2/20: LAAAAGGGG!!! & #crowdfunding

SSSHHHHAAAAAARRRE MMEEEEEEE!!! PLEASE? (I’m feeling a bit weird today)

I’m BAAAAAaaaaack!! After a week and a half without regular wi-fi and only my phone’s hotspot, which I almost killed a few days ago, I’m back online with normal wi-fi. This means I can stop screaming at my computer and phone and make my neighbors all worried I’m killing* something in here.

*- No electronics were harmed. Really.

So, since I’ve been out of a regular paying job, my income has dwindled to a rather dangerous point. My tasking is barely anything (2 tasks this month so far). Here’s the need and goal:

1. Storage. I owe about 1000 or so. I need to get it -completely- paid up before the end of the month. Once it’s fully paid up, then I can move stuff out and the rest down to a smaller unit like I’ve been planning. I have zero access until it’s paid in full.
2. Electric. While they aren’t going to shut me off during the winter, it would be nice to throw them $50 or so of what I currently owe.
3. Cell phone bill. I set up a split payment arrangement to keep it turned on, with $60 this week and the remainder next week. I need to change the payments, though.
4. Water/Garbage/Sewer. $47. It’s all lumped together and then they split it evenly between residents. By the end of February.
5. Cat food (canned) as well. My cat goes through canned and dry. While this isn’t super-dooper urgent, the wet food has helped her coat tremendously. She gets Natural Balance Duck and Green Pea LiD. Same for her kibble, but she has enough of that for the moment.
6. PO Box. $41 or something around that number.
   By the end of February.

I basically need a big ol’ miracle or something. The phone is my only one now and it’s the only way I can get tasks. And with applying for jobs, I need a phone that’s active to get calls and such.

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In other non-begging news, my sleep is possibly improving a smidge. Health is improving a bit. School is as good as it can be for a Right Brain person trying to manage Left Brain schoolwork. I find that my testing ability still stinks and I do slightly better with the actual accounting work than with the vocabulary that comprises the midterm, which I tanked.

I had a phone interview last week, but did not make it to the next round of interviews with that company. I keep applying for stuff, but it gets frustrating when you have skills and they don’t seem to see those skills on paper.

Yesterday, I wrote up as much as I could remember of a dream that was VERY fictional and I knew it would be a good story. I still need to fill in the gaps, but this piece is something I want to eventually submit somewhere.

I refuse to let the shit in my life win and beat me back down. I just have a lot to work on.

~A

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1/31: 3 hours #countdown #crowdfunding

Still seeking help by end of day. 700-ish needed by 6pm.

I hate asking. I kick myself for not having my shit together more. I don’t post half the stuff that runs through my head when I’m dealing with this kind of thing.

I feel, and have for a long time, that I’m missing some key piece of life that makes things work and come together. That something that others seem to have (or maybe some are faking that aspect). I’m a jumbled mess trying to survive in this world.

So, this is another short post. If folks can spread the word and help in some way. To anyone who is newer to my blog, I was homeless for a year and a half until 3 months ago. I crammed most of my stuff into a large storage unit and have struggled to keep it up. Now that I’m in an apartment, I can get some of the bigger things out, like furniture and such. And then move the rest into a smaller unit. With help, I got it removed from auction at the start of the month, but we only paid a little over half. Now I need to pay the rest and I don’t have anything to pay with. I can’t get credit… long story. I just want to get it sorted so I can feel better about moving forward. Sleeping on the floor is taking a toll on my back.

~A

1/26: Musing on Life

Yes, still need help with less than a week left to keep storage and get it caught up. My finances have gone sideways and I just don’t have much of anything right now. I need $700-ish to finish catching it up.

MUSINGS: I look at how my week has gone and I realize that I definitely haven’t emotionally healed from being homeless and living in the shelter. I’m still angry, still off-kilter. Still frustrated. Still lost.

I lost my internship. That was my first step to getting back on my feet for good. My health is part of what got in the way. I know I can’t let it control my life, but it does. When issues pop up and mess with your schedule because they’re messing with your ability to function, shit goes sideways fast. The other thing that was cause was that they didn’t have enough work for me to keep me busy. I tend to get into a zone when I’m working on any specific task, so I was basically too efficient for my own damn good.

That second one could be seen as a PLUS in most cases, but much of the work they had me doing at first was backlogged data entry. Once I got it caught up, there wasn’t much left.

But the first one. That’s the one I need to work on. It affects my reliability. Which affects my employability.

But that’s only part of what’s eating at me. It certainly leads into why I’m feeling off-kilter.

I’m frustrated. I feel stuck. I can’t do my old fall-back jobs (retail) anymore due to my disabilities. But the rigidity of the majority of offices is problematic as well.

So, here I am feeling like there truly is nowhere I belong. And that makes me angry. At myself. And at the world. We have a society that makes things so rigid in terms of employability that many people just don’t fit. Some do change themselves to make themselves fit that structure, but I’m not a kid anymore. I’m not as much of a chameleon as I used to be.

Some of the others who don’t fit have found a niche all to themselves. They have drive and focus and probably a means of financial backup. Things I don’t really have so much of.

If you asked me what my ideal job is, it would be along these lines:

• Work independently with some team work.
• Research (non-medical), data, etc
• Social Media as part of the work.
• Flexible schedule
• Reasonable pay with benefits.

Now, if you asked me about my dream job, those things all still very much apply, but with these added things:

• Live in Switzerland with my cat(s) in the different villages.
• Translating and digitizing genealogical records held in the parishes.

A bit much? Maybe. But it’s something that kind of needs to be done. As a descendant of Swiss gr-grandparents, the older records just aren’t online and accessible for those of us whose ancestors emigrated away from home. So, I’d love to live a slightly nomadic life there working in the different villages to make the older records accessible to those who don’t live there.

But I’m still sitting here, frustrated and angry. No way to clearly make that happen. Any of it. And I feel very unemployable right now. But I have to find a way to BE employable because not becoming homeless again depends on it.

I don’t think it’s too much to ask for to have a stable job, home, cats, food in the fridge, bills paid, and enough left over to save up for other things.

I’m still angry at the world from living at the shelter. I’ve managed to suppress it enough that I don’t lash out at strangers. I see people now for what they tend to be, even if it isn’t what they think they are. I see the selfishness and ego. I see the good in some, whether by actions or words, but so many others who just seem to forget that they’re in a shared society. That we all need to pitch in and work WITH each other instead of against each other.

More another time….

~A

1/2/19: A Bit Different #crowdfunding

Last one for the night for crowdfunding. I’m exhausted from the emotional and physical havoc today was. Trying to not go into a full-on pity-party… so I’m going to take a cue from the image I chose and riff on that for the last of the night. Still sitting at $235 of $1467. Can anyone who sees this be part of a minor miracle and add to that low number?

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I’ve always been kind of an “odd duck” well, rabbit. I’m still not entirely sure if identifying as Rabbit from Winnie-the-Pooh is a good thing or a bad one. But I’ve had several friends agree that I’m Rabbit. But I’ve always been different. Not so much in a neuro-atypical way, just different.

I was the kid who plucked dog and cat hairs from the family pets and looked at them under the 3x microscope. The one who “hunted the dragon” which was actually my dad working on the yard. The kid who was caught on film in rainbow striped tights and a slip (top, not skirt) and ballet shoes, using my dad’s drafting table after hours to doodle.

The teen who wore black leather lace up boots and a beret or real fedora -black with a grey band- and pink and blue shiny eye shadow. Drawing and dancing and singing and pretending I was famous. All while contemplating suicide because of emotional abuse.

I tried, in my 20’s, to go with the pack, to dress like others and fit in. But I realized as I inched closer to 30 that that wasn’t me. It wasn’t WHO or WHAT I was. Still not me now. I rejected the “American Dream” concept of a house in the ‘burbs with the white picket fence and all the other trappings.

My life has been filled with good and bad. The bad has had a tendency to overwhelm me and my life. From a sexually abusive relationship to almost dying at 35 from Cellulitis. To being homeless for most of the past two years. It hasn’t been easy, not by any means.

For labels: I’m an Androgynous Aromantic Asexual Furry Cosplayer who also happens to write SF/F… and, well, there probably are a few other things. I paint, I sew, I design floorplans of houses and costumes. I can draft my own patterns to some degree. I refer to myself as a Geek-of-all-Trades.

And just about everything that one with all those labels and hobbies (along with more I didn’t list) would have to help define who they are is locked away in the storage unit up for auction tomorrow at noon PST. My identity, my first fursuit, my costumes, my sewing machine, my music.

My everything.

I’m not perfect or beautiful or famous like I had dreamed of as a kid. I’m just this one person who is trying to pick my life back up after being on temporary hold for almost two years. I’m a person who stumbles and falls on my own feet while walking along the path of life. I think a lot of us do that. I just choose not to hide the bruises from my falls.

My life is in that storage unit. I can’t lose it. Not now when I’m finally back in my own place again.

~A

1/2/19: Anxiety #crowdfunding

I’m not sure how else to get anyone’s attention. What can I do? Coming out of homelessness sucks when you know you have the tools to start rebuilding your life, but can’t access them for a lack of funds.

Trust me, I’d MUCH rather be blogging about normal topics. More poetry and stuff. But life can hand -no, not hand- HURL challenges at some people like it’s an every day thing. At least this is how it feels to me.

I do my best not to compare myself to others, but I do look around me at others in society. It does feel like some people got the Manual for Adulthood at an early age, and the rest of us are still trying to figure it all out.

I could totally blame the world, but some of it is on me. I made some choices that have scarred me for life. Abusive relationships and all. I wish I could wave a magic wand and make things better, but there is no magic wand. No easy fix. I know that. Probably better than most.

I just ask and hope that enough people or the right people… just people hear my request and can answer with the help I need. I need one more chance. I’m almost there.

~A

1/2/19: Panic? at $235, need $1467 #crowdfunding

I was gonna have something written for 3pm… but things fell apart and I was cursing humanity and trying not to break what little I have in my apartment (that will go to storage if I can save it with your help). I am still way down in the $200 range. It’ll be 4pm by the time this posts, so let’s just aim for 11am PST tomorrow (1/3).

I’ll keep writing posts and stuff. I do have to work in the morning, so the posts will drop off. If I can keep the Brain Weasels at bay, I can schedule some stuff for the morning. My only issue with that is that FB stopped allowing auto crossposting some time back, so I have to manually do it. And you can’t schedule account posts (pages, yes; regular human account, no) on FB. I can try to manually do it, especially if my only thing to do in the morning is my copy job (400 packets of permission slips, each one with 41 pages… I’m past the halfway point, but we ran out of paper. Seriously.)

So I’m not going to go into all the shit that blew up today. Let’s just say I’m not only stressed about storage, but exacerbating my chronic pain issues by needing to do some cleaning that’s difficult for me. I’m exhausted from everything pulling me in a million different directions. And the elevator in my building has been down for days. It’s difficult enough for me to get up and down the stairs without carrying anything, but this makes it more challenging to do things like laundry and trash. So, my frustration level has shot up exponentially this afternoon.

Anyway… Everything I own that matters to me is in that storage unit. I need to save it. Any and every bit of help is vastly appreciated.

~A

1/2/19: The Path Taken #poetry & #crowdfunding

Crowdfunding: Still sitting at $235 with $1232 needed on top of that. Any sharing/boosting is absolutely encouraged and welcomed. I can’t afford to replace the things that are replaceable. Many things in there are not. Regaining access to my belongings in storage means I’ll have my mattress to sleep on again and other furniture and things that will help make rebuilding my life just that much easier. Not totally smooth, but a bit better. PP is the only way to go (I have a PP debit card so I can access it immediately). Thank you.

This poem is also an older one. Again, not sure how old. I have several cheap comp books that I buy several of at a time. Most get used for poetry and then get lost and, years later, found again.

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The Path Taken

The shiny things.
Rainbows.
We smile and say
“I’m fine.”
As we tear ourselves
Apart.
Inside.

The path taken.
The cliff we stand on.
How close some get.
While others take that step.
The path of darkness
Luring us deeper into
The Abyss.
The vines grab hold
Not wanting us to leave.

Fight to break free
The vines constrict us.
Pull us deeper.
Silence us.
We struggle to break free.
Some win.
Some don’t.
Others remain in limbo.
Until one side wins.

The cliff beckons.
The path calls to us.
The sirens sing.
Come… live with us.
Stay here.

The path taken.
The Dark or the Light.

~A

1/2/19: Perceptions (and #crowdfunding #urgent)

In the past, I’ve mentioned the relationship my dad and I had before he passed away in 2014. One of the things that I found interesting while typing up the previous post with Disheveled is how I was and am seen compared to how I was back when I was heavily involved in my music.

I stopped playing piano in 2007 and singing in public in 1998. Piano because I had this fear instilled in me when I was little by my mother about playing where others could hear me. I was about 4 and figured out the melody to the Star Spangled Banner by myself. And I was damn proud of that. So, I played it every chance I got, which was a lot. My mother, who was trained herself, could have come over and taught me how to control my volume by how hard or soft I hit the keys. But she didn’t. I’d get about 4 or 5 notes in and from wherever she was in the house, she’d yell, “STOP PLAYING THAT SONG!!!”

Fear instilled. I had moments where I was specifically performing later on and I was fine, but over the years, I grew increasingly self-conscious about others hearing me play. In 1997, I stopped. A year later, I stepped away from choirs and what little solo singing I did because of a couple of factors: one was that same fear. The other was my health. I kept getting sick and couldn’t figure out why. Eventually, I did. We were dealing with an extensive roof leak at my parent’s house and black mold formed (although my dad and sister denied it was there. I’m hyper-sensitive to it) in the attic crawlspace. Living there while working on my BA down the street (quite literally, as we lived right behind CSUH/CSUEB) was wreaking havoc on my vocal chords. A few years ago, I was diagnosed with VCD (Vocal Chord Dysfunction). It took years and then visiting the house after dad died to get to that diagnosis.

Before he died, I got into a conversation with him about getting back into at least playing piano and wanting to save up for one. He was (quietly) over the moon. He was never one for showing much emotion. Somewhere in my blog posts, I tell the full story, but I ended up asking him why he was so excited that I wanted to get back to it. His words:

You were so positive and happy when you were involved in music. I want to see you that way again.

-My dad in 2014

And then I look at some of my really old poetry from while I was still singing and playing. I’ve always thought I wasn’t one for wearing a mask in society. That I always showed who I am, not what others wanted to see. But in a way, I did wear one. I re-read old poetry and stuff of mine and see some anger and depression, all during a time when I was seen as this happy, upbeat person.

Another recent thing involves a meme I posted recently on FB about the Greek words for different types of love. I was reminded of a nickname a friend of mine gave me when our church group was studying them in some setting. “Agape Amanda.” For Agape Love. Love of everyone.

And then I look at my poetry. Dude, what did people see that I didn’t? While Disheveled is a bit more recent than the early 90’s, I do have similar stuff where I was angry at the world for treating me differently for walking with a cane (and not in a good way). Depressed for similar reasons. I was dealing with a lot of different things back then. I still am. Some of them are different than the ones then, but the emotions are still the same. Maybe now I’m more true to who I am in what I show. I can’t hide behind the mask forever.

~A

12/31: Waxing Poetic? Still #crowdfunding out of #desperation

AUCTION IS 1/3/19. PLEASE HELP BY DONATING OR SHARING.

Yeah, I could go all sappy and look back at 2018 like so many are doing. 2018 was a shitty year. On sooooooo many levels. So, this is as sappy as I’ll get:

I survived. I didn’t kill myself. I’m still here.

Yes, I was homeless for most of the year. Frustrated, dealing with people who were assholes and abusive. I almost lost my stuff in storage a few times because of my irregular income. I’m about to lose it again. Some things that, if I had the money, could be replaced, but a large chunk of what’s in there cannot be replaced. 

So, I go into the new year in a panic because of what I’m about to lose. Of the things that can be replaced, it would take at least $5000 to replace it. I don’t have that. $1400 is barely anything compared to the replacement costs. Are the items in there WORTH that in resale? No, not really. Older electronics (not vintage cool or anything) and that sort of stuff. Valuable to me.

A good chunk of it will be moved into my apartment and be used. The rest will move into a smaller storage unit. I just the $1400 total to get it out of hock again. If anyone out there finds it in them to help, please. Until this time, I didn’t know when I’d be able to move some it back out. Now I do. I have an apartment again. I need my mattress and desk and kitchen things and chair… and all those irreplaceable things.

Once the stress is back down to a manageable level (normal day to day shit), I can look back at 2018 with slightly fonder thoughts.

~A

12/28: #crowdfunding & #weightloss backstory

Storage first: If you can’t donate, share. I got the exact amount owed today: $1141. If I can get that by 6pm PST on Monday the 31st, I’m okay. I have virtually nothing as my other bills are eating up what income I have. PP is the only (and fastest) way.

Once basics are out of there, I can move the rest of it down to a smaller unit, possibly even half the size (8×20 to a 9×10). Also, half the cost. MUCH more manageable.

Weight Loss: In my adult life, I’ve struggled with my weight. I was a skinny kid and after I stopped dancing at 22, and then shifted away from regular exercise by 24, the weight piled on. I’m at my heaviest: 185lbs.

Now, I *could* live with the weight if it weren’t for my family history. I physically take after my dad’s side to an almost bizarre degree. Same bone structure, personality characteristics, etc… all (almost completely) from my dad’s side. This includes health. Dad and both of his brothers are/were heart patients (one uncle still living). My paternal grandmother had diabetes. Not sure what Grandpa had, but I suspect heart issues as well. I’m already on Toprol for tachycardia (it works for me, but I have to pair Celexa for my anxiety with it). I imagine my tachycardia might calm down a bit with dropping some of my weight. Also, the longer I go at a heavier weight, the higher my risk of worse heart issues AND diabetes.

So, here I am at 46. 5’2″ and 185lbs. While the timing is RATHER cliche (New year’s resolution stuff and all, which I’ve never really bothered with), I want to start now. Somehow, I will find the funds to join the local gym. They keep changing their specials, but I’m going to wait until the activation fee is back to $0.

This isn’t just for weight loss. My back has been getting progressively worse since the fall 7 years ago. And then another one year ago. All the docs can do is give me pain meds (and most don’t really do much of anything) and tell me to exercise. “Free” exercise is usually what they suggest. This means walking. The problem for me is that, most days, walking more than two or three blocks results in excruciating pain.

The gym two blocks from me not only has weights and a basketball court (yeah, not touching that), and classes, but has a lap pool and a hot tub. This I’m totally down for. My swimming skills are rusty, but I can do the backstroke the best. I have a hard time torquing my body enough to do most others so I can get breath. Backstroke it is.

Then machines. Work my way back up to leg presses equaling my weight (yes, at 120, I could do leg presses above my weight). Goals are to strengthen my back, core, and legs. This will help with reinjuries and stabilizing my back. It will also help with my weight.

I’ll announce when I join the gym. I’ll post pics. I’ll make my journey public. My inspiration today was this guy. I’ve followed him on Twitter. While my goal is roughly 55lbs (185 to 130), seeing someone kick ass like he has makes me know I can totally do this.

~A