Tuesday, January 25, 2011

I am with out Virgil

It is 5:30 in the morning cold, and dark. My body has just settled into a deep sleep and the alarm clock is going off. The previous hours were spent lying awake thinking about work. Thinking about the next few days how I will be pulling a triple. Working from sun up, and past sun down. I think to myself "God they're going to make being fired really easy." Under the winter moon I walk through the clear dark and the black snow. Gowanus is just as beautiful at 5:30 in the morning as it is at noon. I cross over a bridge, underneath sits still water that comes from nowhere and leads to the same exact place. A car with four lumber yard workers cuts in front of me. I pass a group of men loading caskets on to a truck from what I assume is the coffin factory. The only interaction I am yet to have is with the guy at the deli by the Union stop. I believe I stiffed him a dollar by accident, I ran out quickly to catch the train. I jump on to the R and did not notice until the train is above ground, its the D. I am now twenty minutes late to work.

As I begin to hate the world, the sun continues to set the stars on snooze over and over again until the sky is a soft blue. I realize I am not the only person awake. The self pity diminishes the will to survive kicks in. Pay rent, pay back loans, pay off the credit card that led me into debt while being unemployed, buy groceries, buy toilet paper (kidding we take toilet paper from work). You are not the only person who lives under this roof, surprisingly someone else needs this from you too. We all do it. We are set back again after the first of every month. We are not alone. Together but separately we live under the glamorous guise in the city. Bright lights, tall buildings, men in suits, women in fur coats. We are not these people. We are the people fixing your meals, shinning your shoes, getting you to and from work and home again. We are the ticking of the clock, setting the pace to move and go. There is no stopping, there is little sleep, little time to eat. Our days off are Tuesdays. Fridays and weekends don't mean a thing.

It is 6:10 am, silent and empty. I had other plans and dreams for myself. Now at twenty five dreams vanish into a vicious cycle. Stuck on a hamster wheel, praying for a way out.  We come to this city like sacrificial lambs. We gave ourselves up in good faith and in turn we have been swallowed. Some people make it, and the rest will struggle on. Living a vivid day dream in their head that some day things won't be this hard. Only to wake to a harsh reality and you find yourself saying "Yes, ma'am right away." Friends wonder how I work seven days a week and still don't have any money? I wonder that too some times. Same as my parents wondering how come someone with a college degree isn't able to get a regular salary paid job. No one seems to get it except for the people you work with. They understand the difficulty in salvaging self dignity while  hands and knees wiping mayo off of someone's shoe.  I don't have many years left of my youth but I will take the compliment when older adults call me a "baby". I will drink without caution and not worry about a mortgage. I push dreams of weekend brunches and stability to the far end of my mind and only stay in the moment. If I continue to dwell on what seems so untouchable, that is when I find myself in the corner of the room seeking oxygen.

When I finally get to work I put my game face on. Smile joke and laugh. Find happiness in others company. There are bills to pay. Yet, still I am dreaming. Still I believe today is the day when all of this will change.