Underutilization, or, 'A day in the life of a NEET'

THE last several months I have not really paid any such attention to this platform. I have spent several months attempting to get my life a bit more squared away. Nothing too terribly political to talk about unless you want me to talk about Mueller and Trump and all the various detritus milling about as if it was gliding through the fucking Matrix. As far as politics has gone nothing has really changed on my end. No new ideological dogma to expound upon, no new frontiers on which to embark and commit to praxis on, not just yet.

Any attempt to get my life squared away as abovementioned has been met with issues. Between not being able to find an apartment, which, on a fixed income in America, is not negotiable and not even up for debate, and perhaps starting anew, which presents its own logistical problems, there are just too many things I have to contend with.

Are we getting a place in Colorado? No, too expensive. How about California? Only if the crime rate is low. And it depends on which city, too. "We could go to Marysville!" But there's jack shit in Marysville to be frank and not very many landlords bundle their utilities into the rent. The frustration is compounded further when I make some sort of inroad only to be rebuffed by the insolence of my roommate at present, who also draws residuals from being unable to work. A frail body that can barely handle bacon and alcohol, worn down from West Nile's 3-month-long assault and osteopenia.

Sometimes it's the words I use. Nothing so exorbitant or flowery, but common words like "vet" and "allay", words with particular meaning, trip my roommate up, or cause a major tiff. "I have to look words up so as to not look stupid" is the backhanded insult given me when any sort of olive branch is yielded. No assuaging of solicitudes has ever come about this way so far.

Sometimes it's anxiety; either my own or my roomie's, that tends to interfere in certain plans. Not wanting to be around people is a major issue that always comes up. Especially if I gotta do something like grab postage stamps or Taco Bell. Because that's what we live off of half the time - junk food. Number sevens from KFC, number sixes from Hardee's, a number 1 from Maccas, the uphill battle with the slow death of fast food is a constant reminder that we are the underclass striving to do right and yet surrounded by the easy.

People always want to reach me on Facebook, the insidious social networking site created for the sole reason of laundering data from unsuspecting millions in order to "make things easy", like Alexa. That's how I feel about it. I don't even like the tablet I have technically paid for. It advertises at me, doesn't let me get apps that would work with it, only what Amazon has cleared for me to use. A waste of eighty dollars better spent on a fucking keger with friends. The blasphemous credit line I have is another telling sign.

I don't want to be so comfortable as to literally take away cash I don't have now for something that eventually gets paid later. I have always balked at the idea of credit, or its convenience, and it's something I don't feel I really merit half the time. Financial credit of course is that tricky sort of "well you need it for some things" but I don't need it for others.

I'm stuck in this North Korea of friendship: One creditor and a handful of other friends. I'm more ready to take the leap and do the on-the-spot guidance elsewhere. Don't know about you but my home life is boring and you can't keep me down on the farm after I've seen Paree.