The Colonial House

Today I was driving down Monroe Street coming back from the bank and I noticed this old run-down building that used to be this semi-fancy restaurant. I probably pass this building everyday at least 2 or 3 times but never really paid any attention to it. I remember it had rather large fires in it twice back when I was a kid. It made me start thinking and I'm pretty sure this was arson for insurance reasons. I don't know any of this for certain, but it's the only explanation I could think of for one business having two major fires. That's become rather common in this area since people cannot get any value from their homes or businesses and most everyone is out of work so this seems like the only way out without losing everything. Anyways, this happened years ago and what is left is this boarded up building with a rusted out sign and an advertisement that the land is available for lease. I don't know the specifics of the story or what happened, but this lot has been vacant since long before I even left for college in 2001.

Looking back this area was on the decline long before I bothered to notice. Business after business shutting their doors, people packing up and leaving in droves, massive amounts of foreclosures and somehow I'm here. I'm pretty sure that I'm one of the few that want to be here. An exception to the rule I guess. Whenever I go out to a bar, I'm met with the same questions each time I show my Washington state ID card: why the fuck are you here? It's too complicated to explain to a stranger but I always say the same thing: I have no idea. But the truth is, I do know and I don't regret it in the slightest. I anticipate there will be many more buildings that end up like the Colonial House and I anticipate there will be many more hurdles in my life before I feel grounded again and all of that just makes me think that I'm exactly where I belong.

Unemployment

I don't think you can quite experience feeling stir crazy until you are unemployed and back in your hometown, which just so happens to be the heart of the rust belt. My days usually start around 10-11am, which isn't by choice... if I could sleep longer, it might keep that agitated feeling at bay. But anyways, that's not the point. My first thought when I wake up every day is usually wondering how I can possibly fall back asleep and make the day go by quicker. Then after tossing and turning for at least 30 minutes I get up and get dressed. I don't shower every single day because who's really paying attention? I muster up the small amount of energy I have, go to the bathroom, brush my teeth and then take my medication. This is where things start to get grim. It might seem simple but every morning that I do this, I know it's one morning closer to when I will lose my health insurance and have to go cold-turkey off of this shit that quite honestly saved my life. Every morning I fear for my life to some extent. I don't mean to be dramatic here, but if you had spoken with me early in 2008, you would understand exactly what I mean by this. Without work, I have very little to occupy the vast amounts of free time that I have except constant worry and anxiety.

Unemployment seems like a nice break to do things you wouldn't have time to do if you were working, but this is very far from the truth for the most part. I do spend some of the time playing music and writing, but I feel my brain is blocked by more intrusive thoughts most days, which paralyze me to some extent. The reality of unemployment is that most of your days are spent worrying about finances, figuring out how to get by, applying for jobs in a state where there are none, and for me, awaiting a very harsh reality when the detox begins. This is when I pull up my blanket, sit on the couch in the living room and watch Jeopardy re-runs, anxiously awaiting sleep.