Last night, as I coughed and wheezed myself to sleep, I began thinking about my own mortality. I was considering how much of a blessing it would be to live to a ripe old age - provided one has enough money to live comfortably. As it stands right now, I don't need a job to survive, and I can spend my days writing songs, painting pictures, watching FOX News, or whatever. But what if I did need a job? What on earth would I do?
I'd be surprised if I didn't simply whither-up and die! I'm not trying to be melodramatic or cast any blame here, it's just that my practical mind fails to see how I'd generate enough income to actually support myself. Given the sort of pathetic wage range I'd be looking at in the unskilled labour market, merely getting-by in this economy without burning the candle at both ends is nigh impossible. If you don't mind spending sixty hours a week raking shit or loading trucks, just to afford to sit back in some cramped dive in a crime ridden neighbourhood to watch cable TV with a bag of peanuts and a six-pack of discount beer every night... then that's a perfectly noble approach to life, and nobody can tell you otherwise. But at the risk of seeming indignant, such a scenario doesn't exactly motivate this lazy slacker to go out there and git 'em, sport!
Check out this Edmonton listing that features "rare mahogany kitchen cabinets". What's the catch? You have to PROVE that your income isn't too high! Unbelievable. Only in Edmonton, but who wants to live in Mill Woods anyhow? Firebombings are an bi-annual event in that neighbourhood.
When it comes to generating income these days, it seems you're damned if you do, and damned if you don't. There's always someone waiting in a thicket for you to finish building your sandcastle so they can kick the shit out of it before castigating you for not spending your time helping them with their homework. "How dare you be a selfish creator of jobs! You should be penalized for your success and forced to subsidize the party-on lifestyles of helpless single mothers with drug habits," cries the bitter social activist.
But let's face it, once you're in a situation where your rent costs alone account for more than half of your low-wage earnings, even a modest outing at the bowling alley once a month will seem beyond extravagant. You have to sacrifice little luxuries like your main dietary staple of brand-name peanut butter in order to afford so much as a long distance telephone call once a month to commiserate with a sibling over the futility of it all. Hey! Wanna go for a pint of beer? Gee, I'd love to, but I always stay home on Friday nights to clip coupons in preparation for Saturday Madness at the supermarket.
Fuck that noise. I'd honestly rather not endure such a retarded struggle with no discernible finish line in sight. Thank goodness nobody is depending on me for the basics of life! If I had kids, I suppose I might be more determined to fight-it-out in the competitive job market for their sake, even in the knowledge that their childhood lives are destined to wind miserably along a shadowy, twisting path of sadness and confusion, demarcated by successively more disappointing milestones on the way to Let-Down Avenue.
In moments of contemplative reflection, I feel as though I've lived a relatively rich life insofar. It'd be fulfillment enough for me if I can manage to write at least one great song before I kick the bucket. Had I taken life more seriously over the past two decades, I might find myself in a more financially enviable position ... or I might very well be dead already. It's a matter of perspective. When I think of that sixteen-year-old kid who was recently trampled to death doing the rodeo thing, I feel pretty fortunate, if undeserving, to have come this far. Of course it's shockingly tragic, and I can't begin to imagine his parents' grief, but at least the brave lad was pursuing his passion when he passed. My hat is off to him.
Doesn't it break your heart to hear stories of children with terminal diseases who spend their young lives relegated to a hospital bed? Or all the innocent kids going hungry because their little agrarian village was ransacked and torched, and their parents slaughtered by marauding mercenaries over political posturing? The orphaned victims of preventable diseases like AIDS or scurvy? Some world!
On a lighter note, I managed to install some vintage software on my laptop. Now I have a bucket-load of new fonts, a spreadsheet program, and a computerized calendar to jot-down all the appointments I'll never make!
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