Three Bad Days

For some reason I thought of this theme earlier, while walking back to the bunker from the science library.

1. Looking for a place to live in Santa Cruz: Becky and I were up at 5:30am at her parents' place in Novato. We drove down and were in SC by about 8:00am, then started checking places out. Most of the places were already rented; those that weren't had "open houses" in which everyone interested in renting had to show up with applications in hand to fight over the rental. I left messages all over town and we drove back and forth from Aptos to the west end of Mission. By 4:30pm, exhausted, we stood overlooking the bay on West Cliff Drive and I got a phone call from a guy saying that we were welcome to attend the open house for the condo we had called about; it started at 1000 bucks a month, per person.
2. After college I moved to Portland. I worked at a dot com for three months then got laid off. I didn't really have computer skills yet and I knew I couldn't fake it on my resumé, so I cast around looking for a customer service job. Three weeks in I decided to spend 800 bucks I didn't have to spend on bartending academy. I spent the next two weeks learning how to make drinks, then I found myself in late December, 2000, driving out to Troutdale* to apply for a bartending job at a chinese restaurant. I had a brief talk with the manager then headed back into town; I looked out at the sun setting at 4:00pm as I drove toward I-80 and thought "well, this is as bad as it gets."
3. In England I got ridiculously drunk then got in a fight with my dorm-mate John. The details are still hazy, but I ended up getting punched squarely in the face by a guy twice my size. I woke up the next morning on my friend Dan's dorm room floor sporting a huge black eye with my stomach full of the hottest curry I had ever eaten (something I had decided on the night before after about 8 beers) burning a hole through my esophagus. Blacks eyes suck, because well after you've learned your lesson (in this case, don't get super wasted and get in fights, especially with big crazy British people), you still look like an idiot for weeks.

One thing I hate is knowing that there will be more bad days in the future and you never know when they're going to be. It doesn't do any good to worry about it, but it's one of those constituent elements on which I predicate my "life is pretty horrendous when it comes down to it" theory.

Editor's note: Ironically, I'm in a pretty good mood today.

* Troutdale is like...a weird truckstop on the farthest outskirts of Portland, Oregon. I'm not really sure why it has its own town name; it might as well just be called Truckstopville.