lykomancer: (This moment is...)
No, that's not true. I just wanted to quote Stuart Davis.

I didn't think there was any way I'd be able to get to sleep last night so early (early = 1am ish), since I was well on my way to being nocturnal and had grabbed a restless three hours after church yesterday, but appearantly I was more tired than I thought I was. I was able to pass out even through my roommates talking and doing stuff, the hall light being on, and Destruct-O-Matic digging through his food dish in an orgy of weasely pleasure.

So I got to meet Tom's boyfriend.
*rolling laughing*
The man's a few fortune cookies short of a Chinese buffet, if ya follow me. This isn't a problem, per say, it's just that he's...loud about it, open, talkative. Egomanical in a friendly way. He wants to tell you about everything he knows and can do and so on.
I only talked with him for about twenty minutes-- mmm, maybe a bit more-- and let's see... he says he's fluent in fifteen languages (though whether this includes or discludes the twelve dialects of Japanese he speaks, I'm not sure) and that he once chopped off a mugger's leg with a 400 pound sword; periodically spoke to the cat (Akuma) in this weird, Slavic-sounding language, "telling" him stuff; informed me that Akuma was more intelligent than me; and told me that I was getting too much calcium in my diet and that it was going to result in pancreatic problems unless I balanced my diet.
I couldn't take it, so I returned to my room to role-play. Much saner.

I really need to do at least some of the reading for my American Religious Histories class. -_-;; And I have to remember that I'm presenting next week and get working on that appropriately. I missed all my classes last week but one. Bad Jess! Bad!
lykomancer: (My only hope lies in despair)
...I yelled at one of my roommates last night.
Not just yelled, but flat-out screamed and waved my hands and cried in frustration/discontent/upsetness/irritation for a full five to ten minutes.
I was so wound up and/or distracted for the rest of the night, the emotional pain of what I did didn't hit me until I tried to sleep, and then I laid there mentally smacking my stupid self upside the head, cussing myself out, and crying some more.
I had no right to do that. It wasn't fair; it wasn't mature; it wasn't responsible... It wasn't helpful. It was, in fact, very wrong of me to do. It didn't resolve anything or make anyone feel better. No matter how frustrated or irate or hurt I get, there is still no reason for me to lose my temper that completely with someone I love. I was a fucking jackass last night, and I should have known better. I should have acted better.
Damnit, I'm a better person than that most of the time!

I'm sorry; I'm so sorry.
So sorry.
If it's possible, I'll make it up to you, I swear.

In other, unrelated news, there's a rather giddy note from Tom on the 'fridge that makes me wonder if he's finally found someone masochistic enough to want to date, or something.
I wish that thought could make me feel happy; I mean, Tom's been single for a really long time now, and I think he does deserve a chance with someone... But really, all I feel is vaguely annoyed and jealous at the idea.

Yeah, I'm acting my age, aren't I? [/sarcasm]
God, when the fuck do I get to stop being so goddamn dumb all the time? Soon, right? Please?
lykomancer: (Default)
Ok, so yesterday didn't go exactly as I planned.

I'm getting really frustrated at everyone. I'm the one in the house who is having the least amount of problems with Derek-- the day after Christmas fight aside-- and yet I'm really getting the message that I should be the one to handle him and the problems he's causing everyone else.

Ok, on one hand, yeah, as the calmest, most rationally sane person in the house and as a good friend who cares compassionate for my other housemates, I probably should be the one to deal with the mess.
On the other hand, I'm not the one having the majority of the problems, and my housemates are (supposedly) adults. They should take care of their own problems. It is not responsibility to look after them.

Wendy won't say much to Derek's face, and when she does, she seems to do it with the deliberately childish impetus to annoy him as much as he's annoying her-- whining, snapping, muttering.

Tom's run away from the whole situation, and called me yesterday with what seemed like the sole intent of asking me if I'd thrown Derek out yet. Tom will not confront Derek, makes absolutely no effort to do anything besides freak out, break down, and hide other places, and throws the entire burden on me and Wendy-- which, in reality, means me.
And I can't do anything because I have no idea what Tom's real problem is. Tom's freaking out even when Derek isn't doing anything and is leaving him entirely alone. I've never seen anyone so completely cowed by someone else for what seems like no apparent reason, and I don't know what to do about it. Everytime I ask Tom, he's just like, "I can't live with him! I can't stand being in the same house as him! I just can't do it!" which leaves me with no clear answers as to what the real problem is and suggests that Tom isn't even willing to try, which annoys the hell out of me. Tom's also said things about Derek reminding him of his mother, and about the problems of two bipolars living in the same house together, and I can understand all that when Derek is acting up...but not when Tom's breaking down and Derek isn't even there.
To be honest... *sigh* ...and this sounds harsh, it's seems like Tom's completely losing his mind. Literally.
I can't get anything out of him except fear and anxiety. He won't-- can't--- listen to anything besides his own terror, and I don't know what he's even really afraid of. The worst Derek can do is scream at us, maybe try to beat us up, but there's three of us in the house, there's three phones in the house (and it's easy enough to dial 911), and honestly, I don't think it would even go that far provided Derek was sober. And if he did start screaming at us or getting violent again, his ass would be grass in no time flat and then Tom wouldn't have to worry anymore.
And I understand that the mechanics of fear are such that reason itself isn't reasonable, and that it's easy to get trapped into a cycle of victimization because even the prospect of getting screamed at is terrifying...but I don't know what else to tell him or do for him. Again, it's harsh, but I wish Tom would make more of an attempt to be strong. He can't keep breaking down every time he runs into an obstacle; he can't keep running away from people like his mother and Derek-- if there's a cosmic lesson here, it's that he needs to learn how to deal with this kind of stuff and free himself from this cycle.

I really don't like being the most not-crazy person I'm living with.

Annie, Marybeth, Angela, et al. call me if you still have my number. I'm anxious to talk to other (relatively sane) people.
(Oh, and Marybeth, I did get your Christmas present, love! In all the lunacy I've been forgetting to mention that and give you a big thankies hug and kiss! Thank you!)
lykomancer: (Default)
Updated/revamped my Christmas wishlist thingie, and corrected my snail-mail so that it is my new address.

Almost finished with my annotated bibliography, thank God. I just need one more resource article and a book review for one of the books I've already used, and then I need to finish writing up my annotations.

Looking up shonen-ai fanfics at school when I should be doing something much more valid with my time. (Man, I realize suddenly, almost desperately, how much I miss good smutty slash fanficcage. I can't wait to get internet hook-up at our new apartment... maybe then I'll start writing good smutty slash fanficcage of my own again, then. I've got a listing of pairings I'm, yep, just crazy enough to soon as I can sit someplace private with a big ol' bottle of schnappes until 3 AM, giggling as I try to fit in that one adjective that makes everyone go, "Oh!" or "Eek!" ^_~ The world needs more good slash/shonen-ai. I was made to fill this niche. Maybe that's what I'll sit down and do on Christmas day.)

My new roommates are taking a while to get out here because of financial problems, and Tom and I have spent the last two nights running boxes of stuff we know for certain that we don't need over to the new place. It's kind of frustrating, because I look at my small collection of stuff and think how easy and fast it would be to move me in almost completely-- except for my desk, and the few pieces of furniture I need, like a dresser and a futon-- and then I see how slow and long it's probably actually going to take.
I'm so excited to have more space so I stop feeling like Tom's hovering over me all the freakin' time ('cause he tends to stand in the kitchen-- staring, incidentally, at my couch-- or play with the cat-- who, incidentally, spends a lot of her time on- where else?- the back of my couch). It will be nice to be able to lock Baka out of my room, so that everything I own isn't covered in cat hair. I'm so excited to have a door. (Actually, I have two.) And a closet.
Life is good when you have a closet.

I'm still a little worried about money, but I figure the only things I'm letting myself spend on besides bills-- after sending a big-ass check off to Jenny-- is a monthly allowance of 30-40$ at the beginning of the month. I'm trying to remember everything so that I can work out a real, tight budget.
(Hmm... RoadRunner Premium internet includes multiple connections and networking, which is good considering at least two computers are going to be hooked up, and the listed price is 85$, but is that per month? I guess it must be... Well, if we divide that out through three people, that's not that bad...)

I think I'm going to work on that now.
lykomancer: (Default)
But I'm not. I'm wasting time until I get to sing for chapel.
Go me, go!

(I'm gonna do my research after chapel, ok? I'm not being a complete loser.)

Man, so far all the research that I have done just makes me feel terrible and wish that a)free-range organic meat wasn't so damned expensive, b)I had the time, money, and location to hunt my food, or c)I had the balls to go vegetarian (which I probably would consider more if meat-substitute stuff wasn't so expensive). It's really not the concept of meat that I have a problem with-- things die, I eat them-- it's the practice of industrial ranching. *sigh*

I don't think Tom and I are communicating well.
We were walking about moving out of this apartment and into the new one, and I'm like, "OK, we rent a U-Haul, throw everything in it, and we can be completely moved in a day!"
And Tom went, "Well, we can move into the new place whenever we want-- since we have the keys now-- but since we also have this apartment for the entire month of December, we can move slowly, piece by piece, until classes are over."
Me: "But... how are we going to move things piece by piece if we don't have say, a truck? We can't move the furniture in a car, Tom, and I don't see the sense in renting a U-Haul more than once, considering the price."
Tom: "...oh, yeah. I suppose I didn't think of that."
But then a little while later, I heard him on the phone with someone saying that "we're planning on taking our know, moving slowly since there's no reason to rush."
*smashes head into wall*
I told him and told him that I hate living in transition, that I just want to get this done and over with as soon and as quickly as possible. His response to this is to suggest that "one of us can stay at this old apartment, to guard our stuff while we move slowly."
No, Tom, I don't think you get it. I WANT TO GET THIS OVER WITH QUICKLY AND SOON. (God, Tom's actually acting like a sterotypical man; who'd've thunk it?)
Also, if one person stays behind at the old place for a month, while everyone else is living together in the new, it seems to me that there is a chance for the three to form a little triumvirate, and accidentally "exclude" the fourth who joins later. (You know what I mean?)

I should probably go sing now.

Oh, yeah... randomness:
You are pansexual.

What is your sexual orientation?
brought to you by Quizilla
lykomancer: (Default)

I was feeling reflective last night, talking with Tom about how I feel that, while my personality was great and helpful and useful at Northland, I don't feel that I'm the right kind of person to function in the Real World. I just feel...wrong...somehow, like an incorrectly-sized cog in a machine, grinding down into powder. My persona is too... well, too something (real, maybe)... to mesh well with common society, and I'm not interested in changing to suite the world; I don't feel that I should have to.

Tom kinda followed me, but I lost him again when I said that I thought maybe the problem lies in the fact that I have no "feminine mystery." He really didn't get that, so stumbled around for a while trying to explain.
I said, "You know that commercial that's been playing on the radio, like, every five minutes, about the 60 mile breast cancer run? It starts out with a guy saying that his wife is the most beautiful person in the world, right? ...I can't imagine anyone saying that about me (and not just because I doubt I'll ever get married). I'm not-- as the standards of the world would have it-- a beautiful person, especially once you get to know me. I'm not kind, gentle, or sensitive; I speak my mind, sometimes sarcastically, sometimes causticly; I cuss; I'm aggressive and confrontational; I snap and shout and rave and get so angry I cry and kick things. I nag and bitch, and my-oh-my, no one likes a nagging bitchy woman. I want things to be my way."
He still didn't get it.
So I tried the word "charming."
As in, "You know, women (and by this I mean "nice date-worthy girls" as opposed to " taken-em-home-and-screw-em sluts") are expected to be charming and gracious. It's an old-fashioned concept, but in some ways it's still in effect. Women are supposed to look nice and be nice and defer to others, care about when everyone else thinks and says, be reluctant to speak of themselves, and refuse to speak forcefully at all. And I just don't honor that."
Tom still doesn't get it, but I moved on.

And asked him what constituted a successful life.
Tom feels that if you find your vocation, what you are meant to do, and through that, if you manage to change even one other person's life for the better, you have lived successfully.
I'm not sure what I am meant to be doing; by Tom's standard, my life is unsuccessful thus far.

And for the sake of curiosity, I'm throwing the question out to y'all:
What do you think constitutes a a successful life?
Because I realize that I myself have no idea how to define success.
lykomancer: (hurt)
I am currently enjoying the the feeling of my brain trying to forcefully escape through my eyes. I'm tired, sleepy, hungry, and I have two hours to go until my three hour long class.

I was scheduled to work this week forty hours-- yep, full time-- including working Thursday (which I requested off so that I had one guaranteed homework day), plus had a two-page paper to write and about four hundred pages of reading to do. I talked to my boss about Thursday, and all she was giving me was a "well, we'll have to work something out."
I worked from one until 8 yesterday, and that means I needed Tom to pick me up, as the bus doesn't run after 7. I also found out that Sheri left me a note asking if I could come in at 8:30 today instead of 10 like I was scheduled. Now, I already knew Tom was going to be late, but he ended up running later than he expected and didn't show up until ten after nine. So, I was sitting outside, freezing cold, thinking about all my homework, and knowing that I had to be back at work in twelve hours for roughly forty-five minutes.
I yelled at Tom in the car, and when we got home it was pretty quiet until I got out of the shower and threw myself on my couch and Tom tried to explain why he was late.
And I started fucking crying.
No, not frustrated crying, not I'm upset stuff, but real barking, gasping sobs. And I start in on Tom. About how the garbage needs to be taken out and he won't goddamm do it, and that he works so much less than me and he's only taking one more class that me (and yes, I know that one class means driving up to Ashland and everything that goes along with teaching), and how tired I am, and how I don't feel that it's fair that he sleeps in half-way through my work day and plays solitaire on the computer all night when I'm doing reading for class, and so on and so forth.

I don't think that got us anywhere.

First, he declared that he understood that "it's just the depression speaking," which would have pissed me off more if I hadn't been sobbing uncontrollably at that point. Second, he just kind of shrugged it off saying that he worked all during college, only ever failed one class, and that I just sat around and played then and that now he's decided to take it easy on himself and I've decided to go into overdrive. (This resulted in me shrieking at him that I don't want to have to push so hard, but I don't see any other way to make ends meet, and that I wanted a better job.)

I dunno, I'm still frustrated. I'm pretty sure this is a whopper of a tension headache, and as soon as I disengage myself from the internet I'm hunting down some water and pills.

God, this fuckin' sucks.

Tommorrow, I have off. Tomorrow, I am GETTING SHIT DONE.
Tomorrow, I am taking back the twenty-three library books I have out, hitting up Nicolet Ave for Jenny (I have a few things to send up with Tom, too... not sure it they are anything you want in particular, but I figure you can figure out something to do with 'em), maybe getting a badly needed haircut, doing all my reading for Thursday's class.

I feel terrible. Doesn't it ever stop?
lykomancer: (angry)
Tom, Tom, Tom.

He drives me nuts. Some days I wish I could throttle him.
It's more than the fact that he giggles like an unhinged lunatic, squeals like an anime fangirl on speed, occasionally and unexpectedly grabs my breasts, and sometimes has absolutely no sense of personal boundries-- physical, mental, or emotional (i.e. he just doesn't know when enough is enough!).

It's more than the fact that he never does the dishes spontaneously, or takes out the trash, or cleans any part of the house at all without me nagging.

It's more than the fact that he's so not-together, constantly losing things, misplacing items, forgetting events, and not sure if he even took his medication on any given day.

It isn't even the fact that his driving scares the hell out of me, or that he takes hour-long showers (what in the name of God does he DO in there?), or the fact that he whines every time he has to get up any earlier than 11 when I am usually at work at 8.

It's just plain and simple that I see Tom living an unsustainable lifestyle. He's got to weight over 300 pounds, but he won't cut the oil and butter and chocolate out of his diet; he won't but a bottle of water when he's dehydrated instead of a bottle of soda. He won't even reduce the amount of salt he eats. His shrink said that he could probably go off of his mood stabilizer if he would only lower his sugar intake and stop all caffeine-- simple enough instructions when your mental health (and wallet) is at stake! But he won't. He simply refused.
While giggling.

This is particularly frustrating when I know that most of his other health problems are weight-related-- his arthritis: no kidding he's got arthritis, he's carrying twice the weight he should; his irritable bowel syndrome which he claims will act up if he eats anything remotely healthy, such as salad, but doesn't bother his at all after a greasy-spoon style breakfast because he's "trained" it that way; his poor immune system, which can't function at it's peak when the rest of his body is straining; his insomnia, which troubles obese people more than moderately heavy people... This is a mix of common sense and basic biology-- you know, what Tom minored in college?

I'm not saying that I'm in perfect health, and God knows that I could afford to drop some pounds; HOWEVER. I don't breathe like I just finished a quarter-mile race all of the time, I can walk miles without feeling tired, and 70 degrees with no humidity does not feel unbearably hot to me.

But it's not just his eating habits and completely lack of exercise (the most of which he gets is walking from his car to the apartment), it's also the fact that he's living almost completely off his student loans. LOANS. Loans need to be paid back at some later point, but he doesn't seem to be at all worried about that future point in time. He doesn't even consider working more hours and cutting back on his loans (or saving them for a real emergency, such as the dental surgery he needed in August), which is disturbing to me. He keeps claiming that he's too busy to work more, but some simple calculations revealed that work, sleep, school, homework, travel-time, etc, bite a humongously larger chunk out of my week then they do his, and I'm doing fine. He's got, according to my calculations, almost three full days of spare time once everything else I could think of was factored out.

He drives me crazy because he will not take any (even simple, baby steps) toward fixing any of his problems. He will not keep a written monthly budget (like I've started doing) to figure out where his money's going; he will not write down a time schedule or even a list of daily things to do to help manage his time; he doesn't seem to think there's anything wrong with his weight, much less think of doing anything about it; he won't go out and hang out or try to make friends or join clubs, organizations, or groups to meet new people even though he claims he's so lonely and wants a boyfriend (interestingly, and strangely, he praises me to high heaven whenever I go out and join something or attend an event as though I'm the one that doesn't get out of the house enough).


By the way, if anyone cares, I am currently simultaneously bitching about Tom, and looking up dirty doujinshi on the seminary computers.
Yeah, I rock.

Heh, I was window shopping dvds in Target yesterday, and I realized they had an anime section. Idly looking over the racks, not really compelled to buy anything for such outrageous prices, I saw that they had the first Hellsing dvd for twenty bucks. And I laughed, came up here to school, downloaded the right codecs, and went home and watched an episode.

Geez, I love you guys.

By the way, Jen, that "Rose in the Wind" Inuyasha amv is really good, and the song is sublime! I have it running through my head almost contantly.

I have the house to myself and that makes me a very happy puppy.
lykomancer: (Happy)
Feelin' pretty good. Day off; headin' to the library (with the specific intent of picking up a very smutty sounding novel called The Darker Passions: Dracula. MMmm, published smut. I hope to never again be able to watch Hellsing without giggling). Mmm, library. I love the library.
[EDIT: They didn't have it. Disappointing, but understandable.
I got 22 other books instead, gloriously hogging the express checkout counter.

Worked things here at United, and Lo and Behold! I might be accepted as a full-time student with financial aid and everything by mid-September! YIPPEE! All I need is the two letters of recommendation from Carol Shaddy and David Saetre (I've already emailed them about it) and my transcripts, which I can get now because Judith gave me the money to pay back Northland. Provided I get those three things, pass an interview and writing sample (oh, yeah, that's gonna be hard!), and take one more class...I'M IN!
*pant, pant, pant*

[egomaniac hour]
[end egomaniac hour]

*looks around suspiciously*
It's too good. I keep waiting for something to go horribly, terribly wrong. ~knock on wood, cross fingers, pray~

I've also got bitten by the writing bug again, and have written another six pages on Blessed Be. It looks as though it might be a real novel... however, I wonder if it works out well in text, considering that it was originally slated as in comic-style. I keep feeling like all I'm doing is describing the action panel-by-panel, page-by-page instead of writing a real story. I could have this impressing because of the dialog-heaviness of the story thus far though.
I'm having problems controlling Gabriel...she desperately, desperately wants to have sex with the Devil, and she's not supposed to want that. I plotted her to have a thing for the Antichrist, but she's extremely resistant to that idea and quite unimpressed with Lucas. *sigh* Unruly wolfling. Bad dog, bad.

Tom continues to drive me crazy, in all the little ways. He waits until the sink is so full as to be unusable to do the dishes, and then it takes him two days to get them all done; he never takes out the trash; he keeps assuming he's told me stuff that he hasn't, and insists that he has even when I've proven he hasn't; he stands around and stares at things; he gets in the way.
When Tom's around, even making a cup of tea can be work.
I like Tom...I just can't wait until I'm not living with him anymore.

I got to go driving the other night. Scary for Tom, fun for me. I like driving Marybeth's car in the dark down windy roads! Heh.

Angela, I need your address before I can mail you anything! Call me or email me.
Marybeth or Annie: when are you guys coming back to pick up Hotseat and your stuff? Neither Tom nor I can remember if you told either of us...)
lykomancer: (Default)
So Tom and I went and blew my entire paycheck on groceries the other day, and now we have things like pickles and hummus and ground beef, and life is good. (I refuse to feel bad about spending money on FOOD. Refuse.)
I don't know if it's the better nutrition, or the pleasently cool weather or what, but I've been out jogging for about twenty minutes for the last two nights. I head down to the park that's just a block or so down the road and run on the series of trails winding through it, glancing up at the moon and wondering if I should feel nervous about being by myself in the dark this close to a city. It feels good, but now after two nights of it, I'm starting to get sore. Stupid body.

I called Tom's clinic this morning and am now on their waitlist of six to eight weeks, and I called Judith (Scoville) and asked her if she couldn't help me work out a better budget or something. I have an interview with Person to Person tomorrow afternoon about doing adult GED tutoring, and then I have to bust ass over to Judith's. I also got an email back from Scout (of Manitou Mischief Rattery), and might be picking up three girls from her on Friday.

I keep trying to get in touch with a friend from high school-- Jeremy Fisher-- but he works nights and I work mornings, and when in the afternoon we both might be free, Tom has the phone with him on the Crazy Farm (at work). *sigh* Well, I'll keep trying.

I don't think there's much else to report. *ponders*

Oh! I made some collages that I might be mailing as rather demented letters as soon as I get stamps. I don't know what got into... yes, I do. Two pots of coffee had gotten into me. I blame the kohii-youkai for any mad mail you guys may get.

lykomancer: (Default)
I went home yesterday and proceeded to write until I couldn't think of anything else to say. Here's the results.

Ranting, raving, and foaming at the mouth )

She works hard for the money... )

Blurb )

On the beast within )

And yeah, I feel better today and the weather is gorgeous, I get paid tomorrow and we can go grocery shopping, and for now, once more, the world seems an ok place. My demons have be appeased by the offering of words and tears, and have quietly retreated. That's good enough for now, although I am already thinking about how to shut them up for good.
Right. I'm off to go online rat shopping.
lykomancer: (Default)
I am suddenly remembering why I've been using the seminary library instead of coming here to use the computer.
1) The seminary is free.
2) The 'puters aren't Macs
3) The 'puters have working keyboards.


Got out of work early; they didn't need me to stay for my last hour. On one hand, I'm glad to be out of there. One the other hand, I desperately need the money.

Goddamm money. I hate it lots.

I bought a cd the other day, and am hiding the fat from Tom. I'm OK with this. I desperately wanted something new to listen to.

I have nicknamed Tom "captian Obvious".
Sometimes I use it patiently, as in yes, captain, I know that already. Sometimes I use it playfully. And sometimes I use it cause he's driving me buggy.
Like last night.
Because the bus doesn't run on Sunday and is limited on Saturday, he knows that he has to take me to work and pik me up most of the time. When I pointed out to him last night-- after listening to him bitch about needing to be working for one of his clients by 11-- that I needed to be at work by 8, he responded with, "Icky."
"Yes, I know. I'm the one who atually needs to be working then." Eaggerated patience.
And he wandered around repeating, "Icky," for like, 5 minutes, while I dreamt of shouting obsenities at him.
I have to be at work everyday I work at 8 or 8:30. I fucking know that getting up earliy sucks, thank you. You don't need to repeat it over and over like a five-year old on an annoy-mommy kick.

I feel bad. When Annie and Marybeth were here, I spent a lot of time bitching about Tom, and how he's always sick, he doesn't do the dishes, he doesn't take the trash out, he seems incapable of balaning his bank account, he annoys me simply because it amuses him, he's slow to react to things (which is terrifying in the car) and he doesn't seem to think or do as muh as he should (I multitask, Tom sometimes seems to struggle to unitask).
And after all that, I don't feel any better. Usually getting it out helps... this just makes me seem to notie it more.

I need to get my bus.
I might make some phone alls tonight.v
lykomancer: (Default)
So, me and Tom are poor. Dirt-ass, rolling pennies for gas money, can't-afford-Ramen poor.

Lemme explain in detail:
Tom just got his (monthly) check from work for a little over 800$.
Faboo, ne? No.
Tom calculated it out before he cashed it, that with this money he could pay all of his bills (and none that are exculsively mine, such as paying off Northland and so on) and there would be 10$ left over for groceries until next month. Ten bucks won't even get you a month's worth of Ramen for two people.
Furthermore, when he deposited the check, he found out that he was so overdrawn that we actually only have about 750$ of that money... leaving us about 60$ in the hole if he pays all his bills.

I ran out of money yesterday-- completely. I have 1.75$ in my checking account. I still haven't gotten my damned check for 75-100$ from the DNC, and I don't know when I'll get paid for my current job with Citizen Action. (And I don't know how long I will even have this job with CA; their quota is 270$, and I need to make this once in my first four days, four times out of my first eight days, and maintain it as an average every week...else I get fired.)


On the up side, I have an interview with Rainbow Foods tomorrow for either a part-time cashier job or else one working in bakery. (I'd rather be in the bakery.) That would be spiffy: a job where, after they decide to hire and train you, you don't have to jump through any more hoops to keep the job.

God, I hate being poor. I don't care if struggles do make you a better, stronger person. I just want to be able to afford sake and ice cream and a new pair of headphones and Catholicism for Dummies and pay the fee to become an ESL tutor. I want to not have to worry about being able to afford to catch the bus to work or books for school.

Tom says that we are going to be taking a "sanity vacation" up to Ashland the last weekend of the month (30th-1st). I expect to go swimming in Lake Superior (peferably naked); sunbathe on beach or on a nice soft strip of grass; hang out with people who watch too much anime, cuss too much, snuggle and give kisses, and who love me; and I expect that someone would like to buy me a drink or two at the Deepwater (please).

Silly Shipping Survey I Stole from Sailor Ptah )

Yeah. My job with Citizen Action isn't too bad. We start at 4 and end at 8:30, and I'm only on the phone for three hours or so of that time. (However, with the bus schedules being the way they are, this cushy little four-&-a-half hour job ends up totalling more like seven or eight hours once travel time is included...I didn't get home until 11 last night.) I call people up, give 'em the rap, and they pledge money, and that's it. Most people aren't home, so a good portion of my time is listening to the phone ring and then hanging up, and dialing a new number. Although everything seems pretty quick, it can take up to twenty minutes or so, so once I get someone on the line, it goes pretty fast. Last night I made 205$-- damn near quota on my first night, which everyone was really impressed with. At that rate, I should be able to make quota tonight. And each night of training is 36$ or so.

Right. I should run.
lykomancer: (Default)
So, I have taken the bus into downtown Minneapolis and back twice now, with moderate levels of success. I have done more walking than any sane person should do in three days, registered with a temp agency, submitted more applications, have an interview at caribou coffee on Thursday and one with PetsMart tomorrow. I have a few relevant bus schedules, a raging headache that the coffee isn't killing, and a semi-working computer in front of me. I've spent my free time looking through the classifieds, laughing at the personals, watching Gundam Wing with Tom, listening to Gackt at ear-shattering levels (if your guts aren't vibrating, it's not loud enough), and studying hiragana.

I'm making good progress with the hiragana learning, if not with the job search. I've started reading my Hellsing manga... really reading, not just skimming the pictures. I read, saying the sounds out loud and figuring out word-breaks, then look up the words. Hira-phonics works for me!
My handwriting is atrocious. Truly terrible. Even I can't tell the difference between my "ro" and "ru"; there's no way I could count on anyone else being able to read it.

I'm really hoping to get the job in caribou coffee; I think I could handle making lattes for the rich jerks who shop the Saks Fifth Avenue beside it for 6-8 hours a day. No problem there.
Or Borders, where I dropped off an application today. That'd fuckin' rock! I'd get so many miles out of my employee discount...
I've even collected... *cough*... adult ads, just in case. Hell, for $80 an hour I'll do damn near anything you want. Yeah, even that. ^_^;;
The temp agency all but told me that I'm incompetent. *sigh* My typing speed, or rather, my copying speed, is ridiulously low; my math skills are poor; I am also, apperantly, not very well aquainted with Word, either, despite using it almost every day for the past three or more years. Add in the fact that my resume is on disk and I don't have access to a computer to get it online... *smashes head into wall*

I need to pick up a nice button-down shirt and maybe another pair of slacks, not to mention a good pair of black work shoes. I really don't have "professional" looking clothing... especially not comfortable professional clothes. Time to hit Target, and spend as little money as humanly possible.

On the up-side, maybe tonight I'll call David and just chill with him (if possible) tomorrow. My fucking head hurts for nearly constant dehydration (yes, I am drinking lots of water!), and I'm getting really tired of being off on my own all day in a strange place. It'd be nice to spend more time with people... particularly if they can help me out.

Tom's about as helpful as a heartattack most of the time: he works most of the day; he doesn't know the bus schedules; he doesn't know where the temp agencies are; his phone has a limited number of minutes... Almost everything I've been doing, I've been learning from scratch. Go me. I'm like, god, or something.

AHA! That's the song I was looking for!
Looking up lyrics for a song in another language for which you do not know the title can be tricky... however, I have listened to the song so damn much it just was a matter of clicking through the listing for the right album.
"Fragrance" by Gackt, on the "Moon" album... You wanna see Jess melt into a puddle of daffily smiling idiocy? Play that song real loud. I drop everything just to listen, a pole-axed expression on my face. (Or I writhe on the floor/couch as though in extreme pain / pleasure) I gotta look absolutely retarded.
It's so freakin' hot. Haaaawwwtt... Oh m'God. It drives me to distraction.
Mmmm... Gackt = tasty-yummy-good.

Speaking of that-- heh-- I would like to point out that Dinkytown, the area near the UMN, is full of yummy Asian boys. Fabulouso. I mean, I was minding my business, waiting for Tom in a coffeeshop, and this guy sat down in the booth opposite me and I couldn't help it-- I just stared. For about an hour. Very tasty.
Tom wasn't sure of its gender, but I was, and I liked it a lot.
Note to self: must spend more time in Dinkytown.

I also found a shop down there (in Dinkytown) that I can't wait to go gift-shopping in once I can afford it. It was a very Angela store. ^_^ (Though I saw a few things there that a number of other people would like.)

One of these days I'll get down to the Mall of America or seriously set out to explore the Nicolette Mall without the distractions of time or looking for work.

Right. Well, I think that's everything for now. I may be making some phone calls home later this week, just so that I can actually talk to people. Depends on how generous Tom is feeling about the phone.
lykomancer: (Default)
Ok, bak to the mostly funtioning keyboard.

Good news and bad.

Bad: The seminary annot aept me at all without my official transripts. Tom is seriously considering offering up his car as collateral in order for my to take out a short-term loan. I don't want to, but will probably have to.

Good: I'm doing ok, still.
I put in the Tea Shoppe appliation, and now have a few more for various plaes within walking distane of this cafe and home. (Target were bastards! They had me fill out this omputer-online-appliation-thing whih was a bitch and a half, and then kept me waiting for over an hour for a interview before I finally walked out. Maybe I'll try again net week if I really need to.)
I will be looking up the metro bus shedual in a few moments so that I an do better tomorrow and net week.
EDIT: Oh, my GOD. Publi transportation shedualing might kill me. This is insane...
Tom's lesbian friends are very sweet, friendly, and normal (one is like an older version of me), and the apartment is mostly leaned. (I almost threw up while leaning the bathroom this morning... it was *that* bad.)
And I think I love Gackt a lot. I need to take up stalking as a profession.

I have taken up the high-affine diet. Sine my last dinner in Ashland of hinese food, I have eaten 3/4 a bag of baby arrots, a handful of vanilla reme wafers, an onion bagel, half of Envy (^_^;;), and a up of pasta shells. In the same time period, I have drank like, si ups of offee.
The offee motivated me to move in/rearrange/leane the apartment, walk about two miles, and still be restless. However, I think it's time to visit the sushi plae that's at the end of the blok from the apartment. I know I don't usually eat a lot, but this isn't right.

I have Tom's keys and I still have about two miles to walk before I get home. I should prolly run.
lykomancer: (Default)
Sitting around the seminary library, waiting for Tom to get out of class. (Eee... an extremely in-depth look at the Biblical book of Numbers does not sound like a fun class to sit-in on!) Kinda worried about Angela, considering her last journal entry and the fact that there's been nothing posted since then (Angela-chan, if you're reading this, please email me or something...just don't be dead or anything, for the lovagod.) Reading about the hoops you have to jump through to be ordained as a UU minister, and occasionally amused by the curriculum here: thinking about taking a class named "Worship" cracks me up every time.

I have some tasty loose-leaf white-tip oolong tea and some tastes-almost-but-not-quite-like-coughdrops Herb Grass candy, both of which I picked up at a Oriental food store in downtown Minneapolis. Still looking for some sake and trying to get Tom to take me to a comic book store, so I might have more goodies to share by the time you next hear from me.

The grass is green, the dandelions are blooming, and it's Earth Day. (Which I totally forgot about until the cafe put out little cards celebrating it-- I'm a bad Northlander, forgetting about our "official" campus holiday like that.)

No one else is in here, so I don't feel bad monopolizing the computers, especially when I've been writing the whole time. First my vocational statement, and now this.

Wow...the UU's demand a high level of competence in their ministers! I suppose it's not unreasonable, but I just didn't expect the Unitarians to demand that their ministers were competent in Hebrew (among other things, including Anti-Racism and and Multi-Culturalism, pastoral care, worship, music, and preaching)!
Hmmmm... looking at this, I realize that if-- and oh, it's a big IF!-- I ever want to be ordained, I pretty much have to begin planning now, and that I will need to take classes at another school in order to cover some of these requirements laid out by the UUA. Damn.

Righty-O. I've still got another hour forty-five to wait, but I think I'm going to go pillage the library now.


lykomancer: (Default)

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