Reflections on 2020 or THANK THE GODS IT'S FINALLY OVER!

 2020 is freshly dead.

I can't help but let out a sigh of relief as it lays there, a withered spiteful husk filled with malice and hatred towards everything and everyone that has-- or ever will-- exist. I'm sure I'm not the only person who has suffered at the hands of this awful, awful year; we all have our horror stories of the indignities endured, of the trauma inflicted. I know it doesn't feel like it, but having simply survived 2020 is a victory in itself.

There are so many people who didn't.

Before I start, I want to make perfectly clear that just because we are now in the year 2021, it doesn't mean we are in the clear. We all like to make it seem as if all the fucked up shit that has happened lies squarely on the shoulders of the calendar year, as if a series of unfortunate and unrelated events somehow conspired to shove a sandpaper dildo up the collective ass of humanity.

As much as I'd like to buy into that plot, I can't. Because 2020 was very much the result of several actions and inactions of the human collective. Human disdain towards the environment. Rampant capitalism being allowed to devour the lives and hopes of the poor. The cult of ignorance and hatred finding a repugnant orange figurehead to act as a mouthpiece towards its vile agenda. 

In short, we actually went out of our way to buy the sandpaper dildo and shove it up our own ass. Without lube.

That's got to hurt!

2020 was a bad year. In no particular order of awful:

1. I lost both my grandfather and my great grandmother.

2. My frail mental health got handed a beating in ways that I have never experienced. My depression got bad to the point that there were days I could not muster the energy to crawl out of bed to do more than use the bathroom. And my anxiety had me a twitching wreck, pacing about my room while fending off full scale panic attacks.

Just another day in America.

Not that there weren't panic attacks, mind you. Because there were a great deal of them. I used up much of my pto at work by calling out sick due to the ever present threat of a panic induced frenzy. Speaking of work, that brings me to 3.

3. I quit my job! Without having any savings to fall back on, any prospects of new employment, and knowing that because I had quit, I would receive no unemployment.

Why would I do something so incredibly rash and irresponsible, you might ask? 

The short answer is retail sucks.

The slightly longer answer is retail during a pandemic not only sucks, but is dangerous.

The even longer version is that working for a company that doesn't care about the health and safety of its employees goes beyond dangerous and into the realm of stupid.

I'll spare you the long-- and I mean looooooooooong-- list of issues I have with my former employers. For now. I'll get back it it later. Trust me on that. Suffice to say that they handled established safety protocols for an out of control pandemic poorly. I felt that my health was at risk after a while, so I abandoned that disease vector, and damn the consequences.

So, yeah. Fantastic year.

But I would be remiss if I didn't include some of the good things that happened in 2020. Like small glimmers of light, they helped pierce the murky gloom of the year and offered something vaguely resembling joy.

1. Final Fantasy 7 Remake

This game is something I've longed for for years. It had always been nothing but an unrealistic hope. Until June 15th 2015, when Square Enix revealed the first trailer.

Just like that, the dream was made a reality. And since that day, myself and countless other Final Fantasy fanatics champed at the bit, eagerly awaiting the day the game would be released. And on April 10th, 2020 it was.

And I am pleased to say that it was above and beyond everything I'd hoped it would be. The gameplay, the music, the story. All of it incredible. For the few weeks it took me to completely finish the game, I existed in a bubble of pure happiness. 

2. I finally saw Hamilton!

Not in person, of course; I'm not rich or lucky. But thanks to Disney+, I was finally able to watch it, hear it, and finally understand how amazing of a show it is. When Hamilton first came out, several friends around me obsessively listened to the soundtrack. Which bugged the shit out of me, because without seeing the show itself, the music held no real weight with me.

I'm weird.

3. I built my own gaming PC!

Yes, I have surpassed my peasant console origins and joined the ranks of greatness. 

Just kidding, that pc elitism shit is dumb. 

Kidding aside, it took me a couple of months to get all the parts assembled; being dirt poor, I didn't have the $800 or so lying around to buy everything all at once. Instead, I did it piecemeal, buying one component every couple of weeks when I got paid. A good friend had a video card they were no longer using and donated it for the cause-- something I am truly grateful for, since that saved me about $400 alone.

The building process itself went relatively smoothly, with a minor hiccup* stalling the process for a day. 

So all in all, there was some good and bad in 2020. Almost all of it overwhelmingly BAD, mind you. But still. If anything, 2020 helped me figure some things out. Like the fact that my mental health needs to be a priority hence forth. I've never been as much of a mess as I was during 2020, and I can no longer be lax on getting the help I need to function without feeling the urge to peel my own face off (anxiety) or melting into a puddle of hot garbage (depression).

In addition, my experience with the latest soul crushing job has demonstrated to me that working for some company and wasting my life lining someone else's pockets is REALLY not for me. I need to buckle down and work on my own goals and ambitions, because until I do, I'm a little more than a slave to a system that will do its damnedest to exploit me as much as it can get away with.

Let's make 2021 the year I change for the better.

*I could not get the damn thing to start. Apparently all of the power cables need to be plugged in for it to actually work...

Insomniac

The time is 5:02 am, and once again I cannot sleep.

Real talk, my insomnia has been hitting me more often and for longer periods, and it is driving me insane. This would be the 5th time in the past 30 days. For perspective, I usually get the random insomniac episode once a month-- twice if my anxiety is playing soccer with my brain.

Fly, little brain, fly!

But for the past few months now, it's been getting worse. A lot worse. Not only is it happening more often-- every week instead of every month-- the duration has been extended as well. Now instead of just a single night, I get to look forward to two or three or even four consecutive nights of sleeplessness.

I'm doing everything right. I avoid drinking caffeine after 2 pm, the electronics get shut down two hours before I go to bed to avoid the dreaded blue light that apparently keeps you awake. I do my best to chill out and relax by listening to calming music and reading. And even when I'm reading, I make sure it isn't something that's going to be too stimulating.

The process seems to work. Inch by delicious inch, I can feel the lethargic fuzziness take hold of my brain. I feel the urge to stretch and let out an epic yawn. Finally, it is bed time. I shut the lights off, lay down and shut my eyes.

And then open them, to stare at my darkened room. What the hell? Let me try again. I shut my eyes and.... they pop right back open. The lethargy is somehow dispelled as if it had never been. I'm wide awake and full of... energy? No, not that. I'm still tired from my day. My body is begging me to go the fuck to sleep. But my mind would rather do anything but.

I toss and turn, trying my best to ignore the rising tension, the stress of not being able to sleep. And with it the anger, the white hot frustration and growing rage at being denied one more thing that I desire.

5:21 am. I have to be up at 9 am to get ready for work. If I'm lucky, I'll manage to fall asleep sometime around 7 am. If I skip breakfast, I can wake up at 9:30 instead.

Why is this happening? Why?!

For fucks sake, my life is a major shit show as is. Depression, anxiety, low self esteem. I'm 36 and still live like a broke college student. I'm lonely in every sense of the word. My only reprieve is the ability to fall asleep after a long day of working retail and dreaming dreams that involve some form of happiness and contentment.

But I guess I don't get even that little slice of peace.

I'm back, bitches

It's been more than a year since I've written one of these. I had decided to give the blogging a rest, because it felt like screaming into the wind; I had no indication that anyone was reading, or that anyone even cared in the first place. And if no one is reading, what's the point of writing?

But I was wrong.

Not about people not reading; there was not a single word from anyone about the sudden lack of blog posts. No, I was wrong about there being no point to these. I realize now, after a year of not writing, that these little inconsequential scribbles have been a useful method of grounding myself, of venting and bouncing ideas around. The fact is, my blog was actually contributing to my mental health in subtle ways I wasn't aware of until I stopped doing them. The past year has been one of the most difficult of my life, and in my adult life, I cannot remember a year that hasn't been so.

So I decided to start up again, and who cares if no one but me actually reads these things; the blog is for me, as a journal of my admittedly banal day to day life. In other words:

Hi!

Just kidding! Anyway, to business.

I am no longer at my former job, the one I was complaining about in my last post. In fact, I have only recently-- a week ago-- found a new job, and that was after six months of being unemployed. But I'm jumping ahead of myself.

The stint at the UPS store was not good. The fact is, it sucked fat, hairy ass. The source of my discontent was both boss and supervisor, with my supervisor being the biggest issue, because she was there all the time, while the boss was thankfully scarce.

My supervisor was, for lack of a better word, repulsive. And I don't mean just physically-- her personality, habits, and lack of intelligence were the driving force behind everything that was wrong with that little hellish shack of a store. Her interactions with customers were rude, condescending, and lacked anything resembling empathy. Don't get me wrong, I loath customers as much as the next retail drone, but she took it to extremes that had even me shocked.

Beyond that, she seemed to take a vindictive delight in attempting to turn her underlings against each other. Not a month would go by where she wouldn't casually mention some made up conversation she had with one employee that involved said employee talking shit about another employee. The funny thing was she was too obtuse to realize that all of us had each others backs and didn't fall for it. We all got  a kick out of her efforts, however.

The very worst part was the fact that she was terrible at actually supervising, either teaching a job function inefficiently or just flat out not at all, leaving the poor new hires at the mercy of the raging store owner when something that should have been done wasn't done because the supervisor failed at training us-- something that happened to myself the very first week I was hired.

Beyond the piss poor management, the store itself was a mess. It was a tiny, cramped little closet that often ran out of walking space and left even the stalwart of heart feeling more than a little claustrophobic.

A little help!

And then there was the customers. Oh ye laughing gods, the customers.

For every 10 customers, 5 would be average, 4 would be raging, entitled assclowns, and 1 would be cool. That is a terrible ratio, and I honestly don't know why it was the way it was; I've worked more than my share of customer service positions in my life, and I've never had to deal with so many assholes on a regular basis. I don't know if it's geography, the business itself, the light of the full moon, or something in the local drinking water, but that store was a magnet for the pushy, self absorbed, and snobby. I cannot recall a job that has infuriated me so much in so short a time; it took three years at my previous job-- a high stress job in a high stress industry, no less-- for me to reach the level of FUCK THIS that I hit in a few short months at that store.

But, despite all that, I didn't quit. Not out of some perverse sense of loyalty for my employer. No, I was grounded by the harshest of realities: I had no back up plan, no savings, and no safety net. If I quit, I would not be able to pay my rent or afford such basic creature comforts such as food.

I think that was the tipping point to my depression. I was helpless, trapped in a job I hated with no means of exodus. Nobody likes feeling helpless, to feel powerless and unable to alter your circumstances.

Ah, capitalism.

All avenues of escape were out of my reach; I didn't have any qualifications for a higher paying, higher quality job. I had no money to go to school to learn a trade or skill set; I was drowning in student debt, and could not get a loan to save my life. Short of a big bag of money falling from the sky at my feet, I had no options. And so I grit my teeth, clenched my fists into tight little balls, and faced each day assured that it would never end.

But it did end. And not well.

The choice to leave or stay was taken from me by my boss. A week before I was booted, the supervisor announced that all employees of the store would be required to become a notary public. Now, I have nothing against that in itself; it's a useful skill to pick up, and looks good on a resume. But I didn't have any desire to become a notary-- the boss made sure of that. I overheard him bragging to the supervisor when he thought no one was within earshot that the stores notary services would had another 200k to his personal bank account each year.

"Raises? Fresh out. But I have plenty of Fuck You left."

Did I mention that my boss was a notorious cheapskate? Well, he was. He refused to set up direct deposit because, he admitted, he didn't want to "waste" the money doing so. What business doesn't have a direct deposit set up these days? It's 2018 for fucks sake! So instead, we had to sit around and wait for him to hand write the checks, which, depending on how busy he was, would take all day on pay day.

So I think I was quite reasonable when I asked if we employees would be getting a raise to reflect that we were all being required to learn a new skill set. Now don't get me wrong, despite the harsh tone of this blog entry, I was polite and professional with my inquiry. I asked, not demanded, and made sure to point out my reasons for asking.

My supervisor nodded her head and told me that she would bring it up with the boss to see if a raise was possible, or at least some form of compensation for the increased duties and responsibility we were being asked to undertake.

The next week, I was fired.

Near the end of my shift, I was pulled into her office, where she informed me that I was being let go because "I refused to comply with the new policy and become a notary." She then told me that they would be willing to keep me on if I took a reduction in pay and went ahead and became a notary.

I refused, naturally.

That was on June 4th. I went home, promptly spent and hour freaking out, and settled in for some frantic job searching. "It will be fine," I told myself as I updated my resume. "It shouldn't be too hard to find something simple. Besides, unemployment will help pay rent in the meantime."

The universe must have thought that was hilarious.

My bid for unemployment was denied. It seems that they only counted 2018 in calculating my income, and I didn't make enough to qualify. Well shit. But it was fine; I had a little money in my savings, and there were plenty of jobs to apply for.

Ha ha, ha ha ha.

As I said, I just got a job last week. It is currently November 19th. Thanksgiving is three days away. So how did I managed to survive the past six months?

Carefully. And with a lot of help from friends and family.

My main source of income came from two places. The first was through Plasma donations. There is one in Everett that pays for my sweet delicious plasma, no doubt for down and out vampires too lazy to go out and suck people dry themselves.

That covered about half of my portion of rent. The other half came from doing Postmates deliveries. For those not in the know, Postmates is kind of like uber eats, except you can walk or ride a bike to do them. The downside is that it takes place downtown, so I had to commute there and back, and then spend hours walking about making below minimum wage; each delivery nets you about $4 before tips (If they tip...) and depending on delivery locations, you might get one or two deliveries per hour. Yeah...

Sadly, the universe gave Bad a rare candy and evolved that bitch to Worse. Around September, Postmates became unreliable. More and more people signed up to do deliveries, and the jobs became scarce; I would frequently only get one or two deliveries in a 5 hour period, and some days I wouldn't get any. I found myself short on rent by hundreds of dollars.

For all your evolution needs.

My saving grace was my mom, and a few awesome friends who donated the missing funds to me. These wonderful people saved me from homelessness, and I'll always appreciate them. Of course, I felt like a bigger piece of shit for needing the assistance as well as costing them money.

But me feeling like a piece of shit is a common theme in my life, so I'll deal.

My new job is, from a financial viewpoint, worse than the UPS Store. I make minimum wage and work part time. A downgrade, to be sure. But I'm hoping this marks the beginning of a new era, one where I get my shit together and stop living like a broke college student. I'll be able to make enough to pay the rent and bills, eat food, and hopefully revivify the desiccated husk that was once my savings.

June Blues

June was a busy, eventful month for me, so much so that I barely had any free time to, among other things, write. But being a writer, I will use any excuse to not put fingers to keyboard; at one point, I delayed working on the book in order to reorganize my sock drawer.

Seriously, who could concentrate on writing with that mess needing to be corrected?

My job at the UPS Store marks my return to the wonderful world of retail, something I have not subjected myself to for almost ten years. The job may be different, but the core functions are the same: deal with a customers belligerent bullshit while plastering a ultra fake smile on your face and pretending to give a shit about their inane problems.

I love helping customers

I suppose I shouldn't complain; I knew what I was getting into when I applied for the job. Of course, in my defense, I was being influenced by frantic desperation at that point; 10 months of unemployment had reduced my saving to nil, and I was reduced to swiping bars of soap from my moms place in order to bathe.

Sure, I could have just asked for some soap, but then I would have to reveal how low I had sunk. And a man has his pride.

Anyway, six weeks into the new job, and I can safely say that I am completely over it. While that doesn't come as a complete surprise to me-- working retail is about as enjoyable as walking barefoot over shards of broken glass covered in salt and lemon juice-- what does surprise me is the speed at which I am over it. Never before have I been so quick to write a job off; even my last job took over a year of constant stress and anxiety for me to decide, "Nope, fuck this, I want out." Believe it or not, but the assholic nature of the customer isn't the issue here.

That would be my supervisor.

The UPS store I work for is a small operation; there are five regular employees, my supervisor, and the store owner, who blips in and out like a lagger in a fps. My initial impression of the supervisor was that she was friendly and professional. But then, considering that first impression was in a job interview, it's understandable that I goofed; I'm sure she thought I was a charming young man who enjoys interacting with customers, so I guess we both lied.

Joke's on you

What I found is a person who delights in being right, whose desire to teach is tainted by a craving to appear knowledgeable and experienced when speaking to the underlings (that would be me and my coworkers). As I quickly discovered, this behavior has been stirring up a lot of issues and instilled the others with an understandable feeling of spite and resentment. Something that I am sad to say I find myself sharing.

The biggest problem is her teaching style. Rather than simply explaining something, whether it be a how-to situation or correcting an error, she instead has to make a game out of it. She will point to a thing and ask, "Tell me, what's wrong with this?"

Suppressing my urge to snap at her, I instead take a breath and respond, "I don't know, what?"

Having her ego stroked by my ignorant response, she will then explain what the problem is. At great length, whether you want her to or not. 15 minutes after, she'll saunter off, while I stand there shaking my head in disbelief, because a simple explanation would have taken two minutes, tops. Instead, I get subjected to a long winded lecture over something that I'm still learning to do or am completely ignorant of.

Speaking of ignorance...

No not you. This time...

On the second week in the job, the other new hire and myself ended up being chewed out by the store owner because we hadn't done an essential aspect of the job: sorting the old mail into a pile and then calling our mail box holders to inform them that they need to pick this up. Under normal circumstances, I could understand that. But there is one problem with the scenario:

We were never taught that. Our supervisor never informed us of this apparently crucial job function. And when we tried to explain to the store owner, he just brushed it off. Which doesn't appear to be anything new.

It seems that all of us peon employees have had similar issues crop up with the supervisor, and every time someone complains or voices an opinion counter to that of the store owner, at best they are ignored and at worst they get scolded.

This sort of repeated behavior has instilled an aura of discontent around the store from the employees, something that is amazingly overlooked by those in charge. Which is astonishing considering that store is a cramped room where everyone is packed in tightly like a bunch of clowns in a clown car.

Clown Car

Beyond that, the nature of the job itself is not sustainable for someone with as many money problems as myself. While I am working full time, the pay rate is not great by any stretch of the imagination; working as I am, I can make ends meet, barely; rent and bills are covered, and I can eat. But beyond that, I have no wiggle room; rebuilding my savings and 401k is basically impossible. Even worse, I simply can't afford to miss any shifts; I don't intend on playing hooky-- no matter how tempting it is-- but at the same time, shit inevitably happens; I might get sick or have an emergency that requires me to miss a day. And if that happens, I'm boned; the job has no PTO, and even worse, with so few people working there, your absence is felt and will instill resentment.

Meanwhile, as I was dealing with that mess, I had another one brewing at home: the need to find a new roommate.

With our lease expiring at the end of June, my previous roommate decided to move out so that he and his girl could get a place together, which was fine. The problem was finding a new roommate before the end of the month.

I posted an ad on craigslist as well as a few apps made especially for seeking roommates. At first things went well; I received multiple hits and over the course of two weeks, I interviewed a dozen or so potential candidates. Most of them were... not good. A few of them clearly hadn't read the ad, as they were smokers or druggies or both. Some were just awful people. There were a few good ones, perhaps three out of the bunch, and after much thought, I settled on which I thought was the best.

The best declined, having found a more desirable living arrangement. Okay, fair enough.

The second best declined as well, for the same reason. Grrrrrrr, okay fine.

The bronze metal said yes, and I breathed a sigh of relief. At that point, I only had two weeks left, and while that still left time to search, it was a bit too close to the deadline for comfort. The soon-to-be new roommate and I chatted over the next week, getting to know one another and making arrangements for getting the paperwork signed and all that fun adult crap.

Then came Monday, June 19th, and everything went to hell.

Nobody likes Mondays. Mondays are the chronological equivalent of smelly dog farts, rocks in shoes, Trumps stupid voice, and a punch in the face all rolled together. This particular Monday was all those other Monday's older, stronger sibling. It started off badly, and just went down hill from there. The entire day was full of the most shit-brained, ignorant fucktard customers imaginable. It's as if congress all decided to visit the store at once.

After enduring that epic shit-show, I trudged my way home. The soon-to-be new roommate was supposed to show up at the apartment and sign paperwork, thus cementing the deal. Instead, I got a text from him:

"Hi Darren. So some buddies of mine all decided to get a place together. So I'm going to go with that instead. Sorry about that."

All I could do was stare at my phone screen, outrage and disbelief warring to gain dominance in my mind. Outrage won, but only because that Monday had already been so fucked up that I couldn't be surprised that it managed to spill over into my living situation. After ranting at the the room for a solid hour, panic replaced the anger; I had a little over a week to find a new roommate, or I would find myself shopping for a new cardboard box to live in.

That entire weeks was an awful mix of panic and depression as I reposted my ad... and received no responses. The days sped by, and by the weekend, I was convinced that I was boned. That last weekend was spent packing my belongings in preparation of moving them to a storage facility.

By the following Monday, all hope seemed lost. But then my luck turned. I got a response the next day from who is now my new roommate. I interviewed him, and thankfully he seems like good people and not a shitbag like I expected; regardless of how desperate I was, I refused to live with someone who clearly wouldn't be a fit; I've had too many fucked up roommates in the past to fall for that trap again.

Narrowly, by the skin of my teeth, I managed to avoid homelessness. And while the job is... not good, it's still income. So I'm hanging in there. But the struggle is still real. My situation isn't sustainable in the long run, and so I can't afford to get comfortable-- not that I could be comfortable eating Ramen in a near empty apartment while frantically searching for a better job.

Not out of the woods yet, but I found a path

It seems that the universe has decided to ease up on me. Just a bit.

"Alright, take five while I get more lube."

Much to my shock, I got a call this past Thursday with a  job offer. I'm thrilled to announce that I am once again employed! After 10 months of constant searching and applying, I can finally stop worrying about being able to eat. The pay isn't as great as I'd like, but it is full time, provides benefits, major holidays off, and best of all, it will be nowhere near as stressful as my previous employment. That right there is worth its weight in gold.

As much as I'd like to celebrate, I'm not exactly out of trouble just yet. While the job is a much needed win for me, I still find myself in a number of binds. As the title suggests, I found myself a path, but the deep dark woods are still all around me.

Each one these trees wants to ruin my life.

First on the plate is my current living situation. The lease is up at the end of June, and my roommate will be moving on. That leaves me with three options: stay in the apartment and find a new roommate, move out and find a new place, or move back in with the 'rents. 

Obviously, no 34 year old man wants to move back home, so that third option is out. Option two would normally be my choice; the apartment I live in is... not good. Stuff is falling apart constantly around the complex, and they only have a single handyman to handle it all, thus creating a massive backlog; it took three months of constant nagging to get them to come to the apartment and fix a leaky toilet. And from what I hear, they are going to be upping the cost of rent. Again.

But moving out isn't an option for me. Ten months of unemployment and an inability to pay off my student loans-- and no options to defer them-- has fucked my credit hard; no landlord in his right mind would dream of renting so much as a cardboard box out to me.

That leaves the first option.

So, once I get this housing situation settled, I'll then have to contend with my student loan problems. For those not in the know, debt is kind of like herpes: extremely inconvenient, uncomfortable, embarrassing, and it continues to crop up again and again, no matter what you do. Student loans are the super saiyans of debt; every time you beat them down, they get a significant power boost. And right now, my credit is doing a fairly accurate impression of Frieza.

And lastly, I need to begin rebuilding the decimated ruins of my savings. Well, decimated isn't an accurate word, because I have nothing. My emergency fund and my 401k were all depleted, so the goal will be to somehow get my debt in check while also setting money aside for the inevitable future crisis that will doubtless take place when it's most inconvenient.

Doesn't that sound like fun?! Cue the manic laughter.

Scrub

So, it seems that the universe has decided that me finding a job isn't in the cards.

"Afraid not, buddy."

Since I began searching for a new job waaaaaaaay back in August 2016, when I was laid off from my previous employment, I have filled out literally hundreds of job applications to a diverse number of potential jobs. I've signed up on a few of the more popular job sites-- indeed and monster specifically-- and plastered my resume across the internet. I even signed for a temp agency and had them go over my resume with a fine toothed comb.

All of that has produced nothing. Zilch. Nada.

10 months of continuous job searching has produced no results. Just three interviews and three rejections. Three interviews out of hundreds of applications and resume drops. That delightful temp agency I signed up for-- the one designed to find me temp work-- has also produced nothing. At this point, I honestly don't know what else I can do.

Other than start drinking.

I've exhausted all of my unemployment. I cashed out my 401k a couple of months ago, and that allowed me to pay my rent and phone bill. I am now completely and utterly broke beyond anything I have ever experienced before; I have about $15 in my wallet, and that represents the entirety of my money. Nothing in the bank, nothing saved up.

Looks like I can't even explore that "Start Drinking" option; who can afford booze? Certainly not I.

And if that bit of misery isn't enough, I'm also facing a series of what I like to call, "I'm Fucked Situations." Let's go over them in more detail, shall we?

1. My lease is up at the end of June. That would normally be fine, welcome even; this apartment complex blows goats. It's expensive and shit breaks down on a regular basis. The complex only employs a single handyman, and the poor guy runs himself ragged trying to keep ahead of the decay and entropy that this apartment complex experiences.

Unfortunately, me not having a job or money saved up means that when the lease is up and my roommate moves on, I won't be able to find a new place. That will force me to move back in at my moms place due to lack of options. That's what every 34 year old man dreams of, right?

2. My phone is going to be shut off this month, seeing as I, you know, can't pay my bill. Not having a reliable means of communicating with the outside world-- or potential employers being able to contact me-- is going to hinder this finding a job mission of mine.

3. After this month is up, I'll have a very limited ability to get around town, seeing as-- you guessed it-- I won't have bus fair or money for a pass.

I'm sure you're seeing a pattern here. No money= I am completely fucked.

4. The depression that I have been wrestling with since three minutes before I was born has gained a mighty big foothold in my mind of late, due mostly to the fact that I am lonely and broke. Nothing helps my self-esteem like realizing that I'm a grown man in my mid-thirties who cannot reliably take care of myself. Needless to say, I'm feeling a mite bit worthless at the moment. I'm sure spending my days closeted in my room isn't helping, but try finding the motivation to move when you don't feel worthy to even look at other people, let alone speak to them.

5. Disclaimer: This next bit might be a little TMI, but whatever. I have been out of control horny for what feels like months now. My libido has always been on the large side, but lately... yeesh. I feel as if I could pelvic thrust my way through a brick wall, if that wall happens to have an hourglass figure.

"You looking fine, girl"

Put all of that together and you'll find a man who is barely keeping his shit together. I find myself raging at the smallest things, and this even resulted in me breaking down into tears a few days ago. Manly tears of righteous frustration, mind you, but still tears.

Even worse, I haven't been able to get any writing done in weeks, because what the fuck is the point to trying to accomplish anything when I am a big fat failure? I'm almost certain that was the depression talking just now. But do you see what I'm working against?

Rock Bottom

And no, the title isn't referring to Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson's bottom, which I'm sure is a huge disappointment to some of you.

Do you smell what the Rock is cooking?

No, I am referring to the current state of affairs that is my life. So, for those of who are big on schadenfreude, good news! This post is going to be a dozy.

When last we left off, our hero-- that's me-- was in a bitter spiral of despair and depression based off of a number of tragic events. I had been unemployed for a period of four months and unable to find a new job and even worse, an orange buffoon had just been elected the leader of the free world. After my last blog post, I figured I needed to take some time and get my head together. Cool down and come up with some kind of plan to navigate this new, frightening world I would soon find myself in.

Well, it's been about five months since that decision, and I'm sad to say that I am officially knee deep in the shit. Bleak political landscape aside-- after all, there isn't much I can do about that except protest, write letters, and bug those in power-- my employment situation has not improved at all. In fact, quite the opposite.

I have hit rock bottom, folks. I stand at the precipice of a looming abyss, desperately swinging my arms in a futile effort to maintain my balance. I used up my unemployment benefits back in February. I have no money, no options, and no time remaining. The one job I have heard back from since I started looking back in August keeps having delays and technical difficulties preventing me from starting. Thus I find myself in the awkward and humiliating position of contemplating moving back in with my mom. If I don't find some form of employment in the next week or so, I'll have to do just that, as I won't have the money to pay next months rent.

Though this is a viable option too

Needless to say, I'm a wee bit depressed and miserable at how terrible things have been working out for me of late.  Keeping my head up and trying to stay positive is increasingly difficult, especially when you consider that my entire adult life has been the same struggle, the same constant drudgery through one misfortune after another. Each choice, each action, seems to lead to something worse. I feel like Charlie Brown, trying again and again to kick that football, thinking that maybe this time that bitch Lucy-- or as I like to call her, Life-- won't pull it away at the last second.

"Sorry, Darren, you gotta be quicker than that!"

When you are in a situation such as mine, you can't help but examine your past, looking for that one thing, that one action that caused events to morph into a shit spiral of epic proportions. It's a futile effort that does more harm than good, of course-- like digging at a wound trying to heal over. Because regardless of what may have happened in the past, it does nothing to change the present.

But on the bright side, they say humility is good for you. Considering all of the humble pie I've been eating, I'd say I'm set.

Little known fact, humble pie is pecan. I hate pecan.