Dead End

If you haven't read this column and you're feeling either perky and don't want to stay that way or are depressed and want more fuel for the fire, go check out Unemployment Stories over at Gawker:  http://gawker.com/tag/hello-from-the-underclass

It's an amazing compilation of letters from real Americans without jobs. How they got there, what they're doing and how it has affected them.  I deeply connect with many of the writers and sometimes have angry reactions to others. I even submitted my own letter to them awhile back. It's a grim view inside the carcass of America.

The reason I'm writing this today is that the hammer has finally fallen for me. My unemployment insurance has run out. My savings are dwindling. I just notified my credit card companies and student loan offices that no more money will be forthcoming. I'll be selling my car since I can no longer afford insurance or gas.

It's been 15 months since I was laid off. While I have a huge burning hatred for the owners of the company that laid me off, I don't blame them for my situation since then. There's no one thing or person to blame really. I could blame the government or the economy or corporatism or my parents or myself - but to no useful end.

I've done my best to be responsible since then - financially, socially, emotionally. But there's no doubt that it has taken its toll on all fronts. Intellectually, I find it truly sad. While it's impossible not to take a hit to your ego, to your self-esteem, in a situation like this, what hits me harder is that this entire country is hurting and I'm a resource that's going to waste. I'm a healthy, hard working, intelligent adult. There's no reason that I shouldn't be part of the work force.

Instead, after more than 200 applications to everyone from Microsoft to an adult bookstore, I got this from Target the other day: "Thank you for taking the time to apply with us. We are unable to offer you a position at this time, but we do appreciate your interest in Target." Which sums up everything pretty nicely.

I'm still writing fiction, and I'm happy to say that writing has become a huge part of my life in the last year. I'll probably continue to do it for the rest of my life now. But it's not going to pay the bills, probably ever. Which leads me to the last question:  What do you do when you're out of options?

The Shooting That America Will Forget

Today, on Mother's Day, there was a shooting in my beloved city of New Orleans.

Here's the link: http://www.nola.com/crime/index.ssf/2013/05/mothers_day_second-line_shooti.html#incart_big-photo

To me, this is the same as the Boston marathon bombing. No difference. I don't care if the attackers' weapon of choice is a gun or a bomb and I don't care what stupid religious beliefs these idiots have or don't have. I don't care if you call it an assault or a shooting or a bombing. It's just mean, hateful people hurting innocents and that's what matters.

But because this is New Orleans and it involves guns instead of bombs and no one was wearing a turban or shouting 'Allahu akbar', Americans will just bury their heads in the sand and chock it up to a statistic. Fucking wake up America.

Time To Pack It Up...Literally

No, this isn't about quitting this blog or any other metaphorical version of 'packing it up'.  I've just recently moved in with my lovely and amazing girlfriend and along the way, I made a pretty drastic, fairly un-American decision:  I decided to get rid of most of my shit. This led me to deciding that I'm pretty sure I'm going to leave America for good soon.  As Inugo Montoya so famously said, "Let me explain."

When I said I got rid of most of my shit, I'm not talking about the 'spring cleaning' style of junking that most of us do doing a regular move.  See, most of my stuff was purchased either post-Katrina or during my last hideous grotesque of a marriage.When I decided to move in with my current lady, it dawned on me that, as a woman who owned her own home and had very much made it her own place, I didn't want to wreck her vibe by cluttering it up or making her rearrange everything.

In that spirit, I decided that most of the things that I owned just sat there and took up space.  What did I really need? Well, clothes, a newer laptop than the one I owned, my camera, and a few select pieces of memorabilia and art that were irreplaceable. That was it. Enough to fit into my battered '96 Honda Civic.

I sold my TV, three computers, my furniture, dishes, kitchen appliances, my bed.  What didn't sell went to Freecycle, ended up on the curb or got donated.  As terrifying as that all was, I feel pretty liberated as well.  There's a lightness to not being weighed down by your possessions.

At the same time, I'm watching the usual 'feces flinging primates' show that is the American election cycle.  My blood boils now listening to all the empty rhetoric (at best) and the out right lies (standard). I subject myself to online forum and threads about atheism vs. theism, idiots reactions to polyamory, and the joke that is the daily news. All around me, American just seem enthralled with their own bullshit.

That stuff exists everywhere, I'm not naive. But as a still fairly young, unencumbered, childless, almost debtless, petless man with a halfway portable skill set, why would I not take this opportunity to get out of here and see some of the world?  More than anything, I describe myself a human being. Second descriptor would be a tie:  mostly straight, male, ethnic mutt, fairly smart, and a few others.  Way down on that list is 'American'.  I just don't care that much.

The exceptionalism routine in this country is getting really old.  As a person who's traveled enough to know better, there are some great places out there, and some great people. I love the idea of seeing some of the Nordic countries, or going back to Germany, or drinking with some more Aussies, or driving out to Tierra Del Fuego. There's an entire planet out there. Full of people! And Booze! And People! And Food! And cool shit that existed long before the American Electoral College or McDonalds!

 I think the time has come to really start considering packing up and getting out of here.  Forty years as an American is plenty, don't you think?