Panic Attacks and Unemployment Extensions

The fabulous 112th Congress finally managed to get their ass in gear and passed the fiscal cliff deal. I'm sure it could have been better, but frankly, my main interest was in the renewal of unemployment benefits. After a year of trying to find work, trying different fields and failing at both, I had exhausted my benefits and the "already small to begin with" buffer I'd held onto from the last student loan I got before I graduated Summa Cum Laude from Portland State.

I'd gambled everything on a Java training program I heard about in July and finally got into in October. Gambled, and lost. After ten harrowing weeks and despite having been assured by the instructor it was possible to come in with zero experience in programming and finish up hired by them after fourteen weeks, even he had to admit that despite my best efforts, it just wasn't enough. I waver between feeling like a failure for not being able to pull it off, and being realistic that as a single mom to a special needs twelve-year-old, the odds were not "ever in my favor."

It didn't help that financially, despite cutting everything I could conceivably cut, down to the bone, including getting a temporary reduction on my car payment, it was only because my boyfriend was splitting food costs with me and my weekly cleaning job that we were squeaking by. Hardly the "year long vacation" I keep hearing about from conservatives pissed off about the extension of unemployment benefits.

My anxiety level, always at a low simmer, got so bad that when a friend told me about a place where you can sell your plasma, and I went in to get vetted and set up, I couldn't get my heart rate under 100 bpm, which is required before you can actually "donate" and get paid. Vicious circle. And the burning of my heart, creeping up into my jaw like the pain of a heart attack. Of course, no health insurance, and because of the unemployment, I don't qualify for the state insurance. And if I got even a part-time job, the unemployment benefits are reduced by the same amount. There's no way to keep up, let alone get ahead and get out. As my friend Goolywog says, welcome to morning in American, all you Reagan fans.

Back in Red

Long time no post, and I'm only back after using the promise to blog as leverage for a story I wanted to pry out of my favourite Goolywog, aka my mentor/savior/sounding board and surrogate auntie. She's convinced the ups and downs (mostly downs) of my life will make for fascinating reading. I'm not so sure, but since she produced a deliciously fun Supernatural/Wizard of Oz smash-up fanfic for me, I'm honourbound to live up to my side of the bargain.

Since you last heard from your heroine, I have left the employ of Reiki Woman, and spent the last year looking for another job. (Remember that suck economy I mentioned two years ago? Yeah, still going...) I managed to whittle down expenses to bare-bone, though I could probably drop..., well, theoretically I could drop the cell phone, internet and satellite, but I really need the phone for finding work, though it hasn't been too helpful thus far. Same goes for internet, and the satellite is pretty cheap. Likely I'll drop it when I need to renew. Fortunately I managed to renegotiate my car loan payment down to a reasonable amount, and got a deferral on the student loans for six months.

Where things are about to get dicey is in about one month when the last of my meager cushion I've been hoarding through my unemployment, is exhausted since my unemployment benefits expired and things aren't looking too promising with the Congress and President coming to any kind of agreement. I'm trying not to dwell on what will happen if the emergency unemployment doesn't get reinstated or if I don't manage to get a job in this coming month. I've already bummed $500 off the Goolywog and while I can make about $240 a month selling my plasma (no, I'm not kidding), that's just not enough to pay the rent, let alone utilities and the car loan. And we haven't even talked about the last ten weeks spent desperately trying to grasp Java programming going by at the speed of light in a training program. Something to look forward too, right?

Hormones are a BITCH, baby!

*sigh* So I am a moody wench at the best of times, and actually went on birth control not so much for the obvious reasons, as to help regulate my hormone level, as people tend to prefer me to be NOT psychotic. Unfortunately, due to continuing fall out from the insurance clusterfuck through the uni, I've ended up off my birth control for the last month or so. Which means that my hormones are rollercoastering. This feels roughly like being overcaffeinated, sloppy drunk and paranoid, all at the same time. Add in the kitty adventures, and we're not talking about a fun time being had by me at all. Some days are worse than others. This one appears to be heading in the distinctly "worse" direction.

Fangirl that I am, for some reason this particular mental stage seems to be characterized by an obsessive need to watch my favorites in hurt/comfort scenes, which intensifies the emotional discomfort, but in an oddly pleasant way, sort of like poking your tongue into the hole where your tooth used to be. Really not pleasant, but bizarrely compelling. And the lesson we should all take away from this is? Hormones are a BITCH!!!!

Fangurrrrrl

I'm a geek. I'm actually quite proud of that. I have a long litany of science fiction and fantasy shows and books that I've read and watched and loved, and even better than the entertainment is the amazing people its brought into my life. I would be the last person to deny that there are some really weird and disturbed people in many of the fandoms (I've seen them) but there are also some people who just enjoy a show so much they want that good feeling to continue, long after the season finale airs and long before the season opener premieres. I'm just saying, I'm a geekgurl and a fangurl and I wouldn't miss the fun I've had being both for anything!

Cats. Cats Who Fight...

I never intended to have three cats. I really never intended to have two cats. But when our cat somehow escaped off the balcony of our genteel ghetto second-floor apartment and didn't show up for two weeks, I was ready to change the story for my ten-year-old son who is far more tender-hearted than I am. So off we went to the Humane Society with his piano teacher, who is a cat and rat fanatic. We came home with a pair that had been brought in together, and the next day my son left for camp. All was well. I was slightly stressed but everything seemed to be going smoothly. Two days later I get a call that my cat had been brought to a local pet hospital.

Don't get me wrong. I love my cat. Cats. But at the moment we're in that touchy adjustment phase, and in a very small apartment, a little cat urine goes a long ways. Especially when Blueballa, my older cat, decides she's going to play goalkeeper for the litterbox. Yes, I have two now, but it took me a while and money is tight, even tighter than space! This is not what I needed. More stress. No, I have no intention of getting rid of any of the cats, but right now, I really wish they would just get along and stop peeing except in the fucking litterbox!

The Summer of My Discontent...

If you haven't already seen rather clearly, I hate my job. Its not a bad job, and in this putrid economy where work is so scarce people would cheerfully take a job for Mr. Scrooge just to HAVE a job, I'm grateful to have work that pays me enough to take care of myself and my son, in respectable if slightly upscale garage sale fashion. What bothers me is the expectation that when times are bad, "we're all in it together" and take paycuts and angst over clients who don't pay their bills or the heating expense or whatever. But when times are good and the money starts rolling in, suddenly we're back to "management" and "staff." All two of us.

But its more than that. I hate having to cater to the whims of my boss and her petty, tight-fisted and mean-spirited ways. I hate having to call and harangue clients whom she doesn't like, while other clients she considers "worthy" get a pass.

Center of the Universe

Its true, I have seen the center of the universe. I know, you science types out there are saying that's impossible, can't be, but I have proof. How? Well, it all started with the software consultant we were using, who was, by the way, a replacement for another software consultant who had been found wanting. After getting off to a good start by making the boss happy and resolving an ongoing problem, trouble set in. She got sick. And then she had the effrontery of STAYING sick. My boss, Ms Flaky New Age Reiki Woman, was casting aspersions right, left and center about the software consultants motives, and had finally settled on her intent to "demand back her deposit."

That morning when she came in, I noticed a newspaper clipping sticking out of her bag. It was an obituary notice for the slacker software consultant! I was horrified, and so was my boss, but for completely different reasons. Apparently my boss was staggered at the unprofessionalism of this person who "couldn't be bothered to advise her clients she was seriously ill." No, I am not making this up. That is a real quote. With her usual efficiency and briskness, Reiki Woman then proceeded to write a letter to the spouse of said software consultant, prefacing it with an expression of sympathy for his loss, and then getting right down to the important part - getting Reiki Woman her money back pronto!

So how does this relate to the center of the universe? Here is proof, that my boss, Reiki Woman, IS the center of the universe. Because if she WASN'T, then this behavior would be nothing short of heartless, selfish and appalling. And that can't be the case, because Reiki Woman is in tune with all beings and the flow of life! She is an "old soul" who has learned many, many life lessons and is not focused on belongings or money. Right? Right???? *excuse me while I throw up*