holiday dreams vanish.
panic.
a tsunami of scattered thoughts and doubts and regrets rushes toward me, sinking my ears and eyes, filing my head with pointless regrets (why did a buy those three books! why shop at chicy-chic market when pathmark is just a half-mile away! why did i buy two holiday gifts for aunt when i could afford none? why get additional chicken breast when i had a perfectly good one at home? well, that's easy: the butcher is tres dreamy and I become a bit transfixed by the tracery of ink that races up and down his arms). attention deficit and dysgraphia rear their gorgon heads. multiplying.multiplying.multiplying. and, like medusa's victim, i freeze in place. unable to move or think beyond frozen self. unable to focus on the receipt crumpled in my hand. unable to think beyond transferring dollars from savings to checking - depositing long-lost checks and pursuing payment for sundry activities (petty cash! iou's! ebay profiteering!).
Even in rush-hour, the F-Train can be painfully silent. The usual thump-thumping and razzmatazz songbirds aren't quite as mellifluous. I fumble upon an undiscovered zit. Cower in its shadow and actually hope that it's larger than the hole I've dug. Until this very moment, recession hasn't stung me with its thorny arithmetics.
A panic-induced to-do list forms:
- find all un-deposited checks, deposit immediately
- sell never-worn truly vintage silver lame silver thigh-highs
- sell any other never-worn vintage or demi-vintage pieces
- convince brother to purchase one of two gifts purchased for aunt
- abstain from purchasing any iTunes productions
- halt any and all on-line purchases
- don't panic
And still, the guilt curdles. But, instead of confronting that which I never will understand or comprehend, I return to that which is most comfortable: a clatter of words that probably sound prettier than they make sense. if that even makes sense.
At least my previous target purchase was in bulk. Solutions & solvents stand in tidy rows, joyfully saluting me. We're ready!!
This is that oh shit moment. That time when one really doesn't want to admit that they failed. That they may need to pack up and give up. But there isn't need to do that: I have a job, a good job (well, a good job that pays horribly), and I like my life here. Including all of the adventures and misadventures and the wrenching moment when I discover that my success isn't as pecuniary as I had hoped. I'm still just a girl trying to make it - trying to pretend that all is golly-geez-dandy.
But oh the things to relish!
The cozy lamplight. The fizzing, rushing noise that tires make across wet asphalt. The dog's dried-up tongue, wrapped under his chin. Johnny Cash. A full fridge (because I did go to market prior to oops! shit! i have no money! discovery). Admirably brave family. Constant friends. But, before I digress into some oprah-worthy pantomime, a discovery's made: yes, things are bleak at this exact moment and I probably shouldn't be so whimsical with my purchases. But let's face it: it's a good thing that I have a sturdy savings.
Well, I guess it's now a bit like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
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