Picking Up The Pieces in My New Life

I have really been running in high gear for the last few months. I have gone through so many changes since I started classes last May. To begin with, it was a summer class Intro to Biology: a prereq for the Nursing program. When I created my school’s email address I received an email for a job offer. I hadn’t given my email address to anyone at that point, and so I figured it had to come straight from the source. Stupid. My days in undergrad were far different from the cyber-world we live in today. It was a hacker, or scammer; I fell for it, and lost a pretty penny. I won’t go into detail, but it was an immaculate job. It was artwork.

The excitement of being back in college carried me through. I am such a nerd. I adore microbiology, and chemistry. What can I say? It is absolutely fascinating to me. I can’t say I am the best at algebra, but I scored high in Trig, and Geometry. My roommate in undergrad ended up mastering in BioChem, and while he was in the program we would drink beer, or liquor, or both, and he would teach me chemistry (namely that surrounding ethanol as we became belligerently drunk together, and listened to music all the way from techno to Wagner). The concepts always made a lot of sense to me, though, back in undergrad I was studying English whilst he was across the cobblestoned street in the science building. So, I am either naturally gifted in it, or I’ve just picked up enough along the way, or I had some amazing teachers. Either way, college becomes more difficult, in one sense, as an adult holding down a real job. You are sort of forced to split between two realities. You are expected to assume “adult” responsibilities in a world you are working to transcend through by taking classes.

I was right on course to get an A in my biology class which was exceptionally invigorating, and encouraging. When you have been out of school for so long you begin to doubt yourself, and hope you haven’t lost your edge. A short story by John Cheever wafted to my windowsill. “Is that tree blighted?” I must have spilled oil, or transmission fluid last Fall when I was changing them. Yes, that’s probably it. I cut the top of my wrist twisting the oil filter back on. The Swimmer from an English class by my advisor echoed through my mind. It was literally the most terrifying short story I read in undergrad. I’m running, running, running from work then school, and back, and forth. The Nightmare Co-Worker (otherwise known as The Anus Bird) was beginning to take shape at that point. My mother asked me to visit. I took a three-day weekend to visit her, and completed my homework online. On the ride back home grinding gears, and burnt oil smells exploded into my life. I pulled over close to my old home, and the engine oil was bone dry. I filled it up at the station, and proceeded to come back home. It was running rough, but it was running. It would get me through for now.

I was still on course for an A. My final was three weeks away. My apartment where I had lived for 5 years was cozy, and perfect. My good friend, and neighbor was moving away to Austen sadly, and he gave me his desk. I had my new school desk, and laptop station all set-up perfectly in my room. I had been paying up on my rent. I was quite a bit behind, so I was paying double each month. The trajectory for my budget was right on course. I had worked for my landlords, and built their stairs out front. To make a long story short, I’ll never work for them again. They changed the order on me, and went back on my initial offer, and still owe me at least $1,000. That was a good deal why I was behind on rent in the first place. I put off getting my new job for a month just to finish those stairs. Some people really can’t put 2 and 2 together. I opened my email. The owner of my complex is selling, and I have 3 weeks to vacate. That’s a few days before my final exam. I have no extra money saved up due to paying up double on my rent. Stupid. I was living off rice, and beans, and selling plasma for extra cash to get paid up. I went back a long time with my Landlady, and worked for the family as their maintenance-man sometimes for extra cash. I had to come up with a deposit, first month’s rent, and find a new place all while taking a summer class, and holding down a 40 hour a week job (overnight).

I found a place nearby, moved all my belongings myself in Alabama summer heat & humidity, and almost had a nervous breakdown when I thought I may have to leave very important sentimental belongings behind. That’s not to mention valuables. I made a B. It should have been an A. Alas, that is life for poor-folks. I enjoyed biology so much that I decided, in my exhaustion, to take Bio 104 this semester. It isn’t required in my Nursing program, but in my research into what Anatomy will be like, I decided I needed to curb my enthusiasm for a semester. My teachers said it would be useful in a 4 year Nursing degree, plus, there was that gut instinct I’ve learned to trust at the times I should hold my cards. I wanted to stay in the game, but behind the scenes. The grade I make in this class won’t count for, or against the point system to be accepted in the Nursing program.

About a month into this semester, my car broke down 90% of the way. I can still move it, but it just barely made it into my parking spot at my new place. The funny thing was that I felt amazing when it happened. I felt better than I had felt in a few years. I was considering buying a motorcycle, or moped scooter, but I’ve just been biking, and taking the bus to class ever since. Plus, my yoga practice came back to me. I had let that part of my life slide through the chaos of the last year, and a half. Plus, I don’t want to sound paranoid, but now, through Fall Break, I have finally had a moment to unwind, and internalize the events of the last few months. I do believe someone loosened my oil filter. I finally had a moment to do the math. I had changed my oil last Fall myself. I remember cutting myself tightening it, and I learned to work on cars from an Aircraft Mechanic, and that oil slick vaguely in my memory appeared around the following April, or May when I was beginning class. I’ve had a motorcycle stolen from that parking-lot, and my $500 bicycle I had before I bought my car. I live in The Deep South, so Mississippi Burning always comes to mind. I am a well known Chef around town, and I out-did a lot of their boys here. I can’t help it. I’m competitive, and talented. I’m not going to back down from a competition, or at least in my younger days here that’s how I was. At one point I sparred The MMA Champion of the Southeast. We don’t talk about that. It’s a sore subject. He’s one of their boys: the home-team. Now, I just lie low, act beaten, and am seen biking places. That’s all the scum-buckets around town know. The French (or Holden Caulfield) in me just can’t hold back a good insult for the goddamn illiterate-neanderthal, morons they’re mothers are shitting out. Bikes are safe. If anyone steals it I can walk to work, or class, and I keep The Bike Lady in business. She restores bikes, and sells them for charity. I can’t tell you how many bikes I’ve bought from her.

It looks as though I’ll make another B in this course. I’m pretty sure I made around a 97 on my Lab test today. And that’s biking 20 minutes to work, and back, and riding the bus to school through the wet Alabama Winters.

Last updated November 29, 2023