, even if we're from different backgrounds.
And I may be wrong, but Oddity NEEDS someone who will willingly dote on him, who wants to take care of him, who enjoys being his companion no matter what. I listen well; I am patient and I can understand. Even when I can't understand, I will accept. He finds it hard to accept some things, but I attribute it to the life he's lead, which in every aspect was as hard as mine and in many ways, even harsher and more painful.
And.. I know what turns him on. THIS was and still is a big issue with me, for it is tied with my self-confidence, my self-image, my self-perception. 'nuff said on that.
No one else has a chance, however good looking or accomplished or suave or clever or interesting, while I am with Oddity. It is ultimately a choice one makes, and I want to stay with him. It is my choice if I find that the going is not going to result in acceptable ends.
And THAT is gist for another blog, for another time.
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