Was it just a week ago that I found out George Carlin died? I found out about Cyd Charisse at the same time. And just a week prior to that, Tim Russert passed. I haven’t been able to watch Meet The Press since the tribute episode. I’m not ready, I guess. George Carlin. What a hoot. I was introduced to Carlin when I was in high school. My mother decided I was old enough to watch without having my mind completely blown, I guess. Well, it was. I laughed. Hysterically at times. It didn’t help that it was about the same time I was allowed to watch some of Richard Pryor’s routines.
See, my mom did something really wacky and radical. She parented. Single, working, two jobs sometimes, and she set rules. And expected us to follow them. Instead of complaining about pornography and graphic language, she did her job and kept it away from us until she felt we were ready for it. I saw my first R-rated movie at 10. Granted, it was the Blues Brothers and it got an R rating basically for one word. It would just barely make PG-13, now. But she took us to see it. First, though, she saw it by herself. She did that with Beverly Hills Cop, too, even though I was older. My brother was still 11 or 12 when that one came out. She screened things before letting us see it, to decide if it was something she wanted us exposed to. Gosh. What an incredible idea. She was hardly lenient, but she wasn’t strict, either. And let’s face it, my brother and I were basically good kids to begin with. We and the kids on my street got into what I refer to as “Dennis the Menace” trouble. The worst thing was two of the guys nearly burning down a house, playing in the garage with fire and oily rags. And most of us went on to college. Considering the neighborhood where I grew up, that was no mean feat.
Mostly I’m just stressed about, well, everything. I want to finish school, I really do. And my confidence is flagging in a big way with this accounting course. It’s tough. Really tough. Not impossible, but tough. And I’ve got one more semester of it. If I can take my reference material with me, I can probably walk into an entry-level accounting job and do just fine. But with an MBA, I think they’ll expect a bit more of me. Confidence has never been a strength for me. Cover it up with other behavior, that’s my policy. I pretty much work with the assumption that people are just tolerating me, looking for any excuse to walk away. Including those related to me. So when I find someone who’s willing to hang around me, even when I’m feeling my most annoying (yeah, sometimes I do it on purpose. Some people actually find it endearing. No accounting for tastes), I tend to hold on to them forever. Even if I go months without actually speaking to them, I consider them part of my life unless I am told otherwise.
I’ve written a cheat sheet for my accounting exam. We’re permitted a single sheet of 8.5 x 11, with whatever we want on it, both sides if we wish. It’s amazing how much you can fit on a piece of paper if you use a small enough font. I’ve found that in portrait orientation, an 8pt font and three columns seems most useful, four columns if you use a landscape orientation. I’ll be taking my exam tomorrow afternoon, 1:00PM. I’m a little nervous about it. Kinda like Phoenix is a little hot in the summer. I’ve done all I can do, now I just have to trust that I’ve learned something. I know I have, I just don’t know if I can translate that to a decent exam grade. It’ll be okay, I guess.
I miss writing. Whoa, warning, sudden shifts in topic ahead! Anyway, I miss writing. Not this stuff, this journalizing. I mean stories. I used to write all the time. I can’t do it any more, and I’m not sure why. My mind is a complete blank when it comes to ideas, and I can’t complete even a short story any more. I used to write tons of poetry, published articles online, was actually well-known in certain circles for my short stories. Maybe it’s practice. Like my body.
Yeah, another shift. I used to be heavier than I am now, but I’ve never been so squishy. I always had some level of muscle tone. But then, I also didn’t get ill after a few days of exercising, or so exhausted it was all I could do to get out of bed, like I do now. I always had an hourglass figure. At some points, it was a 24-hour glass, granted, but it was still the right general shape. Now I’m all squishy. I’m not happy about that.
Lastly, I’m trying not to panic about my health in general. Heaven knows I could use a therapist of some sort, but there’s also the physical health. I was concerned a few days ago, I felt like everything had gradually been getting dimmer. So, out of curiosity, particularly since I could feel pressure, not behind my eyes as with sinus problems, but actually in my eyes, I looked to see if there was a connection between hypertension and sight loss. Lo and behold, there is. Serious, uncontrolled hypertension can lead to blindness. Yay. Of course, I had a light burn out, a compact fluorescent, which apparently gets more and more dim as it nears the end of its life. I changed the light bulb yesterday and suddenly, I could see better. Hmm.
It’s still a very real concern, I do feel pressure in my eyes and occasionally feel like I’ve got a blind spot forming in my right eye. But without health insurance, there’s not a thing I can do about it. Instead, I can sit here and make a game of figuring out what irreversible condition I’ll get first. Will my kidneys completely fail before I can get insurance? Or will I have a stroke, damaging only part of my body? Or maybe I’ll just go blind. Or my ceiling could collapse and drop a bathtub on my head. Or, really, I could be walking out to my car and be hit by a rouge antelope. That last is part of a trick I learned. As my mother observed, I’m a worrywart. It can get seriously out of hand. Like, so out of hand, it’s crippling. So, to cope, I learned to interject something absolutely ridiculous, to help get me off the train of thought. It actually works. I’m trying to teach it to my bestest friend. She’s a bit of a worrier, too. Part and parcel of the whole ADD/OCD/Depression spectrum.
At least my class is taking my mind off the fact that it’s been nearly a year and I still have no real source of income, save student loans, and very little prospect of finding one. And that the only reason I can devote the time I need to my studies is because I’m not working. The employment agency I’m signed up with keeps saying they’ll be contacting me soon, then they don’t. And I don’t know if I’m glad or not. Right now, not that big a deal, I have enough money to get through the next couple of months, as long as I remember I don’t have any more money coming in. It’s gonna get real interesting, soon.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Stream Of Consciousness 06/26
So really all I’m thinking about is the fact that I have to finish my Accounting degree to stand a chance at getting a job that pays any amount of money. Living here in Colorado Springs, named 6th best city to live in by Kiplingers, it’s interesting. Apparently, you can only get a job if you’re fresh out of high school or have a PhD. Well, MBA is also acceptable for entry-level stuff. So great, I’m back in school. And I’m in the middle of wrapping up an incomplete from one of the undergrad accounting courses I took. Because in the last few weeks of class, including the last week of my grad-level finance class, I was ill. Specifically, dunno. Mental, physical, emotional, just ill, okay? So what does that mean? Does it mean I should just chuck it all and apply for disability, because I have no hope of actually holding down a job, what with me getting ill all the time? When I started at my last job, my PKD hadn’t advanced all that much. Really, aside from some cysts on my kidneys and hypertension, I was in great shape. I could work 50 hour weeks. Now I get exhausted going to the store. I walked around Home Depot today, trying to make some sense of the place, picking up a few things to make my house more secure, and I felt like I needed a nap when I got home!
But I’m not even 40 yet, and I’ve got some time left. Even taking into account the history on my mother’s side, I’ve got some time. Both my mother and her mother were ill, both were dead before they were 65. Both were basically incapacitated by their mid-50s. So, based on that, I have about 12-15 productive years left, and probably 25 years total. But disability doesn’t pay much. I’ll be eating tuna sandwiches twice a day, every day, because that’s all I’d be able to afford. And I’ll become a hermit! I don’t talk to people unless I have to, or they call me. Except Sheila, and even she usually does the calling. Unless it’s been a couple days, then I get concerned and call her. Or could I work part-time doing bookkeeping or accounting stuff, to pay my bills? I suppose I get that from my father. Our longest phone conversation in the past 2 years was probably 3 minutes. Actually, that’s probably about the longest our face-to-face conversations have been. Just not interested, I guess.
See, and that’s something else. I’m going home for the weekend soon, and I’m looking forward to it and dreading it at the same time. The only person who’s actually asked anything about me is my stepmother. No one else seems particularly interested. Well, there was a great conversation over my birthday with a couple of my sisters, that was cool, but really, that was nearly a year since our last conversation. I suppose one of the reasons I don’t want to move back is because I feel like here, I can pretend someone actually misses me. Whether or not it’s an accurate assessment, that’s how it feels to me. Doesn’t really matter, though, it is what it is. Feels like they consider me nothing but a fat, lazy failure barely able to take care of herself and not really worth the effort. Yeah, I know, I’m projecting. I’m trying to put it in perspective, although I’m sure I’m way off and they’ll probably take offense at anything I say. Whatever. The fact remains that they really don’t know much about me and don’t seem particularly interested in trying. My father remains the only one to come visit me, and then it was only because I was going to have major surgery. He didn’t stay long, and we only had one day where I could actually spend time with him doing more than just lying there, but oh well. He came, and I was glad. As for the rest, it’s an expensive trip, and I don’t exactly have the space to put someone up for an extended period of time. My mother would have visited, but that just wasn’t really possible in her condition. My stepmother isn’t a huge fan of traveling. Not everyone is. So I don’t expect to see her out here any time soon. I really don’t expect to see anyone out here any time soon. My fault for leaving, so my responsibility to travel, I guess.
I shouldn’t be surprised I never had that many friends to begin with. People I knew, sure, but not friends. I have more close friends here, now, than I ever did at any one time back home. I can count four people that I’d trust with my life. Four people who know something about me, who I’ve learned something about. I never had that before. Of course, I didn’t really think much of myself until I moved here, so I’m sure that’s a factor. Best thing I could do for myself, really, moving out here. I got to know my mother’s side of the family. Totally messed up. But, I fit there. And they have visited. Sure, it’s easier for one of them, she lives in Denver, so it’s really not a fair comparison, but we’ve hung out. Actually, and I never thought I’d say things, I’m looking forward to my next trip to Tulsa. Seriously. Yikes.
So anyway, having a hard time finding the motivation. What’s the point? No matter what I do, it won’t change what they think of me, or even if they think of me. I expect to have one guest at my graduation, my friend Sheila. No, that’s not fair, I can think of several. None related by blood, though. That’s only slightly less than was at my college graduation. Yeah, that hurt. No point complaining, though, won’t change anything and everyone will just add “whiner” to my description. Assuming they even gave it a thought. Which I doubt.
Yeah, I’m probably the only one who thinks all this. There’s probably something I should have done differently, changed my personality somehow to be more like the rest of them, so I could fit in, so they’d actually talk to me. Actually, I tried that for a lot of years, and it just backfired in a big way. So instead, I move away and think about my family, and wish I could have a better relationship with them.
Gee, wonder what’s been on my mind for the past couple of weeks…
But I’m not even 40 yet, and I’ve got some time left. Even taking into account the history on my mother’s side, I’ve got some time. Both my mother and her mother were ill, both were dead before they were 65. Both were basically incapacitated by their mid-50s. So, based on that, I have about 12-15 productive years left, and probably 25 years total. But disability doesn’t pay much. I’ll be eating tuna sandwiches twice a day, every day, because that’s all I’d be able to afford. And I’ll become a hermit! I don’t talk to people unless I have to, or they call me. Except Sheila, and even she usually does the calling. Unless it’s been a couple days, then I get concerned and call her. Or could I work part-time doing bookkeeping or accounting stuff, to pay my bills? I suppose I get that from my father. Our longest phone conversation in the past 2 years was probably 3 minutes. Actually, that’s probably about the longest our face-to-face conversations have been. Just not interested, I guess.
See, and that’s something else. I’m going home for the weekend soon, and I’m looking forward to it and dreading it at the same time. The only person who’s actually asked anything about me is my stepmother. No one else seems particularly interested. Well, there was a great conversation over my birthday with a couple of my sisters, that was cool, but really, that was nearly a year since our last conversation. I suppose one of the reasons I don’t want to move back is because I feel like here, I can pretend someone actually misses me. Whether or not it’s an accurate assessment, that’s how it feels to me. Doesn’t really matter, though, it is what it is. Feels like they consider me nothing but a fat, lazy failure barely able to take care of herself and not really worth the effort. Yeah, I know, I’m projecting. I’m trying to put it in perspective, although I’m sure I’m way off and they’ll probably take offense at anything I say. Whatever. The fact remains that they really don’t know much about me and don’t seem particularly interested in trying. My father remains the only one to come visit me, and then it was only because I was going to have major surgery. He didn’t stay long, and we only had one day where I could actually spend time with him doing more than just lying there, but oh well. He came, and I was glad. As for the rest, it’s an expensive trip, and I don’t exactly have the space to put someone up for an extended period of time. My mother would have visited, but that just wasn’t really possible in her condition. My stepmother isn’t a huge fan of traveling. Not everyone is. So I don’t expect to see her out here any time soon. I really don’t expect to see anyone out here any time soon. My fault for leaving, so my responsibility to travel, I guess.
I shouldn’t be surprised I never had that many friends to begin with. People I knew, sure, but not friends. I have more close friends here, now, than I ever did at any one time back home. I can count four people that I’d trust with my life. Four people who know something about me, who I’ve learned something about. I never had that before. Of course, I didn’t really think much of myself until I moved here, so I’m sure that’s a factor. Best thing I could do for myself, really, moving out here. I got to know my mother’s side of the family. Totally messed up. But, I fit there. And they have visited. Sure, it’s easier for one of them, she lives in Denver, so it’s really not a fair comparison, but we’ve hung out. Actually, and I never thought I’d say things, I’m looking forward to my next trip to Tulsa. Seriously. Yikes.
So anyway, having a hard time finding the motivation. What’s the point? No matter what I do, it won’t change what they think of me, or even if they think of me. I expect to have one guest at my graduation, my friend Sheila. No, that’s not fair, I can think of several. None related by blood, though. That’s only slightly less than was at my college graduation. Yeah, that hurt. No point complaining, though, won’t change anything and everyone will just add “whiner” to my description. Assuming they even gave it a thought. Which I doubt.
Yeah, I’m probably the only one who thinks all this. There’s probably something I should have done differently, changed my personality somehow to be more like the rest of them, so I could fit in, so they’d actually talk to me. Actually, I tried that for a lot of years, and it just backfired in a big way. So instead, I move away and think about my family, and wish I could have a better relationship with them.
Gee, wonder what’s been on my mind for the past couple of weeks…
Friday, June 13, 2008
A Day Out
Wednesday and yesterday, I was pretty much house bound. I won’t get into details, I’ll only say that on Wednesday at least, leaving home for an extended period of time, say, 10 minutes, was about impossible. Today, my bestest friend called just to chat and check up on me. We don’t talk every day any more, since neither one of us has a whole lot going on, there isn’t as much to say as there used to be. And frankly, I’m not the best at holding up a conversation (Making and Keeping Friends with Adult ADD), so when there isn’t anything to say, I’m usually content with silences. They don’t usually feel that awkward to me. Sadly, this is of little use on the telephone, so conversations are fairly short. I realized, though, after talking to my bestest friend, that I’d been cooped up in the house since Wednesday, and I really hadn’t left since Monday, and I needed to get out. I called her back and suggested an outing.
She’s been trying to get out of the house more, something we depressives have a lot of trouble doing. Yes, she’s a depressive. Frankly, the only people who can really understand the difference between depression and the blues is someone who’s experienced the difference. So, many of my friends happen to be depressives. No different than having all artist friends or accounting friends, really. You find a common ground. Anyway, off we went to Manitou Springs.
I’ve been there many times, although I seem to forget to go for the various events that make Manitou special, like the Great Fruitcake Toss or the Emma Crawford Coffin Race and Festival (not to be confused with the Frozen Dead Guys Days in Nederland – how could you not love it?). The town itself is very much a pedestrian zone, with fair parking and excellent walkways. The shops are unique and, yes, some are very touristy. But they’re unique. You’d be hard-pressed to find a chain store in downtown Manitou Springs. There are some that are specific to Colorado, but not much beyond that. Even though it’s only 5 miles west of downtown Colorado Springs, it’s a mountain town. Reminds me of Mt. Adams in Cincinnati, actually.
I really can’t decide if I like Manitou itself more than I like the drive. There are a few different routes to take to Manitou. My personal favorite takes me through Garden of the Gods, a fabulous geologic display given to the city of Colorado Springs by a wealthy landowner. It’s a slow drive, granted, and at times the other drivers can be irritating, but really, it’s hard to stay angry if you just look out the windows. Next time, we’ll be hiking through instead of driving through. So many easy trails to take, as long as you’ve got good shoes and plenty of water, you’ll be just fine. The last time I was there, I saw the ever-present swallows, magpies and rock pigeons, and was treated to a pair of cranes just hanging out at my favorite overlook. No, not telling, it’s usually pretty empty of patrons and I’d like to keep it that way. Usually I see a red-tailed hawk or two, but not that trip. I did on the way back from Manitou, though.
Wandering around Manitou itself was fun, sure, but more fun for me was finally being able to share it with someone. My bestest friend and I got to talking about all sorts of things, and we came to one very important realization. Well, not just one, but this is one that was important. We realized that neither of us has been actively dating because we’re not anxious to have to answer to anyone. And for me personally, I think Kate Hepburn’s quote sums it up best: "Only when a woman decides not to have children, can a woman live like a man. That's what I've done." I love kids. I really do. That’s why I didn’t have any. They deserve a better mother than I ever would have been.
I got to play with my new, cheap digital camera. Not bad for $20. Plus, my bestest friend’s mother tends to buy cameras a lot and discards the old ones, so she now has some fairly decent cameras and is going to give me one. Yay! Served my purposes well enough. I wasn’t expecting Ansel Adams, but I was hoping for better than a cell phone. And that’s what I got.
Today’s journey was about getting out of the house and reconnecting. We did think about the third part of our trio, The Saint, but she has little ones and it’s a bit harder for her to walk out at the drop of a hat. A pity, it would have been fabulous. As it is, The Dame and I wandered around the city, ate things we didn’t need to eat but ate anyway because they were good, and took pictures of things we can’t identify later. Mostly, though, we hung out, something friends do.
The whole future lack of funds thing preys on my mind on a fairly regular basis. I can’t not think about it, even on a wonderful day like today. I do get very homesick. I know there are people who care about me back in Cincinnati, who want me to be happy and healthy-ish and safe. And if I must, I can go back there. Cost of living is lower, it’s a larger city so I could actually find a job, and the lower altitude would do wonders for my blood pressure. But I also know that I never had friends like I have now, here in Colorado, that I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not with them, and I’m loathe to leave them.
Rather than think of such an unpleasant thought, one that has actually kept me up nights, I will instead reflect on the glorious day, the celebration of life that was my walk through Manitou Springs.
She’s been trying to get out of the house more, something we depressives have a lot of trouble doing. Yes, she’s a depressive. Frankly, the only people who can really understand the difference between depression and the blues is someone who’s experienced the difference. So, many of my friends happen to be depressives. No different than having all artist friends or accounting friends, really. You find a common ground. Anyway, off we went to Manitou Springs.
I’ve been there many times, although I seem to forget to go for the various events that make Manitou special, like the Great Fruitcake Toss or the Emma Crawford Coffin Race and Festival (not to be confused with the Frozen Dead Guys Days in Nederland – how could you not love it?). The town itself is very much a pedestrian zone, with fair parking and excellent walkways. The shops are unique and, yes, some are very touristy. But they’re unique. You’d be hard-pressed to find a chain store in downtown Manitou Springs. There are some that are specific to Colorado, but not much beyond that. Even though it’s only 5 miles west of downtown Colorado Springs, it’s a mountain town. Reminds me of Mt. Adams in Cincinnati, actually.
I really can’t decide if I like Manitou itself more than I like the drive. There are a few different routes to take to Manitou. My personal favorite takes me through Garden of the Gods, a fabulous geologic display given to the city of Colorado Springs by a wealthy landowner. It’s a slow drive, granted, and at times the other drivers can be irritating, but really, it’s hard to stay angry if you just look out the windows. Next time, we’ll be hiking through instead of driving through. So many easy trails to take, as long as you’ve got good shoes and plenty of water, you’ll be just fine. The last time I was there, I saw the ever-present swallows, magpies and rock pigeons, and was treated to a pair of cranes just hanging out at my favorite overlook. No, not telling, it’s usually pretty empty of patrons and I’d like to keep it that way. Usually I see a red-tailed hawk or two, but not that trip. I did on the way back from Manitou, though.
Wandering around Manitou itself was fun, sure, but more fun for me was finally being able to share it with someone. My bestest friend and I got to talking about all sorts of things, and we came to one very important realization. Well, not just one, but this is one that was important. We realized that neither of us has been actively dating because we’re not anxious to have to answer to anyone. And for me personally, I think Kate Hepburn’s quote sums it up best: "Only when a woman decides not to have children, can a woman live like a man. That's what I've done." I love kids. I really do. That’s why I didn’t have any. They deserve a better mother than I ever would have been.
I got to play with my new, cheap digital camera. Not bad for $20. Plus, my bestest friend’s mother tends to buy cameras a lot and discards the old ones, so she now has some fairly decent cameras and is going to give me one. Yay! Served my purposes well enough. I wasn’t expecting Ansel Adams, but I was hoping for better than a cell phone. And that’s what I got.
Today’s journey was about getting out of the house and reconnecting. We did think about the third part of our trio, The Saint, but she has little ones and it’s a bit harder for her to walk out at the drop of a hat. A pity, it would have been fabulous. As it is, The Dame and I wandered around the city, ate things we didn’t need to eat but ate anyway because they were good, and took pictures of things we can’t identify later. Mostly, though, we hung out, something friends do.
The whole future lack of funds thing preys on my mind on a fairly regular basis. I can’t not think about it, even on a wonderful day like today. I do get very homesick. I know there are people who care about me back in Cincinnati, who want me to be happy and healthy-ish and safe. And if I must, I can go back there. Cost of living is lower, it’s a larger city so I could actually find a job, and the lower altitude would do wonders for my blood pressure. But I also know that I never had friends like I have now, here in Colorado, that I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not with them, and I’m loathe to leave them.
Rather than think of such an unpleasant thought, one that has actually kept me up nights, I will instead reflect on the glorious day, the celebration of life that was my walk through Manitou Springs.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Stream of Consciousness 06/08
The television is showing the potential Olympians in track and field, now, earlier they were showing gymnastics, and tennis before that. I also have a feed from 181fm playing. It’s less distracting than you might think. I tried a little earlier to work on my accounting homework, but apparently I left my attention span somewhere. I missed class last week because both my kidney disease and twisted spine conspired to keep me housebound. I still think my mom may have had kidney disease, just based on completely observational evidence. Too many similarities between her and myself, and I know that PKD can go undiagnosed. Mine would have eventually come to the fore, due to the severity of the cysts, but plenty others don’t. I wonder sometimes how large my kidneys are now. It’s been over a year since my nephrologist (renal specialist) told me my kidneys were an estimated 10 lbs each. Both are also pushing a foot in length, 3-4 times as much volume as they should have. Considering I’m stuck carrying mammaries of Dolly Parton proportions (no, you DON’T want them), it makes life even more uncomfortable, since in order to walk upright, I must immobilize them with steel-reinforced lycra. The wires and elastic add pressure to my kidneys. Like it wasn’t bad enough I couldn’t find a button-down shirt that fit.
By the way, bra measurements are in inches and cups. The inches measure the width of the rib cage, nothing more. Well, for the properly-fitted and manufactured bras it is, anyway. The cup is the size of the actual breast. A 40D is not that large, really, just a wide ribcage. Same with a 44D, although this is likely to include a significant layer of subcutaneous fat. Sorry, pet peeve of mine. My rib cage is 34 inches. VERY narrow, especially for a build where 140 lbs is too thin. I know, I’ve been there. So it’s all up front. I have to special-order bras to get ones that fit. As an added bonus, it’s the first place I gain and the last place I lose weight. And since the first dose of lisinopril (lye-SIN-o-pril) made me barely functional in February of 2003, I haven’t actually been able to consistently work out, so now I’m more squishy than ever I was, even though I still weigh probably 30 lbs less than my highest weight, 50 if the kidney weight is discounted. I discontinued the lisinopril, a favorite bp med for kidney patients, because at the extremely low dose of 10 mg, I saw spots walking up to my third-floor apartment. Of course, I’d also just gained 50 lbs on the even lower dose of 5 mg. And the constant coughing, another side effect, pretty much ruined my voice. I was able to recover from that for a while, until my kidneys grew to the point where they put more pressure on my stomach and dramatically increased my acid reflux. My voice is now pretty much gone. That hurts more than anything, really. I try not to think about it. If you could have heard me before…
I’m also trying not to think about the fact that if I don’t get a job by September, I’m going to be in real trouble. Unemployment in Colorado is estimated at 7.1%, slightly higher than the national average. And the jobs that are available do in fact pay less than the jobs that have been lost. Plus, having a bachelor’s degree, I’m having a hard time finding another job. Overqualified. Not just the degree, but the work experience. I’m not looking that hard right now, though, my resume does include the fact I’m actively pursuing an MBA-Accounting, and if I thought I was having a hard time finding a job before, that little blurb makes it even harder. Why train someone who’s just going to leave for another job? I’m very stressed about it, really, and unfortunately, my stress plays out in all sorts of destructive ways. Mostly by spending money I shouldn’t on things I don’t need, while neglecting essentials.
One major essential, though, is a plumber. The ceiling in my living room has leaked almost since I moved in. Best I can figure, it was a DIY home improvement gone wrong. Anyway, it’s calmed down a little in the past few days, but that doesn’t mean anything. I probably have a huge colony of toxic mold just under the tiles in my bathroom, and I know there’s significant water damage. My insurance would cover the repairs for that, but it wouldn’t cover the initial visit from a plumber to fix the leak in the first place. Not really sure where it is, either. The unit next door had some flooding last year, some pipe had broken between our units. The owner (not the resident) didn’t bother to have insurance on the place, so he scrambled around trying to find someone to pay for the repairs. I agreed to pay for half of the repairs to the plumbing, not the contractor, but got the statement about two weeks after my layoff was announced. I paid half of the statement I was presented, but there was no way I was going to pay the rest. He later petitioned our HOA to pay for it. Shortly after that, our HOA required everyone to provide proof of insurance. It’s required by the HOA anyway, they just hadn’t enforced it. I’ve had too many friends who were robbed or in fires or other disasters to not have at least renters’ insurance. Since I own the place, I also have condo insurance to cover what the HOA won’t. And it’s pretty clear what they won’t cover, it’s not like it’s any sort of mystery or anything.
And I’m homesick. It gets worse every year. I keep thinking I’ll be here for 10 or 20 years at least, then the homesickness hits. And it hits hard. I have a family reunion over the 4th of July weekend, and I’m going home for that. And I’ll hate leaving. I tear up, if not downright cry, when I leave Cincinnati. Every time. And really, there isn’t that much there for me. Sure, my family is there, but most of them keep forgetting my name’s not Rosie (my mother), and treat me accordingly. It’s really annoying and frustrating.
My vocabulary is devolving, time to walk away. Maybe I’ll be able to get back to my accounting tonight. I hope so. There’s so much to do.
By the way, bra measurements are in inches and cups. The inches measure the width of the rib cage, nothing more. Well, for the properly-fitted and manufactured bras it is, anyway. The cup is the size of the actual breast. A 40D is not that large, really, just a wide ribcage. Same with a 44D, although this is likely to include a significant layer of subcutaneous fat. Sorry, pet peeve of mine. My rib cage is 34 inches. VERY narrow, especially for a build where 140 lbs is too thin. I know, I’ve been there. So it’s all up front. I have to special-order bras to get ones that fit. As an added bonus, it’s the first place I gain and the last place I lose weight. And since the first dose of lisinopril (lye-SIN-o-pril) made me barely functional in February of 2003, I haven’t actually been able to consistently work out, so now I’m more squishy than ever I was, even though I still weigh probably 30 lbs less than my highest weight, 50 if the kidney weight is discounted. I discontinued the lisinopril, a favorite bp med for kidney patients, because at the extremely low dose of 10 mg, I saw spots walking up to my third-floor apartment. Of course, I’d also just gained 50 lbs on the even lower dose of 5 mg. And the constant coughing, another side effect, pretty much ruined my voice. I was able to recover from that for a while, until my kidneys grew to the point where they put more pressure on my stomach and dramatically increased my acid reflux. My voice is now pretty much gone. That hurts more than anything, really. I try not to think about it. If you could have heard me before…
I’m also trying not to think about the fact that if I don’t get a job by September, I’m going to be in real trouble. Unemployment in Colorado is estimated at 7.1%, slightly higher than the national average. And the jobs that are available do in fact pay less than the jobs that have been lost. Plus, having a bachelor’s degree, I’m having a hard time finding another job. Overqualified. Not just the degree, but the work experience. I’m not looking that hard right now, though, my resume does include the fact I’m actively pursuing an MBA-Accounting, and if I thought I was having a hard time finding a job before, that little blurb makes it even harder. Why train someone who’s just going to leave for another job? I’m very stressed about it, really, and unfortunately, my stress plays out in all sorts of destructive ways. Mostly by spending money I shouldn’t on things I don’t need, while neglecting essentials.
One major essential, though, is a plumber. The ceiling in my living room has leaked almost since I moved in. Best I can figure, it was a DIY home improvement gone wrong. Anyway, it’s calmed down a little in the past few days, but that doesn’t mean anything. I probably have a huge colony of toxic mold just under the tiles in my bathroom, and I know there’s significant water damage. My insurance would cover the repairs for that, but it wouldn’t cover the initial visit from a plumber to fix the leak in the first place. Not really sure where it is, either. The unit next door had some flooding last year, some pipe had broken between our units. The owner (not the resident) didn’t bother to have insurance on the place, so he scrambled around trying to find someone to pay for the repairs. I agreed to pay for half of the repairs to the plumbing, not the contractor, but got the statement about two weeks after my layoff was announced. I paid half of the statement I was presented, but there was no way I was going to pay the rest. He later petitioned our HOA to pay for it. Shortly after that, our HOA required everyone to provide proof of insurance. It’s required by the HOA anyway, they just hadn’t enforced it. I’ve had too many friends who were robbed or in fires or other disasters to not have at least renters’ insurance. Since I own the place, I also have condo insurance to cover what the HOA won’t. And it’s pretty clear what they won’t cover, it’s not like it’s any sort of mystery or anything.
And I’m homesick. It gets worse every year. I keep thinking I’ll be here for 10 or 20 years at least, then the homesickness hits. And it hits hard. I have a family reunion over the 4th of July weekend, and I’m going home for that. And I’ll hate leaving. I tear up, if not downright cry, when I leave Cincinnati. Every time. And really, there isn’t that much there for me. Sure, my family is there, but most of them keep forgetting my name’s not Rosie (my mother), and treat me accordingly. It’s really annoying and frustrating.
My vocabulary is devolving, time to walk away. Maybe I’ll be able to get back to my accounting tonight. I hope so. There’s so much to do.
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