I have now ventured out and visited over half of the Catholic Churches on this damned and blessed island - though recently not with any sort of intended regularity because of life's distractions.
Attempting to work a lot, save money and climb out of debt as this bad winter of an economic crisis swallows us whole - I hear it will continue for about the next five years. This house of cards we have built up with our debt is falling down upon us, and I am to blame, like so many others, having spent and traveled and drank my own share away. We have all become prodigal sons and daughters. We have done fucked up. I am trying to rectify my own situation, paying it off a penny at a time.
Nearing the top of my list of 10 hardest things to do in life is finding an apartment in NYC. What a pain in the ass! It combines all the insecurities and self-doubt of job-seeking with all the insecurities and self-loathing of entering into a relationship. Like a job hunt, you don't know if you've got what it takes for them to accept you. And like a relationship, you're looking for that impossible perfect match that you'll most likely never find.
I've only been searching less than a couple weeks, but all the pain and duress that I underwent two years ago finding a place have rushed back upon me. The search should be easy enough: we know what kind of place we want, we know where we want/have to live, and it's currently a renter's market out there. But oh how I forgot the stress one endures on this search! You find something great that you think will work and some other dope comes along and steals it out from under you. Or you find a kind of perfect place that no one else seems interested in and you struggle to figure out what's wrong with it - knowing full well it's only a matter of time (hours after you move in, probably) before you're all too likely to discover the reason.
Twenty-five blocks further north, downsizing a bit, paying a little less, taking on an additional roommate. Isn't life here in this towering institution a little insane? I'm 30 years old and I need roommates to survive! Doesn't adulthood suggest one be living and sustaining life on their own or at least with a spouse? And here I am in a three bedroom, two roommates, paying a fortune (considering,) don't own a car, certainly don't own an apartment or a house, live far from my family, looking for a job that suits me better than the one I currently have, and filled with so much doubt - wondering if this is the life I am supposed to be living.
I don't even know how to describe what's going on in the relationship I find myself in. We've been arguing - about what I've no idea. I can't tell if we go well together or if we're just trying to tell ourselves that we do.
She can be sweet and good and wonderful but then there is this other side that conflicts with the very basics of my human getup. She seems to lack a kind of passion that my soul screams a necessity. I don't know for sure if she is hoping in the future one day to build a life together, or is simply going about planning her life and allowing me to be a part of it.
Will this year be just another Christmas gift exchange with another beautiful face I will not go on to live my life with?