Am I in the Wrong?

I was supposed to go to Disneyland with my sister this Memorial Day weekend.  Unfortunately, my plans unraveled as soon as my car went into the shop.  The issue?  Now there’s a can of worms.  Back in October, my car broke down in the Walmart parking lot.  I had it towed to a privately owned shop, which I will not presently name.  They found that the fuel pump needed replacing.  Okay, so $870 later, my fuel pump was replaced and the car was working, for a time anyway.  Around November, I noticed the fuel gauge wouldn’t read a full tank when I filled it.  So in February, I took it back to the privately owned shop.  (I had to wait a few months because they went on their “Holiday” schedule and was not open on weekends, the only time I could bring in my car).  They dropped the tank again, but couldn’t find the issue.  I didn’t have to pay anything since it was under warranty, which was good.  Okay, so I took my car back, and decided to just live with it.  Suddenly, I started noticing the smell of gasoline in my garage, especially right after filling the tank.  The privately owned shop said they couldn’t find anything wrong, and that it should be fine.  Guess what?  It wasn’t fine.

At this point, I took it to the dealership.  Guess what they found?  Two seals on the gas tank itself were busted, a hose that connected the tank to the car was completely rotted due to age, that should’ve been caught, and the entire sending unit needed replacing.  I didn’t break those two seals, and when I was showed the damage, it’s pretty obvious that age didn’t either.  So what did?  Because of the damage to the two seals on the tank, I was leaking gasoline and vapors—you know highly combustible fumes.  I could no longer park it in the garage (a confined space), but it was dangerous to park outside because of the hot Arizona weather.  So now I get to spend another $800 so the dealership can re-repair my car. 

Back to the original intent of this particular post.  I try to be financially responsible, and I’m lucky that I save what little money I make in case of a rainy day.  However, because of my car troubles, I can no longer afford to attend Disneyland.  Slightly disappointed, I broke the news to my sister who was not happy because now, she has to cover the costs of the entire trip that I will no longer be attending.  Here’s where it gets interesting: I called my mother to wish her a Happy Mother’s Day, and things went downhill after that.  I’m told that my sister has a “valid argument” in that she “expected me to cover half of the costs of Disney and that it’s more hard on her because she has kids and pays bills.”  This is where I started to scream.  I don’t pay bills??????  Let’s break down my pathetic finances because apparently I have answer to my sister and mother in its regards:

After medical, dental, and vision insurance, as well as my medical spending account card, I’m lucky if I make $900 a month.  Remember that kids, four degrees and I don’t even make $900 a month.  My monthly bills cost roughly $800/month.  My bills consist of:

$400 Student loans
$110 Car and Life insurance Loan (A loan that was taken out in 1998 courtesy of my parents and I get to pay back—another long story)
$85 Cell phone
$200 Credit Card that I only use to purchase gas for my car (and helping me build credit!)
$55 on Dad’s hospital bill (okay that one doesn’t exactly count because I use my Medical Spending Account card)

Any extra money I earn from overtime or Dad feeling generous, I store away in my rainy day fund which I’m going to rename “Laura’s Car Repairs Fund.”  My bills aren’t a lot in that luckily, I don’t have to pay rent, cable, water and utilities, or electricity.  Yet to deny my expenses pisses me off especially since I make so little money.  Now that everybody knows my personal finances, and how pathetic my existence truly is, my apologies for not funding my sister’s vacation that I will not be part of in any way, shape or form.  I know that it makes me a terrible human being for putting my flammable vehicle before my sister’s vacation because you know, it’s the only car I have that takes me to my job that’s 33 miles from my house where I earn so little money.  The car that I couldn’t park in our garage because it was emitting gasoline vapors which is also highly combustible.  Not to mention the danger of breathing in said fumes to both me and my father.  Again, I have to apologize to my sister, who constantly boasts about how much more money she’s making now that she’s had a promotion and is on the 4^th floor with the CEO. 

If that last sentence makes me sound petty and immature, I’m sorry.  I actually was extremely happy for her, but that promotion has turned her into a terrible person, who thinks her shit doesn’t stink, and puts me down every chance she gets.  Case in point: my birthday recently passed, my coworkers decorated my cubicle and my teammates brought me amazing gifts (thanks again guys!), my sister’s reply?  “You can’t do that shit on the 4^th floor---I got a surprise party.”  Congratulations!  You’re a cunt!  Way to take something that actually made me feel good for a change and put me down some more!  Because I don’t already loathe my existence right?  Kids, there are two things I’ve learned in my 27 years on this earth: never waste your time and money going to college, and try not to have siblings.  Thanks for listening, and hey, Mom was right; writing does make me feel better!

Here's to Being an Emo

I’m starting to grossly dislike the tone of this blog.  I know I could just write about something different; something happy perhaps.  However, I would be lying not only to my two readers but to myself.  Ever feel like you’ve reached your breaking point?  Allow me to elaborate.

I am 26 years old, nearly 27.  I still live at my father’s house.  My father, who is extremely possessive and controlling; I seldom leave the house for the aggravation of his mood swings are not worth it.  I have never been on a date.  I have four degrees for which I worked extremely hard, and I don’t even earn $12 an hour.  Gas in one month is nearly half of a paycheck.   I have looked for other employment opportunities to no avail.  I have applied for 11 positions with ASU, and not one has contacted me for an interview.  I am tired of delivering mail to people around the office; I am tired of finishing people’s projects and performing the work that belongs under another job title without fair compensation.  I am tired.  I cannot lie; I have contemplated suicide more than once.

There is a guilt that I feel when stating that last sentence publicly.  I know there are others who are suffering far more than I ever will.  Maybe it’s a depression for which I need medication.  Maybe it’s the PTSD I incurred as a result from being sexually assaulted by my own cousin.  Who knows?  I am tired of this melancholy yet cannot shake it.  I wish I had the means to move out, start living.  I simply cannot afford it.  My dream is to attend Durham University in England for two Masters Degrees.  I’m sure of my acceptance along with some scholarships and grants, but I would still need student loans.  Yet I fear the struggle to pay them completely off for I am struggling to pay off the loans I have now.

Nothing feels worth it to me anymore.  My family only makes me feel worse about myself.  I have a father who won’t let me live, a mother who just doesn’t care for her own social life is more important, and I won’t even go into my issues with my sister.  She treats her own children like shit (mainly her daughter), why should I be any different?

I miss my grandfather. I don’t know why but having him around created a comfort and security in me.  I need out; out of this rut, out of this life.  Anyway, back to living my life through books. Speaking of, happy birthday to my favorite poet and libertine, the Earl of Rochester.  He would be 365.  Bon soir.