“Man, I’m tired of these early mornings”. I was awoken this morning by my telephone instead of by my own damn will to sleep until after noon. It was the night shift guy at work, wanting me to come in, after maybe three hours of sleep. I looked at my clock, which was telling me that it was 7:30. “Too damn early to be alive”, I mumbled to myself as I dragged my ass out of my semi-comfortable bed. “I really need to get another job.” I get ready, taking no real care about how I look. It’s a low-paying job with no benefits. As long as I show up, they don’t care. I sucked down a few Pall Malls I had, and went out the door. Nothing better than living on caffeine and nicotine. As Vonnegut said, “It’s a classy way to commit suicide.” It’s the small crap that makes me wonder about my life. Living on stimulants and trying to keep myself awake long enough to at least hold down a job and pay the bills. My current job (the 14th I’ve held in the last five years, I believe), definitely doesn’t pay as much as my last job, but at least with this job, I can stay somewhat sober. I remember when I used to work for the richest guy in town, I would spend my down time downing at least three packs of Pall Malls and a good case of beer a day, along with any other vice I could get a hold of. I remember standing outside of the Mayfield Ice Cream place with my friend Chad, high on beer and pot, trying to explain to him the battlefield layout of a trench in WWI, to no avail. He just couldn’t grasp anything that took though, or the English language, for that matter. I miss drugs sometimes. At least I didn’t have to be there. But it has too many connections for me. Too many times, I have seen friends and family screw themselves up taking pills and shooting things into their veins. Someone would have to be completely void of any sense to inject heroin into their bodies. Pot is ok though. There is nothing wrong with having a little toke, just to take the edge off of the bleak existence we call life. And alcohol’s good too. It may taste like crap, but then again, who the hell cares? We all need our vices. It’s all that gets us through the day. But back to work. I work in a hotel, just the latest in a line of low-wage jobs I’ve held to keep myself from being homeless. And at least it gives me time to do other things, like play in a band, or to write. Now, if either one panned out, then I wouldn’t have to do this crap, but until then, I’m stuck behind a desk, listening to idiots who have plenty of disposable income complain about things that in no way I can remedy, considering the fact that I don’t have the power of divine intervention. But I show up, on time, every day, ready to take more punishment. I need to get in better shape. I’ve been trying to exercise whenever I have time, doing all the different things that should make me feel at least a little better. Still feel like crap though. I want to get back to the shape I was in when I took my last physical back about four years ago. I had quit smoking at that time (what a fool I was), and I ate better. But now I eat whenever I can, and I smoke more. I don’t know, it just seems like I’m not getting anywhere. I’ve also learned something else. I can never seem to stop thinking about people. They will just pop into my head at any given time. Like last night, when I gave a friend a ride home. I think about her a lot. I think about her back in high school, when I had wanted her. I know nothing would’ve ever happened, but she has never left my mind. The more I try to forget about her, the harder the memories come flooding back. It’s her eyes. She has eyes like a caged animal, piercing anybody she looks at. “Dammit I hate this place.” One day I will get out of here. I’ve lived in the same place for the last twenty-three years, wishing every day that I could somehow get enough money to uproot and move away. I’ve heard the pacific northwest is nice. But here I am, doing the monotonous job of putting address labels on envelopes. But screw it, screw my boss, and screw this whole damn hotel. I’m going out for a smoke. -Shawn Williams
Ok, Wastland, you deserve more than just "RIGHT ON, MAN!!!". The "RIGHT ON, MAN!!!" was because you told a story--stream-of-consciousness like--that describes circumstances that are real for a lot of us, but you wrote it in a way that held my interest the whole way through. I didn't have to force myself to go on. I wanted to read the next word, the next sentence. Do you realize how vital that is? I shall endeavor to learn from you that I might write as well. Kudos, dude!
I've had jobs like that. On the one hand, the bills are coming due, so you're willing to put up with a certain amount. On the other hand, you're doing the insignificant for the ungrateful. Keep sending out the resumes. If it makes you feel any better, you're not alone.
no need for a job man, take to the woodlands and old ways, know the plants, but stick to the friendly buildings if you can, or near the fire.. i got your back if/when it goes down! or not, up to you, I liked reading this!
