This is my life.
I am sitting on a cold floor which also functions as my bed. This room is probably 60 degrees at the most. I am listening to Neil Young and my roommate talking on the phone the next room over. She's Ecuadorian, beautiful, popular, smart, and has so many things going for her. My other roommate (whose floor I sleep on) is somewhere studying, without a doubt. She's smart, capable, remarkable and overachieving. They are best friends. I love them both, but we are far from the three musketeers.
I am lonely.
Even calling them my "roommates" is a stretch. As soon as I get a paycheck from my "just for the time being" job, I will pay them all I can, but for now I am simply crashing their floor. So it goes. I can't even have roommates right.
I tried to do it right. I tried to be an activist. That didn't work out. Now I sell overpriced home items. They're pretty, but I don't even have a home/apartment/shack/storage facility to put them in. Nor do I have the money to purchase any of the things I sell. I'm great at my job--was called a 'superstar' twice last week--but I'm really just good at talking to people, smiling at people, and making them feel comfortable with me.
Day to day, my understanding of my life varies from "fuck, I'm pathetic" to "man, my life is working for me right now." I don't know where I'm at, and I hope that this blog will help me come to terms with what is right and what is wrong with all that I'm attempting to accomplish. One thing I do know about myself is that everything I do is intensely personal. So goes this blog. I cannot be simply professional. I cannot disconnect myself from people, from my writing, from my thoughts. Everything I say and do is personal and I don't think there's a problem with that.
One more thing. There's a man in my life. The kind of man that holds and consoles me when I miss my dog back home so intensely that I spend the whole morning crying in bed. The kind of man that will drive over to see me for ten minutes if that's all the time allowed in the day. The kind of man that tells me it's all going to be okay and I believe him.
The kind of man you move across the country for. The kind of man you quit jobs for.
That kind of man. That kind of life.