Paycheck to Paycheck

Barefoot wine — It’s the destination, not the taste.

My life is not glamorous. I don’t live in a city filled with skyscrapers, I live paycheck to paycheck, and I live in an apartment where my room faces a nightclub parking lot. I live in Jacksonville, Florida which is like Miami if it were entirely redneck with fewer clubs and mandatory last calls at 1:30 am.  Driving through Northeast Florida makes my uterus cringe every time I pass a billboard with an angelic fetus begging for its life. But I digress…

So I work full time for an insurance company (which of course is an entirely corporate job that has nothing to do with my degree). Everyday is mind-numbingly the same, and I spend most of my weekends highly intoxicated to forget how horrible my life seems to be going. I’ve considered going back to school several times, but I always reach the same conclusion: school is expensive, I was an average student, and I will probably graduate with more debt and will still be average. Not that being average is bad — oh no. It’s just that with my generation, we were constantly coddled and told by our parents that we were special and meant to do great things. Watching them wake up at 4 am to go to work seemed insane to me. I was never going to have to deal with a dead-end job. I was going to work for the United Nations and become an Ambassador. Funny how things turn out.

Then again, I did leave home for college at the age of 17 with absolutely no clue about what I was going there for. I dabbled in Art History, an area that guarantees joblessness unless you have connections. Then I decided to go with International Studies after having watched a movie about Che Guevara. Because come on, we all have our Marxist phase in college and then we think we can save the world with our newfound intelligence.

Still, I had no idea what to do when I graduated and I still have no idea. I was working full time in school with two jobs, so focusing what a little bit difficult. So now here I am with only one job, bonus checks, and a nifty cubicle. I really shouldn’t complain. There are so many 20 somethings out there in a much more dire situation than myself (which sometimes includes baby humans). Then again, how many 20 somethings are clamoring for a job in the fantabulous city of Jacksonville? I don’t have a hell of a lot of competition to face and that’s a good thing.

I have no idea what life has in store for me and maybe not knowing is the thing that bothers me the most. I no longer have a plan like I did when I was younger. I knew school was the next step, but what now? Is this really the rest of my life — sitting in a cubicle being micro-managed to death, looking out of the window wishing that I could enjoy the glow of the sun?

Yes. I am a wage slave. And you probably are too. Reality sucks, doesn’t it?

So to conclude this short biography of my depressing lack of direction I’m facing — I don’t come from money, I am in my late 20s, my students loans are 29K+, I eat vegetarian not because it’s a good thing, but that I always have for buy 1 get 1 free chicken sales at Winn Dixie, and I always have to drink before I go out to save money.

So fuck Lena Dunham — I am the voice of my generation. The generation of nowhere.

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