Catching up to speed, something I do on a daily basis. As a delivery driver, I constantly speed up, and rarely ever slow down, only stopping to do what is required of me, then moving on. This could be a somewhat adequate metaphor for my life I guess. I seem to float through the day, living for the next, hardly thinking of the now unless I have to. But again, I must bring you, the readers, up to speed on my life.
I failed out of Purdue University last semester, after a long, and failed attempt to battle my anxiety successfully. It was difficult to say the least. The second semester I was there, I had no idea what I was dealing with, and by the time I had figured out something was very, very wrong, I was already headed for a .8 GPA. I failed every class that semester. Last semester wasn't drastically different. I didn't fit in, and never found a support net, nor a will to go to classes. I simply wasn't learning enough to keep my interest. World of Warcraft emerged, and sealed my fate. It's ok though, it was a learning lesson for me. I am not meant for large colleges. I am not meant for colleges where fraternities and sororities are a major part of campus life.
I learned that I would not be attending Purdue again this semester while on vacation in Florida, and thus began a depressive scramble to reorganize and relocate in the matter of one week, lest my things be thrown out on the curb. I immediately enrolled into community college and applied for jobs. I started to reconnect with old friends still left in Dallas and its surrounding areas. I began to work as a server and a delivery driver. I started classes around the same time as my jobs, working day and night for over a month, with no days off. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday until 4 was school, every night except for tuesday was Dominos, and every day except for sunday morning and sometimes tuesday night was Applebees. It was hell.
As things began to progress, I began to aquire money like it was going out of style, which was fantastic. I paid off the 2000 dollars in debt I owed to my parents in the middle of February, with some money to spare. I paid the rent for March in advance. I had my car worked on, tuned up. On March 1st, I more or less started at square one again. I had 70 dollars to my name, and time to spare. March flew by me, fast. I ended up spending some excess money on things I shouldn't have, but I was riding high. 80 Dollars at Dave and Busters for me and my friends to hang out. 140 Dollars and dinner at Olive Garden for 7. The morning of March 31st, I had almost 800 dollars in cash, with another 200 in the bank. I did my usual for a Tuesday, sat around and did almost nothing. Went to visit my psychologist at noon. Decided to talk with my father afterwards. Forgot I was going to a concert that night. During our conversation, I decided that I would use some of my money to get a new CD player for my car, the one installed was factory default, and it had no shock resistance, something much needed for a delivery driver. I go down there, buy a middle of the road CD deck after talking with one of the customer representatives at best buy, and get it installed. It costs 200 dollars, no big deal. I get my car back around 6 PM, with the concert starting at 7, and me needing to meet up with my parents at 630. I get into the car and pop in one of my old favorite CDs, take the new system for a spin. Not half a block away, the first note of the song starts, and the bass is flat. Being a bassist, I cant stand this. I max out the lows and the sub, only to have it sound half as good as my previous CD deck. I turn around, head back, talk with the mechanics, and I decide I dont have time to mess with it that day, and that I'd come back tommorrow inbetween classes. I drive to my fathers office, we sit and talk for a bit, then head off to the concert. The first cut was amazing, and the drummer blew my mind. The show was amazing. Sensing it was nearing an end, I decided to head to the merch shop set up outside, I felt these guys deserved my 25 dollars, and I wanted a shirt. A couple was attempting to haggle over the price of a CD, and they were drunk. Really drunk. The sales guy wasnt having any of it, and was trying to be polite, but I could tell they were wearing at his nerves. They eventually moved on with their CD in tow, and when they were out of earshot, I made a quip about how I was glad I didnt drink. He laughed and we talked briefly. There was a shadowed, kinda dingy looking man sitting next to the table. He asks me how long I've listened to this kinda music, prog-jazz. I reply, "As long as I can remember." He introduces himself as Bernard Wright, a jazz musician who had played with Miles Davis and Marcus Miller. I admit, I was skeptical, but agreed to introduce him to my parents. After the show, they talk. He wants to teach me music for free, gives me his number, says he gets a good vibe from me, a spidey sense for talented kids he says. I wiki him on my dads iPhone. Sure enough, it was really him. I'm exstatic. I mention to my parents that I want to go visit my best friend Dylan, and I'll meet them at home. We begin to disembark, I head toward my car, hit the unlock, and notice it beeps several times. I make a face, open the door, and see shattered glass covering my passenger seat, the dash busted open. I slam the door shut, murmur, "I guess I'm not going to go see Dylan now." Take a deep breath, then scream 'Fuck' so loud that I'm pretty sure people 10 blocks away heard me. I clean out the glass.
They tried to take my stereo. The brand new stereo. They failed. Horrendously. My entire collection of CDs, DVDs, and bass amp were in the car. Nothing was stolen fortunately. My car was mostly inoperable. I called my General Manager, told him I wouldn't be able to make it in to work the next day. Put my car in the shop after my first class. It cost 300 dollars to fix that aspect of my car, and another 100 to fix another problem that had arisen recently. Then I realized, it was the first of the month, bills were due. I am now late on one of them.
Here I am now, the night of the 2nd of April, back at square one, broken and beaten it seems, with no money to my name.