A year on the couch
So let’s take stock here. It’s 4:05 am on Monday , Valentine’s Day. You are broke, you have been stealing from your mother’s bank account to pay your bills. You’ve told her you need to borrow money but she has dementia so she’ll probably forget. Your big brother has noticed and sends you angry e mails. This will end soon.
You are unemployed and have been for quite sometime. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. Your step father dies.
You have looked for work but it’s hard to go from making 19 bucks an hour to 9.00 Or less. There’s a Starbucks around the corner. You left a resume there over a week ago. They haven’t called you.
The film biz has dried up for you and you have given up your dreams of being Julia Roberts or Gwyneth. You thought you would of made it by now. Your friends have. You could retire right now as one of THE best unknown actresses in Vancouver. Or maybe you can write the million dollar screenplay instead. The words run through your head all day long somehow they disappear when you sit down to write them.
It’s only at 4:05 am when you have run out of CSI re-runs and when there are only infomercials playing on all 43 channels that you can tear your eyes away from the screen. It’s been three and a half months that you have been watching for the answer. You haven’t seen it.
The writing seems to flow once in awhile but only while you are wearing ear phones with music blasting, the TV is still on behind you flickering. When the infomercials end it will be news, stock market, weather, traffic. A brand new day! One that you will probably sleep off till 2 or 3 in the afternoon because it means you won’t eat yourself into oblivion or spend your mother’s money or get anything accomplished that might help you get anywhere out of this mess.
There are two things you could give up for the next year or so. Movie popcorn and deep fried bean curd skin rolls. That would solve EVERYTHING!
Everywhere you look there is Shit that you have to deal with. Crumbs on the floor. The rugs need vacuuming and you haven’t grown up yet and bought your own god damn vacuum. You sneak upstairs and borrow the neighbors’ when she is out of town.
In the bathroom, the floor is getting hairy and the sink and tub have turned green. You managed to take the garbage out yesterday but that was about it and now the bin needs washing inside. There is some sort of black moldy stuff growing in it. The recycling is bugging you as well as the 7 file boxes lining the wall behind the dinning room table.
Your heart hurts.
You try to stay awake an extra hour after this long night of insomnia to see him through breakfast. (Your beautiful boy friend who saved your ass by moving in with you). You are envious that he has something worthwhile to do today, that he can stick to a routine, no big deal.
What’s it gonna be girl? YES or NO? What’s it gonna be girl STAY or GO? So much potential you had. So much money spent on education and middle class get - to - know - yourself tours.
There’s a snappy tune playing, stop and remember yourself a size 8, 138 lbs on your 5ft 10 inch frame in the black Abby Kanak dress. Black wool crepe, halter style, pointy boobs. Men were stupid when you wore it. You are dancing in the middle of a crowd, it was all about you. God Damn it! You use to be so fabulous! Magic would happen on a night like this, it was coming out your fingertips. You have to lay your head down for a moment and weep. Those days are gone, gone, gone.
So let’s take stock here. It’s 4:05 am on Monday , Valentine’s Day. You are broke, you have been stealing from your mother’s bank account to pay your bills. You’ve told her you need to borrow money but she has dementia so she’ll probably forget. Your big brother has noticed and sends you angry e mails. This will end soon.
You are unemployed and have been for quite sometime. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. Your step father dies.
You have looked for work but it’s hard to go from making 19 bucks an hour to 9.00 Or less. There’s a Starbucks around the corner. You left a resume there over a week ago. They haven’t called you.
The film biz has dried up for you and you have given up your dreams of being Julia Roberts or Gwyneth. You thought you would of made it by now. Your friends have. You could retire right now as one of THE best unknown actresses in Vancouver. Or maybe you can write the million dollar screenplay instead. The words run through your head all day long somehow they disappear when you sit down to write them.
It’s only at 4:05 am when you have run out of CSI re-runs and when there are only infomercials playing on all 43 channels that you can tear your eyes away from the screen. It’s been three and a half months that you have been watching for the answer. You haven’t seen it.
The writing seems to flow once in awhile but only while you are wearing ear phones with music blasting, the TV is still on behind you flickering. When the infomercials end it will be news, stock market, weather, traffic. A brand new day! One that you will probably sleep off till 2 or 3 in the afternoon because it means you won’t eat yourself into oblivion or spend your mother’s money or get anything accomplished that might help you get anywhere out of this mess.
There are two things you could give up for the next year or so. Movie popcorn and deep fried bean curd skin rolls. That would solve EVERYTHING!
Everywhere you look there is Shit that you have to deal with. Crumbs on the floor. The rugs need vacuuming and you haven’t grown up yet and bought your own god damn vacuum. You sneak upstairs and borrow the neighbors’ when she is out of town.
In the bathroom, the floor is getting hairy and the sink and tub have turned green. You managed to take the garbage out yesterday but that was about it and now the bin needs washing inside. There is some sort of black moldy stuff growing in it. The recycling is bugging you as well as the 7 file boxes lining the wall behind the dinning room table.
Your heart hurts.
You try to stay awake an extra hour after this long night of insomnia to see him through breakfast. (Your beautiful boy friend who saved your ass by moving in with you). You are envious that he has something worthwhile to do today, that he can stick to a routine, no big deal.
What’s it gonna be girl? YES or NO? What’s it gonna be girl STAY or GO? So much potential you had. So much money spent on education and middle class get - to - know - yourself tours.
There’s a snappy tune playing, stop and remember yourself a size 8, 138 lbs on your 5ft 10 inch frame in the black Abby Kanak dress. Black wool crepe, halter style, pointy boobs. Men were stupid when you wore it. You are dancing in the middle of a crowd, it was all about you. God Damn it! You use to be so fabulous! Magic would happen on a night like this, it was coming out your fingertips. You have to lay your head down for a moment and weep. Those days are gone, gone, gone.
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