Premeditated Misconduct

If I knew how to quit without committing suicide, I would.

Then again, committing suicide would be far more pro-active of an action than I am capable of taking at this juncture in time. If I had that kind of resolve, I wouldn't be in this position.


( I'm sitting alone and crying into my coffee like a loser. )

Goodie, goodie! A day completely off, and after getting a great deal of sleep...
(random note: Just before I went to bed last night, I read devils_devotion's delicious fic, A Spoonful of Sugar, and I had this fucked-up dream about a bunch of talking ferrets in my room reading DemiDevi's fics, bouncing and warbling happily over them, and demanding to know why I wasn't writing more Roy/Ed. O_o!;;; My soul is possessed by talking yaoi-obsessed weasels...
Is anyone out there really surprised?)
...I woke up with the determination to get some stuff done today.

1. I went downtown and checked my bank balance. And then I checked it again. And then I talked to the people behind the counter. And then I heaved a huge sigh of relief. I had enough for rent, a new bus pass, and for that Tsuki's check wouldn't bounce, which covered all the really important shit for now. Score, score, fuckin' a-right score.
That's a huge burden off of me for right now.

2. I organized all my paperwork and assignments and stuff from school, tossing what I didn't need, and filing what I did want to keep away orderly. Unearthed next year's class registration form, the evaluation sheets I still need to fill out, and my New Testament final study guide. I looked over my long-neglected syllabi. Hey, lookie, lookie! My Spiritual Memoir final project is due tomorrow. *nervous laughter* It's a good thing I bullshit well, eh?

3. Straightened up my room and padded my bed more with the battered futon mattress Wendy doesn't need anymore since her boyfriend's mom gave her a real bed. ^_^ Sweeeeeeeeet.

4. Reread and edited all the role-play logs I had saved, figured out a timeline for at least what I have, and also realized a few things. XD
Mmmm... angst! It's what's for dinner.
One of my roommate's also found and DLed "Heartache Tonight" for me, scratching an itch for that song that I've had for a while; man, do the lyrics ever go nicely with the shit I've been rping lately, too! *giggles*

So, having done all of that, there are few things left that must get done, but that's not too bad.
I need to write more on Blessed Be for Memoir, and I should read the book we're supposed to discuss tomorrow in class, but that's it.
^_^
Happy day!

Things around here run on a wave.
They are down, down, down, then gradually pull up, up, up, and then sink back down, down, down. Lather, rinse, repeat ad nauseum.

When we have money, things are good.
As long as Jess doesn't fuck up, it's all fine.
Realistically, I wonder if it's related to the cycling hormones in the house.

Things don't center around me. I know that. But it certainly is far from helpful when I blow my top at something, or camp out in my room refusing to acknowledge anything outside of it, or when-- like now-- I've stretched my limit on my cash.

Sorry. I'm still a little irked at Tom for chastising me for suddenly announcing that I'm running low, and telling me that I shouldn't have spent money on the few really pricey things I bought lately.
I'm the one who paid for his January rent.
I'm the one who paid to get Wendy's car out of the garage.
I'm the one who gave Wendy gas and lunch money to get to work and not starve while there.
I'm the one who has bought the last like, four or five really BIG grocery purchases over a hundred dollars.
I'm the one who offered-- though it didn't need to be followed through on-- to pay for Jen's passport.
Who's paid for the electric and internet bills since we moved in here (excepting the start-up fee for the 'net-- that was Jen)? Me, 'cause I said I would.

I'm not trying to sound like a martyr.
I'm just trying to put things in perspective.
After all that other stuff, I refuse to feel bad about buying myself a pet. Or a few other things that make me happy. I think that it is ok of me to dare to spend money on stuff solely for Jess sometimes, in addition to all the cash I've kept throwing into the household budget to keep it lubed and smooth.

Grr!

Ok, I'm done being cranky now.

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 try...as 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.

So most of you know by now that I got my financial aid check.
It's really big. It's lots of money. It's enough money for my to live off of for half of a year, and it only has to last me until February...and then I get another one!

Now.

I really want to quit my job.
I can. I can afford to do that now.
I can quit my job and look for another one-- one that is actually satisfying, one that makes use of my expensive, expansive education, one that I won't be ashamed to put on a resume.

However...should I?
Probably not.
I should probably just go down to part-time, and then look for a job.

However, I want most of next week off anyway, and not having a job for a while would give me the flexible schedualing I need to do appointments with my therapist, day-long events, stuff up at school, and I could even go home (or at least somewhere) for Christmas. Plus the fact that J(anuary)-term is a month long session of class everyday, and I don't know how I would do that with the kind of work schedualing I have at my current job; I'm also seriously considering doing a full class load or four classes in spring, which Tom thinks will kill me, and then doing another J-term (June).

Another thing about this is that I want to quit, and I don't want to say, "Here's my two-week's notice." I want to basically do a "No-call, No-show" until they give up on me ever coming it, or else just call them up and say, "I quit!" and never go back. I want to be rid of it immediately, not horsing around until the first week in November.

Also, my advisor, Paul-sensei (I hope the two of you are happy; look what you have me doing!), suggested seriously that I talk to the Dean about being a writing tutor, and Tom says that that's a paid position. That would be handy...

*sigh*

Had today off and had to run around like crazy, and still didn't get everything done the way I really wanted to.

I had to run down to uptown to Scout's (of Manitiou Mischief Rattery) to pick up three new girls, got lost on the way there, had to wait for my bus, decided to pick up a bus card while I was waiting, trying to figure out how I'm going to time everything right to drop off the rats and go up to the seminary to talk to the financial aid person and visit the internet. Decided not to drop off the rats, and here I sit 'cause the financial aid lady wasn't in-- or course. I'd really like to have been able to pick up and deposit my paycheck today, but that will have to wait until tomorrow; and I'd really like to be able to hit the downtown library, but I probably shouldn't for time reasons (if I'm going the library, I don't want to feel pressured into hurrying through).

My three new ratties are in a box next to the computer, and I think I'm going to name them Hitotsu, Futatsu, and Mittsu. :) I give my pets such fancy names in Japanese, ne?



So Angela knows, but just to reiterate for the crowds...
When I went to talk to Judith about how to work a budget and stay on top of my finances, she insisted (for about forty-five minutes, until I caved) on giving me the money to pay back Northland. (Now I have to pay back Judith instead, but that's OK, 'cause she's not holding my diploma and transcripts over my head.)
And the more I think about Northland, the angrier I get.
Jenny's pay-gap and sexist treatment at work; Judith finally leaving because she was being sat on and discriminated against; the continual construction that violated EPA noise pollution standards; the pesticides on the lawns; the financial aid office that treats its students like imbiciles...etc, etc, etc. And I have a diploma from there that means nothing, and is barely worth the paper it's printed on. Hells, besides the 1,500 directly to Northland, I have another 30,000 in loans that I hope will be deferred before I have to start paying on them.
Yeah, it's tempting to go in there and raise some hell.



And now journalling I did earlier this week:

( Contemplating the divinity within )
( Random factiods I learned )

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.

*sigh*

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

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.)

*sigh*

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).
Right.

( 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.

Wow, I actually have time to write a real entry and a working keyboard. All that praying is starting to pay off.


So frustrated.
So fucking frustrated.

I'm tired of this crap. I'm tired of being jobless and spending my days laying around reading books I've already read and watching movies I've already seen and playing solitaire on Tom's computer. I'm tired of searching through the newspapers, hating the grit of newsprint and the smudges of ink on my fingers, circling ads for jobs I'll never get. I'm tired of "applicants must have 3 or more years experience in marketing, communications, or related field."

I'm bored and I want to get out and do stuff, but I can't. I would have something to do if I had a job, but I don't. I canceled two interviews last week because I was so sure of getting the job with Caribou, and now it's been a week and I'm still unemployed.

I want to have something to do. I want to have some reason to get off the couch in the morning. I want to interact, maybe make a friend or two, meet people. I want money so that the budget won't be so tight and so that I can buy a cup of coffee if I want to, or a new pair of headphones, or donate to the Green Party.

And it's so damned easy for me to be irrationally, angrily envious of Tom when he speaks so blithely of the future-- his future and what he wants to do with it.
I don't know what I want to do with the rest of my life. I survive day to day. I breathe, I blink, I eat, I sleep. Instinctive animal rhythms of life that sustain my existence... but there's nothing more. I don't have any goals to strive toward achieving. I have no hopes, no dreams, no desires, no ambitions.
God, I can't even write or draw, though I have plenty of free time in which to do so. All of my projects lie languishing, and I just stare at them, fiddle with the keyboard, and go back to playing solitaire.

How can I hope to attract people-- potential employers, friends, possible mates-- if I lack that divine creative spark, the spiritus of vitality? How beautiful can one possibly be without a future, filled with only avoidance of reality, fear, and despair?

I have only a few ideas of what I don't want to do: I don't want to spend the rest of my life in a high-school graduate dead-end job pushing food in disposable paper packaging across the counter with one hand while the other dances across the keys of the cash register.

I am loss as to where to even begin. I have little money, no local bank account, poor credit, no car, no license, not enough job experience, not enough resume and interview experience. I have my goddamn resume on a disk and I can't get it off; the only way that it appears that I can get the experience I need is through unpaid internship or volunteer work-- and that still leaves me needing a job that pays.

*smashes head into something hard*

Why is this so fucking hard?


So, lacking anything else better to do, I followed Tom's suggestion and went to Pride on Saturday.
(Yeah, as in GAY Pride... it's the third largest Pride festival in the nation, apparently.)

It was neat; I'm glad that I went, though I did spend most of the day thinking, "Oh wow! I bet Daysha would love that!" Or, "Heh, I wish Angela could have seen that... she'd have had something nice to say." Or, "Oh, I wish I could buy that for Annie!" It's kind of like being haunted.

(That reminds me though: Annie, you should come down here for Pagan Pride on September 11th!)

I was just about to leave when I ran into Alicia and Lindsey, Sara Lee and Connie.
I glomped poor Alicia...I don't think she was expecting quite that enthusiastic of a greeting...and spent about another two hours hanging out with them. Yeah, I felt like a bit of a fifth wheel, being the only individual in a group of two couples, but I didn't care, it was just so good to be with people.
I found out that Channy lives down here too, and that she occasionally does drag at the Gay 90's. Maybe I'll stop in there some night and see if she's preforming.

...

I don't know. I mean, it's hard to explain when I run into people-- like Alicia-- why I'm so desperately happy to see them. Yeah, I guess that I am lonely. I'm also bored. I am also stressed. My joblessness, which can be summed up with, "And I still don't have a job!", is grating on me-- the pressure to get one, the tight budget, the overwhelming sense that I'm fucking up and being a leech and that I'm letting Tom down and all I do is sit around and read and listen to music and why aren't I trying HARDER WHY DON'T I GODDAMN HAVE A JOB YET WHAT ARE YOU SOME KIND OF WELFARE LOSER!?
*pants*
Thinking about it makes me feel a little psychotic. I'm contemplating more and more of scheduling an appointment with Tom's shrink, who charges on a sliding scale according to income...not that it would do me any good; I can't afford the drugs he'd probably prescribe.

Yeah, Jess's screws aren't as in as tight as they could be.

It's problematic, but at least I'm aware of it. That's half the fight right there. Maybe it's time to start using what little I have left of my St. John's Wort tincture again, or talk to Deborah-- a very nice friend of Tom's-- who I believe is an herbalist.

It's not that bad-- not as bad as it sounds. I'm just frustrated and upset and tired of having to scratch for everything. A lot of this will go away once I start working-- are you listening, God?-- and don't have to deal with these feelings of inadequacy. I just need something to do with my time and distract me, and then I'll be OK.

God, I don't want to end it on this kind of note. I don't want anyone worrying about me. I just needed to vent a bit, purge the abcess. It looks ugly now, but it's not as bad as it appears.

Right.

So, I got like, hired and stuff.

It was really kinda weird. I was bebopping along, totally not getting anywhere, then I plaed one phone all, did a ten minute interview and was hired.

Ok, now, I want you to think of some of the most Northland jobs you can come up with.
Great! Would fundraising to sponsor the grassroots movement of the democratic national committee fit in that list anywhere? Yes? Yeah, I thought so.

It's tough. I'm out standing in the sun for five hours a day begging passers-by for money t help defeat George Bush. I get insulted, disheartened, and sunburnt. My back hurts; I don't have enough money to eat, and I don't even know if I'm even going to have the job after Wednesday.
See, they work you for three days; in that three day period, you have to make quota at least once to beome staff, and then you have to have a weekly average of quota or above to stay hired. Wednesday's gonna be my third day, and I haven't made quota yet.

This isn't a bad thing, entirely.
I mean, while it's great to have a job that pays well and makes me feel like I'm really out making a difference in the world, it is also really tough and I run the risk of being fired every week. That's not job security.
And I have another interview with caribou coffee and also with Borders on Thursday..so if I get fired at the end of Wednesday, I still have plenty of options that are, in a lot of ways, better jobs.

It's a tough call, really. Like I mentioned, this job makes me feel like I'm really putting my money where my mouth is-- so to speak-- and making a difference about something I've bitched about many times. For every person who is rude to me, there's another person who wanders up, shakes my hand and says that though they can't contribute, they are grateful to see someone, especially a younger person, taking a stand in politics and trying to get something done.

I'm sunburnt as hell from my first day. I did put on sunblock, but I-- ahem-- missed some areas. My chest is burnt from throat halfway down my breasts., and there's another patch between my shoulders. Hurts...
I haven't been sunburnt in years and it's not pleasent.

After work I wandered down to visit David (and got myself lost in yuppie suburban St. Paul for two hours), and the first thing out of his mouth after "Hi" was "I see you got some sun."
Fuck you, man.

I am so goddamn poor. I think I'm going to have to phone home and beg some more money if possible. I can't even afford the bus to get to work right now, and I keep thinking about all the dumb things I did/am doing. Like buying a used book in Dinkytown that once, or buying a milkshake yesterday for lunch, or all the times that I rode the bus that I didn't know about the transfer deal. Those few things alone probably add up to twenty dollars. The coffee I got while waiting for Tom or the bus, the single piece of Godiva chocolate that I bought (and ate while laying under the air conditioner while listening to "Fragrance" so loudly that the floor vibrated-- better'n sex, I tell you)... It's all added up, and now I am fucking strapped. God, I hope Grassroots Org pays me this Friday for my three days of work. I desperately need it.

It wouldn't be so bad, but I gave Tom a hundred dollars for rent. If I hadn't done that, I'd be living the high life, man. Bud rides to work every day and actual food to eat during my lunch breaks. High livin'.

David gave me a bus pass and that's helped a helluva lot, even though I tried to refuse it. It's a good thing he was more presistant than me. Even the eight dollars on that made a huge difference.

I really miss everybody. I wish I had someone to really talk to (David's not the world's most chatty individual)... I wish I had someone around that I could relax with and just hang out and make jokes-- all my spare time is spent primarily by myself, and while I don't mind quality time with a book and sexy Japanese voies filtering through my headphones, it gets a little lonely. I wish i had someone with me and some of my little adventures downtown, getting lost and wandering through Nicollet Mall; I wish there was someone with me to eperience some of this stuff, so that I didn't have a constant, unanswered string of half-sided conversation and commentary running through my head, never to be articulated-- so that I could have a better perspetive on what's going on around me.

I really miss you guys. I can't wait to see you all again, even just for a day.

On an completely unrelated note, Tom's cooking would kill an elephant. Any good eating Jenny's food might have ever done me was erased in a single Tom-prepared meal. He loves pan frying in oil and doesn't drain it; we eat lots of pasta with cream sauces... Bleg. It's probably a good thing that I am on my feet so often and can't afford to eat out.

On another note, I can't freakin' watch any of the anime Jenny so sweetly burned for me; Tom's computer doesn't have the right codex. I've tried beating it into submission, and that didn't work... dunno why.

Anyway, I've gotta run. My transfer is only valid until three and with the way buses are around here... *sigh*
*poke, poke* Hey, you guys should like, call me or something. Or maybe I'll call you. Either way, i want to talk to someone sane SOON.