I know what you are thinking: Im going to write something dull and long about the banking crisis. Or the credit crisis. Or the crisis people face when they are about to lose their second summer home because all of their retirement (when they retired at 43) was tied up in the stock they received upon leaving the Company where they made millions.
No, I am not writing about that. I am writing about me. I am writing about how my year will go this year. 2009.
Before you go thinking that I am a narcissist, which I may well be, or something like that, let me tell you about my year. Or at least sum it up.
I write this on a laptop that does not have an apostrophe or quotations key because my laptop imploded two days ago losing all of my data and my ability to find a new mechanic.
And I need a new mechanic because my radiator blew up a week ago (engulfing my car in smoke next to a gaggle of drunk construction workers, after-hours). The mechanic had my radiator replaced but it is still leaking like a strainer and let me tell you, I need my car.
I need my car because I must drive to tutor mulitple younguns who are absolutely ungrateful for all the wisdom I pass on to them. I also need it to drive around one strangely disassociated child whose mother pays me seven dollars an hour to chauffer him.
Yes, seven dollars an hour. I know now what you are thinking– either a) the minimum wage rate has changed or b) I am illegal. Neither are true. I am not illegal and minimum wage is still 8.50 an hour in California but I take the 7/dollar an hour job because I no longer have a real job.
I no longer have a real job because my newer, former boss was a sloppy megolomaniac who put me in charge of all of his government contracts and tried to rip-off the government as well. Having been trained as a policy analyst it was very hard to watch him take the Government to the cleaners. I should mention it was also very hard, as a human being, to see him rip off tax payers while making a profit. Additionally he had given some technical information to the defense department of India. Bad idea for many reasons…However, somewhere in between me mentioning this, and resigning, I believe he may have dismissed me. But I still have the resignation letter, and so does he.
When things go like this, you usually have your parents and family on whom to rely. Except when you dont. (Remember, this computer is messed up royally.) I would have gone to my mother and told her all about how awful it is being unemployed for the first time since I was fourteen years old, but I did not know her address.
I was unaware of her address because she decided to leave my father and take all of my books from my old bedroom with her. She also took most of the furniture and cooking utensils from the house, so I guess my dad made out worse than I did.
Because my older sister is always ready with tea and food and a listening ear, I would have gone to her house to discuss this missing mother thing. But she and my dearest little niece and nephew had moved away as well.
When people move away it is really great if you have a dog because they can keep you company.
Except when you poison your dog. Which I did. On accident. He is alive and ok, but I did poison him the same weekend that I electrocuted myself, and I thought– alright, it is time to go whine to my boyfriend.
Only I can not go to my boyfriend because he lives at home with his parents who do not particularly like me. They do not like me because I am the wrong race– which was sort of a problem in my last relationship so you would think I would learn. But I have not learned and I wont be learning– at least not in law school, anyway.
I will not be going to law school to get out of this unemployment mess because I took too many caffeine pills before the LSAT and did terribly. I could barely keep my eyes from rolling to the back of my head while my heart leapt through my teeth from sheer energized jitteriness.
I had better not be jittery when I go to court in three weeks to argue about failing to appear in court for a hearing which apparently is a misdemeanor. Who knew? Not me, thats for sure.
I also did not know that when your mechanic fixes the battery on your car it eliminates your ability to listen to the radio unless you saved a code to it that apparently was given to the original owner. Nine people ago.
So I am thinking that 09 is going to be better than 08. Not because of anything special. Just because….it has to….right?
