f the gate. I had no car, let aloneanything to start a home.Their announcement was one of the lowest moments of mylife. I sat there dumbfounded; and I saw every dream I’d ever had for my futurefly out the window, flapping merrily away, with little black wings. Thedepression was beyond tears; I was mute for a long time. “I’m still in HighSchool,” I finally said, as low and soft as my voice would go. But nothing Isaid sacs chanel would have mattered. I had to become an adult seemingly overnight,and I knew that college would have to be put on hold. I needed a job. And Icould no longer take on menial jobs as I’d done in my past; I had to earn aliving. I had to pay rent.I went to work full time at Insurance Company in San Mateo. I honestlycouldn’t tell you what my job even was; not only don’t I remember, but it wasso inane I hardly knew what I was doing then. But I do remember that part of myjob was mailing out hundreds and hundreds of policy statements to clients. So Ityped up a small note which said something like: “I’m a frustrated writer heldcaptive in Corporate America; in a tedious repetitive job that will surely suckthe life out of me. If you can help me realize my dreams, and be a workingwriter, please call me at this number. 726-4854. Thank you.” I then took thisnote and made hundreds of copies of it, carefully cut each one out, and piledthem on my desk next to the stack of policies. Before I would enclose thepolicy in the envelope and seal it, I would tape one of these little notes tothe bottom of the page.No job offers came from this. But it did earn me a tripto the boss’ office, when a client called and complained. And this led toanother meaningless job and to another. I decided that if this was going to bemy life, I would rather be dead.But the nightmare only worsened in intensity.It was a beautiful autumn day, and my boyfriend was sitting on the patio in myfront yard, doing his Algebra homework. He was whining and groaning; m sac mainchanelaking sounds that were familiar to me,as they were similar to the noises I made when forced to listen to theincessant drivel from Mr. Connors. I ignored his feeble attempts to gain mypity; and while I had great empathy for his plight, I was determined to go nowherenear his math book. “Hellp Me ,” he wouldbleat, as he would bang his head against his book.”No.”I didn’t understand whatpleasure could be found in math. The whole idea of math was that it was asolvable puzzle; it was only a mystery until it was unraveled. It was aconcrete science; and answers were either wrong or right. But th
napsal/a: meinvsee 04:38 Link
« Domů |
Přidej komentář
