7:57am
I feel like I barely got any sleep. My audio recording said 6 hours, 51 minutes.
I started that at 12:52am and was writing until 1:46am.
Might have fallen asleep by about 2...so somewhere between 5 and 6 hours, not even.
I could be wrong, but it's as if there's someone with a siren - not a cop or an ambulance or a fire truck - who likes to just drive around making noise.
If that's true, I don't understand how it isn't easy as hell for them to get caught.
Wouldn't be the first time someone has pulled shit like that:
In February, a man pretended to be a DEA agent.
In May, a guy pretended to be a cop.
There's supposed to be a small substation a block over.
I haven't understood why anything goes down that shouldn't.
(Suddenly remembering the hazardous materials truck blasting bass the other day...or the motorcycle/cars that rev their engines so loud it's like they rip out your ear drums...or what seems to be people in cars sitting outside of clubs some nights blasting bass - thumping thumping thumping in your head - it doesn't even sound like music. Are they trying to make it seem like the noise is coming from the clubs? I don't know... just a memory overload of bullshit from the last two years...)
Unless the idea is to punish people for wanting police reform.
Don't understand why many of the police themselves wouldn't be on the same side as the protestors...
but I guess I'm an "idealist" right?
There's a tightness and discomfort in my back.
I don't want to just keep talking about that, but it's distracting.
I can't tell if things are getting better.
The physical therapist I watched online said you want the sensation to work itself back up your leg and into your back (if it's a nerve damage problem).
The back of my right thigh is still numb - but maybe a little less than before?
My hip and back are burning a bit.
I don't know, maybe I'm just fucked.
This is how people get fucked.
Broken down beyond a point and then thrown away because you couldn't get help in time.
One problem causes another.
I woke up to an email that said I didn't get another job I applied for.
For all I know, I'm on some kind of list and they just dismiss me outright.
I guess I have the option to do this three part exam and see if that place hires me.
It's just unreliable - according to people on Reddit,anyway.
Sometimes there might be work, sometimes not.
I wish transcription paid more. I actually enjoy doing that.
It takes me an hour and a half to do a 6 to 7 minute recording.
I've done about 4 or 5. I get high marks on my work.
But the pay is so little, I haven't bothered to cash out.
Eight hours of work for something like $4.
I just get the experience.
I'm debating whether I should just go back to bed.
Feeling kinda nauseous. That happens a lot.
My headphones needed to charge, but I can listen to binaural beats now.
That might also be why I didn't stay asleep.
Part of me thinks: does it matter? I'd just have weird nightmares anyway, probably.
Can't win.
Ah well, whatever.
Oh hey, well...I guess that's good news.
I got another email that says they're offering people $100 for finishing the exam right away, and then finishing the paperwork.
Still could be more trouble than it's worth.
$100 isn't going to solve my problems right now, and could just make everything worse.
Maybe my first book should be called "This Is How They Fuck You: An American Poverty Story"
You're just supposed to keep your head up, right?
They don't tell you it's about keeping your head up - above water.
8:27am now.
I could chug an energy drink.
I could try to go back to sleep for a little while.
I could sit in a chair (I'm sitting on my bed and the edge of the computer is digging into my arms).
Brush my teeth. Take a shower.
I don't want to do laundry right now because of my back.
I've got to think of another way to do it before I need to wash my clothes again.
I've been washing everything by hand throughout the pandemic.
It takes hours, and always leaves me exhausted.
It's not just because of the virus and avoiding cross-contact with people.
I can't afford the machines either.
My thoughts are starting to circle around it being my dad's birthday.
It's too easy to just never know what's really going on anymore.
As if I ever really did, right?
I got the impression that someone had the bright idea that I should "go home"
as if I had a "home" to go to.
As if I was just one of these kids who left the place they grew up and now their adventure was over and they needed to retreat back to their families like good little children.
But that isn't, wasn't, my fucking life.
I'm not trying to "just make money from my sad story" though, of course.
I have no intention of writing some kind of memoir.
I'm just upset at the thought. I have been for a while.
I guess I could rant on about that, but I don't want to.
Often find myself trying to refocus.
Ask myself: "what's the most important thing I could be doing right now?"
But at the moment, I'm just repeating myself.
I don't feel good. I'm tired. My back hurts.
Stay awake, go back to sleep?
Find an income. Quick.
Find assistance.
Lucky I've had any at all.
Always so lucky.
Everyone should have gotten help.
No one should have been this stressed or afraid.
Stressed to death.
No exaggeration.
I never get more than a few days of feeling like maybe I have a chance.
Maybe everything will turn out better than I could have possibly expected it to.
It always goes back to feeling like I'm screwed.
This might not be the most poetic thing I've ever written.
But frankly, who cares?
It is real.
It would be nice if my reality was more poetic.
Maybe that's why my writing in college was any good.
Ideas hung in the air like fruit, easily picked and consumed. Free.
A universe that encouraged you to think.
No one cares what I think out here.
Everything just seems unnecessarily mean.
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