A Life on Hold

It seems that I've gained some sort of noteriety thanks, once again, to Google. Between that and the fact that parole is the french term for word, I get many fantastic vistis from people all over the world who aren't looking for me. Sort of boosts my self esteem, that fact does.

However, enough about google's vagaries. I am one of those who has been (un)fortunate enough to have my wisdom teeth grow in late, in fact, very late. Most people I know have already had theirs taken out at eighteen or twenty. Well, lucky them. Lately, my teeth have been aching, and I know it's because my wisdom (as well as my) teeth have finally decided to make an appearance.

Why, oh, why didn't they do something like this about two years ago, when I still had, and was still paying for, dental coverage? Even as I agonize over my body's poor timing, I also realized that taking care of this inconvience would have to wait. It would have to go on hold, like my chance of having a relationship (I just want to mention that Alicia Keys' If I Ain't Got You is torturing me right now as I type this), like my opportunities to have a social life, and like the rest of my own personal desires.

Waiting for that final moment when everything I am working for comes to fruition, when I no longer have to scrape to get by. No longer to choose between needs or to sacrifice personal gratification for, as is often said, that chance at an American dream. If I could only put into words my feeling of frustration, my helpless wish to do more than I am already doing to make things better. Words can't even suffice.

I won't say that it isn't fair. I know that there are others who are far worse off than I. Yet, knowing doesn't doesn't confer to my feelings any consolation. I still feel that it is unfair. I know in my head that soon, very soon, all this suffering and pain (my wisdom teeth for one) will end. But it doesn't pay those outstanding bills now. It doesn't have to look at the checking balance and figure out how to avoid going negative while paying the bills that need to be paid. It doesn't have to pick itself up when it has fallen or whenever it is feeling down.

It is a promise of what the future holds if you somehow stick to the plans that were made looking imperfectly into that murky future at some time in the past. Still, these plans didn't take into account that you still need funds to pay for things on that journey. How do you hold true without comprimising, perhaps altering and increasing the chances of that promise's rewards disappearing into dust?

This has been a conundrum that I wrestle with every morning that I wake up, feeling too tired to rise from my bed and one that keeps me awake every night when I should be resting easy on the promise of that which my future holds. One might rely upon faith or their eternal optimism that things can only get better. One might even rely on both together.

Again, I reiterate that refrain, declaraing that faith and optimism do not have to pay those bills. I do. Yet, somehow, each night, I do fall asleep, and each morning, I do get out of bed to do it all over again. Perhaps, like my life, those bills can hold a day or two.