Posts Tagged ‘ Growing up ’

The Perfect Job for a Caveman is…

A writer.

Caveman comic *Google images

And that’s the problem; I’m no troglodyte. Instead I work a lot, trying to take care of myself and Mr. Fluffy (My imaginary cat friend who only exists in the very depths of my lonely soul). Rent is high (Too damn high!) and it seems like selling my liver might be the only aperture into middle class comfort. My schedule is horrendous, limiting the amount I write, maintaining this dilapidated blog, play TOR (In which I have become homesick after leaving Coruscant), and to socialize in my niche of half-baked friends.

11 am– I get up and “dress for success”.
12-1 pm– My usual biking adventure through 107 degree weather.
2 pm– Work
3 pm– Work
4 pm– Work
5 pm– Work
6 pm– Lunch!
6:30 pm– Back to work
7 pm– Work
8 pm– Work
9 pm– Work
10 pm– Work
10:30 pm– When the heavens sing and I make my way back to my rest chamber.
11 pm– I get a shower while responding back to the flooding of late texts
12 am – 3 am– After procuring a case of writers block, I stare at a blank page of nothingness, falling asleep to await the rinse-and-repeat process of the next day.

Perhaps a few nights of self-induced insomnia could allow me to finish the book that I am writing in the alloted time my procrastination is off shift.

The Rise of the Titans will surely be published soon…only delayed for another eight years hopefully.

The Woes of Moving-Out

I’ll be living on my own.

The very sound of that terrified me. I said it, I wanted it, and now I have it, but what it took was more than having the funds of a young Tony Stark. I had…connections. (*Spoken in italian accent*)

Before then, I was contemplating the possibility of a studio apartment, since my film production company is in it’s infancy I needed all the room I could get, but time was against me. Days passed and I wasn’t sure what I was to do, apartments were denying my application due to the lack of credit history, regardless of my $25,000 a year salary. I was subjected to begin thinking about creating a comfy abode under a bridge, until my friends helped me get on my feet and find a small, two-bedroom residence in the other half of his duplex.

It was excited to say at the least. I wouldn’t have to do chores everyday, I could live like I was my own boss without rules or the prosecution of laziness, I would be able to play Halo in 15 hour stretches and not get my butt lit on fire.

Until I actually got it.

I realized time was getting shorter and less available to fit in recreational  activities. Not only that but the process of getting furniture was the equivalent of catching Legendary Pokemon. I was calling in multiple days at a time to get situated (like I minded), my Evernote account was on grocery-list overdrive, and my mind was overwhelmed on how much it would take to even live comfortably. My days consisted of:

I need soap.
Why did I forget soap?
Dang, towels too.
No toilet paper? Wish I had a towel.
Guess I could use my hand–wait, no soap.
Beans for breakfast…okay.
Beans for lunch…
Beans and veggies for dinner…
No can opener?
Just beans then.
I would get ice-cream, but no ramen.
No microwave, gotta’ put that on the list.
Cleaning utensils! Can’t forget that…
I wish I had a sofa…
I could use my bed…
Where the heck am I going to put all this trash?
My place smells like old man. Fabreeze would be handy…
I need a bath.
Right…no soap.
At least I have a toothbrush.
…Where’s the toothpaste?

I don’t know what I would’ve done without Evernote and Google Docs. The whole experience taught me a valuable lesson: even though you’re living on your own, doesn’t exactly mean you’ll be living any easier. It takes work and maturity to effectively manage everything from bills to preventing starvation.   And not to forget soap.

When Life Hits Ya’, It Leaves Bruises

What really happens when you turn 18.

Lethargic, ignorant, and possessed more knowledge about Halo than I did about American History; that was me at the age of 16. I was convinced that this “Golden Age” of not having any responsibilities was going to last, I could play with my Xbox for as long as I wanted, and the only function school served was for social gatherings. I was known at that time to not take things seriously (and sometimes I still am) so I blindly believed life would treat me well regardless.

Then I turned 18.

The day before I hopped on the train going 3mph, then all of a sudden it speeds up to around a hundred and I’m struggling to hold on. Everything else after that came faster than I was prepared for; I needed to get a job, I needed to start providing for myself, getting finances in control, learning to drive, getting my GED, and taking care of legal and government requirements. The time my schedule allowed only had room for work and studying, suddenly I longed for some time off to do something for myself.
I was now in the shoes of an adult…perhaps because I was one–and the transition was not comfy to say at the least.

If I could go back in time in warn myself of what was ahead I would be more prepared, I would have payed attention in school instead of writing so much, I would’ve gotten a job sooner, and read Checkbook Balancing for Dummies.
Now I see others going through the same thing. I see them sit around all day, doing nothing other than doing school work and playing. Not that these activities are bad in any way, but they don’t seem to have a desire to start preparing for the change that will come about. I can sympathize with the matter and I know that when life hits ’em, it’s going to hit hard.

I’m only on the first stepping stone in this journey and when the time comes to get my own house, marriage, and sustaining a family–I’ll be ready…hopefully.