21 November 2003 @ 7:55 PM
Wanting:
something to do!
Wearing:
dark red/dark blue ON jersey-style tee, black AZ Jean Co. carpenter pants
*Stops as he tries to inconspicuously eye a really hot Native boi with really long black hair, only to have moderate success, as they keep making eye contact. After a while he leaves, making it easier to regain train of thought*
So after my not-so-long-as-I-thought-it'd-be day at work, I came home and had some breakfast. Easy enough.
After that and some quality lounging time reading the latest issue of Instinct, I decided that since my grandmother started cleaning my room, might as well finish it up for her and finally finish my unpacking and put stuff away.
I was at that for a good two hours. Upon finishing, I had my magazines nicely stacked inside a crate next to my bed, my dresser all occupied by my cool manga and whatnot and the walls next my bed got purty-fied by pinning up my Jimmy Eat World and Sailor Moon posters.
Now for the frustrating parts; I went to get dinner at Taco Bell (before you throw anything!), only because my grandmother asked me to and there was nothing really else worth eating. After heading out into traffic (so, so horrid!), I cam back, let me just say that one can sure take a lot of side streets when the main ones are so full-up with rush hour traffic.
Nextly, after finding a stub from a money order that I had bought back when I was under the impression that I was getting my own apartment, I decided to go and get it cashed back. I took it to the 7-Eleven that I had bought it from on Broadway and Swan, but the scraggly old hippie clerk told me that neither he or the machine could take it back, for whatever damn reason. I was informed that I could get such a thing honored at a Western Union. He being so fucking stoned (at least in appearence) didn't make it so pleasing in his delivery, I almost wanted to knock him out with his own bong that he probably has in the back.
From there, I decided to make a night of it and come here to the ILC and get my internet on. On the way though, I decided to stop at the Safeway on Broadway and Campbell, seeing as I remembered there being a Western Union inside. Anyway, inside I approached the counter and was met by someone who seemed very Kelli in her appearence, but turned out to be smart (maybe the glasses that she was wearing weren't just for show). Anyway, after the typical opening banter, I informed her of my situation, to which she gave me an empathetic response. Apparently they can't do it either. She was a little more pleasant and helpful, letting it be known to me that I could get it cashed at a bank. That wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for the fact that I can't cash anything because I'm overdrawn (more on that in a bit).
Anyway, I'm now here, typing at record high speed, because it's 15 minutes to 9:00 and the ILC closes at that time for the weekend. Tr�s sucky, I know.
So about the being overdrawn. With my attempted abuduction into the evil hellish organization known as Primerica a few months back, I very reluctantly signed on to this very confusing and in all honestly, quite wasteful as far as money goes thing where I start saving for the future, whenever THAT is. These mother truckers have my bank account info and have been siphoning about $40 out of my account every month, and have been causing me to be overdrawn nearly as much. So today after I tried to cash a check that I couldn't because of my thentofore unknowingness of being overdrawn, I called Linda (the demon beast that tried to get me to work for her) and told them to quit their shit. I felt really good after that.
Well, they're flicking the lights on and off here as if we were little kids, so I must away before I'm pried off the computer with a crowbar.
Now the only challenge is finding something to do with the rest of my Friday night.
~A (Don't leave without intentions of ever coming back)
.
*Train of thought is derailed not by the scent of coffee or even a cute guy, well, not conventionally cute, but by the sight of a guy that looks just exactly like He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named*
AAGH! Stop stop stop!!! Recalling painful memories! Starting to miss him again!
*Grabs head. After a few moments the impersonator leaves. Collects himself*
*Sigh* Hoo� that was surreal. I could�ve certainly have done without it.
Anyway, tonight I was in the company of friends as Dorian, Matt and for a short period Steve and I saw the fabulous Eddie Izzard's latest DVD foray Circle. Seeing as the majority of us were already well-established fans, this was a nicely welcome treat and change from an otherwise deathly boring evening.
But this isn�t what I was going to talk about. I�ve wanted to write about something that�s been vexing me for the past week. Since I�ve quite honestly not had the drive (and to a lesser extent, time) to search for a bank statement proving that I once had a debit card, I haven�t gotten Mina�s car stereo replaced yet, forcing me to put up the mostly-disposable pop contributions to today�s music scene on the radio. There are four stations that I�m mainly tuned into; a straight-up Pop/Top 40 station, two exactly alike 80s/90s and current Top 40 ones and an alternative rock one. There�s also a classic rock and classical music station that I have programmed that I only turn to when I�m thisclose to vomiting due to the crap on the other ones.
Anyway, for the past few nights as I�ve been going through the motions of the radio dial in search of something meaningful; or at least entertaining; without fail I�ve come across something from either The Police (you know, the thing Sting was doing back in the 80s) or the only bloody thing from Tal Bachman (the son from that guy from that one band from the 70s). I dare not mention any of the songs here, because I fear that I may jinx myself on the drive home later this evening.
Seriously though, I used to be a big Sting (and to a lesser extent, The Police) fan, but when one listens to the same stuff over and over again verbatim, it�s enough to drive one fucking mad. Ooh, and don�t even get me started on Bachman, I only liked that one hit of his for a little while when it came out. After it started getting played on the radio after every other song is when my patience for it broke through to the basement.
Remember the power that I possessed that I deemed positive with regards to music a few months back? Well, this seems to be the perfect inversion of it and quite frankly I am being driven insane by it. If I weren�t such a big fan of music (and maybe a little afraid of my own thoughts), then I�d just be content with riding with the stereo off.
Well� that�s all. I just had to say this piece while it still bore some relevance. And, now that I�ve said that, will probably continue to be relevant until I get my stereo fixed. Further reason if needed for me to get on it, I�m sure.
Your soul is bound to the Solitary Rose: The
Alone.
"When I wake up alone, the shades are still
drawn on the cold window pane so they cast
their lines on my bed and lines on my
face."
The Solitary Rose is associated with loneliness,
melancholy, and patience. It is governed by
the goddess Merope and its sign is The Sword,
or Unrequited Love.
As a Solitary Rose, you may be summed up as a
hopeless romantic. You desire love and have so
much love to give, but thing just never seem to
work out the way you want them to. In life,
you can be very optomistic, even when things
are gray and nothing works out to your
expectations.
What Rose Is Your Soul Bound To?
brought to you by Quizilla
{But though you're still with me, I've been alone all along}
~A (Do you know what it feels like being alone?)
.
After entering my exasperated snort of an entry last night, I gathered my stuff up and left, as the ILC was passing maximum capacity and this guy was pretty much playing Guardian Angel for my seat.
As I was making my way down the tiered levels of the ILC, I came across Dorian and Steve. They seemed thoroughly busy with their schoolwork, so I decided to be a good friend and interrupt them. I told them about my new-found ghettoness (Sprint deciding to be an a-hole about my service). Steve, being the comforting and eager-to-please person that he is, decided that he would treat us to dinner.
*Train of thought is interrupted, this time not by a cute guy, but by the overpoweringly delicious aroma of someone drinking French Vanilla coffee*
Ahem... anyway, after doing some random stuff, we're finally on our way. Steve decides to go all-out and indulges us at Olive Garden. Hungry as all heck, but feeling the pinch for Steve, I decided to order the Chicken Vino Bianco, with the recommendation on it being so damn tasty.
We had a good time over dinner. We talked about various issues that needed addressing, like the preference of Japanese motorcycles to Harleys and the vital lessons that Scooby Doo taught young aspiring Atheists. You know, United Nations-caliber banter. And with a savory dessert (Tira misu), we toasted using raspberry lemonade to things to everything we could, execpt for bunnies.
Once we left, we had a nicely-sized chunk of time on our hands, so we decided to partake in our usual college-aged, street-roaming, no-particular-place-in-mind driving about. That is, of course, until one of us could think of something better to do. After quite a bit of driving around (the three of us aren't the most original as far as thinking up new ideas [no offense]), we finally came up with the brilliant idea to return to the place where we spent Halloween, Agua Caliente park.
I don't know exactly what it was, maybe we were feeling a little too invincible, but for some reason we decided to make a return to that place. Steve and Dor were not kidding about it's whole Sleepy Hollow-esque creepiness, I was adamantly freaked even before we went in. It was really funny though, when we parked on the side of the road, we all had to answer nature's call, and Dorian was the first to go out, leaving Steve and I inside. As she was out, we saw this car coming from behind us in the distance. Inexplicably, we got spooked and ducked down so that the oncoming vehicle's driver wouldn't see us.
After that, Steve and I had to go. Once we did, another car came by and we all ran to the side of Mina away from the road and hid like cockroaches under a fridge. It was bad.
Anyway, once we finally got in there; in which I almost had to be dragged in; the freakshow began. We've all yet to see the entirety of this park during the light of day, let alone during the bleakness of night. Needless to say, our traversement through this hellworthy locale with it's cackling ducks and demonic frogs was at a very slow pace and involved us wearing each other as human corsets.
We approached the bridge, by that point I was near-hyperventilating. It was also then that Steve and I noticed the most freaky shit. Being at an all-time high as far as being alert goes, I noticed that the theretofore noise coming from the ducks and frogs had eerily stopped. Steve noticed that the stars seemed oddly brighter and that the swamp seemed to be glowing. I think there was also a bubbling sound coming from under the bridge and even a gust of wind blowing. That was more than enough to make a hasty, but deliberately cautious retreat.
Once we approached the bent fence post next to the gate, we pretty much did a every-man-for-himself thing and took off running like the Headless Horseman himself was on our heels.
For a short period after getting into the car and driving off, we were all more than sufficently frightened. I was especially on edge, yet still competent enough to drive. When we got into town, the frightened feelings died off and we all returned to our preconceived notions of normalcy.
It was also with that that I swore that I would not return to that place again at night unless Ruben is with us. During the daytime is out of the question, lest I go accompanied by a large group of friends, and if Ruben's along also.
Whew... this took two and a half hours to type! Good Gods, I could have been home and eating in that time!
~A (Oh my gawd, SAUSAGE!)
.
Last night, as I was taking a break from everything and indulging in some light literature (The Vampire Lestat), my phone; which was set up on the computer desk right next to my bed; vibrated to let me know that I��ve received a new text message. Without having to read it, I knew exactly what it was. My service has been turned off.
I made a payment on it last Saturday! What the hell?? I'm not going to ream anybody for it, for I know that it's most likely going to be a battle that's lost before it even starts.
That little worst-case scenario that I went through a few days ago is starting to look so much better as the days go on.
I��m not feeling especially negative; it��s just that I feel like things are being just a little too unfair for my situation. I find it extremely difficult to keep high spirits in spite of it all.
~A (We��ve got the right to be angry; what are we fighting for?)
.
Grr... what's worse is that I have to set this up with a little background info.
I've spoken about how more fucked I am financially having moved back to my grandmother's house than I was when I lived with Matt. Well, things kinda came to a head when I didn't send in my payment for my car last month because they had the extra insurance tacked onto it. Finally when my insurance company took care of it, the payment was already past due, and I didn't end up paying. As it turns out, I had to pay for both this month's and last month's bill all in one with an extra late payment fee added into the mix. Anyway, as a result of that, I had to take out a $400 payday loan two weeks ago because of it, and because I'm evidently such a masochist.
I repaid the loan with last paycheck on Friday, but I thought it would be good to take out a smaller one (only $200 this time), just in case.
Later on that day, I decided to take Mina in to Jiffy Lube, because though she still was a month and a couple of hundred miles away from her next oil change, her 'Check my oil, dammit!' light was on. I thought I was playing it smart because I had my brother's U of A Student Survival Book full of coupons, one of which being a $20 oil change at JL. So I took her in, listened to my latest custom-mix CD and read in the lobby while they worked on my car. They called me out and told me that the oil in the engine was black and chunky and all this nasty stuff. Deciding that I have no idea what they're talking about but they're probably right anyway, I let them give the car an engine flush, fill her up with synthetic oil which should protect her past her next change's due date and change the wipers; mostly because they were really shitty.
Anyway, le total grande ended up coming to $120, which was including a $15 discount that I was given. I guess at that point I couldn't have been more grateful to have the extra $200 on me.
After losing all that unneeded monetary weight (sarcasm), I went and spent the day amongst friends and whatnot. By Sunday, I was down to $50.
Last night after finishing a rather draining session here at the every Xenophobia-inducing ILC, I decided that I should probably deposit what�s left of my money, and get $20 out for lunch for the week. For whatever reason, I had such strong misgivings about doing that. It was only after I deposited the money and tried to get the 20 out did I find out that I was $14 in the hole! Anyone with a bank account knows that in addition to paying the overdrawn amount, one must get raped in the ass an extra $20-$30 in penalties. For the remainder of the night I could not stop cursing my total lack of commonsense.
It isn�t so much about the fact that I won�t get a chance to eat at work for the next two weeks, it�s that I don�t know how I�m going to do it for gas next week. I fill up my tank ever week on $20 and I don�t even have that going for me. Then there comes into play the very real fact that I�m going to hang with my friends; and that�s hardly ever a free thing.
Okay, so once again things aren�t as dire as I make them seem. If I�m not mistaken, I�m received my $20 paycheck for my menial labor at my oh-I-forgot-I-had-another-job as-needed 2nd source of income. So I could very easily have that cashed and that will take me until a week from Friday, when the next payday falls.
But still, I�m perfectly annoyed with the situation and myself. This would have never happened if I had trusted my wary feelings about depositing in the $50. It seems like every single time I second-guess myself, I always seem to make a costly error. The situation vexes me in that I�m going to be forced to learn how to go without something for two long weeks, this obviously being money and stuff to buy. I can�t recall any other point in which I�ve had to forgo something so damned natural. Forced frugality is something that I seriously cannot jive to.
I�ve said this before to others and I�ll say it here, I certainly seem to have a knack for making things hard on myself, whether I mean to or not.
~A (Honey you are a rock, upon which I stand)
.
The thing of it is that I could have very well diagnosed that on my own. I have never really put much faith into professionals as far as mental health goes, because unlike the obvious workings of one's exterior; which are plainly visible; one cannot always tell what is going on in one�s mind so easily. Even if one were to make an attempt at describing to a specialist what they�re feeling, there�s still going to be some omissions, blurring of the details and some general inaccuracies that can occur, because after all, we�re only human. Even then, and what I feel is the greatest injustice to one�s own mental well-being, one must exhibit such symptoms for a certain length of time for it to be clinically diagnosed; as if were so simple to retain a constant with that.
In a conversation that Dorian and I had at Matt�s house the other night, we came to the mutual agreement that if one can diagnose oneself with a mental/personality affliction (in my case, borderline), then they are most likely right on in their assumption. That is of course, lest they be one of those cookie-cutter �woe is me� poser Goth-types who in their upper-middle class veritable lap of luxury, no nothing of the real angst that working/college class people such as Dorian and myself have to live with.
The world according to a self-diagnosed borderline such as me isn�t as bleak as one might believe. For the most part I am complacent, even happy with the world around me. But there are certain triggers that get me to regress into the vast spectrum of ill-feelings, most prominent of them all being pretty much everything that I encounter during my waking hours. Work being quite possibly the highest contributor, with a dissatisfying home life and money problems coming in a respective second and third. Other than that, I try to approach life with an appropriate optimism and infinite curiosity. I don�t worry about the glass being half full or half empty; I�m just focused on how pretty the glass looks. Unfortunately, the negative stuff is usually what prompts my often-scathing diary entries. The thing that one outside of my immediate circle of friends doesn�t know, is that after such an entry, I�m usually out and having an enjoyable time with my crew and working on putting the unpleasantness behind me.
You know� I think I was going to take this further, but as of right now, it seems like all that I need to say has been said. If I�m forgetting something, I�ll continue it later.
~A (C�est la vie)
.
1. Using one adjective, describe your current living space.
Confining
2. Using two adjectives, describe your current employer.
Cold and annoying
3. Using three adjectives, describe your favorite hobby/pasttime.
Distracting, enjoyable and random
4. Using four adjectives, describe your typical day.
Lengthy, tiring, committed and busy
5. Using five adjectives, describe your ideal life.
Blissful, enchanted, worry-free, loved and healthy
Hmm... that was actually a really thinker. I never thought that adjectives would be so hard to come by.
~A (I'm still here)
.
{emotional me}
{fly me to the moon}
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