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Letter 1: A Poor Choice for Nearly-as-Poor Reasons

April 16, 2014

To: Me, circa February 2013
From: Me, April 16, 2014

I know what you’re thinking. Or rather, I know the generally trend of what you’re thinking and feeling. It’s not good. You’re incredibly frustrated with your lack of privacy. Being subject to all the noise and nonsense of the house with zero reprieve is hell. Headphones are headache inducing trash, not that there’s anything you could stand to listen to often enough to buffer the noise every day. I also know you’re desperate enough to go through with what you’re planning, and that you’ve convinced yourself other good things will follow if you do.

You’re wrong. Oh how wrong you are. It’s sad and astounding how you’ve convinced yourself that you operate in a way you know to be incorrect. Lying to yourself is bad and you really shouldn’t do it again. You’re thinking, “I’ll use my school money to get an apartment. That will motivate me to get and keep my life in order! I’ll finally have the peace and quiet I need. I can focus on school, maybe do some writing finally, and have total control over my grocery intake. It’ll be swell.” You didn’t say swell as far as I can remember, but I’m invoking artistic license. You were also completely fucking wrong on every account, and it’s put me in a serious pain in the ass situation. Asshole.

Foremost, that mass sum of cash would have been much better spent on a really good pair of earphones. I’ve tried a few high quality brands and holy cow, they are comfortable and the noise cancelling works pretty well even without anything playing through them. It’s true that you have fuck all for privacy at the moment, but it’s really not as big of a deal as you’re making it up to be. Honestly. It was better then than now, at any rate. At least you have a bed to sleep on. I haven’t laid down on one of those in nearly five months.

Second, you’re full of shit if you think your lack of motivation comes from anywhere other than your own aimlessness. Nothing will fix that, except maybe proper medication. No real maybe there, it does a pretty good job actually. You really should have seen a (hell I always forget, psychiatrist or psychologist?) psychiatrist years ago when you thought you might have depression. Could have nipped a lot of this in the bud before it all got blown WAY out of control. Ahem.

There’s only one thing you want to do, only one avenue that twists happiness and success into a delicious swirl. It even feels good to do it, but you don’t. There’s fear there, I know. But no amount of homemaking will make you feel better about not doing it. There’s plenty of quiet time to be had in the middle of the night when everyone else is asleep. Use that. You’re up anyway! Prick.

Due to the above, you end up really super-fucked around the end of the year. You’ve had zero job leads, despite some effort put toward the hunt, and you’ve totally run out of money. Here’s what happens when you run out of money.

  1. Your bank account is closed for running in the negative for too long. Your bank account of ten years is now gone.
  2. You get evicted.
  3. Your credit card doesn’t get paid.
  4. Your bike goes uninsured for months and you get next to zero use from it before –
  5. Your bike is repossessed. Now you’re immobile again, you fuckwit. Good luck getting to work now.
  6. Your credit score absolutely tanks, killing any near future prospects for reacquiring a vehicle.
  7. You hate yourself for making such terrible choices.

The only good thing that came out of the poor decision to get that apartment is that the kids had somewhere to stay while they were finalizing their own paperwork and stuff. They’re all doing fairly well, in case you’re wondering. Not least of all due to the lady of the house holding down two or three jobs at a time and some outside assistance. Abby did her thing for a while then moved back to Maine. Buddha Brother took her spot and now works happily at the local 24 hour breakfast joint down the street. They still get a hand now and then; raiding the old family fridge, car repair, a place to do laundry, etc. Nothing you wouldn’t expect from folks their age to take advantage of. By and large they’ve all done a pretty good job keeping their shit together. You should be proud. You are. You will be? Tenses are dumb.

You did make one pretty good choice in the midst of all this ruckus. You will, in fact, rather enjoy doing the fast-track drafting program. Not only is it pretty fun, it’s a very useful crutch for your horrible artistic skills. Your pour a little too much effort into the early work and not enough into the later stuff, but that’s not unexpected or really a bad thing. You do, however, fuck up the third class and not get your certification. First, you neglect to fill out the graduation form on time (you had plenty of advance notice, you just knowingly fucked off with it for months). You bit off more than you could chew for the class final, too. Azadi Tower is really a beautiful piece of architecture, but it’s a royal pain in the fucking ass to try to draw. Hint: Just Pline the legs and don’t sweat the exact look of the roof. Idiot. Also, you appreciate geometry on a new level now. The professor wasn’t always the easiest to deal with and sitting in the same room for 4 hours a day got really old really fast, but you learned a lot. That’s one choice you can be proud of.

Too bad you fucked that up, too.



~ Rao

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