I just found out my bank account is overdrawn. I have a couple of options and they don't thrill me. One is to borrow money from someone. The other is to pawn my bass guitar. The other, third and most uncomfortable option is to do nothing. Do nothing. I get only $30 this week from unemployment, then have to wait at least a week for a decent check.
I am continually disappointed partly because I keep having expectations. I expect that at some point I will have an interview that results in a job. But so far that hasn't happened. I feel a little bit like my whole life is on hold at the moment.
I'm going to look into volunteering more. What else is there to do? I've recently started a memoir as well. Plus daily blogging. I feel as if a giant weight is sitting on my shoulders, and sometimes I wake up at 5a.m. feeling like there is someone watching me. But there is no one there. I am alone.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Saturday, July 31, 2010
90 Days of Blogging
I have decided to write something for this blog, or my other one, every day for 90 days. It's kind of a test to see how dedicated I can be as a writer. Since I have such difficulty practicing writing, this may help. I don't know. I got this idea from a friend. His name is Jeff Engels and he has this kick-ass Mariners blog at http://www.jeffsmariners.com . He's been doing it faithfully for the past few months.
We'll see how this works out.
We'll see how this works out.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Some Thoughts About Shopping and Fear
"Capitalism is constantly and perpetually disappointing.” Tom Hodgkinson, author of The Freedom Manifesto
I confess that I hate shopping. Going in to a store to purchase anything fills me with so much angst and dread that I avoid it until it becomes apparent, by holes in my underwear or a dirty litter box, or a lack of food in my house, that I must go to the store.
When I say I hate shopping, it is not an active, spit in the face of consumerism hate, although at times I feel that, too. I hate the predatory nature of stores. The way they pander to my basest desires. How they constantly tell me I am getting a good deal, when I know better.
What is ironic is that it is anxiety and boredom that drive me to the stores again and again. I can window shop like a mofo, cruising the aisles, pretending to be mulling over purchases while what I’m really doing is distracting myself from real life. I’m bored, or I’m stuck, or I’m just lonely and wish to be around people. Pathetic.
Oftentimes, shopping fills my brain with so much stimuli and psychic pain I go numb. I go into a kind of trance. But even in a trance I know that what I want is not at the store. I have come home too many times with items which then cause more anxiety than the desire for them did.
I know I have an unhealthy fear and anxiety around money and spending. I feel more comfortable in the hole (because it is familiar), than when I have a fat balance in my account. It feels wrong somehow, to have more than someone else. Somehow, to me, poor=virtuous, while rich=evil. I only need to look at Bill Gates, Sr. and Bill and Melinda Gates to know this is not true. Some poor people are evil. Some wealthy are generous and virtuous at heart. Money is not the problem, nor is it the solution. But I know that my thoughts and attitudes hold me back from making the kind of life I wish for myself.
In my ideal life, I will have divested myself from all debts. I have made all my financial amends and can pay for my education without going further into debt. I can freely travel. I am able to contribute to charity and help others achieve their goals and dreams. Mainly it is freedom from the constant pressure of bills and debts that I want. Someday.
I confess that I hate shopping. Going in to a store to purchase anything fills me with so much angst and dread that I avoid it until it becomes apparent, by holes in my underwear or a dirty litter box, or a lack of food in my house, that I must go to the store.
When I say I hate shopping, it is not an active, spit in the face of consumerism hate, although at times I feel that, too. I hate the predatory nature of stores. The way they pander to my basest desires. How they constantly tell me I am getting a good deal, when I know better.
What is ironic is that it is anxiety and boredom that drive me to the stores again and again. I can window shop like a mofo, cruising the aisles, pretending to be mulling over purchases while what I’m really doing is distracting myself from real life. I’m bored, or I’m stuck, or I’m just lonely and wish to be around people. Pathetic.
Oftentimes, shopping fills my brain with so much stimuli and psychic pain I go numb. I go into a kind of trance. But even in a trance I know that what I want is not at the store. I have come home too many times with items which then cause more anxiety than the desire for them did.
I know I have an unhealthy fear and anxiety around money and spending. I feel more comfortable in the hole (because it is familiar), than when I have a fat balance in my account. It feels wrong somehow, to have more than someone else. Somehow, to me, poor=virtuous, while rich=evil. I only need to look at Bill Gates, Sr. and Bill and Melinda Gates to know this is not true. Some poor people are evil. Some wealthy are generous and virtuous at heart. Money is not the problem, nor is it the solution. But I know that my thoughts and attitudes hold me back from making the kind of life I wish for myself.
In my ideal life, I will have divested myself from all debts. I have made all my financial amends and can pay for my education without going further into debt. I can freely travel. I am able to contribute to charity and help others achieve their goals and dreams. Mainly it is freedom from the constant pressure of bills and debts that I want. Someday.
Monday, February 22, 2010
BLAH BLAH BLAH BLOG
There is not really any reason for me to blog because nobody reads the dang thing anyway. When I used to publish ‘zines it at least felt like there was something tangible to hold onto, something physical to give to people. Now I’m just spewing words into the ether. It’s a lot less satisfying. So, I’m going to ask my friends to read my blog and see what response I get. If I get one at all. I am still not quite down with this virtual friend world. Not that I have a lot of virtual friends. Most of my friends are people I see in person from time to time. Being unemployed I have a lot of time to try to structure. I get so distracted from what I want to do. I don't really have much more on this subject, except more and more I want to print my own 'zine again.
Terrified In The Land Of Creativity
I’m scared to do what I need to do to get my books done. Interviewing people is not my strong suit, and that’s what I’m gonna have to do. Gregg Turkington (Neil Hamburger, comedian) told me, “Anything worth doing is worth doing badly”. I love that idea, but I have a Virgo moon and it fucks with my head about myself all the time. So I am putting a plea out into the universe to help me get going again. A spur in my side, gentle, but a spur none-the-less. I need that.
I visited ZAPP at Richard Hugo House yesterday. If you do not know what ZAPP is, it’s Zine Archive Preservation Project. I meant to do some research, but ended up just donating some zines, looking at their rarities, and leaving. I was mostly thinking about my best friend lying in the hospital after knee replacement replacement surgery. Yes, she had her replacement replaced. Ouch. So that made it hard to concentrate.
ZAPP is fuckin’ cool, especially if you are interested in zines. They have zines dealing with music, art, comics, poetry, personal (printed blogs basically) and miscellaneous. They let you make copies of stuff you want to, and it’s pretty freakin’ great. The volunteers are helpful and nice. I was there a few years ago, when it was in the basement of the Hugo House. I remember it smelled like something died in the walls. Now they are upstairs in a nice room that smells more like coffee. The shelves are packed, but they welcome donations.
ZAPP is located in the Capitol (Capital?) Hill section of Seattle. They have very limited hours, but the hours are on the Hugo House website. I’m sure they need volunteers. If I didn’t live in buttfuck Everett I would volunteer. I’m sorry I called it buttfuck Everett. Everett is not that bad. It’s not the greatest, but I have my little places I go that make it tolerable.
Verna’s Everett Places
Stars N Stripes Espresso – I know, the name is so post-9/11, but it is my fave drive-thru espresso place. They really have the cheapest prices. They are located on Evergreen Way and are on the way to my second favorite place.
Advanced Chiropractic – Dr. Beasley (or Dr. Greg) has mad back skills. If you live in Everett and need help with your back you should go see him. He’s nice and his staff are all nice, too. I just can’t afford to see him right now, but his office is close to my next favorite place.
The Evergreen Branch Library – Don’t hate me when I say, you can only use this branch if you live in certain parts of Everett. No, I don’t get it, either, but it probably has to do with funding or something. Anyway, I go there to go online, check out some books, and occasionally smell the sweet smell of homelessness. There but for the grace of God and all that. The staff are pretty cool there, but the branch is not as awesome as my fourth favorite...
The Mukilteo Library – A beautiful library in nearby Mukilteo. It has a fireplace, lots of computers, comfy seating, lots of books (oh, but who goes to the library for books anymore?) (Just kidding) . On a nice day you can walk around back and end up on a trail that goes down into some woods… it’s just so pretty. Love it.
I’m scared to do what I need to do to get my books done. Interviewing people is not my strong suit, and that’s what I’m gonna have to do. Gregg Turkington (Neil Hamburger, comedian) told me, “Anything worth doing is worth doing badly”. I love that idea, but I have a Virgo moon and it fucks with my head about myself all the time. So I am putting a plea out into the universe to help me get going again. A spur in my side, gentle, but a spur none-the-less. I need that.
I visited ZAPP at Richard Hugo House yesterday. If you do not know what ZAPP is, it’s Zine Archive Preservation Project. I meant to do some research, but ended up just donating some zines, looking at their rarities, and leaving. I was mostly thinking about my best friend lying in the hospital after knee replacement replacement surgery. Yes, she had her replacement replaced. Ouch. So that made it hard to concentrate.
ZAPP is fuckin’ cool, especially if you are interested in zines. They have zines dealing with music, art, comics, poetry, personal (printed blogs basically) and miscellaneous. They let you make copies of stuff you want to, and it’s pretty freakin’ great. The volunteers are helpful and nice. I was there a few years ago, when it was in the basement of the Hugo House. I remember it smelled like something died in the walls. Now they are upstairs in a nice room that smells more like coffee. The shelves are packed, but they welcome donations.
ZAPP is located in the Capitol (Capital?) Hill section of Seattle. They have very limited hours, but the hours are on the Hugo House website. I’m sure they need volunteers. If I didn’t live in buttfuck Everett I would volunteer. I’m sorry I called it buttfuck Everett. Everett is not that bad. It’s not the greatest, but I have my little places I go that make it tolerable.
Verna’s Everett Places
Stars N Stripes Espresso – I know, the name is so post-9/11, but it is my fave drive-thru espresso place. They really have the cheapest prices. They are located on Evergreen Way and are on the way to my second favorite place.
Advanced Chiropractic – Dr. Beasley (or Dr. Greg) has mad back skills. If you live in Everett and need help with your back you should go see him. He’s nice and his staff are all nice, too. I just can’t afford to see him right now, but his office is close to my next favorite place.
The Evergreen Branch Library – Don’t hate me when I say, you can only use this branch if you live in certain parts of Everett. No, I don’t get it, either, but it probably has to do with funding or something. Anyway, I go there to go online, check out some books, and occasionally smell the sweet smell of homelessness. There but for the grace of God and all that. The staff are pretty cool there, but the branch is not as awesome as my fourth favorite...
The Mukilteo Library – A beautiful library in nearby Mukilteo. It has a fireplace, lots of computers, comfy seating, lots of books (oh, but who goes to the library for books anymore?) (Just kidding) . On a nice day you can walk around back and end up on a trail that goes down into some woods… it’s just so pretty. Love it.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Burn It All Down -- fiction story
Burn It All Down
I hid in the dark and watched my handiwork. I had been up for four days and could not sleep. I couldn’t eat and lived on Vitality water. She was gone and I was still here. So it was only fitting that I made a pyre out of my regrets and longings. Burning The Midnite Oil down was a cliché too delicious to forgo. I had to do it. Why? She was gone, that’s all. So it had to go. My club. My beautiful, horrible club, burning to the ground, drowning under the water from the firefighter’s hoses. My night manager, Cliff, made a statement to the press. With a look of shock across his smug goateed face. His piercings glittering in the glare of camera lights. Haha, Cliff. I hope you are struck with insomnia, you prick. I yawned as I watched the spectacle die down.
That night I had the best sleep of my life.
(I got the idea for this from a prompt on the Writers Digest page).
I hid in the dark and watched my handiwork. I had been up for four days and could not sleep. I couldn’t eat and lived on Vitality water. She was gone and I was still here. So it was only fitting that I made a pyre out of my regrets and longings. Burning The Midnite Oil down was a cliché too delicious to forgo. I had to do it. Why? She was gone, that’s all. So it had to go. My club. My beautiful, horrible club, burning to the ground, drowning under the water from the firefighter’s hoses. My night manager, Cliff, made a statement to the press. With a look of shock across his smug goateed face. His piercings glittering in the glare of camera lights. Haha, Cliff. I hope you are struck with insomnia, you prick. I yawned as I watched the spectacle die down.
That night I had the best sleep of my life.
(I got the idea for this from a prompt on the Writers Digest page).
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