May 17th, 2021
Life after high school was all about college. For the first few months I managed to think about Katie all the time. In fact I thought about her so much that sleep was almost impossible for the first week. That sounds pretty pathetic doesn’t it? A guy pining for a girl in high school that he thought he’d be with for the rest of his life. It sounds like a bad TV movie or a rites of passage teenage movie where the lead character comes to find out more about themselves than they originally realized and eventually find their one true love, right?
That wasn’t the case here though. I met a few new friends upon enrolling at UW in Seattle, but for all the fun we’ve had, and there’s been plenty of it, there’s been plenty of struggle as well. I found out that I was mediocre student at best and that my real strengths have yet to be realized. I’m a decent writer but nothing special. I can create a blog and make it work, but I can’t make it a success. I can start things but I can’t finish them in other words.
I’ve never figured out why that is until now. Even at this point I can’t really figure out if that’s something that might one day be remedied or if I’m just out of luck and can begin but never finish. It’s like a constant restart that my life goes through, I can always start things off with a good note, but once anything in my life gets to a midpoint it tends to unravel and fall apart, and I can’t find a way to sustain it, no matter how hard I try. It’s like I run out of ideas, out of juice, and out of any desire to care.
I’ve lost a lot of friends that way, I’ve lost a few jobs, and I even lost my home since I couldn’t find a way to really get up the nerve to keep going with the job that was keeping me fed and was keeping a roof over my head. I was evicted when my rent went past due for more than two months, and I was given a week to get out or the cops would be called. So I took a bag full of stuff and lit out. I was actually homeless for a year and a half, living off garbage, depending on the uncertain kindness of strangers, and sleeping in missions when I could.
That was at least five years ago, and I haven’t looked back since, until now. I got tired of sleeping on the ground and trying to lift my head with any sense of pride when people walked by. I finally decided to clean up as much as I could and find a day laborer position that would pay under the table. The trouble is I found one that wasn’t entirely legal. Thankfully I never went to jail for what I did, but it wasn’t for the lack of the cops trying to bust me.
Let me just say this: smuggling is not as easy or as glamorous as it looks in the movies.
(to be continued)