I am now the (terrified) proud owner of a 2007 Ford Focus.

$11,300

I can no longer afford my life. I'm going to have to trade it in for something less expensive. Like death. Death is cheap. They must have reasonably priced condos in the afterlife, right? And with the wings, transportation is pretty much free, yes?

Just kidding.

Maybe.

I'm tired of living paycheck to paycheck. The whole point to getting a degree in design was a bigger paycheck while doing something I enjoyed, but I just keep getting deeper into debt with no way out.

Fuck!

I didn't want to buy a new car. I really, really didn't want to pay $11,300 for it.

I really don't want to have to get either a new, or a second, job. But I really, really can't afford not to, anymore. Really, really, really...

So, at a crossroads with no clearly marked path, no good choices, what would you do?

Apparently, my new car is a pretty, shiny reddish maroon color that still has 5 years and 50,000 miles still left on its warranty, and only 11,000 miles on the engine. The current owner is willing to knock a couple hundred off the price if I'm willing to let him keep it for another week, until he moves.

Why do I say apparently? Because I let my parents pick it out. They called me while I was at work tonight to say they were going to look at a Ford Focus that was $1,000 less than they'd seen them for on dealer lots.

Imagine a skyscraper. Imagine standing right at the base, and looking up, up, up its side until you can just see the top. Leaning so far back your neck starts to ache, just so you can see the sky. Now tell me if you'd notice if a hundred story building was shorter by a story or two. What difference does $1,000 make when subtracted from $50,000?

I need a hug. My mother suggested I get a drink, and I must be in shock, because the very large Jim & Tommy I just had has only managed to make my cheeks pink. Not pleasantly fuzzy, like it usually does. Just a little warm.

But that might be the temperature. It's a little warm in here, and I forgot to turn on the fan before I sat down.

I keep telling myself I should think positive, believe that good things are on the way, that everything will work out fine. That I should set up my altar and start praying in earnest. To whomever is listening. To visualize my bank account swelling and interesting people coming into my life. And normally I am fairly optimistic, really I am. It's just that, I don't need to write about the good stuff, as much as the crap that happens, so you all get the cosmic junk I need to unload, and don't hear so much about the happy things.

I guess the truth is, ugliness happens, and I know it. I know it's unavoidable, that bad things happen to good people, regardless of how happy they seem to be, or how optimistic they are. I also know that things could be infinitely worse. I could live in Baghdad, and be terrified every single day of car bombs and being executed by the militia. This mentality is so Midwestern of me. As they say, my roots are showing.  

But I don't live in Iraq, or North Korea, or the Congo. I live in America, land of the free and home of the brave. I have a family, who while they don't really understand me all that well, love me enough to help me buy a new car, one way better than I could ever hope to afford on my own.

I know I'm blessed, and that most of my problems are of my own making. I know that I have the power to change the outcome.

I just have to buckle down and do it.

Jinx