I have never done the thing I wanted to most. I have no chance of ever doing it again and it has been my driving force for years. I wanted to meet a fictional character who I knew existed. But now, he's running away from me faster than I can keep up.
When I tried my best to jump up the social ladder, I called it upward mobility. These words have been buzzing in my head since I became unemployed and left the normal world. I planned to rent an apartment, get some furniture, buy speakers. All on a budget of basically zero. The speed I wanted to rise out of the social underworld was the main caveat. I had to get my furnished apartment quick, because there was no way I could work a job in that condition, or save money. I was totally manic and I wanted to save the world. It's not far-fetched, if you consider I was 22. I needed a bit of status, and I knew I deserved it because of my intelligence. I wanted to be able to make decisions that I could follow through with and worked in favor of my interests. It wouldn't have been difficult to rise to a higher strata than the social world I lived in at the time. But I was utterly stuck.
I updated my goals when I ran out of opportunities. I drew out money in personal loans, I racked up student debt: all in my plans to eventually find this person. I broke relationships with friends and family members, being all-too-frustrated I couldn't get free. I adjusted mentally to be more relaxed. It was too much strain on me emotionally to keep searching. I had one last plan, and it has been the one that failed today. I paid a typographer hourly to assist my writing. Well, I was billed by a typographer. I never paid, but it was for good reason. It was an entirely online contact, and I wanted it to be personal. I wanted to pay her when I was in the full-swing of book-writing. But I've waited too long. This pure idea I had for a book is disintegrating. If I had already begun the book, I would have paid her. But I backtracked, and decided to edit these stories I have. Now, I'll pay the debt in time. But it won't be soon enough. It's 2016, 2 years after Blow Up Ship. My course is now a slow one, and like a great steam barge I might one day find myself crashing on Caesar Naples' shore. But my outdated ship technology won't get his attention in my hot-air balloon. My slave-driven boat. My coal-powered steamer.
When I tried my best to jump up the social ladder, I called it upward mobility. These words have been buzzing in my head since I became unemployed and left the normal world. I planned to rent an apartment, get some furniture, buy speakers. All on a budget of basically zero. The speed I wanted to rise out of the social underworld was the main caveat. I had to get my furnished apartment quick, because there was no way I could work a job in that condition, or save money. I was totally manic and I wanted to save the world. It's not far-fetched, if you consider I was 22. I needed a bit of status, and I knew I deserved it because of my intelligence. I wanted to be able to make decisions that I could follow through with and worked in favor of my interests. It wouldn't have been difficult to rise to a higher strata than the social world I lived in at the time. But I was utterly stuck.
I updated my goals when I ran out of opportunities. I drew out money in personal loans, I racked up student debt: all in my plans to eventually find this person. I broke relationships with friends and family members, being all-too-frustrated I couldn't get free. I adjusted mentally to be more relaxed. It was too much strain on me emotionally to keep searching. I had one last plan, and it has been the one that failed today. I paid a typographer hourly to assist my writing. Well, I was billed by a typographer. I never paid, but it was for good reason. It was an entirely online contact, and I wanted it to be personal. I wanted to pay her when I was in the full-swing of book-writing. But I've waited too long. This pure idea I had for a book is disintegrating. If I had already begun the book, I would have paid her. But I backtracked, and decided to edit these stories I have. Now, I'll pay the debt in time. But it won't be soon enough. It's 2016, 2 years after Blow Up Ship. My course is now a slow one, and like a great steam barge I might one day find myself crashing on Caesar Naples' shore. But my outdated ship technology won't get his attention in my hot-air balloon. My slave-driven boat. My coal-powered steamer.
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