Cafe Hitch-hike


All is not lost, no, no, no.

Carlo says, "all is not lost because of work."

My buddy Steve said that to me a few years back. He told me just because one area isn't going swell in my life, it doesn't mean the other parts, like my love life, fun life, spiritual life, shouldn't suddenly become null and void.

Souljah sent me a chain-letter about God and prosperity. I didn't send it on.

Yeah, those are thoughts.

I was thinking of moving on. Maybe I should look up one of my father's relatives in Florida to see if I could shack up with them, that is, if they would take me. Take on some little job until I figure out what the hell I want to do.

Go to my mom's? Sure, if I can tolerate her drinking every other night of the week, gloating about her hillbilly boyfriend, and being hungover the nights she isn't drunk.

Lady Jane my boss tried to be a little assuring. I didn't get the big job I interviewed for a few weeks ago because someone on the inside was already chosen for it, or her knowing the powers that be helped, whatever. Big Boss was assuring, too. They both said it was a tough position to apply for, please don't give up, the market's hard, all that stuff.

I gave that job my very best shot, that's all I know. Now, I'm just trying to forget about it. Trying my very best to forget about it.


Last night I said to John, "they say I'm bright, but I'm just not fit for any job." After all, I was kicked out of teaching. Legal work was a bitch. And now, the only library work I have is piecemeal. It wouldn't be so bad. It's just that Lady Jane can't wait to get my ass out of the university library door, and working at the public library is equivalent to indentured servitude.

I said, "I'm not meant to have a regular job. Everything I do I seems to be bar me from regular work though I try to do everything right. I probably should just do what my mom does with cleaning hotel rooms. I should probably go underground. Wander the states in a beat-up car, reading tarot, acting like a psychic. Maybe I should just take my ass to Margaritaville, waiting tables part-time and sexing and drinking my nights away."

Yeah, I thought, I'm pretty dumb. Maybe I should've just bummed my life away in London as a wannabe writer with Carlo. Maybe I should've went to a technical school as my father's family suggested. Yeah, get a certificate to be a secretary or bookkeeper, and eventually marry some guy I meet on the job. That was their idea. Maybe I should've joined the police force in my hometown 7 years ago when they tried to recruit me, one of 10 or so Latinas who had some education, didn't get pregnant, and didn't have a criminal record.

John has ideas, but John has lots of ideas. But I'm his girlfriend, not his responsibility or dependant. I know he has issues of his own in his career and I don't want to be one more burden he has to take on.

Bitch, bitch, bitch. That's all I feel like doing right now. Life's not fair, obviously. Obviously.

downwind | upstream