'The Happy Hooker Driver'

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'I Do Not Know What Is Worse, Selling Your Spirit, Or Selling Your Soul'

I usually am someone who does not get a lot of sleep. If I do get up in the middle of the night for whatever reason, I tend to stay up. And I will do some small chores like straightening up etc. just to occupy my mind. But, the following morning I slept in; I felt that I could relax, because I had a little bit of money in my pocket. On the top of my list for today, I am going to be picking myself up a nice cup of coffee, without the worry of having to scrounge up some change beforehand. Next, I will be taking a long drive with my two dogs, Radar and Shasta. I love to go on drives, and I love the feeling of freedom on the long open road. It has never been about the destination for me, it has always been about the journey. In fact, I hate it when the tires have to stop rolling along, because then that means that I must be still, and deal with my reality.

With my dogs in tow, some gas in my Toyota, and a steaming hot coffee in the cup holder, I decide to head out to Ashland, PA. It is an old Mining Town, about two hours outside of Philadelphia. The drive there is absolutely beautiful about this time of year, in the Fall. For me it is like driving into a real life oil painting, and becoming one with the scenery. The colors of the leaves are unbelievable in all of their glory with the browns, the reds, the yellows, the oranges, the greens, and the blues. Radar loves to sit on my lap, and to stick his head out of the window as I drive. He tastes the air, and relishes in its hasty touch. Shasta is so tiny that she can sit a top of the middle console, it is her built in high chair, and she can see all of the wondrous beauty directly in front of us.

There was a time not too long ago that I was going to move to Ashland, PA., before coming to Philadelphia; With the help of a Realtor, I found the most amazing home. It was a foreclosure, and I was planning to buy it outright, and the asking price for this special place was around $20,000. The home was built in the 1920′s; Red Brick, and is over 7,000 square feet, with an old Church right next door to it. It was run as a Convent for fifty years, and still has a few church pews hanging out inside of it. One time I had made an offer to a homeless Vet to live there for free, but I guess that he thought it was too good to be true. Since then I regret not buying it for it would have been a great resting place to lye my head down. When I have been able to come down here, like on days like today, I just get lost in it’s beauty, and massiveness.

I have felt kind of lost, without any real direction in my life for quite some time. I am not a lazy person by any means, I am actually a very hard worker; I strive for my goals, but they never seem to work out. I did not have too many opportunities as a kid growing up; I had a single mother, because my father passed away, and we were on Government Assistance. It is extremely difficult to grow up poor in a country that is filled with so much wealth, and the superficial, false appearance of success. I remember a time when I was in Junior High School, and a group of girls were standing by me talking about how they saw Mercury’s family paying for their groceries with Food Stamps. They said it loud enough in the commons area, so that all of the other students there could hear what was being said as well. Incidents such as this one has stayed with me through my adulthood.

I go from dead end job to dead end job. This type of employment has left me feeling dead inside. It takes my hope away for my future when I cannot earn a livable wage after working so hard. So, I do not know what is worse, “Selling your Spirit, or Selling your Soul.” I believe that they are both equal in the debt that you must repay back to yourself. When I was younger I thought about Heaven as being that thing in the sky, and Hell as that thing someplace far below me. Now, through time and age, I see Hell as being this life, this existence. There is no distribution of suffering; The ones who speak of their journey in life are the ones who do not have to step on broken glass to get through it! To me, God’s timing seems a bit off.

My plan is to drive for ‘The Escargot Agency’ only temporarily until something better comes along. Philadelphia is a really tough place to live when you are down and out on your luck. Once someone out here said to me, that I was not in Kansas any longer. But what I prefer to say is that people do not stab you in the back here they first stab you in the front, and then wait for you to pull the knife out of your chest before they come back for more. I am making a mental note to give Jessica a call in the next day, or two to drive for her.

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