A tortured hour

It's 3:34 AM....

The house is dark but then the house is always dark to me even in the middle of the day.

It's hot, too hot.  The thermometer says it's 88 degrees outside but in here it's closer to 100.  Why? I can't afford to turn the AC on.  Such luxuries are for other people.

Madness! a Phoenix summer where the weatherman cheerily announces weeks of 110 degree plus days. No escape, no money for a reprieve from the heat.  No comforts...

Things haven't been so good.  The refrigerator's almost  always empty and what little is there provides meager nourishment for body or soul.  Everything around me seems somehow broken.  Things that should have long since been discarded forced past their prime, patched together and pressed back to service until they can finally give no more.

Broken...

For five years it's been a tough row to hoe.  It's never been easy but this time it's harder.  I know, it's been that way for many but I'm most familiar with my own tribulations.  

Excuse the pain if you've heard it before...

It's the kind of thing that makes you hate television, especially the commercials.  Constant nagging about things nobody really cares about all with the promise of taking your woes away...for a price.

A price I can no longer afford which makes me hate them even more.  It's like being mocked, the proverbial carrot inevitably followed by the stick.  I don't hate them for selling their wares; I hate them for the assumption that I don't know any better.

Buy this car and save money on gas, Enroll in that diploma mill and have a brighter future.  Neither is true and I've got close to 100K of debt to prove it with nothing to show but the collection letters.  The worst part, they sell a lifestyle with expensive trappings but little meaning.

When did becoming a member of the middle class become a lifelong aspiration?  When did simple civilized survival become a goal?

It's 3:44 AM...

Something's rattling on the car, I know what it is, I know every sound it can make but all I can do is hope that it remains little more than an audible annoyance...

Comfort is a luxury.  There is no peace in my surroundings or my soul. 

Middle aged, underestimated, dismissed, hopeless but still defiant!

Pull myself up by the bootstraps!  But I have no boots...

Never cared for that analogy anyway.  It's a fallacy perpetrated by those who never knew the predicament.

Opportunity is made not found but opportunity doesn't happen in a vacuum but lately it seems I do.

Whose fault?  Mine I suppose.  But then far more worthy than I have a similar tale.  We can't all be wrong.

What can I do?  For myself, I'll try anything that doesn't risk the little that remains.  Is it enough?

Time will tell, but do I have the time? 

It's 4:00AM

Do something, do anything.  Unbridled ambition thwarted by petty finances.  Do I believe in myself? Am I all that I thought I once was?

Not a high bar, humility or more appropriately the edge of self-loathing has always been a companion.  Ego and hubris have no place.  But neither did confidence.  I rarely win so I refuse the gamble.

This isn't the life I planned or should I say any of the lives I've planned.  I've started over so many times but always end up in the same place. 

Here...

Keep trying, keep striving all the time fearful of losing the little bit I have left even if I hate the prison it creates.

Do I have time to try again?

It's 4:16AM

Damn! it's hot in here.  The winters are better but I still can't afford the heat.  I sit in the remains of my chair, it too is broken, drenched in my own filthy perspiration the only comfort being the memory of it that will come when I can see my breath waking on some January morning.

Not defeated, not giving up but lost.

How do I move forward?  What's the key? 

4:23 AM

Recruiters, agencies, headhunters.  Hardly better than TV commercials.  Promises not kept, selling a bill of goods only for their own ends.  The product doesn't match the consumer, no sale.

Still I try, find the needle, ignore the haystack...

My own pursuits?  On virtue success, on paper, failure. 

I never wanted to do anything that didn't matter to someone.  It seems that's a dying...virtue.

It's 4:24 AM

Everything still seems broken.  I look around me and see so much that could be done.  I want to fix it, I want to fix me...

I'm not in a vacuum. Others suffer for my affliction.  I want to fix that too.

Keep trying, keep looking, deny the doubt...

Fix it...

It's 4:34AM

It was a hot day in Arizona...

It was another hot day in Arizona.  The temperature was exceedingly high even for the first day of June.  As I navigated my way home from work through a morass of overheated vehicles and their similarly afflicted drivers I happened to notice a billboard displaying the current temperature, 111 degrees Fahrenheit. 

An angry Red sun slowly setting in the west, twisted and distorted by the byproduct of dreary daily commutes both past and present seemed to punctuate the mood.   It seemed as if nature itself was making dour commentary on our goings on.

Not that this commute was any more eventful than any other, it wasn't.  The usual cast of characters largely oblivious to the other participants in this risky game were all present.   All have a role.

The impatient jackrabbit convinced that his commuting brethren conspire to impede his progress at every turn.   Darting amongst the less expedient every gap is an opportunity if you're lucky he may take the time to signal before traversing 4 lanes of traffic.

The mule, an overloaded landscape truck with its poorly secured load.  Pavement or windshield which one takes the blow only time can tell.  Only a fool would risk taking a position behind him, many fools do.

The conscientious driver determined to enforce every posted limit even at their own peril.  This is the sworn enemy of the jackrabbit.  The Tortoise versus the hare or so it seems.  A deadly dance that never questions if but when the race ends in twisted metal astride a flatbed truck.

The distracted driver more concerned with the status of their Facebook page than the fiery flare of the brake lights they're rapidly approaching. 

Countless permutations and combinations exist.  We've been them all at one point or another and the memory conjured is never cherished. 

It's a basic rule of nature that most unpleasant experiences are indicators that something's gone awry and needs correction.

A body at rest stays at rest, a body in motion stays in motion.  Daily commutes run afoul of this basic tenet of science. 

Technology is all around us perhaps to our own detriment but regardless of your opinion it permeates every waking hour. 

Why then, with the world at our fingertips do we continue a ritual firmly embedded in 19th century realities no longer relevant 2 centuries later.

Perhaps it's a shoehorn mentality.  Ill fitting shoes can still be worn if forced on the wearer.  Ignore the pain and the blood, the shoe is firmly in place and all is as it should be at least according to convention.  The pain must be endured else the shortcomings of a failing model be revealed.

We commute to passable occupations, accept schedules contrary to our potential and immerse ourselves in misery for the sake of pointless timesinks that barely enrich our personal coffers let alone our lives.

Wake up!  It doesn't have to be this way but it takes the painful act of crawling out of your conformity and demanding more of the limited time you have left to walk on this rock.

Think about it.