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Dear Fuzzy Dog in The Sky,
My life, such as it is, is dictated by Others. Mostly as I am unable to take care of myself without accidentally poisoning myself, I must have a Keeper of sorts to keep me from doing something stupid and going off the deep end.
It has been decided, quite quickly after a rather nasty fight with my Blood-Littermate, that I will not be moving in with her. I will, however, have to stay with her until the day I can get my hands on a RV (no more than 3 weeks to a month). I will be in the temporary care of my Parents, as they feel it is for the best (and my Mother keeps saying that there is a chance I would just absolutely hate the Desert States anyways).
In this year I have gotten dreadfully materialistic and that needs to come to an abrupt end. It is the only way I can learn, apparently.
My stationary lifestyle, which has been disgustingly stagnant, will be returned to its former Gypsy ways and The Road Virus will ride again in the company of a Fuzzy One and hotdog cart.
"The upcoming year will be a big one for you," my mother said to me, "and there will be a lot of changes along the way."
"And when you get to be our age," my father shook his finger at me, "You'll be better off!"
Better off than what? Better off than them. They have no savings, nothing to fall back on, and Dad hasn't worked since March, when his Bitch-Boss flaked on him and he quit. Mom is now working, after a 22 year hiatus, and she's happy to be doing it, but they're still not saving a whole lot. Dad's going on 54 years old and he feels he's been a failure to drag us down to the bottom.
The thing is, the Bottom's pretty much all I've ever known. It's very strange to actually have money, I keep forgetting that I'm not (technically) broke. I don't have the money to buy a house back home, nor do I have bills to suck away all my hard work, but I can live comfortable so long as I keep my brain from going haywire (which it has been, so now I have two bags of Ricola™ cough drops and I'm not even sick).
I have my Retirement fund sitting at just under a grand, and my emergency fund needs some help, but as it stands I'm fine. I'm still in the habit of counting down the days to my next paycheck, but living paycheck to paycheck will do that to a person.
As of late I've been waking up exceedingly late, even if I go to bed relatively early. I have decided, of course, that the recent cold/dreary/cloudy weather is to blame. I have zero energy and I'm working twice as hard now than at this time last year (last year I was lucky to get 28 hours, now I'm currently running 35-37 a week). It's not really that much harder, but the weather has greatly affected me this year for some reason. I'm run down, and I may be catching a bug in the coming weeks. My lungs and back are already trying to kill me. This weather has made me crave sugar as well, and we all know that can be Death for me.
Days like this, I miss my Brother.
-Daz Mel
My life, such as it is, is dictated by Others. Mostly as I am unable to take care of myself without accidentally poisoning myself, I must have a Keeper of sorts to keep me from doing something stupid and going off the deep end.
It has been decided, quite quickly after a rather nasty fight with my Blood-Littermate, that I will not be moving in with her. I will, however, have to stay with her until the day I can get my hands on a RV (no more than 3 weeks to a month). I will be in the temporary care of my Parents, as they feel it is for the best (and my Mother keeps saying that there is a chance I would just absolutely hate the Desert States anyways).
In this year I have gotten dreadfully materialistic and that needs to come to an abrupt end. It is the only way I can learn, apparently.
My stationary lifestyle, which has been disgustingly stagnant, will be returned to its former Gypsy ways and The Road Virus will ride again in the company of a Fuzzy One and hotdog cart.
"The upcoming year will be a big one for you," my mother said to me, "and there will be a lot of changes along the way."
"And when you get to be our age," my father shook his finger at me, "You'll be better off!"
Better off than what? Better off than them. They have no savings, nothing to fall back on, and Dad hasn't worked since March, when his Bitch-Boss flaked on him and he quit. Mom is now working, after a 22 year hiatus, and she's happy to be doing it, but they're still not saving a whole lot. Dad's going on 54 years old and he feels he's been a failure to drag us down to the bottom.
The thing is, the Bottom's pretty much all I've ever known. It's very strange to actually have money, I keep forgetting that I'm not (technically) broke. I don't have the money to buy a house back home, nor do I have bills to suck away all my hard work, but I can live comfortable so long as I keep my brain from going haywire (which it has been, so now I have two bags of Ricola™ cough drops and I'm not even sick).
I have my Retirement fund sitting at just under a grand, and my emergency fund needs some help, but as it stands I'm fine. I'm still in the habit of counting down the days to my next paycheck, but living paycheck to paycheck will do that to a person.
As of late I've been waking up exceedingly late, even if I go to bed relatively early. I have decided, of course, that the recent cold/dreary/cloudy weather is to blame. I have zero energy and I'm working twice as hard now than at this time last year (last year I was lucky to get 28 hours, now I'm currently running 35-37 a week). It's not really that much harder, but the weather has greatly affected me this year for some reason. I'm run down, and I may be catching a bug in the coming weeks. My lungs and back are already trying to kill me. This weather has made me crave sugar as well, and we all know that can be Death for me.
Days like this, I miss my Brother.
-Daz Mel
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