real life (lyn)

Personal blogging is not really like an online diary.  At least mine isn’t.  If it were, I’d be more open in writing about the things that concern me.  But those things tend not to be interesting, humorous, or in any way entertaining.  To avoid writing about the less positive aspects of life, though,  feels a bit disingenuous.  So today I’m going to write about the fear that consumes me, day and night.  I am getting closer and closer to being poor.

I no longer have a savings account.  Today I transferred the last of it into my checking account to cover this month’s bills.  In a couple of weeks, I’ll have to sell my small portfolio of stocks in order to cover the tuition payment for school and the cost of the bus.  After that, it’ll be my small IRA.  And then what?  I can’t get a job.  I mean, a real one with benefits.  So now I’m running out every night as a census taker, knocking on doors, finding people mostly not at home.  Occasionally I find a willing person, and they are usually very nice.  But I have already come across some not so nice people.  Like the person who buzzed me in.  And after climbing three flights of stairs, and saying cheerfully, “Hi, I’m from the Census Bureau and I’d like to ask you a few questions,” she said, “Oh, it’s you (as if we had a relationship),” and then slammed the door right in my face.  Or the woman yesterday who said quite nastily, “I told the government all that the constitution requires.  Enjoy your little government job,” as if I were there to recruit her for a tour of duty in Fallujah.  It’s hard being an enumerator (that is what we are called), and it basically pays little.  I net $15/hour.  That’s less than Alexander made babysitting last summer.  And his job was fun, and, at the beach!  But then, that’s $15/hour more than I was making before.

Maybe now that the thrill of looking in the mirror at the new me is fading a little, what’s becoming more vivid are the problems I face.  I wish sometimes that I could escape my life.  That Alexander and I could go away for a few days and just relax from the stress in our lives.   Aside from a great trip to Brazil last year to visit Zelia who was living there at the time (using miles, and staying at her home), Alexander and I haven’t been on a vacation since 2004 when we spent four nights at Chatham Bars Inn on the Cape. 

Even as I write this I know I’m in denial.  Here I am whining about not having gone on a vacation in six years, when soon I will be wondering how I’m going to pay my rent and electric bill!

I've thought about  taking a little break from writing until I have an interesting and/or humorous tale to tell.  But I'm not sure that this is something I want to do.  I write this just in case I decide it is.

Right now, my financial future (or lack thereof) scares me too much.  But the good news is, I know I won't use food to comfort me.