Every time I finish a check book, my heart sinks slightly. The one I'm currently closing spans from June 2010 to June 2012. When I die, if someone finds all of the carbon stubs, what will they see about the years I spent pretending I was an adult?
Well, they'll see in 2010 I had a lot of money. I mean a lot of money. My first two rent checks were $1,650 and $900. This, I can conclude was the last bit of money remaining from student loans. Those two checks were written to Stan White Realty, which was the summer we lived in Manteo. I went to California, the house I shared with three other people (one was my sister) had a second floor deck that allowed you to climb the roof. We drank, we went to Single's Nights, we had dance parties, we made incredible friends. It was one of the greatest summers to date.
The next few rent checks are to the alcoholic roommate when my sister and I (a year later) survived the hell that is bedbugs. There is a check where I paid a $10 shipping fee so James Frey could sign my copy of My Friend Leonard. Then, September 2011, the checks were written, the beginning of the end in North Carolina.
Then the checks pick up to the craphole in Maine, where you can clearly see I was struggling financially. $114 here, $185 there. Rent was supposed to be paid on the.first, $400. Most checks are dated 2/23, 3/28, etc.
There are checks made out to writing competitions, to friends who shipped materials out when I had no printer, and collections agencies from my knee surgery in November.
The very last check in the book was written to my current landlord. It is a place of safety (currently), my very first apartment without roommates, with my dog. It's labeled as July Rent.
My check books, like all novel books, tell a story. To me, I read memories from happy times, bitter times, and better times. As long as the checks keep being written there is hope, and these carbon copies I'll keep to remind me what and where I came from.
Well, they'll see in 2010 I had a lot of money. I mean a lot of money. My first two rent checks were $1,650 and $900. This, I can conclude was the last bit of money remaining from student loans. Those two checks were written to Stan White Realty, which was the summer we lived in Manteo. I went to California, the house I shared with three other people (one was my sister) had a second floor deck that allowed you to climb the roof. We drank, we went to Single's Nights, we had dance parties, we made incredible friends. It was one of the greatest summers to date.
The next few rent checks are to the alcoholic roommate when my sister and I (a year later) survived the hell that is bedbugs. There is a check where I paid a $10 shipping fee so James Frey could sign my copy of My Friend Leonard. Then, September 2011, the checks were written, the beginning of the end in North Carolina.
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| Saying goodbye to my check book. Yes, those are comics underneath :) |
There are checks made out to writing competitions, to friends who shipped materials out when I had no printer, and collections agencies from my knee surgery in November.
The very last check in the book was written to my current landlord. It is a place of safety (currently), my very first apartment without roommates, with my dog. It's labeled as July Rent.
My check books, like all novel books, tell a story. To me, I read memories from happy times, bitter times, and better times. As long as the checks keep being written there is hope, and these carbon copies I'll keep to remind me what and where I came from.
Ah yes, I know these feelings well. That is a really interesting take on our lives though--telling the story of a life by using a checkbook. Might make a good book!
ReplyDeleteThat would make a really cool book!
DeleteI love this! Our checkbooks tell a story. How true! :)
ReplyDeleteThanks! I felt inspired :)
DeleteBedbugs. Ewww. I know I'm supposed to take more away from this post than that, but it stuck!
ReplyDeleteJust think. In another thirty years, you can pull out your old checkbooks and say to the young'uns. "In my day, we didn't use our fingertip to pay for everything. We had to get out a pen and actually write on a piece of paper."
How dreadful. :)
Yea, no. Bedbugs are no joke. If you ever get them, burn your house down. Not. Kidding. It was horrible.
DeleteHahaha, if I make it thirty years. I'm pretty accident prone :)
I read about some of your past housing experiences. How grueling. I'm so sorry this happened to you, but on the bright side you can write about these life experiences.
ReplyDeleteI also look back when I finish a checkbook. Our lives and expenses change so much within a few years.
I love the fact that a check book, to me, is another form of a journal. You brought this to life. It tells a lot about what is going on in one's life. Keep up the writing.
ReplyDelete