The Color Of Hunger

The Comfort Zone

Posted on: July 25, 2013

No matter what it is I’m writing, big/small/long/short/fiction/non, I always have trouble with the beginning of it. Every goddamn time. Should it be a question, an opinion, a drunk sloppy slur trickling off the tongue that has absolutely no meaning to anyone but myself? A combination of the three? (“More beer, more beer, more beer!”) It’s such an insignificant thing to struggle over this. Stupid. Just write, why can’t I just tell you what I want to tell you?  I think school did this to me. All the rubrics, all the graded opening statements. Essays, paragraphs, sentences, past tense, present, future. Gahhhhh. There’s always that want to please. The traditional conformation to an imaginary English teacher perched on a floating cloud above me. But why tho? Why not please myself? Why should I structure my creative jizz to add flicker to another’s eye? I don’t wanna learn in a classroom for this reason. I wanna travel and talk to people and eat the food they eat and laugh with them and do the shit they do and learn that way. I wanna better myself as I go, gathering knowledge just for the sake of satisfaction and not be rigorously tested on it. No strings, no harnesses – freedom. I don’t wanna lose passion for the things that I love because of the worry of exams. And deadlines, ugly ugly deadlines. Haha, fuck that. Just read and I will write.

It’s 7:19am. Thursday. I’m currently swiveling in my swively chair in a small ticket booth outside the Spokane airport. Some days that’s the best part of this job. That the chair spins. Hah! I haven’t even been here twenty minutes and already boredom’s setting in. The morning sun is warm, beautiful and comforting and feels wonderful as it makes its way across my skin. My body is tired and my contacts are sticky as all hell. They get blurry if there’s any more than a 5 second interval between blinks. I can fall asleep in here within minutes if I allow myself to. Done it more times than I’d like to admit really. (Shhh!) They need a little cord that connects to a bell that connects to my window, like twenty feet away so when I do nod off, it’ll jangle and wake me and I’ll have ample time to stretch and yawn and there won’t be anymore sudden jerks in front of a carload of disgusted people. You know what I’m talking about tho? Like when you fall asleep during a scary movie and the scene changes to something REALLY FUCKING LOUD and it startles you and you forget who you are, where you are, what you’re wearing and how much time has passed during those first few seconds. That’s me. Usually I’ll conk with sunglasses on so it’s not too obvious, but some days not a single fuck is given. People are cool for the most part, understanding folk. They’ll share a laugh with me, I’ll scan their ticket, and then we’ll part. 2 hours down, 6 to go. Back to nap number fourteen. Haa.

Thursdays are my Mondays. The crabgrass on the lawn of life. I currently work day shift 2 days a week out here as a parking attendant for the Spokane Airport. Thursday mornings and Sunday mornings; 7am-3:30pm. My main gig, a mail clerk for the post office (the factory, not the stations where you go to mail your letters and packages), consists of a killer graveyard that starts at 8:30pm and ends around 5/5:30/6am or whenever we get the mail done and ready for the mailman who comes to your door that afternoon. With the recent closing of the Pasco annex, I currently work 6 days a week with a free Saturday night. So Sunday morning airport is easy, but Thursdays…fuuuuuuck Thursdays. I’ll work my 8 hours at the post office, get off at say 5:30am, drive home, get there around 5:50ish, eat, pack a lunch, maybe shower, leave around 6:30ish, complete my 8 hours at the airport, get home at 4pm, sleep for maybe 3 hours and go back to work at 8:30pm. It kicks my ass. It kicks my ass so stinkin’ bad.

Did I mention I have a third job as well? I’m an event porter for the Spokane Arena/Convention Center/INB. Which pretty much means I’ll help set up chairs/tables/bars/lights/stages or whatever needs to be done before a big convention/event. I am the pre-show before the show. That’s what I like to tell people at least. Sounds cool. Haa. I’ll only work on average, one 8 hour shift a week here, but it’s fun and every day is a new day. Something different happening each time I step through those doors. I love this idea. For example, last Saturday I worked that Bill O’Reilly speech at the INB (shoot me) but this Saturday I get to help with a rooftop wedding at the convention center. Pretty stoked for it, despite the fact that that was my only night off this week and now it’s filled. Which I should be used to by now, but I never am.

All I do is work. That’s pretty much WHAT I do. What my life as a 22 year old consists of. It sucks. Trying to balance three jobs and still have time for friends, sleep, writing, food, summer…me. It’s overwhelming and at times, impossible. I ask myself everyday why I do what I do. How I do what I do. If it’s worth it. Why I sacrifice all my ‘me’ time for a check every Friday and some extra cash in my pocket. Everybody wants to know why. And to be completely honest with you, I, myself, still do not know. To this day, and it’s been, what, almost a year now? I’m greedy I suppose. I like fun money. And I enjoy and won’t hesitate in spending it. I struggle to hold back a snicker when people complain about their 40 hour week. Shiiiiit…I hit my 40 hour mid-Wednesday bro, you got jokes. Haha. I speak the truth tho. My current average week is between a 60-66 hour. Which if I think about it, is fucking ridiculous. I don’t NEED to work as many hours as I do. I could pay the bills just fine with that post office gig. Naw, I CHOOSE to work as much as I do. For a few main reasons.

A. I bought my ’05 Civic on the 1st of January, used from Appleway Honda for $11,559. I’ve got it down to $8,410 with seven months under my belt. My goal is to have it paid off by October 2014. I will accomplish this goal, mark my words, it will happen.

B. I will have completed one year at the airport, September 4th. Post office one year on November 17th. ISS I’m going on a year and 8 months. Doing all of these at the same time? This looks damn good on a resume and I know I’m not the only one who thinks so.

C. I hate being broke. I will never BE broke. There will always be a back-up fund and I pride myself in keeping it that way. Money, by all means, does not equal happiness for me, but I’d much rather reside in a mansion than on a street corner.

D. I like getting paid in experience. Meeting new faces, co-workers, bosses, getting introduced to opportunities, parties, bars, getting OUT, doing shit, filling your time, staying busy, taking that risk, finding inspiration, quitting this job for that one. I like that shit. I’m weary about change, but that doesn’t mean I’m afraid of it and willing to jump to the occasion when I wanna jump.

Now for the cons of it all:

A. I’m constantly tired with no energy to do the things I wanna do and when I do get a day/night off (once in a blue moon – I’m currently on 12 days without a full day off which looks like it’ll turn into a 16 at this point), I catch up on sleep.

B. My nightlife is shot, I haven’t experienced a good night downtown since like a month ago. Fuck me.

C. My anxiety flares up at random times throughout my day because I don’t get enough sleep to suppress it.

D. My summer diet goes to shit because I eat constantly for fuel and don’t exercise to compensate for it.

E. I basically have no life. I make no time for myself, which really messes with my well-being after awhile.

Weighing the pros and cons of this job dilemma is constantly in my head. If you were somehow able to access a piece of my mind, you would be amazed at just how much it consumes me on an hourly basis. More thought has been given to it in the past month than the last like six put together. I wanna quit the airport after I complete my year there, but then I don’t. But if I quit, should I replace it with something new? What if I can’t find something new? Should I think about getting rid of the graveyards at the post office? Transfer to a day job somehow? Enroll in some college? Pfft, with this schedule? What about the car payment? Insurance? Rent? I’m never gonna find something that pays as well. Or will I? Why am I so afraid to step out of this comfort zone? Have I just not looked hard enough? Am I being a pessimistic bitch? Why is this so fucking harrrrd?

This is what I do tho. I over think just about EVERYTHING. This destroys me. I’ll be going on 26 hours with no sleep and finally get a chance for a good night’s rest and won’t be able to because I fail to locate the ‘OFF’ switch. I’ll toss and turn and sweat. Get up to turn the fan on. Stumble to the kitchen for some ice water. Check my Facebook. Check my Twitter. Check my Tumblr. Check my Pinterest. Flip the pillow ‘to the cool side’. Cuss out the blankets because they’re too hot, but they feel good against my skin so I continue to want them. So I sweat some more. And then finally, I just give up and lay there. Just fucking lay there. Do you know how long the darkness lasts when you cannot close your eyes to it?

Starting August 5th, the airport is changing my shift from a Thursday+Sunday ~ 7am-3:30pm to a Monday+Tuesday+Wednesday ~ 6am-12:30pm. I’m not sure what to think of this yet. It’s not a full 8, which is fine, better for me really, but also, it’s three days. In a row. Which will hibernate me into eat-sleep-work mode for the first half of the week. However, my weekends will be the most freed up they’ve ever been since like forever ago. No more hungover Sundays! Oh my god YES! You really have no idea how exciting this is for me. Waking up feeling (and smelling) like death at the ass crack of dawn after a good long night of drinks and friends and having to deal with the public like that?! Rough. Fucking rough man.

Gahhh, I ramble a lot. Too much. It’s bad. Subject blends to subject blends to sub-subject blends to I-don’t-even-know-what. I’m simply stirred tho, not shaken. Restless. The getting of life is hard. I’ve come to realize this over the past year. Karma, commitment, sacrifice, friendship, love, heartbreak, money, success, failure. It’s all confusing as fuck really. I don’t know where I’m going with this entry today. I just felt like writing. It’s been too long. February 26th, 2013. Almost 6 months to the exact day too long. Damn. Sooo, see you in six months then? Haa.

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Spokane, WA. 26 years young. Aquarius, of course. I am a very optimistic individual driven by passion and creativity. Music is my inspiration to everything. I dig the nightlife. I enjoy discovering new craft beers and breweries. I like animals more than humans. The ocean is amazing. I have no idea what I wanna do with my life and prolly never will. But I'm going to succeed because I'm crazy enough to think I can.
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