Deadlines are upon me. I feel I have no time to dawdle....and heck this isn't dawdling. The fact is in a sane country, I would have not only health insurance but proper health insurance. I would be in the hospital, a stable environment and not be kicked out after 9 days. I could count on Oxford to feast on my life savings, up until last year when the rates became, so, high that I realized it was impossible to continue and maybe that preventative visits with internists, mammograms, gyno and the whole nine yards wasn't worth it.
That said, I could have put two down payments on homes in the tri-state area. I call it robbery.
There is no wonder impoverished people die at earlier ages because they don't get the preventative tests and check ups that could prevent the acceleration of life threatening diseases.
On the lighter side and walking away from anger, a killer unto itself.
I painted my nails again today and dared to type on my keyboard while the first and second top coat were drying. Years of biting, picking and holding a camera in my hands have made them downright unattractive. I have conformed to the feminine boring ideal of having nice nails....I am enticed with the site of women sitting on the Path train and NYC subway system with pretty nails, not too short, not too long. Nails that don't crack or peel off at 2 mm's of length.
I painted my nails again today and dared to type on my keyboard while the first and second top coat were drying. Years of biting, picking and holding a camera in my hands have made them downright unattractive. I have conformed to the feminine boring ideal of having nice nails....I am enticed with the site of women sitting on the Path train and NYC subway system with pretty nails, not too short, not too long. Nails that don't crack or peel off at 2 mm's of length.
Nice nails means most likely nice feet. Last summer two of my male friends told me my feet were ugly. I laughed. I figured if I had one ugly part on my body, I could accept feet that were turning into elephant skin. But, I soon enough realized that I truly envied these women on the trains with pretty nails, exposing painted nails in the summer, with no heels that looked like they were becoming thicker with layers of dead flesh year after year.
I'm sitting on the side lines, still dressed like I did in high school, while all these office women read their NY Times, current fiction, and the New Yorker. They wear thin stylish coats in the winter, pointed shoes with thin heels and carry two bags in each arm.
What I really envy is there lifestyle that has the comfort of a daily routine, a structure that allows them to go to work and come home and call it a day. Maybe they do house chores, one day out of the week, and then on the other day they get out and do something relaxing or fun or Kultcheral.
So, I know how those nails and my life is still a precarious juggling act. I reap the benefits of my obsession to photograph even when the money isn't there. I find the time to work on this blog.
3 comments:
There's a different mental price to pay for those "comforts". Don't envy zombies in nice clothes; they're dead inside. I have that routine (albeit as a male) and it's terrible. Your mind dulls. Your priorities become skewed. Time whips by at ungodly speeds. Then....suburbia.
Suburbia is where one goes to die before one dies.
I agree with the other comment. One day you wake up and it's been 8 years doing the same shit and you're no wiser.
in the end, we all get our creature comforts. that's part of life. and i think for most people it's the stupid little interests and habits that get us through the days. and i would hardly call myself the average conformists.
interesting that two men agree that nail painting is not important. would you like me more if i told you that i picked my nose and ate it too.
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