On Thursday night, something weird finally happened. I finally realized that I was funked. As in stupidly funked, not like someone who has a mortgage, lost their job, and has a family to raise funked. I had been subconsciously ignoring the fact that I did not have an endless pit of money, coupled with the fact I did not work, plus there was no work to be found. I had also been ignoring the fact that in the past week I had spent close to $1700 on rent and a truck. For some reason, probably that the delayed reaction in my bank balance had finally gone through, I realized I was goosed for bobs. I had just wasted about half of my money on a bucket that was broken down and a bed that I couldn’t afford. Plus I realized that I needed to sort out my visa somehow. Which meant I would probably have to go to Mexico for a few days to renew the holiday visa. Which meant I would have to leave LA before the start of the 3rd week of March max to go to Mexico to try and renew my holiday visa. So it also sank in that I had paid all that money in rent for time I wouldn’t be here in LA for. So now I was stuck with a bucket that wouldn’t drive and a bed I wouldn’t be sleeping in. If you’re looking for investment advice, give me a call.
All along I was trying to convince myself that it wasn’t that bad. So what if I end up in LA with the bare minimum left of my money, no job, visa expired, and be an illegal alien. So what? No big deal. Sting managed to work his way out of it! At least Ill have a bed for the next 3 weeks. Plus, I can always go back home to…? Balls.
All of this hit me about 12.30 on Thursday night. Cue dizziness and cold sweats. I did not budget for this, b*****ks. Good God, I’m funked. Seriously. The light was going fast from the end of the tunnel.
At least I had gotten an offer for the Bucket earlier that day from a junkyard – they’d come and tow it away and give me $180 for it. My roommate said don’t do it, I’d get a better deal. I couldn’t see the light, accepted it. The guy was coming at 9 in the morning to pick me up and take it away. I really should’ve asked Robbie first if he would mind but the dizziness made me forget.
So after I have a great night’s sleep (wondering if I would even get a job at this stage back in Dublin or Cork when I had to go home, did I even really want a job related to my degree or masters, then thinking of being broke at home in Ireland) there was, somehow, a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. Firstly, the junkyard guy never showed up (postponed until Monday, the fool!). More importantly, I woke up fully aware I was funked. And it felt great. Not great as in it would feel if something good was to happen. But great as in the fact there was some sort of burden lifted off my shoulders. I think it was the burden of fooling myself.
It is far better to know and accept that you are screwed, rather than hope and think that you are not. At least now I could spend my time doing something to sort it out, rather than spend my time stressing about whether or not I was actually funked.
My internet was still not working so I have to go to the Coffee Bean to use the wireless. Amadeus is coming over singing The Who to me, asking me if my shoelaces are made from hemp, wrecking my head today. Give me a few hundred dollars to listen to you ramble on and we can be friends. He declines. I put two ads up on Craigslist. One laying out in exact details the story with the truck – how I bought it under false pretenses and got screwed, does anyone want to take it off my hands? The other ad is looking for someone to take over my rent for the rest of March.
Straight away I get offers for the Bucket. One guy rings, asking how much. I tell him make me an offer, I’m looking to get rid of it asap. So presuming he was about to say somewhere around the 200 dollar mark, he says something like “5 or 700?”. What the f**k??? I double check to make sure he’s read all the ad, $900 owing on registration etc. He has, karma is playing a role. As it stands I have three offers for 500, one for 400 and another guy with 350. The day before I was barely getting any offers for the Bucket, trying to sell it through rose tinted glasses, “Old but quirky” kind of stuff. I’ve probably cursed it now seeing as it hasn’t been sold yet, but at least it was a step in the right direction.
If I could sell the truck, find someone to take over for half the rent of the room for the last two weeks of March, fly to Mexico for cheap, come back and get another 3 month visa, win the green card lottery, win the normal lottery, be plucked out of the obscurity for a movie role without having to deal with the annoying cruise ship bound aspect of the acting business, and write that bloody episode for the Office thats keeping me awake at night, I’d be sorted. At least I might sleep better tonight knowing Im f**ked. For once, it actually is a good thing to know. Pretty weird.
I feel this has been a pretty crap post to read but its been a sobering old night and day. The only apt song I can think of is Float On by Modest Mouse.