Posted October 13th, 2004 by Michelle

Harvest may be ending, but the fires and the heat are making the valley feel like the dead of summer in Los Angeles. For the first time in years, I drove home through a dirt yellow sunset, through horrible smoky air quality. It wasn’t like the riots of 1991 when the smoke was so thick I couldn’t see the other cars in the parking lot, but it was pretty darn ugly, stinky, and funky. The crap in the air was palpable, slimy. The fire burns still, and word is that it was intentionally set. What forking idiot would do such a thing.

I just finished watching the debate, and I’m afraid for my gastrointestinal health (and not because of the Taco Bell 7-layer burrito that was dinner). I almost can’t bear it any longer. I have this gut-wrenching fear in more than one facet of my life, and it’s getting to be a bit much. I have about the same chances of success in my job that Kerry has in being elected and it’s almost too much faith to keep right now. My job is much less important than the Presidency, but still, it’s my job, and it keeps me in knots. My boss sat me down today to take a hard look at what is possible in our current project. Can my organization afford to pay me what I’m worth? Not bloody likely. Are our chances of success extremely high? Absolutely not. Do I want to do it anyway? Well… yes. I believe I can do great things in this position. I don’t know if the community or the environment will allow for success, but by god, I could be the one to make it all happen. I could CHANGE something, I could actually have a positive effect on something larger than myself. And I love going to work every day. Give me another six months and I think I could truly make a difference. But… but… how do I balance that with my constant struggle for financial security? When will I have to stop begging and borrowing just to keep my car out of the shop? When does the balance become unreasonable? Will I ever love a job like this again? And the thing is, I’m good at it. I could work the rest of my life in this field. I found it, the thing that eluded me for my entire adulthood, and now I have to decide between continuing this work and being paid a living wage? It’s not entirely fair. But if I could stick with this, at least for another six months, maybe a year, it would position me to do even more, further me in this particular world. Ugh.

Did I mention that the post office lost one of my grant requests? Can I tell you how much that sucks?

Sometimes I think back to coming home to my studio apartment in Brooklyn, and what it felt like to be me in that last year. How incredibly alone I felt. I feel different in this life, and I think my job has a lot to do with that. Well, and the extra pounds of chub keep me warm at night, but I can’t really count that as a positive.