It has been a while since my last entry but I am back like a fast, fierce punch. In my last issue, I had finally completed Operation: Toilet Water In Webbie’s Purifier. Twice. Two times the little scamp got hers. As for Chubbs, maybe heart disease will take care of that for me. Or maybe even some extreme chaffing between the ham hocks she calls legs to potentially cause her to spontaneously combust and roast like the flea ridden marshmallow that she is. I dunno and don’t care as I no longer live there anymore. That’s right, I have made my ascension from the 9 gates of hell and have situated myself into purgatory. #fuckyesimadeit!
Purgatory. From the link there you can see that it is not quite the ultimate punishment and not quite paradise either. For those reading you must be saying “But GiGo, wasn’t it your sublime goal in life for the past 5 months to bust out of that inferno you called an apartment?!?!”. Of course. I hadn’t even anticipated my own graduation the way I anticipated my move out, and if you know me at all there is nothing more I detest than a situation that has thousands of people staring at me as I sachey across a stage. #Ihatetheattention. But the unanswered question is why do I call my current situation purgatory. Here are some bullet points:
- It’s definitely not a punishment.
- I consider it my extended xmas vacay with my mom that just happens to continue all the way into spring semester. And I do welcome it as I have been in school for the last 17.5 years. Merlin’s Beard! That’s around 70% of my life dedicated to school man! I think I need some time to unwind from my lifelong burnout just before I decide to take off into the real world and get my Master’s. Just sayin’.
- Let’s not forget that I am around family who I haven’t seen much while at undergrad. My newest roommate is my 9 year old sister. She sleeps terrible but she is on the list of good roommates I’ve had. I mean there are no boyfriends that come in mucking up the place because as she says “Girls only!”. Even better is that it’s lights out by 10 o’clock. Good for her. But there is the occasional outburst she has if she doesn’t win in Mario Kart (which she is an expert in). She flings the wii remote across the room if she doesn’t make 1st place. If you’re not first you’re last, eh Ricky Bobby?
- Then there’s the bonus of a clean home. Cat piss was never my favorite air freshener and neither was a nasty kitchen floor.
- Not exactly paradise
- Although I am not in school I still have to pretend I am. If I want to make it to grad school I have to complete the necessary requirements like studying for the GRE, rewriting a letter of intent, raking in my recommendations and all that jazz. The GRE, one of the banes of my existence. Thinking about taking it makes me want to do something terrible, like farting in a room and then walking away. If I want to be all that I can be then I gotta. #sadface.
- The prospect of not getting into these schools as I wait here, in this town, in this state that I have had enough of, will kill me. I shouldn’t be so pessimistic (where have we seen me type that before?) as my relatives keep saying but I truly have to be realistic. I majored in psychology and have no computer science familiarity under my belt, so what would make these schools take me up? Even if I did have the necessary qualifications, not everyone gets in where they want.
- Job hunting is probs gonna be a bitch with the economy and what not even with a damn Bachelor’s.
- My mom is OCD when it comes to cleaning and nagging about anything she can think of. We will definitely be butting heads from time to time. #joy
- Did I mention my apartment is still mine and I haven’t found a sublease? So I can look forward to defaulting come January (2 days from now) on a place I shouldn’t have to pay for and then it ruining my chances of making it on my own. (I already feel like a damned failure for moving back in with my mom anyway. I am 23 and jobless with a sucky degree). Oh and then there’s the added tidbit of my mom being on the lease. #hercreditwillhurt. After trying to reason with the manager on the phone about my situation she politely declined me (you know, the way they do at the bank when a black man asks for a loan) and told me merry xmas. The f@%k is she telling me merry xmas for? Did she not just hear my plea bargain? My dilemma? #passivebitch.
And there you have it folks. There may not be any bitchy roommates or exams that need to be studied for but my future is murky and that is what makes my situation limbo. I dread the worst to not have to look back and say “Well I didn’t see that coming”. Sorry if I’m pragmatic! Sorry if I like my eggs way over hard! Am I a neurotic? I dunno. But I’d like to think of myself as conscientious with a hint of prudence sprinkled here and there.
Eddie Griffin: You know what they say, behind every great black man…
Dave Chapelle: …is the police!