Last month a scenario that I knew was coming had finally arrived: My student loan payments were now more than my rent.
Unlike my behavior earlier in the year when I was first alerted that I would be abruptly making payments the size of mortgages in the South, I did not spazz out completely. I didn’t even curse as much as those who know me best would have expected me to. Don’t get me wrong, this shit still sucks. It also still feels like another distraction that prevents me from fully focusing on the work that would get me to the place where these sort of things will no longer bear that great a burden on me anymore.
I know that in the end, it is up to me that to achieve my dreams. I realize that sleep is a luxury people with my levels of ambition can’t always afford to enjoy. And yes, I know that I believe I can fly, that there ain’t no mountain high enough, and that age ain’t nothing but a number. Wait, I’m confused now.
Anyway, naturally with the higher the payment comes an even bigger workload and far more stress. I currently have some other really big burden on my back right now, but I won’t bother you with the details. I’ll be fine. I always will be.
I do want to say this, though: I’m still going to end up in the higher tax bracket that I belong in.
I hope it doesn’t take much longer, but it’s coming.
When that glorious day does come know that I’m going to shade the shit out of Sallie Mae, and more importantly act a true damn fool on that fucker of a financial institution, Citibank.
The week after my final check clears I am flying to South Dakota and staging a cut up of epic proportions outside of their corporate headquarters.
I’m going to show up dressed like a Saudi Royal and then proceed to stand on a crate with a megaphone and yell at those sum’bitches like a Black Israelite.
I’ll also have a BBQ pit out front and have random sympathizers join me in tossing ribs at the front door.
Later that day, I’m going to call out the big girl background dancers I hope will follow me around full-time in the future and hold a twirk off to Lil’ Wayne’s “Did It Before” and Beyoncé’s “Green Light.”
It won’t be all fun, though, because I’m going to curse and curse and curse.
Curse about how those assholes wouldn’t work with me despite my great efforts to be as responsible as possible. Curse about how flat out disrespectful they were to me at the beginning of the year. Curse about all of the people they’ve fucked over out of greed.
Oh and yes, I’ll curse myself out yet again for even turning to them to fund my education. But don’t trip: I’ll be directing much of my anger at their punk asses. Hopefully, I’ll have a camera crew there, too. I’d much rather show out with an audience.
If profanity offends you please skip the following sentence: I’m going to yell, “Fuck them! Fuck them! Fuck them! Drop dead, bitch ass Citbank! Fuck them!”
And then I’ll hit my dougie.
Don’t worry: I don’t want your sympathy, pity, or shade (some people are assholes, as evidenced by the piece I wrote about my plight for The Root in 2009). Just know that I’m going to pay it off and then I’m going to act a natural fool to spite these loan shark-like corporations.
Now as you were.
P.S. I’m going to start a scholarship fund, too. I have a heart.