Eight days

No matter how hard you try, you won't get to see everyone, do everything and be everywhere you want to be before you leave. So, just let it all go.

I find time growing smaller and smaller the closer I get to takeoff. I have to go back to New York tomorrow to pick up my work visa. It was so hot today. The walk was so long, made long by the fact I walked to the Korean consulate when I needed to walk to the Korean consulate GENERAL, whatever the difference that is. The difference is about 30 minutes.

I haven't even bought my plane tickets yet. The bedroom is a mess. My car is a mess, and unsold. I still have not gotten to see Colleen and she does not make it easier by never returning calls until several weeks later.

I would like to think I have far less stuff than most people, and yet as I sit here, amidst piles of books, CDs, videogames, clothes... I still have too much shit. Some of it is easy to part with; I unloaded two of those reusable grocery bags full of clothes I have not worn in over six months or have not worn at all. The pair of Sketchers I bought in Syracuse in 2006 when I went to visit Laura are now visiting the bottom of a trash bag to my right. The tongue always slipped to the side of those fuckers.

I really should cut work even shorter and take some of this stuff to Dad's. Maybe take him out to lunch. He is sometimes a little too practical, though. He would probably complain that the sandwiches at Subway are so expensive when compared to the lunchmeat we could get at Shoprite. Maybe he's right. Whatever, I'm broke. We'll get end cuts and loaves of bread reduced for quick sale and nibble them in the kitchen. That sounds just fine.

Yeah, I really can't go into work tomorrow. I have too much shit to do and not enough time to do it. I can't let $30 in lost pay bother me. Man, how the hell have I survived on $10 an hour?