So, now February storage rent has been tacked on. $1014 owed. And my internet at home is off (86 needed). Phone will come due soon as well. The phone that is, once again, access to my only livelihood.
Permanently damaged goods.
Just too much pain.
Make it stop.
Please help me survive.
Brain wired wrong.
I need a break.
Need to heal.
Do I fit anywhere?
I’m all melancholy right now. Frustration with my own health and job hunt. Trying to get through school as well. Today I finally got a formal diagnosis of PTSD and GAD. These explain a lot. I feel like things aren’t coming together like I, and those around me, had thought they would by now. Like I’m falling apart all over again. This is partly why I’ve been so quiet lately. Poetry just isn’t forming so much of late.
Bear with me as I fight to reclaim the ground I lost climbing out of my own personal abyss.
Since the Superbowl yesterday, a LOT of folks have been dishing out commentary about “a certain lead singer of a rock band who performed in the halftime show.” His tattoos, his physique, his choice of clothing, his singing, etc. Many women all over find him attractive. I’m not one of them. Partly because of my sexuality.
As an Aromantic Asexual… I think much of my distaste for this lead singer is because of his attitude and ego. There’s a saying somewhere about how no matter what you look like on the outside, if you’re kind and good to others, your beauty shines from the inside out. Something along those lines.
His music is okay. I like some songs, but if you waved a concert ticket in my face, I’d probably shrug my shoulders. His vanity and ego just seem to overshadow everything else. This is merely my impression. I’m sure he may do some nice things for fans and such, but again, those are overshadowed by vanity and ego.
His looks are what I want to talk about. Mixed in with slight jabs at his clothes, I’ve noticed some women drooling in written form over his shirtless performance. Now, just because I don’t experience romantic or sexual attraction doesn’t mean I don’t find men attractive. Some men.
His tattoos are all over the place and, as one woman at the shelter when I was there noted about people with lots of tats, have them tell a story. If they don’t work with each other to tell the story of you, they seem messy and it doesn’t come across as attractive. I knew he had a fair number of tats, but until I saw pics of him from yesterday, I had no idea how many.
Or how jumbled they seem. His physique was certainly defined and decent, but again, the tattoos and his vanity just don’t pull me in.
For an example of beautiful men inside and out, take Tom Hiddleston. Similar body type, toned but not super muscular He-man type. But look at the person he is. Down to earth, gentle, caring, compassionate. That is WAY sexier to me than the singer’s ego and vanity.
Be more than your looks. Check your ego and vanity at the door. Treat others as you wish to be treated in life. You never know when you may end up in their shoes.
The storage office closes at 6pm. It’s currently 3:30pm. I’m still very short of funds to hand over to them. PayPal is the easiest and fastest method for me, as I have a PP debit card. I’m short $600. Nearly everything that helps define who and what I am is in that storage unit. I’m so close. I can’t lose it now.
I may sound like a broken record at times, but I am eternally grateful to those who have helped me over the last few years as I’ve struggled to find my footing again. I’m still struggling with it, but getting there, slowly. If I get through this whole mess, I’ll be able to make some things to show that gratitude, but I kinda need my machines and supplies, which are in storage.
I’ll also need copious amounts of coffee, but that can come later.
I know some may wonder why I need help with storage so soon after getting it pulled from auction a month ago. See, I owed 1400 a month ago. Raised 800 and got it pulled. On the condition I would pay the remainder off by the end of January. That came and went with little coming in. Tasks have been almost non-existent and the PT job/internship dried up for a couple of reasons with my last paycheck depositing last Friday.
On top of that, I had to pay part of my rent for this month as rental assistance may be going away sooner rather than later. So, everything has gone to that.
With late fees tacked on, my total is now closer to 700 than the 600-ish it was a month ago. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if they’d let me still try after January was over, but they are. So I have until end of day today (6pm Pacific) to get it caught up. Then I can arrange to have a day off access (I hope) and get some stuff out and the rest moved down to a smaller unit.
It is still set for auction at the end of the month, but I really need to get caught up and get my mattress and stuff out. My back is getting worse and sleeping on the floor doesn’t help at all.
I still need income. I’ll work on that this week. Somehow, someway.
[Yes, still need help covering storage past due. I want to get it taken care of tomorrow, so I can start getting stuff out and/or moved into a smaller unit. Need roughly $600 still. Anything helps.]
I’ve blogged recently about my difficulties finding work. I’ve struggled finding my niche in society. And after watching videos and reading books, I do know WHY, at least in part, I’m having so many issues.
I’m a Scanner (Barbara Sher’s term) or what has been coined more recently, a Multipotentialite (see video below). I have a couple of Barbara’s books, and man, they make sense to me. Then I found the video below and it still clicks.
The problem is that society doesn’t see us as valuable in traditional environments. As the video mentions, our society thrives and focuses on people being “specialists.” But us Scanners are anything BUT specialists. We know a bit more than enough to be competent in several things, but never hone in on ONE thing.
I have my BA in English, creative writing as my focus. But I’m not writing all the time. I go through phases where I can work on my fiction for a few months, and then that winds down and I focus on another thing. I’m the type of Scanner Barbara refers to as a Cyclical Scanner.
When it comes to my core passions, I have four. And I shift, mostly circular in nature, between those four things. Writing, Photography, Web Design, and Sewing/Design.
And then there are the “others.” My storage unit is full of supplies for the “others.” Oh, I need to paint some shoes to match this costume… Other. Make a mask? Other. Design a book cover? Other. Make a piece of jewelry for something? Other. And soooo many more. My home, and by extension my storage unit, is a place of variety and creativity. I do many, MANY things, but am no expert in any one of them. Pretty decent at several of them, but no expert. It doesn’t mean I love any of them more or less. My “Big Four” are the ones I’m “pretty fucking good” at.
So, how does this tie in to job hunting?
Our society has become entranced with Specialists. Look at job listings sometime. In accounting, you have listings for Payroll Specialists and so on. In tech, well, don’t get me started. All the various programming languages and certifications and …. yeah. In medicine, engineering, the trades (spot welder versus sheet welding) and most areas of employment, you’ll find a call for specialists.
But for a decent chunk of human history, it was balanced out between generalists and specialists. One person who fits Scanner types well? Leonardo da Vinci. Most know who he was because of his paintings. But he was also an inventor and so much more. What we call now a “Renaissance Man.”
Scanners and Multipotentialites are Renaissance People. We have a lot to offer society, but society doesn’t see what we can do for them. We are pushed to the outer edges of society and, in many cases, not really taken seriously.
I have a slew of skills I can offer an employer, not just creative stuff. But finding a company that potentially SEES those skills as a package deal worth the time is difficult.
Do I have other issues that are making my employability difficult? Yes. And I acknowledge them completely.
I do tell people that the best environment for me to work in is where I have a variety of things I can work on and switch back and forth between. And, because of my back, where I can get up and move around as needed.
Who knows where I’ll end up. I certainly don’t. I want to be able to love my job. Or at least like it enough that I don’t fall asleep halfway through the morning. Granted, that would require me to actually get decent sleep at night. I’m working on it.
Still need funds to save storage and get on with life. I’ve received two donations totaling a bit over 100, but still need about 600 more.
This week has been tough for me. And tonight is the anniversary of losing JoJo. Two years ago, one week after my eviction hearing, I rushed her to Dove Lewis. She wouldn’t have made it to dawn. She hid her congestive heart failure all too well.
She was my soul. We both had the same food issues (hers was an allergy to wheat and I have Celiacs). She was right there, in my face, when I wasn’t feeling well to provide me with some purr therapy to help me feel better.
She chose me in such a clear and obvious way. I was her only human for 14 years. She was 11 months old. I adopted her February 2003, and she passed away February 2017, a month shy of turning 15.
She was a ginger force to be reckoned with. Opinionated, loving, sassy cat. My first indoor cat.
The path in the woods
Between brush and grass.
Lorded over by ancient trees.
Protected from the glare of the sun.
Slow, cautious steps lead down.
The edge of the woods clears.
The ground becomes soft.
Rounded pebbles replace
The sharp edges of boulders.
The rock is not far.
It has flattened with time and water.
Long ago, one had to climb its side to stand on top.
It is no longer the mighty throne of dreams.
The lake laps gently against it.
The others scurry down the shore.
Leaving me alone with the rock of my ancestors.
I stand alone, looking out at the ancient lake that has been part of our generations .
I remove my shoes and let my cloak fall to the ground behind me.
One step up and I take my place.
The hem of my dress barely reaches my ankles.
The layers of white and grey moved by the breeze.
It also questions the placement of the circlet on my head
By way of rearranging my hair.
My companions are beyond my hearing.
I hum a little melody my mother taught me as a small child.
Closed eyes, I hear the wind.
My friends off in the distance drowned out.
I listen to the trees. The water.
They tell me of those who came before.
Eyes open, I take in the serenity of the steep mountains surrounding the lake.
Ancient land, ancient water.
It laps gently against the rock.
Small splashes reach my bare toes.
The water, it is cold.
The sky above is calm, deceiving those below it.
I know its tricks, as the water has own.
The secrets bestowed upon me.
I am one of the
This is a fantasy variant of my “happy place” when I get a panic attack. I imagine myself on the rock.