The Real World: Walnut Creek

I remember back in High School when teachers used to always talk to us about the 'real world'. They'd say things like "keep up that attitude and you'll never survive in the real world" or "In the real world you're not gonna be able to...blah...blah...blah". All I wanted to hear about the Real World was where the MTV show's house was going to be next season or how many Black people they were going to cast this time around (there was usually at least one, and back then that mattered to me). So, being the stubborn, 'know-it-all', college-bound, big-headed (pun intended) jerk that I was, I ignored all the warnings and precautions and went on my merry little way.

Fast-forward 6 years of life, 5 years of accumulated student loans, 4 overpriced residences, 3 counties worth of unpaid tickets, 2 maxed out credit cards, and 1 poorly financed vehicle.... What up Real World!

Suddenly I found myself wishing I would have translated those "blah"s into the knowledge that the many, many teachers and other adults once attempted to feed me. I found myself wishing that I would have sought out advice from those who had been here before; wishing that just once, a magical reset button would appear that would allow me to start over and do it the right way.

NewsFlash: That button aint comin', because that button has never existed, and it never will. I dug myself into this hole and it's on me to dig myself out.

So what do I do? Here I am in an extremely overpriced studio apartment, completely independent, working a job that pays peanuts (for now at least) with the chances of finding a second job teetering on the fence of slim-to-none (the unemployment rate just barely made it back into the single digits). Well, the simple and immediate solution is to cut back any/all unnecessary expenses (aka. cut the cable, bring lunch to work, minimize your phone plan, walk 15 minutes to the free shuttle instead of spending $2 on bus fair...etc.). The long term answer is a little more complicated; I gotta find a way to make more money, and quick!

Luckily, I have a somewhat rare and useful skill in web design (not to say that I'm an expert at it, but I get it done). So I get on the hunt for potential clients, build up my portfolio, and polish my skills (thanks in a large part to an old-coworker and friend who has shown me more in two sit downs than I learned in two years of Computer Science major study). After a couple of giveaway projects (a website for my father and one for my sister), I managed to pick up a few paid projects, but still I undercharged (yes, it's my fault... whether I underestimated the workload or was just too generous) and I'm still playing broke.

And so I met her... The Real World. The REAL, Real world. She was gorgeous when I first laid eyes on her. She spoke to me of freedom and independence; she told me that I could do whatever, and go wherever I wanted and there was nothing that anyone could say about it...

Excuse my language, but that b***ch lied to me...

Well, "lied" is a strong accusation. Maybe I should say she deceived me. Here I am, gazing an untrained eye out at a world of unlimited opportunity feeling like Clark Kent. "I'm unstoppable," I seemed to think. "Nothing can hold me back now... i'm FREE!"

Heh... 'free'... . Looking back, I realize that I was more 'free' when I lived at my parents' houses. At least then, if i got into a sticky situation I had someone to run to, but now? Now it's all Damon, and the only place I'll be running to if I dont handle business is the soup line and/or the homeless shelter.

I thought leaving my parents' houses (first Mom's house after high school, then Dad's house after returning to Northern California post-college) would provide me all of the things I hoped for; freedom, independence, privacy, and whatever...mais au contrare mon frere!(translation: But on the contrary my brutha...!) Once again I was proven wrong.

Sure, I no longer live according to the rules and regulations of living under the parental ceiling. Yes, I can do whatever I want to now. But what the aforementioned figurative young woman failed to tell me was that now I had a new set of parents, and these parents don't love me the way the ones that I was so anxious to break away from do.

No Buddy, these parents call you 5 times a day if you don't pay them in time. These parents will cut your life off if you aren't pulling enough weight to support it, and they wont think twice about it nor shed a single tear.

Well, I guess it's time to sharpen up these claws and teeth and go hunting, because chicken cacciatore is no longer waiting on the table when I get home from football practice, and there is no Cold Cut sandwich and YooHoo bagged up and ready for me to take for lunch in the morning.

There's just me... and this woman they call the Real World. I know if I treat her right she can be amazing; showing me things and taking me places beyond my greatest imaginations. But if I continue to beat, abuse, and neglect her, one day she might creep up in my sleep and slit my throat.

So Miss RW, please allow me to reintroduce myself...