Fall semester: day thirty-five
As you know, the rest of this month is full of work and problems for me. More work than problems, of course, but problems remain.
At some point during the past week or so, the Monte Carlo began drinking coolant again at an alarming rate. Don't know when or how, but after two weeks of just-fine coolant levels, over the past ten days or so the tank basically emptied itself again. It's also dripping again from what looks like the overflow valve (as it used to do this all the time when I'd overfilled the tank), but not large amounts. This doesn't really make a lot of sense to me at the moment, obviously, since it's apparently burning through coolant again when, previously, it hadn't for a few weeks.
Regardless, I'm done with this shit. I'm putting the radiator stop-leak in it whenever I drive it next, because whether it's a hose, valve, seal, or something else, it needs to be able to hold its liquid -- I can't afford to keep refilling it every two or three weeks. Antifreeze/coolant isn't that cheap; it's about $8-10 a jug, depending on what you get, and I need to break the car of that habit until I can get it fixed/worked on/what-have-you...whenever that may be, of course. At least the stop-leak stuff says it rejuvenates/re-moisturizes gaskets and hose seals as well.
Again, despite that fact, you'd never be able to tell there's anything otherwise wrong with the car. She runs and drives normally, never overheats or smokes, etc. She performs admirably as always, despite her age and miles.
Yes, believe me, I'm realize the day that she no longer will is coming probably sooner rather than later. And I can't do anything about that fact. Really, really can't. I have no money that won't be going towards bills, rent, or food. None. Believe me, if I could afford to fix the car without becoming homeless in the process, I would.
Speaking of homes, the other problem that's going on right now is that the rent check for this month has not yet come out of my bank account, and I don't know why.
I've written here before about the rent; it is the number one highest expense I have to deal with on a monthly basis, and the same is probably true for a lot of people reading this blog. I pay $525 a month for a place much larger than I need now that I'm single and it's just me and the cats, but I really love the house I'm in and it's quiet here in Newton. I would not be able to get a place in Wichita anywhere near this nice (or this size) for the same price. Because of that, I deal with the commute, I deal with the isolation and loneliness living here brings. Perhaps it's because it's my lot in life to be perpetually lonely, but perhaps it's because I don't want to park my very old, decrepit car outside in the -20 winters or run the risk of getting stabbed or mugged every time I walk down the street. So, I deal with it.
I also hate worrying about money. I'm convinced when I die at or before age 40 (because come on, people, let's be realistic here), it's not going to be so much the drinking, smoking, and bad eating that did me in, but worrying and stress.
Usually the rent comes out of my bank account on the first of the month or very shortly thereafter. Tomorrow is the 8th. Nothing yet. I mailed it September 24 -- almost two weeks ago. How do I know this? Because I looked it up in my check register. I write down the dates that I mail things. Always have. The address is here in town; it's not like it has to go far. I also sent out all the other bills on the same day. Those checks have come out of my account. The rent has not.
At this point, there's not a whole lot I can do but wait. If it doesn't come out by Monday evening I will be making a call to the landlord to make sure that he actually got the damned check. If he didn't, it not only puts me in hot water with him, but creates a huuuuuuge pain in the ass with me, as I will have to cancel/put a stop-payment on the first check (incurring a $30 fee from my bank) and write out another one, hope that he takes it and that it smooths things over, and in general be really pissed at the postal service.
I should not have to worry about these things, any of them -- the car, the rent, what little money I have, etc. Really I shouldn't. No one should. But everyone does have to worry about these things, these things that they can't change or fix.
I also cannot take any more loans this year; that window has passed. What I have is what I have, and I'm locked into it now. This means I must face the sobering reality that when the money I have runs out, it runs out, and there's nothing I can do about that. If something really catastrophic happens, such as my car blowing up or me getting really sick and becoming unable to teach/work, it's over. As in, I will lose everything. My home, my cats, my job (more than likely), etc. Everything. There's no saving grace, nowhere to go, no safety net, and no one to bail me out. It will be over.
What happens at that point? Well, we'll see when I reach it, won't we? Because it will happen.
One of my friends, a close and dear friend, has offered me money if I need it. I won't mention said friend's name here out of privacy's sake, obviously, but this person is the only one who has offered to help me if needed -- and really, I'd probably be forced to decline that monetary help, because there is no way I'd ever be able to pay it back -- not unless I won the lottery, or unless some rich unknown relative were to die and leave me some amount of inheritance like you see in the movies. No, folks, I'm pretty much stuck.
As soul-crushingly depressing as all of that might be, I have not cried. In fact, I haven't cried since long, long before the former girlfriend broke up with me, which you may think would have been an opportunity for me to do so. Nope. I don't cry anymore. Haven't cried in months. Life has been so bad, so bad, that I think it's permanently broken me. I'm not sure I have the ability to cry anymore. I've gotten used to the fact that this world fucking sucks, and therefore when everything piles up to the point where it would emotionally demolish other people, I'm the guy who's like "Yep. I was expecting that. What? No, no, I stopped expecting anything to go right for me a long time ago. No worries." Because, really, that's what always happens.
The past three months have been nothing but failure after failure after failure for me -- professionally, socially, and emotionally all combined. I can't dwell on it, though; I can't even allow myself to think about it most of the time, because I must soldier on -- there is always something else to be done, somewhere else to be, a class to teach or attend, or something else to write or grade. I can't dwell on it or think about it because I don't have the time or energy to do so. I don't even have the time or energy, really, to be writing here tonight. There are myriad things for me to do this weekend, including getting started on at least two papers that are coming due, and studying for a midterm exam. Up until now, I've been working almost since I got up this morning, grading the rest of my students' papers and calculating their midterm grades.
And, finally, after I spent half an hour writing about it earlier, I see in my bank account now that my rent check is in the process of going through -- apparently it just takes my bank forever to do shit like that sometimes. Though that problem is no longer an issue, the other ones still remain.
The former girlfriend is apparently visiting her parents this weekend, so she should be cashing the check I wrote her a month ago for the old deposit on this place. Once she does that, my finances should be completely in order. That, coupled with the rent check I was waiting on to come out, will comprise $1250 just gone, almost all at once, that I'll never see again.
And you people wonder why I desperately worry about money, and why I drive a speedy, but falling-apart car that's fifteen years old.
Not everything is as bad as I make it sound, but it's pretty close, and as I said before, there are good things in my life -- just very few of them. At least I have some friends, at least I'm keeping up with my reading and other work in all of my classes, etc.
In the Science/Engineering Writing classes I teach, last week we entered the unit on ethics and technology -- and, to start off said unit, we covered an article in the textbook that basically says that the internet has made us live more isolated, more inside our heads than ever before, apart from the rest of society, communicating mainly in instant messages, texting, and Facebook wall posts.
I had to laugh. Yeah, I thought, try graduate school, try living 24 miles out of town, try having your girlfriend leave you after nearly seven years together, and *then* talk to me about "living isolated."
Okay, so it was one of those "need to laugh to keep from crying" situations, though it's already been established that I don't/can't cry, so it was a "laugh because this is how I've always lived for my entire adult life" situations. Because, really, I still talk to my friends much more online than I ever get the chance to in real life, especially the ones who live far away -- not just back home, but in other states/countries too. Skype can, at times, be a godsend. You know, when I actually have time to use it...which, of course, I haven't as of late.
I've found that there are a lot of pursuits I've given up in life only to come back to later. One of them, for a very, very long time, was writing for a living. Now I've published a book and am readying a second. I'm pretty sure the next pursuit I'm going to give up will be "financial stability." Either that or "female companionship." I've not yet decided.
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