That's what I tell myself in order to live my life.
Because otherwise, I could not haul my carcass out of bed at 6:45 (after hitting the snooze button once or twice) and shower and successfully put deodorant on under my clothing and pour some coffee (black, like my soul) down my gullet before tripping my way down the huge fucking hill I live on, waving one shoe at the bus driver while attempting to put in my earrings and not create two new holes in my ears and, of course, realizing I somehow managed to lock my keys in my apartment. Fuck.
And then you get on the bus. And it's too hot/cold/smelly. And there're no seats. And the bus driver is squinting at your pass like "I don't know...you don't look like a student..." And the guy in the seat in front of you wants to talk about how your coffee sure does smell good and you can't be having just a donut for breakfast, can you? And you realize this person is a little... not all there, so you kind of just go "mmmhmmm" whenever he says something that sounds like it might require a reply. And in the end, perhaps I should be driving a polluting, expensive, dangerous car to work and around the city all day just so I can get away from these people who manage to smell like microwave popcorn and pickles at 8:00 in the morning.
I have fantasies on the bus. No, not like that, sickos. Maybe not fantasies. They're more like, disaster thoughts. Like, what if the bus crashed in some remote area and for some reason, nobody knew where we were or the other passengers and I got stuck together for a really long time or there's a bomb on the bus and what do we do? Wait around for Sandy Bullock and Keannu? No. I don't think so. Well. Maybe we wait for Keannu. I mean, he may not be able to stop a speeding bus in real life, but he could just stand there and occasionally take his shirt off and sweep his hair from his eyes or go "woah." (Sorry people, the Matrix thing, I do not get. He'll be Bill/Ted to me forever.)
Anyway, I think about what would happen on the bus if there were an accident. Who would I be? The one running around and doing triage and performing CPR? The one wandering around without a scratch on me, screaming at the top of my lungs? The one with the common sense to yank a cell phone from the ballsack next to me and dial 911? The one who freaks out and starts drinking her own urine first? The one with a rod through her body who doesn't realize she's going to die a horrible, slow, awful, painful death or be paralyzed for life or possibly eaten if we don't get out of here right the hell now? I think I'd be the one who followed orders from somebody more commanding than me. I'd be finding food and foraging and deferring command.
And then, when I'm in the middle of thinking about this, I miss my stop and end up walking four blocks further than I have to and I'm late for work.
What? You don't do that? I know, I know. I read one too many teen drama books when I was in junior high. At any rate, I think I've been riding the bus too long.
Which brings me to the problem of my car. It works fine now. Apparently. All I need to do is cough up money for a safety inspection, insurance, plates, and the dough to pay SGI. Probably around $3,000, after I pay my dad back for the repairs he made. People, I only paid $1,900 for the car!
I do not like controversy. Not on the phone, not in person, not over the internet, not in letters. So I am generally sweet and even-tempered when people are trying to fuck my shit up and make my life a living hell. I kill them with kindness and "Oh, I didn't know I had to have all my student loan stuff in by Friday and it's already Friday and it's 4 p.m. and can we make it Monday?" *Doe eyes* "I know, I'm just so *silly* hee-hee! Ohhhhhh, thank you sooo much!"
However, there are days when I lose it, because seriously? Car insurance fuckers? I have been waiting for almost a year now and I still don't know what's happening and you tell me I have a month to appeal the fact that I have a month to give you pretty much my entire life savings?
Eff that ess! I told him 'Sir, I've been waiting for a year, and it's your person who won't get back to me, not the other way around, so please don't tell me you'll give me the time. You owe me the time.'
And I don't even know if I'll be able to make payments for this because nobody can even give me a general, basic idea about how much it might be! And he told me if I couldn't make the payments, they'd take away my licence.
At this point, it was 8:12 and my bus leaves at 8:15 and things were getting hairy with me forgetting to feed the cat and put on my pantyhose and....well, I kind of yelled at him "Please explain to me how me not having a licence would be any different than me taking the bus every day because I can't afford insurance thanks to you! Please explain to me why you have chosen to ruin my life over a goddamn fender bender that happened a year ago! No, wait! Don't explain that to me, I have to go and catch my bus to work at 8:30 in the morning because I can't afford to drive because I dinged a car in what was essentially a parking mishap that happened one whole fucking year ago."
This is, of course, Alberta, they remind me. There is no public insurance here. There are no low rates. It's all sky high and I don't understand how people can afford rent, bills, car payments, gas, parking, insurance premiums, student loan payments, and sundry items like groceries and toiletries. So how can I do all that and pay for this woman's medical bills (which is a whole nother entry in and of itself cuz lady? I was going two kilometres an hour!)
Frankly, I can't wait until my former insurers tell me it's time to pay up. I'm gonna be all "Oh, I'm sorry! I need three months to process and verify your claim!" And then: "Oh, well I meant to send out that response, but my inbox is just crazy these days! We're short-staffed here at Fort Awesome and the words don't come so easy when there's a forty pound gorilla on your back eating bananas and throwing the peels in your path so you trip on them."
Maybe someday I'll be able to afford a car. Maybe someday, I'll be able to afford to live in a place that has valves and levers on the radiators, allowing me the luxury of turning the heat off. I mean, fuck! Isn't there a button I can push somewhere to make my life, if not perfect, marginally better? No?
Right.
Taking the bus is fun.
tube: CSI marathon. Man. Grissom is annoying me. Was he always this self-righteous? I kinda want to see what CSI:NY will be like, even though NY is done to death for TV shows. Wish they'd picked the Big Easy instead of the Big Apple.
text: I found a copy of the Bourne Identity laying around here. I guess its my brother's, because the spine isn't even cracked, but there's a beer pull tab being used as a bookmark.
tunes: Ray Charles - Genius Loves Company
type: Shout out to Invinciblegirl who will be proud to know that I just heard the phrase "fire phasers at will" float out from our living room, leading me to believe that the CSI marathon has been replaced by the Star Trek marathon in which I must partake. Vote for her on the diarist site that always crashes my computer. Why? Because she's fucking invincible, that's why.
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