Dusty Newspaper Clippings and other mental disorder: September 2005

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Just wanted anyone who might be interested to know that I'm not dead; I'm staying with my folks. I've been evacuated from my apartment for about a week now. The only reason I don't head back is because school isn't resuming until this Thursday and I figured I may as well make a vacation of it. My area wasn't too damaged by the hurricane. But, being at my folks' and having very limited privacy, I can't blog as I'd like. Plus they've got a dial-up, which is irritating as hell. Gotta shower now and I'm having a raging period. Blah.

Monday, September 19, 2005

(A) Who the hell is this? and (B) She's nekkit!

It's so nice not having to go to the university but twice a week. Parking has gotten to be impossible. What else going on. I've typed a bunch at home but the lab at the community college is "floppy free." I've discovered that I can use the fitness facilities at the CC! Kick ass!

Crap, another hurricane. Now I've got the jitters. If it weren't for school, I'd bail now and not wait until the authorities tell us and the freeways are all tied up.

Sunday, September 18, 2005

Well, I'm dropping German. Oh well. It'll be easier on me, for sure. What I want to know is, why is there that certain "something" missing in me, that makes me put the nose to the grindstone. You know? I don't seem able to carry more than three classes (nine units) a semester.

If I have to take German this summer with that brown-shirted yak, so be it. I can put up with anything for five weeks.

I took that silly Dr. Phil test that's been going around in email and it told me that I'm "fresh, lively, charming, amusing, interesting...always in the center of attention...kind, considerate, understanding, someone who will always cheer people up and help them out." That doesn't sound like me. I rather think I'm in the category of "sensitive, cautious, careful, and practical...not a person who makes friends too quickly or easily." Something also about not being able to get over broken trust.

Oh, never mind. I just found that quiz is bogus.

I've been dyeing some old Francie dolls. I want a black Francie for myself. A factory black Francie is very hard to find and very expensive. My doll turned out a bit dark, but oh well. For the peach-colored dolls, their vinyl faded so I dyed them pink/peach. Right now they're too dark too, but the authorities say that'll fade. I hope so -- I hope I didn't just ruin three vintage Francie dolls.

Friday, September 16, 2005

Thanks again, John! (Not the same John who has a toddler boy who sent me a line and asked if I want to see pictures of his kid, and then was never heard from again.)

Aw crap, I'm depressed! I hate that realization. I'm like, why do I feel so down. Well, looks like I blew German out my ass, and this information comes after I spent a huge amount of money on those stupid books, which are not guaranteed to be used in the future. The instructor, a really nice lady, said that I'd have to dig myself out of a hole and she doesn't know what my final grade would be. I blew German simply because I can't get my ass out bed and plus I never do my damn homework. I feel like shit. This particular class isn't offered in the spring and so the next opportunity to take it is during the summer, when that brown-shirt beeyotch I dealt with last spring is teaching it. I don't think so. So then I'd have to wait a year. I have to sit down and figure out how much longer I'll be in school and if I can afford to put this class off for a year. Gahhhhh. This sucks.

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Courtesy of John:

So this stranger goes into a tavern in Gilroy and sits at the bar where Bush is talking on the overhead TV. "Now there's a horse's ass!", he says of the President to the bartender, who grabs him by the throat and throws him back off the barstool to the floor. The guy picks himself up and says, "Geez! Hey! I'm sorry! I didn't realize this is Bush country!" "It's not!", says the bartender. "It's horse country!"

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Yep, I did get a ticket yesterday. I am SO contesting it. Fuck those university dicks -- issuing parking permits for $120 each and then collecting tickets on top of that. Nice racket they've got going there.

Monday, September 12, 2005

I'm so pissed off that I think I could cry. Nothing is going right today. There is no parking at this goddamn campus, none. Never mind that we pay about $120 for a parking permit, and never mind that they hand out tickets left and right for "creative" parking. By the time I finally parked (illegally), I was already late for class and sweating like a pig -- I'm not showing up twenty, thirty minutes late.

So I go to the veteran's office to use a PC, none available. So I walk to the computer lab and lots of the pooters here aren't working either. Has there been another virus or something? I got onto a computer that doesn't have a zip drive, which is annoying because I needed to upload some stuff.

Just pissed off. And the shirt I grabbed has a big-ass spot on it. And my hair looks like i stuck my finger into an electrical socket. I'm going home. But I have to email my German teacher to see if my standing in there is jeopardized.

Sunday, September 11, 2005

Oh, shit, look at that date. Caught me off guard there.

The visit with Barb and Pete was really nice, makes me feel lonely for friends.

I actually went for a jog last evening! I have no idea what got into me. The last time I went running was the evening I found Heidi. Being out of shape, I didn't expect much in the way of stamina, but I surprised myself. Didn't run the complete route, of course, but I ran farther than I thought I'd be able. I wore a tank top over my jog bra (I very seldom go sleeveless) and the weather was deliciously cool. It felt wonderful. Today I'm sore, but not not too bad.

On this day in 2001, no one even pretended to work. Everyone was huddled around radios or trying to find info on the net, but of course the internet crashed. The only site I could access was the local paper, which had a single still of flames coming out of the tower. It was the only picture I got for hours. An awful occurrence, just awful. It affected everybody. Later in the day, they told us we could go home. I picked up Phoebe (didn't have Andy yet) and went over to the bro's. This is when they still lived in their old house, which wasn't the fancy-schmancy one they live in now. We spent time outside, it was a perfect day. Bro pointed out that there were no vapor trails in the sky, probably for the first time ever. A surreal and terrible day.

Anne said I need to take Missy to the vet for earmite treatment, that the vet stuff wouldn't make Missy suffer so. I'll do that Monday. There's a low-income vet near here. Missy's earmites got bad very quickly. I wonder, why her and not the others? Is her immune system compromised? I worry about the cats because their older sister was diagnosed with feline leukemia, even though these guys have been tested twice and have come up negative each time.

8:02 PM

Just came in from rollerblading. I started off too late so couldn't go very far -- I don't like being out after dark. I'd forgotten how good physical activity feels! I don't know why I fall out of my fitness routine. I seem to vary between hard-core fitness freakiness and being completely sedentary. I will say in my own defense, though, that I do a lot of walking on campus.

I think I'm going to buy a multi-vitamin from Swanson to help keep my energy up. My energy levels are roughly equivalent to those of a sloth. God, those rare times I have energy, it's so great. I feel so mentally alert.

Saturday, September 10, 2005

Yesterday evening I got together with a couple of friends from New Orleans, Barb, Pete and their baby girl, who were in town for a few days to meet up with some relatives. Last time I'd seen them was over three years ago, when I attended their wedding in N'awlins. They're not allowed to go back yet to see what's going on with their property so they're going to hang in Alabama for a while I think. It was really good catching up with them. We went out to dinner at a fabulous Mexican restaurant where I had enchiladas verdes -- YUM! I paid for our dinner because hell, even though I'm not rich, I'm better off than they are right now. I also gave them the two bags of clothing, thinking that they could pick out what they want and pass on the rest. It's kind of embarrassing, giving clothes away to someone you know, because then they can see all the crap that's been hanging in your closet. Anyway, at the restaurant I took a couple of pics of Barb and Pete to share with friends. The first picture was clear but unfortunately, Barb was caught in an unfortunate moment, which she said happens to her all the time. In the second picture she was smiling and pretty, but the it was blurry! Bugger! So, what I wound up doing was, pasting the smiling Barb face onto the not-smiling Barb face in the sharp picture. You can't even tell. My work here is done.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Oh boy oh boy, guess who gets to go stand in line at financial aid and be treated like she's got shit on her shoes? I'll give you three guesses.

Newman lost the swizzle-stick he was playing with behind the cushion of the couch.

Not looking forward to going to school today; Tuesdays and Thursdays are the worst days for parking and I usually wind up well off-campus. However, today's the last day to drop and get a refund, so maybe a bunch of people will do just that.

All done with my echinacea. My chest cold is more or less gone.

My kitties are jumpy around the water dishes while they're drinking. It's like in the wild, where animals are very cautious around the watering hole because that's where they're most vulnerable. When the kitties are drinking, I make sure not to make any noise to startle them, because then they'll get distracted and won't drink anymore.

Monday, September 05, 2005

Somehow, I think Missy got earmites again. I can't imagine how, as she doesn't go outside and is not exposed to other cats. It doesn't appear Newman has them, because his ears are pristine, the color of sea shells. I think that Peep might have them, but it's harder to tell with her because she's dark, but she does have wax in her ears and she scratches. Well, I put some neem seed oil in Missy's ears and she reacted so strongly that it was painful to see. I know she was hurting. Her ears turned bright red and she shook her head and scratched. Poor baby.

I was thinking of renaming Missy "Hermione," like in Harry Potter, which suits her stalwart, sweet and slightly troublemaking character. I always thought that "Missy" was a temporary name. I hadn't intended to keep the cats, see. It's funny how I gave little or no forethought to the naming of the cats, and the two who were adopted out retained the names I gave them: Cricket, because she didn't mew properly and made sounds like a cricket, and Tiger, because when she first got here and weighed only a few ounces, she scratched my arm to ribbons when I bathed her.

This morning at eight I got a call from the buyer in China who's wondering about her doll, which I haven't gotten around to shipping yet. I'm such a dick.

8:23 PM

Poop, poop, poopedy-poop poop. I drove to the campus in hopes of using a computer, to no avail. Everything was closed. It was kind of a gamble. Three days without a computer -- I feel so cut off from society!

Last couple of nights I've been sleeping on the couch because my bed is loaded with unfolded laundry. I went through my things today and came up with two big garbage bags full of clothes I can donate. Kewl! Still, I don't have enough room for my crap. I went through the Ikea catalog today, dreaming. I phoned them and apparently their beds are U.S. sizes, which wasn't the case a few years ago. But yay, it means I don't have to buy a new mattress. Maybe I'll get a memory-foam mattress pad instead. Schweet!

But, I was thinking of getting a living room wall/storage unit that integrates a work desk. Then, I could take the wardrobe I already have that's sitting in my living room, put it in the bedroom for storage there, and I could get rid of this gawd-awful computer desk I have now, which is far too big and clunky. The bed frame I'm using now belongs to my SIL's parents, and I would be glad to get rid of that. Thing is, for all this stuff, I'd need assistance, which is too bad. I'd have to rent a U-Haul to get the stuff from Ikea and also to take the bedframe to my bro's in-laws, and I'd need help putting the bed frame together. I usually do stuff by myself -- I put together every piece of my furniture myself, with the exception of the wardrobe, which required a brief helping hand. I hate asking for help.

Sunday, September 04, 2005

I'm thinking about what would happen if a natural disaster occurred in this city and if we had to evacuate -- look at all the things I'd have to leave behind. On one hand, I keep accumulating all this "stuff," and on the other, I disdain placing any true value on material things. I mean, while I was in the marine corps and the only space I had was a locker, I didn't really mind not having many personal things. And when I got out ... well, then it was different. I was so poor that it took me years to accumulate my personal effects. At first, all I had was a futon and a set of those unbreakable Corel dishes. At one point I met another poor secretary, who later turned out to be a big pain in the ass and I won't get into that now, but she gave me valuable pointers on how to live life on a shoestring. I found some pretty cool furniture and things at garage sales, and at the end I had amassed an eclectic collection of household items. They had been so hard-won that it really smarted to get rid of everything when I moved to New Zealand.

Well, okay, I digress. When I came to this city after my marriage ended, I carried with me three suitcases, and that was all I had. Fuckknuckle shipped me things at first, while he was still under the influence of guilt. However, toward the end, the things he shipped were literally garbage, which was pretty stupid of him because he'd spent all this money on transit and I turned around and threw it away. He also got really careless--in the true sense of the word: he didn't care. For example, he sent my computer monitor halfway across the continent in a box without any packing materials whatsoever. When I called him to complain he said offhandedly, "oh, sorry."

Gawd, here I go again, off track. What the hell was I talking about? Oh yeah, whether I'd feel bad about losing all my material things. I've got a lot of shit. It's astounding that it's all been accumulated only during the past six years. Honestly, I don't have much, if any, sentimental attachment to any of it. Regarding furniture, if it isn't from Ikea, it's hand-me-downs, mostly from my parents or bro. As for the rest, it's mostly a product of compulsive spending in an effort to escape my troubles.

Of course, it's difficult to say how I'd feel in the event of calamitous circumstances. It's one of those things where you don't know until it happens, and I feel it's almost blasphemous to speculate, given the current situation.

I'm in the process of going through my clothes to look for things to donate to hurricane survivers [it was brought to our attention on the radio that the term "refugee" is inappropriate since it infers someone from another country and thus puts a certain distance between the survivors and the rest of us]. I've got more than it's right for one person to have since I haven't weeded out my wardrobe in the six years I've lived here. I have clothes that are twelve or thirteen years old! Plus, my mom's always giving me things that she and my father don't need anymore, which I usually don't use. Good opportunity to try to clean things up around here, especially since I have an extra day this weekend. But sometime today I have to make my way to a computer somewhere since things will probably be closed tomorrow.

10:16 PM

A friend of my mom's sent me a bunch of old Barbies she'd picked up at garage sales. I was like, "gee thanks," and had them in the trunk of my car ever since, which has been well over a year. Well, I got them out and cleaned them up, and they're in amazingly good shape, almost like new. A couple of them had nappy hair which took some work, but they're much better now. I dressed them in some old 80's outfits I still had and I'm gonna donate them somewhere. The problem is, they're all caucasion dolls and I'd feel bad giving them to kids in the dome. I'd hate to be insulting, like, you took forever to rescue our asses and now you're gonna give my kid a white doll? It makes me think of Toni Morrison's The Bluest Eye, where the narrator kept receiving pink baby dolls for Christmas and she couldn't understand why she was supposed to cherish them.

Anyway, I spent an inordinate amount of time restoring these Barbies, and I'm very proud of how they turned out. I wish I'd taken "before" pictures, because you'd never believe the difference. I'm tempted to keep one or two for myself, even though I don't collect Barbie anymore. One has a gold crown, and I'm not into crowns and stuff, but it's real metal, not plastic as one might expect. Plus her facial screening is excellent. She must have been a collectible at one time. Now that she's all fixed up, she looks brand-new and I put together a mix-n-match outfit to suit her.

I'm crazy, I know.

Saturday, September 03, 2005

Just called Pat, the lady from the cocker spaniel rescue, to ask about Heidi, because I've been checking the website and I haven't seen Heidi yet. Pat said that Heidi's doing just fine, that she's receiving her heartworm treatments and they're taking a cautious approach which takes place over the course of about four months. I'm glad to hear that Heidi's okay because I was worried about her, and I'm so very grateful that she's in good hands and has a chance at a life she deserves.
Yesterday I stopped by the local NPR station and dropped off the millions of packets of tuna that my mom keeps getting me. Well, not millions, but at least twenty. It wasn't much in the great scheme of things, but I know that someone could use it.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

Someone in my art history class is hosting a refugee family from New Orleans. Weird that we're calling them refugees -- this is like a war. Anyway, she announced that she needs clothes or other donations. I really need to clean out my closets. I think I'm gonna gather up those things and donate them. They're not nice but maybe someone can use them. Ugh, what's going on in New Orleans is just chilling.

Want to hear something depressing? Here's my earnings per year, from my Social Security statement:

1983: $2,574 (I was 14, scooping poop at a dog kennel, which I enjoyed far more than most subsequent work)
1984: 5,458 (Kentucky Fried Chicken, a.k.a., Come Fuck Me Fried Chicken, during high school)
1985: 3,700 (ditto, plus at the end of the year I entered the marine corps)
1986: 7,787 (the next three years, I was in the service)
1987: 9,347
1988: 11,004
1989: 12,611 (I got out toward the end of the year and got a job for $8.10/hour)
1990: 21,982 (and from here on out, these are my earnings as a venerable administrative assistant; there was no eBay for supplemental cash)
1991: 17,688
1992: 19,504
1993: 24,582
1994: 18,518
1995: 2,940 (I left for New Zealand this year and returned in mid '97)
1996: 0
1997: 18,169
1998: 28,612
1999: 20,407 (the year before I came here)
2000: 8,168 (I attended an art school for part of the year and dropped out; I found I didn't want to be a graphic designer--it was another dead-end job, not too different from what I'd been doing)
2001: 26,212
2002: 31,550 (whoa, I actually broke thirty grand, can you believe it?)

I want more. I want MORE. Even if I'm not filthy, stinking rich, I want a comfortable lifestyle and solid earnings. I want to be on the right side of the rich/poor divide, seeing as the middle class is dwindling. My bro and SIL, both engineers with master's degrees, surely exceed the six-figure mark between the two of them. There's no reason I can't do the same. When I entered the civilian working world, I made adjustments on the downward side in regards to my standards of living; I thought a job that paid ten bucks an hour was a score. I learned to be content with very little, and not expect more than to simply make ends meet (my boyfriend at the time said, after I bought some chino's on sale, "Oh, I'm glad. You never buy anything for yourself." Well, I couldn't. Dumbass. (He really was piteously stupid--and he had a master's degree.)) It's time to wake up and realize that I no longer have to limit myself. And I don't want to have to depend upon anyone else.

Dusty Newspaper Clippings and other mental disorder