I'm gonna try to write in the morning, before my brain works, something I rarely do, but I don't yet want to be noisy.
Let's get the easy stuff said. I'm starting a new job. It's a bad idea. I'm only doing it so I can occupy as many of my waking hours with the pursuit of money. I tend to hover around $2000 in debt at a time. This is usually with another paycheck for $1200 coming in and mileage reimbursement in the wings. It's hard not to spend money on somethings that have saved me $600-$10,000 recently. I've found the utility of debt and the ability to see things like my new shed getting deconstructed and transported keep my thoughts from being occupied about all I can't yet do.
As far as bad ideas go, I feel like I'm trying to accelerate doing them while I still have the energy. I'm not “old,” but my body definitely is stiffer, I've managed to maintain a relatively consistent sleep schedule, and even with hours of massaging and stretching, there's a wobble to my knee and muscles all through my back that will provoke headaches. If I'm going to get tight and achy, I want it to be after I've cut the roof off a shed, dug a trench, or cranked a come-along all day removing saplings.
Let's get the easy stuff said. I'm starting a new job. It's a bad idea. I'm only doing it so I can occupy as many of my waking hours with the pursuit of money. I tend to hover around $2000 in debt at a time. This is usually with another paycheck for $1200 coming in and mileage reimbursement in the wings. It's hard not to spend money on somethings that have saved me $600-$10,000 recently. I've found the utility of debt and the ability to see things like my new shed getting deconstructed and transported keep my thoughts from being occupied about all I can't yet do.
As far as bad ideas go, I feel like I'm trying to accelerate doing them while I still have the energy. I'm not “old,” but my body definitely is stiffer, I've managed to maintain a relatively consistent sleep schedule, and even with hours of massaging and stretching, there's a wobble to my knee and muscles all through my back that will provoke headaches. If I'm going to get tight and achy, I want it to be after I've cut the roof off a shed, dug a trench, or cranked a come-along all day removing saplings.
I'm incredibly tired of waiting. If I tried to parse out all of the “bad” decisions I've made that I had to account for before I got my own house in order, so to speak, it's time for the experiment and thrive portion. I paid off the tax debt. I got the essentials flowing, I've kept the bills incredibly low, and inch by inch I'm seeing the land morph into the playground it always could be. Even against the backdrop of my despotic fatalism about being alone and angry, I even found a partner! Increasingly, I already bought the right tool or toy and now my Amazon wishlist is things like a tetherball pole and baseball netting. Yesterday, Allie and I discussed where to stack the roof pieces so as not to get in the way, blissfully aware of the irony of the remaining 4.5 acres around us. Space is continually occupied by ideas for its future.
While I haven't fallen fully into “the next paycheck” trap, it's definitely a degree of comfort I don't want to get comfortable operating in. On balance, my job takes up an incredible amount of my time relative to what I get out of it. My bad-math estimation is that I'd have to do it for half as long at my current paid rate or to get paid at least one and a half times what I am for it to feel mildly worth it long term. The fact that I'm flirting with making $13 an hour instead of $21 plus mileage and overtime is a testament to how much they are willing to take advantage of you under the guise of presumed “passion” for other people's welfare. The best case manager or social worker you've ever met is getting fucked squarely, except maybe in Colorado.
Making less money and having a consistency to my schedule might allow me to focus on all of the “little” things. I ordered 10 books over my vacation and opened none of them. I have plenty more to go as far as prepping the ground underneath where we put the new shed. I've got 100+ tabs open of things to read and research. More money has psychologically given me more license to make what might be distracting end runs around things I should be barreling through. You know who you don't spend a day calling when you're broke? Building movers. I've eaten more Wendy's in the last few months than I have in the preceding 10 years.
As well, all of the “stuff” we're accumulating, the expanded space isn't quite set up yet, so it's getting a little tight. While there's a degree of normalcy now to trying to use the bathroom with a chainsaw or yard equipment between your legs, it's not ideal. And with any house, you're always prompted to do a series of small house-keeping tasks that perpetually manifest.
Tentatively, I'm planning to get the shed set up, finish out the bones of my earthen-floor extension experiment, and play with ways to turn my hole into a pool (that's what she said). A place to woodwork/prep out of the rain would be super swell. Content in the knowledge that I had enough money to get by, pay in advance, and everything on-site to do half a dozen things at once without going into debt would be even better. I need to pick an angsty blog from February or April to remind myself that “slow” for me is lightspeed with regard to normal. I envy billionaire efficiency though.
I'm trying to think of things as a puzzle more than as a series of burdens. I'm searching for the right fit, not aimlessly at the mercy of the mess in front of me as I wait for it to assemble itself. As a function of the poorly accounted for structure I've been bred from, I plugged myself into places that aren't quite right that stabilized a certain structure and painted some kind of picture that wasn't depicted on the box. How to safely deconstruct and reconstitute is the figurative and literal project.
While I haven't fallen fully into “the next paycheck” trap, it's definitely a degree of comfort I don't want to get comfortable operating in. On balance, my job takes up an incredible amount of my time relative to what I get out of it. My bad-math estimation is that I'd have to do it for half as long at my current paid rate or to get paid at least one and a half times what I am for it to feel mildly worth it long term. The fact that I'm flirting with making $13 an hour instead of $21 plus mileage and overtime is a testament to how much they are willing to take advantage of you under the guise of presumed “passion” for other people's welfare. The best case manager or social worker you've ever met is getting fucked squarely, except maybe in Colorado.
Making less money and having a consistency to my schedule might allow me to focus on all of the “little” things. I ordered 10 books over my vacation and opened none of them. I have plenty more to go as far as prepping the ground underneath where we put the new shed. I've got 100+ tabs open of things to read and research. More money has psychologically given me more license to make what might be distracting end runs around things I should be barreling through. You know who you don't spend a day calling when you're broke? Building movers. I've eaten more Wendy's in the last few months than I have in the preceding 10 years.
As well, all of the “stuff” we're accumulating, the expanded space isn't quite set up yet, so it's getting a little tight. While there's a degree of normalcy now to trying to use the bathroom with a chainsaw or yard equipment between your legs, it's not ideal. And with any house, you're always prompted to do a series of small house-keeping tasks that perpetually manifest.
Tentatively, I'm planning to get the shed set up, finish out the bones of my earthen-floor extension experiment, and play with ways to turn my hole into a pool (that's what she said). A place to woodwork/prep out of the rain would be super swell. Content in the knowledge that I had enough money to get by, pay in advance, and everything on-site to do half a dozen things at once without going into debt would be even better. I need to pick an angsty blog from February or April to remind myself that “slow” for me is lightspeed with regard to normal. I envy billionaire efficiency though.
I'm trying to think of things as a puzzle more than as a series of burdens. I'm searching for the right fit, not aimlessly at the mercy of the mess in front of me as I wait for it to assemble itself. As a function of the poorly accounted for structure I've been bred from, I plugged myself into places that aren't quite right that stabilized a certain structure and painted some kind of picture that wasn't depicted on the box. How to safely deconstruct and reconstitute is the figurative and literal project.
No comments:
Post a Comment