Job Hunting

I am getting desperate to find a job. I'm going out of town soon and am hoping to have a job ready when I get back. I'll be out of a work almost a month by that time. Today, I spent all my time on the computer filling out applications. From 1100 till 1700 I was typing, filling in the blanks, and uploading my resume. I swear, I should be getting paid for this!

I have an interview set for teller at a bank. Not bad for a day's labour. I'll probably do it all again tomorrow. Also need to work on that cross stitch for Mom. I've been working on it off and on (mostly off) for the last eight years. Such a slacker I am!

We'll see how things go. I've been doing my part, plus a lot of prayer. All I can do...

Hope and a Prayer

As often as my parents are annoying or simply don't listen to me, there are times when I know that they love me. Since I've lost my job, I have heard nothing but encouragement from them both. "Don't worry too much, you'll get a job. Don't stress too much, it'll all work out."

I haven't the money for cream or sweetener for my coffee, so my dad got me some. Enough to last some time really. He was also sweet enough to let me get a book at the thrift shop yesterday.

Its just extremely stressful trying to get a job in this market. I keep praying on it. Its all I have left...

Forced Day

So far, this is turning out to be one of those days. I call them "Forced Days". You know the ones, where you can't seem to be able to do the most simple things. Getting out of bed, taking a shower and getting dressed in something other then pajamas takes an extraordinary amount of effort. I know I should eat breakfast, but I cannot be bothered with it today. I have to write a few resumes and start sending those to companies today. Who knows?

What I know is that its getting harder and harder these past couple of days not to injure. I burned the other day, and that "helped" in some way. I hate that my brain attaches physical pain as a way to cope with emotional pain and distress. Emotionally I feel a mess.

This is not forever, things will work out, I'll find a job. I have to keep telling myself that. I have to... or else I'll start cutting and burning and only stop when I feel nothing.

Last Time

This morning was hard for me, but then this whole week has been one big kick in the teeth. This morning, I burned in an attempt to calm down. I was shaking and could barely get the match lit. I went to my therapist and told her that I had to cancel my appointments for now. I have no money to spare to pay her. For now, this is the last time that I will see her.

I seriously have about $600 to last me, and it won't last long. I swear the whole damned thing feels like some cosmic joke! I finally get the guts to seek help for my problems and now I cannot go because I don't have the money. I don't like this joke, move on to the next one. I'm hunting for a job, I'm doing my part...

Honestly, I'm scared. I'm twenty-seven years old and almost on the streets. I'm just not willing to deal with this. I have no choice of course. None whatsoever.

Jobless

So yesterday, I was given my walking papers, pink slip, told to take a hike, given that last check. I was fired for what was "aggressive behaviour". I was not being aggressive. I was frustrated, sure, but not aggressive. Hostile, no! But apparently I scared someone or someone had it out for me. The manager never liked me anyway, you see he doesn't like my father. So now I have to go looking for a new job.

It isn't all bad, I hated the job. Now I have the opportunity to find something else. I hope it won't take too long. I had the initial interview for a receptionist this morning. Here's hoping.

Borders Closes It's Doors

Once upon a time, I worked in a book store. The store got a new manager, who really was quite displeased with me. He couldn't understand that I was incapable of up-selling a book that I personally hated. He'd cut my hours to nearly nothing, while I was a key carrier. Hence, I quit and found a new job rather quickly. Five years at the bookshop and now I work in a hardware store.

Borders has been trying to save itself for some time and finally it just wasn't enough. Now they are getting ready to liquidate their holdings. I feel bad for the employees, some of my co-workers are still there. In my area, its hard to find work. I hope they find something that they enjoy doing, unlike myself.

The second thought through my head was this: 'Liquidation means "everything must go". When do the sales start??' I feel badly thinking such a thing, but I can't help it. I'm a bibliophile through and through. If its one thing I collect, its books. I love to read and review books. My other blog, Quill and Ink, is a collection of my reviews. Still, this is going to help out the independent stores in town, with one less big box to go to. We have a Barnes and Noble here and about a half dozen independent book shops. For the time being, I'll have plenty of books to choose from.

I don't want an eReader. I think its blasphemous to read books electronically. Where is the texture, where is the smell? Its not comforting to read like that. I don't feel like I can curl up with a good backlit tablet.

Misplaced

What do you do when you feel like you're here and not here at the same time? Its a strange feeling, to be so in between things. Between yourself and your dreamself. Its weird and I don't care for it. Part of me wants to injure to feel something more tangible. Its just... I don't know what I'm wanting to say.

Bad Start

This is turning out to be a bad day so far. Its only 0642 in the morning and I've woken with a headache. The coffee doesn't taste too great, the butter was rock solid so toast was out... and I'd made the toast assuming that the butter was not in the fridge. I have to work today and would rather stay home.

I want to read a book, or knit, or cross stitch. Anything but go to work. Hell, I'd rather pull weeds in 90F heat then go to fucking work. I hate my job. They don't pay me near enough for all the bollocks I have to put up with. I have to move out some time next year, but am unsure where I shall be acquiring the funds to do so. I'll have to get a room mate, but who? Maybe Ella. If she agrees...

My head is too full of things. I'm still on edge, probably will be all day. I need, or feel like I need, to injure to make the anxiety go away. Can't I just go back to bed? Please, pretty please with a cherry on top?

Anxiety

I feel anxious. Its all I can do to type this evening. My hands are shaking, I have a headache and my feet are wanting to move. My system is just not wanting to calm down. I'm bouncy! Damn it! I'm edgy. I was fine a few hours ago, now I just want to take some of the edge off. Isn't that what junkies say, "Just little taste, man, gotta take the edge off, man..." Feel like a junkie. I want to cut or burn, burn being the "drug" of choice at the moment.

God, I want to... so damn bad right now. Worst part is that I don't even know what's wrong, or why I'm feeling this way. If I use a tool then I can take the edge off and I can sleep easier. As it is, I'll finish my movie then head off to bed and hope for the best. If I can't sleep then I'll go from there.

This is getting tiresome. Anxiety attacks, not quite full blown panic, but there all the same.

Kill The Artists

I've realized, while knowing it all along, why the poets and artists are the first to be "taken care of" in any revolution. We are the ones that will always remember. We are the ones that know from the beginning the ending, from the ending we know the beginning. Its not the historians who carry the memories, its the artists.

We remember what its like to be free. We know how to fly without ever leaving the ground. Artists are the ones that will be here in one way or another long after the rest of thought falls into despair. We may not be the happiest of people, but that is because we see the truth in things. The truth is more harsh then fantasy.

This is why the artists are always the first to go.

Homeless

My parents had to file for bankruptcy due to the massive amount of money that Bozo and Yoda caused them hemorrhage. Neither of them think that they did anything wrong! That's the kicker, they think they were entitled to all of it. All the money to help Bozo while he was in prison then there was the car for Yoda. I told them, damnit I TOLD THEM not to do those things, that it would be a bad idea. They didn't listen. So here we are. On the verge. If anything goes awry with the bankruptcy, we could loose the house.

Mom told me this yesterday. We could loose the house and she doesn't feel like she should have to give up space when we move into the camper, should things come to that. That means that I am out on my damned ear! I am the only one who never treated my parents like shit, who never thought I was entitled to anything, who has done everything that they asked even when I knew it would turn out wrong. Mom doesn't want to let me just sleep there! "I want a place for my things," she tells me. That's fine, I'll sleep on the fucking floor! But no, if we loose the house, I am officially homeless.

I feel like everything I have ever done to help my parents means nothing. I can't afford a place to live! Not on the fucking pathetic amount that my job pays. Fuck it, I may just move to Oregon or something. Mum and dad don't really want me here anyway. I was fool to think otherwise. My parents were the only ones that never betrayed me and here I am, on the verge of being homeless and on the street.

This all comes to a head in October, we'll know more then. I'll figure something out. I always do.

Eventful Day

Yesterday was one hell of a day. First I find out that an acquaintance of mine is getting married. She foolishly thinks that her marriage will solver all her problems Quite the opposite, I doubt her marriage will last longer then two years.

Then I get a call from my mother, guess who's back in jail? Oh yeah, that would be my idiot half brother, Bozo the Clown. He was the one that wrecked my parents house and threatened to kill me. I have a restraining order against him. Social services came by to ask Mum to take his kids. After the last time, in which they did nothing but scream nonstop for three months, she said no. I'm proud of her for that. She's such a sweet woman that helping others is simply part of who she is. Bozo burned any and all bridges that connected him to us. I swear if I hear he's been killed in jail or run over by a bus, I won't care, might laugh maybe, but I won't cry.

I also received a call from my younger brother. He left a message on my phone asking for my track ball mouse since he's broken his. Now, we've had his daughter at the house for well over a month, the first time he calls its to beg for a mouse, not ask how his daughter is doing. I paid $50usd for that mouse! I am not going to just give it to him. If he wants something, he has to do like everyone else and bloody work for it! Get a job, you looser!

Oh how I loathe my relatives.

Lies By Omittion

My last session, my T said that she feels I'm not being totally honest all of the time. Not that I'm lying, but she has said she noticed that I omit certain details. She's right of course. I don't fully trust her, so of course I don't say all that I should. That comes later, I'm sure. I don't know what to expect with therapy. I'm just allowing myself to hope that good things will happen here.

I recently realized that I scratch my scalp and pick at my skin when I am worried or anxious. I had never noticed this before someone on another support site mentioned it. I thought, "Oh my... I do that, too!" It was strange to realize that there is another method that I injure, one I was not aware of until that moment. It was really unnerving. Still is. I'd like to mention this to my T, but I'm not sure how. The last session I sort of blurted about an old injury and how I'd lied about it. Never said that before. I've told the lie so long, it has become almost truth.

I go again next Friday.

Jazz Greats

All right, so I have an odd streak. Amid the Linkin Park, Paramore, and Within Temptation, my iPod has a collection of things like Adele, Nat King Cole and Ella Fitzgerald. I love music and so long as I like the song, it finds a place on the vast iPod thingy. Today I bought a Billie Holiday collection. I prefer Ella Fitzgerald, but I do like Billie too.

My parents have their own tastes in music, which often are my tastes as well. However, my tastes (see the above list of alternative rock) are not theirs. Lately, I've been enjoying the smoother tones of jazz and classical music. I'm not sure why, but  just have a taste.. or an ear rather for the softer music. Been playing hymns and classical for the last week. Now I want jazz. Or else the music of Imogen Heap.

Anyway I should go to bed. Therapy in the morning.

Books And Bruises

So, I've finally done it. I have started a blog for book reviews. I call it Quill And Ink . I'm rather proud of myself. I wrote three small reviews in one day and intend fully to write many more. If I get really good, maybe I can make a career of it. Who knows?

Had a rough day Sunday. My wrist is bruised something terrible. I kept banging it on beams at work all day. I could not calm down! It hasn't been an easy few weeks for me as far as the injuries go. I've bruised my wrist, cut my arm and picked at the skin of my hand. I've noticed that I pick when I'm in front of people and am anxious. Honestly, it freaks me out some.

Therapy again on Friday.

Awake

Its 0430 and I'm wide awake. My beautiful, lovely niece is awake and the cause of my lack of sleep. She is two and a half and now under the care of her grandparents. Her parents should have broken her of the bottle a year ago, but no! We have to endure her fit-throwing. This child started crying at 0200.

I have a shift at 1000 this morning, full eight hours. I am so screwed. Yesterday was just complete bollocks and today doesn't look too hot either. To clarify, I will be working on three hours sleep. No one should have to be at a job they hate with so little sleep to endure. To day is also a holiday, American Independence Day. Big whoop-dee-doo apparently. People blasting off their semi-legal miniature bombs and having a gay old time of it. I don't celebrate holidays so this means nothing to me. Work will serve some horrid version of a barbeque, of which I shan't partake.

This is just shaping up to be a fabulous day. Rather be sleeping. I hope its not like yesterday, which I managed to bruise my wrist from banging it all day. The crap I had to deal with was just too much! The management seems to want me to be a supervisor, yet they do not pay me a sufficient amount to make this possible. I need a better job. I hate this one.

Hobby

As you may or may not know, as I cannot remember whether or not I've mentioned it before, I like to make jewelry. I'm not half bad at it, if I do say so. Well, yesterday I went to my favourite bead shop and took advantage of the sale going on. Among my purchases was a porcelain disk, a carved leaf made from tiger's eye and a string of garnet chips. I paid for my beads and all was right with the world. Except for one little thing, I was charged for two strands of beads at $6US. This morning I need to go down and rectify that. I'm good with just getting another strand for the six dollars, since the receipt say "Sorry no refunds" at the bottom.

Now its just a matter of which stone I want. I love using semi-precious stones! They look just lovely! And I love how they feel when I'm wearing them.

I called this collection "Autumnal Bliss". The beads are: agate chips, mookate, jasper, and redwood. The disc is crackle finish on black resin. I like that it looks like a river in autumn.