Delusions of Grandeur
I’m trying to find out how to Segway into what I want to write about from nothing, a blank canvas. You can’t really Segway into anything because a Segway is a silly motorized two wheeled transportation device and not a literary device. The word that, I believe, is intended when people misspeak is segue (pronounced ˈse-(ˌ)gwā , ˈsā- \ just like the other thing) which is a verb that means ‘to proceed directly to that which comes next’. And here I am making up words and beating around bushes.
Without further ado, for months now I have been discussing my difficult, tumultuous and often unbearable living situation. Well, the good news is that one set of problems will disappear soon because I have to move out. Finally. The verdict has come in, but not the sentence. I have to move out (I am not being discharged). However, no terms have been set regarding a specific date. The H.M. refused to take my money and agreed to talk with me tomorrow morning about the conditions of my surrender. My sobriety and mental fitness conspire against me to make me unsuitable to live in a sober house anymore.
Any illusions, or delusions, that I let myself believe about my security are gone now. All along the possibility of this day has always been there, but it was never real enough to make me take the necessary precautions. I have no money saved up, no exit strategy. I am hoping that I can convince him to give me a full week to move, but that is being naïve. Even with a week I am not going to be able to find another room as cheap as this. So, what is the plan?
- I’m not packing up to move into the dorms the way I had hoped.
- I can’t afford the $210/week rooms here in town.
- Even sober houses go for $180/week (including roommates and piss tests).
- A room on Craigslist then?
- There might be rooms available by the T station that is closed for 20 months for renovations.
- I will ask at school, A New Way and search posts on Craigslist.
- I will pray and I will not drink.
I could beat myself up for bringing this on myself. All of my complaining over the past several months served as a self fulfilling prophecy. Now I have to scramble to find a satisfactory solution to this situation. Words fail me right now as I try to put my thoughts in order and wrap my around this mess. All the time that I have spent on deciding whether or not I should apply to Harvard, taking computer science classes for fun, chronicling respiratory conditions, impulse shopping on Amazon and lamenting my unfortunate position and what have I accomplished?
My therapist is forever warning me about grandiose people and the perils of becoming such a person myself. She also consistently remonstrates me for ‘stinkin thinkin’ (an expression I borrowed from the halls). She is right, of course, and I have been making a lot of progress on that front and others besides, but this is exam time. Right now, not tomorrow or next week or next life, but here and now I have to put everything I have learned and know on the table.
That’s what the emergency responders are always telling people do over 911 and in the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. It’s really hard to not panic right about now. It’s the middle of winter, classes start in less than two weeks, I don’t have enough income for even modest accommodations and my savings won’t last more than two months. Don’t panic. Think things through. There has to be something I missed. Some source of income, or forgotten stash, or philanthropist donor, or… something.
Misfit College Fund 2018
I’m going to have to reincarnate the Emergency Housing fund. Any suggestions, advice, support…
My special thanks to https://www.deviantart.com/?section=&global=1&q=barnaulsky&offset=0 for the cover art