In a fairly recent post, I wrote that I was ready for 2014, or implied it at the very least, and that things that were “worth it” are always a bit more difficult in the beginning. Well, 2014 had better be worth it! I thought I was ready. I thought I could handle whatever it sent my way…
Boy was I wrong! Before we get into the particulars of my already horrendous year, let me warn you, I am a Gemini and I was a theatre major. This means that, in spite of all my best efforts to the contrary, I can be, upon occasion, a bit…melodramatic.
My mother was always accusing me of being melodramatic when I was growing up, even when I was just feeling normal “girl” emotions. Seeing as my non-fight with her is part of the horrendous nature of my year, we might as well not dwell on the past, but jump right in.
I’ll try to be brief. In essence, my year is beginning as a financial nightmare. Partially my fault, partially just fate, and entirely stressful. I still maintain that things that are worth it may begin difficultly, but at this point, it is dubious whether or not I will survive January in order to find out if the rest of the year is worth the trouble with which it began.
I mentioned in the same earlier post that my car was not working. I was relatively certain that the problem was due to a broken starter. I was hoping that when the teacher friendly garage in my hometown changed my oil and did my inspection that perhaps they knocked a little something loose and that was what was keeping my car from starting. After all, it had made it from the other side of Austin to Houston with no trouble, and me driving with the traffic, which almost never went the speed limit, but rather a good 10 or more miles over.
My car made it all that distance, and to breakfast with some friends the following morning, and to the bookstore (albeit the Check engine light had turned on), and back to my apartment (still with the light shining bright) before it decided to die a calm death. It simply turned off and would not turn on again.
Four days later, once my paycheck was where it should be, I took it to the shop, after the $80 tow (Sal is stiffing the tow truck driver by about $30), and a good 3 hour wait in the shop, Sal, the owner and seemingly honest old world gentleman, informs me that it’s not the starter at all, but rather the timing belt, and worse than that, I’ve bent some valves. They cannot fix it that day, nor can they fix it for less than $1500. It’s a head job now (not to be confused with the sexual act of a similar name, although probably about as enjoyable for Sal).
I should’ve asked him to kiss me, because, in the words of a very dear old friend of mine, if I’m going to get screwed, I’d like a kiss first.
My car is broken, and not just a little broken, but majorly broken, and not because of anyone’s fault. Although, Sal informs me this might have been avoided if my timing belt had been changed at 60K miles, like it is recommended in the book…How was I supposed to know? I’m a girl, and when I got the car, no one explained that to me. So, my car is good and dead, or at least it might as well be.
Now, I’ve been saying my car, because it IS my car. I drive it, I maintain it, I wash it (when I remember to do so), but in reality it isn’t my car. Never was, and obviously never will be.The car belongs to my father, who supposedly gave it to me as reparations for the time they took my brand new car away because they didn’t like some of the life choices I was making. The brand new car, might I add, that they traded my (as in I bought and paid for it on my own) car in to buy for ME. Because of a handful of choices they didn’t agree with, while I was in college, they took away my car. Took away my car and traded it in for one for my mother, leaving me with an old truck, the truck in which I learned to drive a stick, after leaving me stranded for a month without any transportation in a place where public transit might as well not exist.
After much loud discussing of the situation, my mother informed me that it was NOT my car, but theirs, and they would decide what to do with it, and, just as a reminder, the car was in MY care at 60,000 miles.
The implication is that I broke their car, and they would fix it, but oh is it gonna cost me. It won’t cost me money. Their currency is much more than that. They trade in guilt trips, and sad memories. (That might make for an interesting story… hmmm)
And thus the stalemate has begun. They will come and take the car, but whatever shall I do now? I am working on my financial situation, but I’ve made quite a few mistakes in the past. And now that I’m somewhat in a place to fix those mistakes, I’m still only trying to survive.
Welcome to my life. Please, let it get better soon!