fml.

so right now, i live in a house in detroit with my mother and her basement tenant. sadly, i am watching my life slowly decline.

1. right now: christmas, new years, birthday, and possibly beyond...

2. house: financially free, plenty of space

3. detroit: well, this city is either dying or dead, depending on who you ask. Nothing is keeping me here besides family and possible residence in a buddhist temple. since i’ve discovered pandora, even the radio stations are not as attractive anymore. plus, i have yet to find a subculture here with which i can totally identify.

4. my mother: i love love love her and want nothing but to spend as much quality time and have as many meaningful interactions with her as possible before i physically abandon her again, this time for 27 months. however, when we are in the same house for longer than a day, those quality and meaningful moments become few and far in between. i’m sure you know how this goes; i have yet to meet a person who cannot relate to my cohabiting relationship with mommy:
six sevenths of the week, i wake up at ten to a note outlining my house cleaning responsibilities for the day. if i have not completed these tasks by the time mommy gets home, then begins the nag fest. next, although she has shown no regard for anything that i may have had planned for the day—including such pleasures as napping and watching movies—i end up feeling bad because she stands up on her feet all day at work enduring arthritis and carpal tunnel symptoms. and when she comes home, feeling like she “just got whooped,” all she asks is that i do the few chores that she is too tired to complete. this is especially guilt invoking since i am living here for free. do not get me wrong; by no means do i blame her for these expectations. after all, i do not want to be that “failure to launch” ass woman who lives off of her mother, not paying a lick of bills or at least doing chores. still, i do not clean once a day; that is just not a part of my lifestyle. also, i do not sit around the house all day every day eating, sleeping, and dicking around like a child; clearly, i would like to be doing something constructive with my time. thus, i need to get a job and get the fuck out of here immediately!

5. basement tenant: 40s-year-old, gay, christian man. and yes, he is still in the closet. i am not quite sure how i feel about him as a person yet, as he seems to love me unconditionally so it is difficult to despise his foibles. While he keeps that kitchen spotless—which makes it one less room that i have to worry about—he is terrible at managing money, which affects mommy’s wallet and somehow mine as well; he leaves the television and lights on when he is not using them, like at night and while he is at work; he often has slob on his bottom lip; he participates in what he thinks is secretly smoking in the house, but really we smell it every time and if my mother has to mention it one more time, i am going to burn every cigarette within walking distance from our house and the church; and well it is quite uncomfortable for me being such an advocate for the gays but not being able to connect with him on that because he is so damn deep in that closet. Shit, i do not even know if he has accepted that part of himself yet. however, i do know that i do not appreciate going from having at least one place in the world where i can count on being able to walk around naked no matter what to having no such place at all. i mean shit. i had never lived with a man before he moved in; it has always been mommy and i in this house and women in my close family have never been particularly conservative when it comes to nudity around each other. then came this guy, whose publicly straight, male existence and subsequent residence downstairs has hindered my closet nudism indefinitely. bothered.

6. again, i need to get the fuck out of here.

ps. i am searching for employment. if you have any leads in the non profit sector, hit me up...PLEASE.