Stick a Fork in Me! I am done.

My first mistake was moving here...

I had gotten laid-off when California ran out of money.  A former friend of mine, call him Flakerst, heard the news and played some manipulation to convince me that this place was where I needed to be:  "EMH!  The Holy Spirit wants you to come here!  People here need a good math teacher so badly!  You can stay in my mobile home, and I'll give you $300/mo for the first 3 months you are here!  And it's so neat here too!  People have such a sense of community.  You could use a spiritual make-over!"

One of the things we discussed was the fact that I did not want any roommates.  The situation in California with my former roommate, call him Mikey,  had gone nuclear.  I came home one night to find half the neighborhood crammed in the bathroom.  "What were you guys doing in there?" I had asked.  "Oh. Relax bro!  We were just snorting cocaine!  It's not that big of a deal really, you see.  If the cops came by, we would have flushed everything!"


I hit the roof.  His response:  "Tea-party you!  Don't tell me what to do!"  I had a yard-sale scheduled the next day at his parents house (our apartment complex didn't allow yard-sales).  After the cocaine fall-out, Mikey approached me:  "Dude, your attitude toward the cocaine was very uncool.  Therefore, I've decided to punish you by having my parents cancel the yard-sale."  Whatever dude.

The night before my scheduled flight, Flakerst texted me.  "Hey bro!  Somebody in church prophesied over me a few weeks ago saying I would be getting married soon.  Well, I met my new wife!  We spent the night at DS9 and visited Quarks Bar, played Dabo and got married the next day!  We also nailed each other the night before the wedding.  But don't worry, Jesus said it was okay!"

Of course, you could guess what happened.  I flew out to Flakerston's and learned that there was no room for me.  So I arranged to rent a studio for $350/mo.  As soon as Flakerst learned of that, he began protesting:  "I don't know.  A studio?  Is that healthy?  You need to be around people.  I need to talk to my wife about this one!"

Talk to your wife.  I'm getting the studio.  There's a flash-flood wash near here where a bunch of homeless people live.  If I camped there, I would be around people, but it wouldn't be very healthy either.

The next day, my cell-phone rang.  It was Flakerst:  "Umm.  EMH, my wife has something to say to you..."

Wife:  "You know, Flakerst and I have been praying, and with our maxed out credit cards and all, we were hoping the Lord would have made the balances zero but that didn't happen.  And now, we find out you are going to rent. a. studio.!  You honestly expect me to be supportive of you moving into a hole in the wall. with. your. CAT."

Wife:  "If you live by yourself, I can't support that.  You need to be around people.  Flakerst has some suggestions for roommates..."

Me:  "Flakerst also makes poor choices in roommates.  After Flakerst left, the last one was inviting the neighborhood over to do cocaine in the bathroom."

Wife:  "I know Flakerst promised to give you money, but unless you get a roommate we approve of, I'm afraid I just can't give you money."

Wife:  "So how do you like 'dem apples.  I hate to break it to you honey, but money talks!"

Me:  "I hate to break it to you, wifey, but yours doesn't!"  And I hung up the phone.

It turns out that they were harboring an illegal alien from Mexico, and wanted to pawn him off on me.  I have since severed ties with Flakerst.  It wasn't the first time that Flakerst reneged on a deal.  Every time I moved in with him, some version of  "Okay, I'm leaving now!  Bye!" always occurs.  And because the dude has a flake-record, I ate the consequences of this one.  My fault for letting it happen.

I have since learned that he joined the military.  I can just see it now:  "Sir, I have to leave and go be with my wife.  It turns out she doesn't support me being stationed over-seas."

Two days later, mp's arrive at his door:  "Private Flakerst!  You are under arrest for going AWOL.  You have the right to remain silent!"  And cue his wife to the rescue:  "Excuse me!  Take your hands off my husband!  I'm the one who told him it was okay to leave!"

Perhaps the military will teach him the importance of keeping his word.

Because I was so convinced that this place was where I was supposed to be, I failed to do my homework before moving out here.  It turns out that this state is one of those backwards states that doesn't allow teachers to be on unemployment.  Last year, I was still eligible for California benefits when I did not get summer classes.

It happened yet again this summer.  I did not get classes.  And to add insult to injury, I was denied unemployment benefits.  Add to that the recent passing of my favorite aunt, I just don't have the drive to do anything constructive.  I've been trying to get myself to clean my apartment for the last several days.  There are flies everywhere.  I can't even get myself to put together a resume for online work.  My Dean keeps blowing me off about the letter of recommendation.  Based on face-value, he appears to be very enthusiastic about providing me with one.  But it has been over three weeks, and I keep having to remind him over and over and over...

Stick a fork in me.  I think I'm done.

I'm fed up with this area.  The people here can go take the space between their teeth and sharpen knives with it, as far as I'm concerned.

Community?  There isn't any.  When I needed $80 to help with my rent, I found out that my former church here had a benevolence fund.  Incidentally, it also doubled as a popularity contest.  I was not visible enough.

People here make tutoring appointments and don't keep them.  They offer to come pick you up for Easter Dinner and don't follow through.  And don't get me started on the Born-to-Die motorcycle murderers.  'Get 'em saved and then shoot 'em before they have a chance to backslide' is their battle-cry.

But I can't picture myself spending another summer here in 130 degree heat, surrounded by tweakers and lushes.

But not to worry, WOLF359 will find out about my decision soon enough.  It's only fair that I wait until two weeks before the start of Fall semester to tell them.  They would show the same consideration to me.  And the Dean isn't the only person to hit up for a letter.  I do have other sources at that college.

My mom has room for me back in California.  Assuming I get some online classes, I can teach there and enjoy the fact that there is my computer screen and a distance of hundreds of miles separating me from the 'flakes.  One option offers to pay $2000 per class, and each class is a month long.  If I play my cards right, I'll be making $2000/mo, as opposed to $700!

Stick a fork in me.  I am done.