'Adulting'

Let me tell you about the convention we so lovingly call 'Adulting.'

It's the term we come up with once the glamorous illusions in our childhood are pulled back to reveal an ugly, post-pubescent truth.

I'm certain I wasn't the only one who hoped for 16 to come along so we could drive -hoped for 18 to come along so I could watch rated R movies - hoped for 21 to come along so I could drink and vote and buy lottery and cigarettes and every other taboo thing from our youth.

God. It was like the only goal I had - other than becoming the youngest most popular writer in history. OR a secret agent.

At 16 I discovered that no, I was not the youngest most popular writer in history, nor would I have the chance to BECOME that, because there was some other 15 year old girl out there with her picture on the back cover of the dust jacket of a book I was reading. (I mean it wasn't fantastic, but it was hardcover, and half my class had already read it. So that was it then.)

Somewhere around that time I unearthed the heavy physical demands that becoming a secret agent required, and those hopes were dashed too.

So I went, You know what? I can still become a famous, spiffy, popular writer who gets fan letters and goes to book signings where my vision can be shared with other people, and they can understand these vivid, fantastical dreams of my heart.

So I aimed for that.

And you know what? My goals have gone from that to being able to pay rent every month, feed myself the bare minimum for survival, pay all my life-sucking bills, and still have enough for a smoothie after the gym (whose membership I cannot afford to pay, so I am someone's privileged free-guest.) Writing? In November, during NaNoWriMo, because that's the only thing I seem to be able to do - muster up the gumption to pump out a load of nonsense within 30 days, because it's the only time I feel the encouragement to even try poking at the dead-horse-dream that my inner infant can't let go of.

Everything that dreams filled you with as a kid is slowly and effortlessly drained away by our desires to be adults, that when we get there, we 'understand' the futility of dreams, and easily cast them aside for the 'reality' of life.

THAT is 'Adulting'.

Welcome to Hell.

Welcome, Fellow Adults

DO NOT RENT THROUGH ACORN & OAK.

These guys... OK

SO the first year we live here, all is wonderful. We had Michelle - she was a dream! ALWAYS called back promptly, answered ALL my questions, humored me through the process! She seemed to recognize that we were timely paying renters.

Sure the owner of the place wa sa rude, wacka-doo asshole, but whatever. We didn't have to deal with her. We had Michelle. All was well.

So we decide to rent through A&O AGAIN this past year. Got a cool house.

FIRST red flag should have been the moron they hire for their maintenance. We had black mold. I'm willing to bet the ignorant shit just painted over it. We have a good friend/relative come to do pest stuff for us AT NO COST TO THE OWNER who tells us the moisture/mold threshold in this place if nearing dangerous. We pass that along. As well as EVERY OTHER BULLSHIT NONSENSE wrong with this cute little house.

NOW when we saw the place, we were being handled by a nice lady and her partner, Ryan. But they handed us off to some jack-off known as Derek.

He was nice the first two times I saw him, which were like, within a month of each other. After that, he falls off the map.

TWICE I had to go through the actual business portal for a question that had nothing to do with maintenance. JUST to get his fucking attention about something.

His automated response e-mail makes me want to stab someone, because I get it EVERY FUCKING TIME.

Our lease was up in June.

I STILL DON'T HAVE MY FUCKING PAPERWORK.

He said he put it on hold until he heard from our new room mate. I GAVE him her fucking information. I GAVE IT TO HIM. If he had any business sense at fucking all, he would have CONTACTED HER.

Ryan contacted littleshit when she moved in with us. This is no fucking different.

I get one notice that my grass is too tall, and NOW he send me some snarky-ass e-mail about how it looks awful and has to be done right away,

AND he upped my rent WITHOUT the signed lease forms.

FUCK HIM, FUCK THIS COMPANY.

They don't communicate, there's no management system to speak of, therefore, no one is held accountable for their actions.

AVOID LIKE THE PLAGUE.

I CAN'T WAIT TO MOVE OUTTA HERE.

Today

The world itself is completely broken.

Recently, we have all been trained very well. We are told that abusive partners are evil incarnate.

I agree. Oh, I agree. There is a special place in hell for those people. Anyone who thinks they can take advantage of another person like that for their own gratification should be castrated and fed their excess parts. Anyone who thinks that hitting or abusing another person because they have some twisted right to does not deserve to be in this country or on the planet as a whole.

But the same applies to whose to claim falsely that those things took place. How long is someone a victim when they do nothing about it for years? When they let someone else suffer too; like a child? When they have been telling other stories for years, and then changing it when it suits them? The false accusation is just as bad as the true act.

You'll go down in the same basket, you know. The lie. That lie....

But then - as a casual observer, you are forced to stop. Because of the world today, nothing is black and white. The people who abuse can trick their victims, make them unbelievable, get away with awful things - But the liars know that someone will believe them without questioning the story. They know that given good enough lies, they can 'win' the system and get what they want.

Because NOW, it is not simple. It isn't "YES EVIL DIE VILLAIN."

NOW it is also "WAIT, ARE YOU LYING TO ME?"

And there is no way to tell. None. You can know people as long as your life and they can be villains. You can connect completely with a victim and realize that they were the snake.

This world is impossible. So people chose NOT to pick sides.

...

Shame on all of you.

All of you.