Uber Driver Confessions

All of life is an experiment. The more experiments, the better -Ralph Waldo Emerson

My latest experiment, pausing 9-5, M-F work to complete my novel, has been interesting.  This was always my dream: to be a writer, to have a house with a porch, to spend all day on the porch sipping coffee and writing. Of course, dreams and real life are a bit different. The writer life looks more like wake up, drink coffee and contemplate life while scrolling through my phone, go for a run/walk because my body doesn’t like to run anymore without lots of breaks, feed dogs, do dishes, start laundry, write for two hours, Uber for 3-4 hours, write some more or cook dinner, relax with family.

It’s nice, but I’m on a timeline here so I need to be more focused. But also, I need to stop comparing my writer life to that made-up dream in my mind. Because the people in my life need to be brought to the DMV, I need to keep up on my own appointments, and my house (or maybe I) might implode if the dishes and laundry don’t stay clean. But every day I track my writing in word count. A good day yields 800 to 1,000 words, which is pretty steady and mathematically adequate; at this rate four months will result in 80,000 words, which is a nice length for a novel.

Then there is UberEATS. That is also a very steady operation. If you say yes to every trip, you slowly, $5 to $10 at a time, build a bank of money. It’s not enough, but for now, it will buy groceries, gas, and pay a few bills. We might be uber poor (see what I did there?) by January, but I am very thankful for this chance. The catalyst for all this was me quitting a job that wasn’t really working out. Maybe I’m not a M-F, 9-5 office-worker person. What I know to be true is that I didn’t feel like I could be myself there, and after leaving I feel lighter, happier, less angry and more relaxed. Therapy is also helping.

A note on anger: possibly I have been pushing it down my whole life and now the storage center of things that make me angry is overflowing; question: is this a thing that happens when one becomes a woman of a certain age? An example: I had an issue with the doctor at the breast health center, as follows: an ultrasound revealed that the lump I found on my breast that was painful and large enough to be annoying was “just full of harmless fluid, nothing to worry about.” Now there is a lot of cancer in my family, and I was a little bit like, “How do you know it’s harmless? Please take it out with your big extracty needle thingy.” This doctor was a bit surprised. Put out even. He said, with surprise and annoyance, “Oh, you want it removed?” My head sort of wanted to explode. I pictured punching him repeatedly. I wanted to say, “Imagine there is a ping-pong ball sized lump on your balls. You essentially have a third ball now. Would you want it to be removed?” This is the kind of anger I’m talking about. The kind that makes your whole body hot. And don’t say hot flash or I will punch. Could it be menopause? Maybe and fuck off. Okay, that’s all I’ll say about anger. But visualizing punching various people led me to therapy, which has been very helpful. Five stars. I highly recommend. Now I only want to punch maybe one person. So much improvement.

Anyway, what was I talking about? Uber. It’s actually mostly fun. I should say that I am a perpetually lost person. And I don’t mean metaphorically. I mean, I can never fucking find a damn thing out in the real world. I GPS myself to coffee shops where the people inside know my order by heart. But still, I thought, “I bet I could Uber.” And it turns out I can. I have learned a few things Ubering (it’s a verb now at our house).

Lesson 1: Never miss an opportunity to go pee.  I don’t even know what else to say about this, but ya. I have actually refused trips because I can’t use the bathroom at the pick up spot. Crumbl Cookies, Crazy D’s Hot Chicken, and Nekter Juice Bar do not want this Uber driver to use the bathroom. No problem, but I’m just saying, there are times when that is not okay with me and no I don’t want to pick up there at this time. Also thank God for libraries. Charge your phone, pee, fill your water bottle, they don’t care.

Lesson 2: Stay calm. You missed the exit? There will be a next exit. You can’t find the apartment? Keep at it. It’s there. The important thing is this: don’t spill the drinks.

Okay, you know what, actually those are the only two things I know for sure right now. I will say that Ubering (verb, remember?) makes me feel connected to everything. Does everything in my life remind me of the song Guaranteed by Eddie Vedder? Yes, it does. Wind in my hair I feel part of everywhere. I really love driving around Reno/Sparks, and you know, people are very happy to see you when you have food for them. Or coffee. Overall, it’s a satisfying job. And who has a 95% satisfaction rate? This girl! I suspect that 5% was that one time I dropped a drink at the wrong apartment, but let’s not talk about that. I feel bad enough already. My therapist says I should try saying, “I love myself even though I (insert thing you fucked up here).” So…

I love myself even though I missed my exit.

I love myself even though I dropped the drink at the wrong apartment.

I love myself even though I don’t make very much money anymore.

I love myself even though I might have lost my shit at the assisted living facility because my mom was acting like a douche….. (perhaps that is a story for another day, because what am I? 12?….).

Okay, this post had no focus so let me tell you what I read recently that made me lose sleep because just…. one… more… chapter: The Sundown Motel by Simone St. James

I’m currently reading Many Lives, Many Masters, which is very interesting and kind of mind-blowing, if a thing like that can have a kind of.

Byeeeeee!