Problem

I think I have a problem. I will do anything to stay in bed. I called in and said I'd be coming in a little later to do errands. I laid in longer. It felt so good and I couldn't help myself. Every 10 minutes I'd check the time and stay cozy for a little longer. It's been a real problem for me. And, the first thing that people would think is, oh, just go to bed earlier. I get 8 hours of sleep either way! But I noticed that an hour later...I was feeling like I didn't want to lie there anymore. And I only stayed because I knew I'd get up at 9:40. Between 9:20 and 9:40 I felt restless. Maybe, for my age I just have to go to bed a little earlier after all?

It's just that...there's never enough hours in the day. Maybe I'm just not making the most out of them. I don't want to end up 30 and alone. Or 40 and broke. Or 50 and suicidal. I'll try going to bed earlier. Maybe I just need 9 hours of sleep.

Let me tell you about the stories that hang over my head

There were two men who never met or ever will meet, but they grew up during the great depression on their families' meager farmlands. One left at 18 with nothing but his clothes and his last couple of dollars and set out to never be poor again. The other went to the Colorado School of Mines and had the same mindset, just not as public about it. After some time, with much labor and effort, they sat upon their wealth, lived in nice homes, and shared with the families they brought forth. Now they are sick and dying.
They both had a son, each of them, and other children too but all that matters is the fact that both men had a son. One of these sons would become my father. The other, my good friend's adoptive father. These two sons, of the now elderly men lived and currently live more modest lives, more stressed and difficult lives, with less effort on their careers a possible factor, as well as many others.

Moral of the story: I'm willing to work, but need direction. I don't know if the great depression can mirror the economic crisis we're facing now, but it's a hell of a motivation to go to college. I just need a better plan...
I want to be like my grandfather, just without as much of an effort on starting a family. i come first.

When a man cries

A few days I was sitting outside of a coffee shop with my friend C, while we were waiting for O to arrive. C has major familial problems; he's a foster child who has a fuckup for a sister, who together have been abused by previous, biological parents who are no longer seen, and his dad (the man that he lives with) probably loves his real son more than he loves him. C's dad is also bipolar, and a complete asshole, but there are rare moments when some love sticks its fingers through the bars.

Anyway, he made me think a lot about my dad. My dad, who's been doing work far below his skill level for twenty-seven years, and since he lost that job a year and a half ago, has been working a job that's even crappier. He assumes because there is paper, mail, and e-mail involved that it's white collar but it's not. But the point is, he's not a very materialistic guy. And I think he purposely didn't choose to advance his career, because one time he said, "all I wanted was to have a house, a wife, and a son. and I did."

and I respect that, even though the house has recently lost 30% of its value and requires my dad to take out his pension payments early to pay it off, and that my mother divorced him, quickly remarried, and died from breast cancer within 2 years (in 2006).

i had to excuse myself, walk around the block, sit against some brick wall connected to a panda express and a major street and let the choking in my throat commence. i tried to cry but couldn't. but some tears came out. a woman walked by and stopped and said "are you okay? do you need money" in a slight Russian accent. She was holding wrapped presents and wore shiny earrings.
I tried to respond but it was hard but eventually said "y-yes i was just thinking about my dad"
and she went on about how we can't all have perfect lives and have to deal with what we've got, even though she didn't understand why I was letting go of some saltwater.
I wasn't sad, I don't think. I was just appreciative, of all my dad's done for me. I love him but don't know how I can really communicate it to him like that. I ended up telling him just that, later in the evening but it was not emotional in the slightest, just like saying please or thank you.