A Plea to the Higher Power(s) That Preside(s) Over the PowerBall

Dear Friend(s),

Please let me win. I'm nice! I know that in the grand scheme of things, being nice doesn't get one especially far, but don't you think it should?

I know I don't have the greatest story ever. I'm not completely destitute (yet.) I haven't recently filed for bankruptcy. I haven't quite resorted to selling my kidney on the black market in order to prevent myself from starving to death. I haven't even donated my plasma for cash. (Though I have called to inquire about it.) Sure, I don't have to support four babies under the age of five spawned from three different deadbeats. I don't reside a van down by the river. I am, however, legitmately poor. I have oodles of debt. So much debt, that I doubt anyone would even consider marrying me until I can reduce the size of it by 75%. If I'm lucky, I might make it there by my fiftieth birthday bash, at this rate. And of course, my Over The Hill party will be even more depressing than the norm because all of my friends will arrive hand-in-hand with their doting, salt and pepper headed husbands. Their skin will be tastefully bronzed following recent family excursions to warm and exotic locales and their fingers will display the flashy diamonds that scream of twenty years of love and commitment and a healthy 401K. I will attempt to drench my discontent in an amassment of Red Bull and well vodka while they slowly savor their wine with pity in their eyes. I will try to make a thank you speech, but will surely crumble into a sobbing mess before I make it to the halfway point. My friends will kindly, but quietly dart out the door, and I will conclude the evening by telling an unsuspecting cab driver my life story on the long trip home, between hiccups and sniffles. The following morning, I will awaken with much regret, insufferable embarrassment, and a killer headache. I will pack up my cats, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, and take them to their biweekly playdate with my mother's expanding brood. She will tell me that I look like hell and bemoan the fact that I never got married or had babies for her to play with. I will sigh in unspoken agreement.

So, as you can see, it is extremely important that I begin to diminish the debt that hangs over me like the little raincloud that is continually perched squarely above the bouncing Zoloft commercial creature prior to his ingestion of the happy pills. I want kids, not cats. (And, if I win, I promise to show restraint in my choices of name. No wacky Shakespearian creations or anything else that will guarantee their statuses as social outcasts.) I understand that I got myself into this situation, though I can guarantee that at least 90% of the money I currently owe is due to school or medical expenses. I was a dumb 18 year old kid who fell in love with a college she couldn't realistically afford and chose a less than practical major. It happens. I'm not looking for the easy way out. I like to work. I like feeling like a productive member of society. I just don't seem to have the correct skills set or degree or appearance or experience to secure a high enough paying position. I'm just looking for a jumpstart. I don't mind splitting the winnings with some other lucky people. I don't even need to be set for life.

I'm nice, remember? So, of course, I will give away much of what I win. My family members and friends will be well taken care of. They're all pretty nice, too. I will start a charity and donate to existing ones. I will provide funding to people in situations similar to mine. (I'm somewhat of an empathetic narcissist.) I will let the boy that I met on my first night here who is apparently a 24 year old Penn State student/hobokid that lives out of his car reside in my room for free. Or, at least, I would if my roommates wouldn't kill me for doing so. I will leave humongous tips for excellent service. I will buy lunch for homeless people. There is a lot one can do with a copious amount of cash that doesn't involve becoming a materialistic bitch. I'm fairly certain that the only way having money will change me is that it will greatly decrease the massive amount of debt-related anxiety that floods my brain on a daily basis. See, the resulting story could shape up to be rather interesting and heartfelt.

Life is short. I want to travel. I want to experience other cultures. I need book fodder! (And probably some writing classes.) I want to visit my friends and pick up the tab for once. I would like to drive a car that is more reliable and less audible. I would love to go back to school and obtain a doctorate. I need to go to the dentist. My mouth hurts! I don't want to have to work while my favorite television shows air. Or, at the very least, I'd like to be able to TiVo them and watch them at my leisure. It'd be great to have the opportunity to buy all of the hardcovers that I'm interested in reading off the shelf. It'd be fantastic to know that my family is financially all set. Having some money and little debt will release me from the limbolike existence that has entrapped me for years and threatens to lurk around for much, much longer.

Come on. Help a girl out. Pick me!

Fondly,

Sara

Welcome to Happy Valley (Almost)

Quick Rundown of Recent Events:

Wednesday, 8/30/06 - Last day of work. Ate pizza and various baked goods. Remembered to hand over my keys that haven't accompianied me to the office since wintertime. Said goodbye. Forgot some stuff in my former desk. Last late afternoon trip to Elmira. Said goodbye. Went shopping. Took the wrong exit with my sister on the way home from the mall. Again. Made the executive decision not to move until my car is working. Also chose not to pack.

Thursday, 8/31/06 - Drove to State College with my sister for a job interview. Ran into lots of traffic and got highly confused by a detour. Chain smoked. Only almost killed us once. Was honked at accordingly. Wore cute new grown-up suit. Fretted that I looked slightly reminiscient of the Crocodile Hunter, due to suit's coloring. Donned cute, dorky glasses with plano (fake) lenses. Went pretty well, I think. Probably should have pulled my hair back. Dropped off a minivan full of my sister's crap at one of her friend's apartments. Got lost (on foot) trying to find said friend's apartment, as all of the buildings look exactly the same and I don't pride myself in being especially attentive. Was approached by some kid who waved and muttered something to the effect of "stop by sometime," though I couldn't really understand him. Smiled and nodded. Ate some tasty, but semi-expensive pizza. Came home and packed a pathetically tiny and random selection of items.

Friday, 9/1/06 - Left for State College with the family at 6:30ish. Whined about how I wanted a sausage biscuit from McDonalds. Got chocolate chip cookies as big as my head from the Flying J. truck stop convenience store instead. Picked up keys and a bus pass that boasts a horrendous picture of me, but will get me around town for free. If I can figure out how the bus system works. Ate desired sausage biscuit that my dad went to get for me during the hour or so it took to check in. Lugged another minivan full of my sister's stuff up three flights of stairs into the apartment, in addition to all of the junk from the previous day, a huge futon, and maybe 4 boxes of mine. Attempted to convince my sister to throw a nasty, filthy fan in the dumpster. She refused to oblige. Met the roommates. They seem very nice, though I am about 97% certain that, by the time I come back, the living room walls will be plastered with pictures of Reagan and the extended Bush family and loads of American Flags. Smoked on the new balcony. Leaned over to meet a downstairs neighbor after he jokingly yelled that I hit him with an ash. I didn't. Developed a rather legitmate fear of clumsy and/or drunk people falling off the balcony. Entertained the notion that I might not be as highly dependent on caffeine as I claim. Went shopping at what is perhaps the busiest Wal-Mart in existence, I suspect. Ran into my sister's fraternity guy friend. Forgot to ask him if he made a habit out of spanking girls with paddles. He inquired if I was a freshman. Reinforced my fear that everyone I meet is going to think I am super lame for living in an apartment complex full of undergrads in a college town, though I'm not actually taking classes and getting old. Found 12 packs of Diet Mountain Dew for $1.70 and squealed a little bit. Purchased five boxes, among other stuff. Unpacked, ate at Outback, checked out the comparitively unbusy Target, and bought a potentially uncute, yet satisfyingly cheap shower curtain. Dropped my sister off and headed home with the folks, though I'd have liked to stay at the new place. 7:00 PM might as well have been 1:30 AM.

Saturday, 9/2/06 - Picked up my new key for my car from a locksmith. (One is bent and the other met an untimely death in an Elmira College trash can during a NickVisit last year.) It doesn't work. I am waiting on the car alone to actually move in for real. Not cool, really. Traded in books at the local secondhand store and walked out with six or so new ones. Made an appearance at my aunt's garage sale in the midst of the dreariest, rainiest, coldest day in months. Walked out with two coats, a bunch of tank tops, and numb, white extremities. Watched the second half of the first season of Grey's Anatomy. Napped a lot.

You Take the Good, You Take the Bad

It's official. I am moving to State College, Pennsylvania. Soon. I put my resignation in at work early this week, and I will be unemployed as of August 30, 2006. I'm stressed. Eh, who am I kidding? I'm perpetually stressed. So I guess this could be categorized as extra stressed. I have sent out a few resumes, so I feel slightly accomplished, anyway. I am hoping for a cozy office bitch position with a few nights/weekends of waitressing or bartending thrown into the mix. Eh, in all honesty, I'm truly hoping to win the lottery. The Powerball is creeping up there. If all else fails, I will set up an appointment and start donating plasma for cash, despite the fact that it totally skeeves me out to do something seemingly charitable while masking my ulterior motives.

I feel slightly guilty about leaving my job. This is probably because I usually feel guilty about anything and everything that happens, whether or not I am a significant player in the action. I suspect I am the type of person that it would be ridiculously easy to manipulate into making a false confession. If anyone around me ever winds up dead, I will arrive at the questioning place with a lawyer in tow. But, realistically speaking, this is the first time I've ever had to quit a job. With every other position I've held, it has been for some fixed period of time. So leaving has always happened on extremely amicable terms. This is a job that I (presumably) could have kept for as long as I wanted it. And I do like the work enough and feel comfortable there. Unfortunately for me, becoming comfortable is dangerous. I need to push myself to discover what I am skilled in, what I am capable of accomplishing, and what I truly enjoy. Obviously, moving to a much bigger area where the local paper boasts more than 5 help wanted ads per week is a decent starting point. I hate applying for jobs and interviewing. I despise starting new jobs and fumbling around like a nervous, socially inept idiot. But I do feel better prepared for the process at this point in my life than I ever had previously.

What I am excited about (in no particular order):

1. Moving out of my parents' living room.
2. Having my own bedroom.
3. Having my own bathroom!
4. Free tanning.
5. Free (kind of crappy, but still) gym access.
6. Not having to drive an hour to shop.
7. Potentially making enough money to actually be able to shop.
8. Many more pizza places to choose from.
9. Many more bars to frequent.
10. The possibility of befriending new people.
11. The possibility of befriending new love interests. Haha.
12. The possibility of starting graduate school in the not so ridiculously distant future.
13. Visitors!
14. The potential emergence of something resembling a social life.
15. Fun times with my litte sister.

What I am not so excited about (in no particular order):

1. Packing.
2. Abandoning my health benefits.
3. Paying rent/utilities.
4. Needing a cell phone.
5. Using my old, crappy computer. If it still works.
6. Living in a place that caters to college students, simply because I feel kind of like a loser.
7. Relying on my alarm clock to wake me up. Parents are currently a good back-up.
8. Relying on my piece of crap car to actually stay in working order. (That is, once I get it back in working order in the first place.)
9. Surrounding myself with professed haters of feminism and sympathizers of the plight of the white man. (Who, I'm sure, are all very nice and fun people otherwise.)
10. No more inside smoking.
11. Developing an entirely new daily routine.
12. More stressful driving situations.
13. Living even further away from all of my friends in upstate New York/New England.
14. Unpacking.
15. Buying my own toilet paper and laundry detergent, etc.

All in all, I think this is a positive step forward. We'll see how it progresses. Wish me luck!

If I Were a Rich Girl

I spend too much time pondering what I will do when I win the lottery. This is a somewhat embarrassing admission, as I usually take pride in being a more or less realistic person who can accept the world/my life for what it is without feeling the need to cloud my vision with rose/grey/rainbow tinted glasses. (Of course, this does not necessarily apply to times when I have had a few too many drinks or to my crazy period, circa late 2001 through early 2003.) I really don't like money and don't have any driving need for an exorbitant number of material possessions. I'd just like to pay off my bills, pay off my parents' bills, buy a decent car, move into my own place, and go back to school. Okay, I'd also like an ipod and a treadmill and a vacation. And maybe I'd like to go to school for forever and to only choose to work if I truly loved what I was doing. I fully comprehend that having money does not in any way guarantee contentedness, and one would have to be somewhat silly to assume otherwise. (See: Citizen Kane, The Great Gatsby, any John Cheever short story, MaryKate Olsen, etc.) What having some money should provide, however, is a certain amount of security and stability that would be very useful at this point in my life. Of course, there a few other, more realistic courses of action.

1. Quit smoking. According to this handy calculator, I would save approximately $159.38 per month and $1939.60 per year. To be honest, to see/type that amount of money makes me cringe a bit. However, that extra two grand would probably have to be poured into massive amounts of therapy and new clothes, as I would clearly a) get fat and b) go nuts (likely from a combination of living at home without smoking + dealing with work without smoking + gaining weight). The risk outweighs the cost. Sad, yes. Pathetic, sure. True, nonetheless.
2. Break my caffeine addiction. If I purchase 6 twelve packs of diet soda per week at approximately $3.00 each and spend maybe $10.00 on convenience store coffee/bottles of soda, it works out to $112.00 each month and $1344.00 per year. Again, I admit it seems a tad excessive. Similarly, I don't think it's worth the misery that a caffeine-free existence might entail. To my credit, I drink more water than soda at work now. And I could work on cutting back.
3. Pick up a second job. This may be my most doable option at this point. As I am now released from the federal government's requirements which prohibited me from picking up additional work last year, I feel kind of guilty about having free time and so much debt. Any extra money, even that from a minimum wage position, would help. More work, however, would exponentially heighten the burnout potential, as I already have a hard time making it past 9:30 when Friday evening rolls around. I may adjust to working and being "on" more often than not, though. Plenty of people do it. It would also be a hindrance to my social life, which would potentially be another cause for concern, if it exhisted on any level at the moment.
4. Reality television. Um, yeah. My mother suggests I apply for this show. Apparently they advertise in the Elmira Star Gazette, if that says anything about its potential for quality. And while I'm sure it'd be lovely to share all of my specific money woes with the world in an effort to make everyone else who is luckier or more frugal than I am feel better about themselves, I just don't think my "story" would be all that interesting. Plus, I'm not pretty enough for tv. And it doesn't appear as though the debt or any portion of it would be eliminated. I'd be willing to apply for The Amazing Race though. Anyone looking for a partner with no navigational skills who can't drive stick? Or Survivor. If I do win the lottery, I think I will send in an application. Being a millionaire will be my hook. I'll lie and play innocent/dumb/poor and all of the non-millionaires will be pissed when starvation eats my brain and I somehow accidentially reveal that I'm actually set for life. I'll give any money I win away, of course. See, there I go again . . .

Any other suggestions?