I've made a lot of bad decisions wherein money is concerned; mostly out of fear and stupidity. And I was so convinced that money would never be important to me that I didn't let it concern me as much as I should have. But the time has come where, though money really isn't that important to me, a good credit history is.
Now I'm paying the price for that, in a big way. So I'm never gonna have another credit card. I'm never gonna be able to rent an apartment on my own. I'm never going to - it is to laugh - be able to own a home. I'll be lucky to be able to get phone service in my own damn name in the future. Or at least the near future, anyway.
I've begun the reparation process, but that doesn't mean it's gonna be easy or over quickly, does it?
But this is a situation that I can't change right now, so I have to just keep plugging away. I'm working on dealing with it and correcting it, but, boy oh boy, it's gonna be slow going. I imagine that's at least part of the reason I was so quick to take the full time job, too; I probably saw it as a quicker avenue to rectifying past monetary disasters.
I tell you, if I could go back in time, I would go back to the day I sat down with Debbie Ryan and told her I was leaving SmithKline Beecham. Instead, I'd have stayed at SB and started saving my goddamn money; I'd have paid off every bill I had and cut up all my credit cards. And I would never - never - have traded in the Grand Am that I owned free-and-clear for that Miata. And those of you who know me well know how much I loved that Miata. For me to admit it was a mistake to buy is huge, and maybe a measure of how much money gets me down.
Maybe today is my day to kick the shit outta myself; I'm not sure why I'm feeling so down.
Actually, I think I do: I talked to Gavan today via Instant Messenger, and he seemed rather distant - very monosyllabic in his answers. Truthfully, it's not so much about Gavan as it is about me wondering what I expect from Gavan; he said right from the beginning of our relationship that he was a Leo and it was always gonna be all about him, so I shouldn't be very surprised that his interest level in me isn't very high - especially now that we're not together. Even a year later, it still makes me feel... I don't know, just a little sad, I guess.
So I'm sitting here in the Port Authority Terminal waiting for the 11:45 bus back to Pittsburgh. I'm about to embark on my last weekend at the Greater Pittsburgh Renaissance Festival. I'm enjoying it and all, but I'll be glad when it's done. Soon it will be, gee, I don't know... 5½ weeks without a day off? My last one was August 19, I think.
So I'm here on line (as in "on queue," not as in "on the internet") with all the other crazies in the world of bus travel. I come here nearly two hours early, and there were already seven people in line in front of me. We're all jockeying for the good seats.
There's a guy from Texas who's going all the way back to Dallas. I can't imagine what that's going to be like for him.
He likes to talk, and he said he's been up for two days. I have a feeling that when he's spruced up and had some sleep, he's kinda cute. Total breeder, though. Talking about how he and his friends are gonna go Sunday night and watch the Cowboys game at Hooters, for chrissakes.
God, I hate traveling by bus!
Mostly, I hate the class of people that travel by bus. More specifically, I hate being one of them. There are some nice people in the line. I actually kinda think it's more a case of me disliking in other people what I really and truly dislike about myself: The poverty. The lack of options. I think with bitter irony on my last moment decision to fly back and forth to Philly for the last week of Picasso. And how that money could have been better spent.
Again: Me and recrimination about stuff I can't change. Seems to go hand in hand, don't it? I wonder how many people out there are like that as well?
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