letters of loss, apology.. warning..?

Today consisted of me trying to follow my mind around sharp corners, dark crevices, nooks, crannies, the briny deep, the lovely endless blue sky.. the deep and dismal doldrums of the MA Registry of Motor Vehicles.. trying not to lose it.

My mind.

Trying not to lose my mind.

To the uneducated onlooker it would appear that I am busy, working hard, getting a lot done. To the slightly more educated viewer, it would eventually become clear that I suffer from small problems that pop up all over the place, usually the symptoms of some other solution that has required much thought. These require much backtracking, reassessing, much wailing and gnashing of teeth, which is really why I would appear busy most of the time. Take that mystical onlooker a step further and you may even come to realize, as they would, that I have been working very hard at making my life more difficult than it needs to be.

I have existing within the cozy confines of my rock and hard place for a little over a year, and though I have become used to bouncing off one only to ricochet into the other, I can't say as I have ever enjoyed it.

Today I decided to learn about the Cambridgeside Galleria, it, according to the nice lady at the Financial Services Help Desk at the Mt. Auburn Walk-in Clinic, being home to the RMV (see above), where I could get a Mass I.D. and with it the promise of free care at said clinic.

To back track a smidge, my eye, in eager anticipation of Valentines day, began to produce, Vesuvius-style, great quantities of yellow muck at around 4 in the morning. Great quantities for an eye, understand, not, say, a grizzly bear or a blue whale.

Eye-sized volcano.

Italian volcano.

Pinche.

In order to get that under control I had to visit someone who would give me antibiotics. Enter Mt. Auburn Walk-in Clinic. Enter possible medical bill if I don't jump through the appropriate hoops set up by the state of Massachusetts.

Must prove residency. Must get utility bill. Faxed! Must get utility bill faxed because mail is too slow! Ten days! I have ten days to make myself into an appealing candidate for free care! Must get to fax machine. Find fax machine. Also must find job, coincidentally in same area as fax machine. No problem. Hit two stones with one bird. Applied for jobs! Must go home and put in eye drops! Stat! Home! Eye drops! Fuck! Step missing! Fax machine! Back to fax machineland!

So far no birds down and I can't find any rocks anywhere. So I got proof of my address, so at this time my project is to find the RMV and get a Mass I.D. la dee da dee dee da dee dee..

Letter to the screaming kid on the redline:

Dear The Screaming Kid On The Redline,

Please do enjoy this while you can, child. Please do, as dear boy, when you are my age, and you feel like exploding at 80 decibels, people will not only squint and wince when you totter by, but they will call in the men in white coats to come drag you off to a rubber room. A rubber room where you will be drugged and beaten, hopefully cleansed with a power washer. Naked. And then, boy, then you will have reason to scream.

There isn't an RMV office at the Cambridgeside Galleria. All of the learning I did about that fine mess didn't include that tasty bit of information.

Letter to the woman at the Information Desk at the Cambridgeside Galleria:

Dear The Woman At The Information Desk At The Cambridgeside Galleria,

I couldn't tell if, the second time we spoke, you laughed because you had just recalled something funny, or because my ignorance amuses you. I would, however, like to apologize for blinking at you stunned, when you told me there isn't and RMV in the mall. I know it's not your fault. Maybe you should have picked up the phone when I called your fine establishment and asked for Information. How could you have known, TWATIDATCG, that regardless if there was an RMV at your location, I would be no more successful than I was else where.. how could you have known..?

I wondered around for a while, stole the internet at the Apple store to find out where the REAL RMV was and how to get there, bought a floofy caramel coffee drink from a nice girl at Borders (she was behind the counter, selling such things), got confused about how books with Orcs as main characters are Bestsellers, walked back to the Redline, let some irate older woman in through the gates with me. She thanked me a whole bunch, did a lot of hissing and swatting at imaginary flies.

I sat on a bench and waited for the train.

There IS an RMV in Chinatown. I know this because I was inside the RMV for 2 hours, waiting for my number to be called, diddling with my phone, listening to music and still, for the most part, trying and succeeding at not hating my day.

I got pretty far.

Pretty far.

My conversation with the lady at desk #19. M=me, L=lady.

"Hi!" - m

"..." - l

"I'm looking to get a Mass I.D.?" - m

"You need to put in your social security number." - l, handing me back the application I had given to her.

"Oh, ok. Sorry!" - m, filling it out.

"I need your proof of residency and signature." - l

-I hand them to her.

"Sign" - l

"Sorry?" - m

"Sign there." - l, pointing at funny signature robot too close to me for me to see it.

"Oh! Sorry!" - m, I sign, immediately stressed out that the signature that I have just produced doesn't look a thing like the thousands of ones I have made proceeding it.

"How long does this usually take to get?" - m

"Seven to ten days." - l

"There isn't anyway to get it any faster?" - m

-She shakes her head.

"Stand right there I'm going to take your picture." - l, pointing.

"Ok!" - m, excruciatingly eager to please, bouncy, I am adorable.

-She photographs me. It is an acceptable picture, which surprises me. I smile at her from behind the camera.

"Great, thanks."

"Do you already have a drivers license?" - l

"Yes." - m

"In what state?" - l

"Maine." - m

"You can't get a Mass I.D." - l

"..." - m

"..." - l

"... excuse me..?" - m

"If you have a drivers license in another state you can't get a state I.d, is that your license?" - l, pointing at my ME state I.d.

".. no it's a ME state I.d. I'm still waiting for my license. So I really can't get a Mass state I.d. if I have a license in another state? I have to convert my license over?" - m

"Yes." - l

"----I don't suppose there's any rhyme or reason for that..?" - m, baffled, trying not to.. lose my mind.

".. what?" - l, confused.

"... why??" - m, beginning to smolder, I ask unreasonable questions.

"Those are the rules." - l

"..." - m

"..." - l

"... ok. Thank you for your time." - m, picking up my things and.. leaving.

Getting my license was my final act before moving out of ME. I am still waiting for it to get to me here in MA. I will not make the ten day deadline. I am hoping that the eye drops that I could have gotten from my father for free will not cost me my standard of living. My standard of living is pretty low. I'm not actually all that worried.. and because I'm not worried I, likely, have reason to worry.

I encounter a second screaming child on the redline on my way home. I construct a letter to send to him. I construct a letter to the Lady At Desk #19.

Dear Lady At Desk #19,

I.. I'm sorry. It's too soon. I know it's not your fault, but I can't talk to you right now.

I realize things could be much worse.

When I am standing on the platform, waiting for the train. Person-who-was-going-to-give-me-a-ride-to-make-up-lesson-tonight calls me, possibly unable to pick me up.

Had I known, all those years ago when I was informed that we couldn't afford drivers ed, wouldn't be able to swing going to-and-fro from driving lessons, that my worth and function as a human being would eventually be dictated by my ability to own and control a metal box on four wheels, I would have raised more a of a stink.

Had I known.

"I can make tzatziki, suck it." - my sister last night before dinner.

In terms of things that I could rant about, this is really the tip of the iceberg. Got all wound up last night, continue to be wound up.. click click.. click click..

Things are actually really lovely.. just.. like I said. I, apparently, love to make things much harder for myself than I need to. Thing is.. I don't even know I'm doing it.