Posted in anxiety, auction, chronic pain, community, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, disability, emergency, faith, family, friends, insomnia, job hunting, life, Personal, poverty line, society, urgent, writing

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.


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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Posted in activism, anxiety, auction, community, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, dreams, emergency, faith, family, friends, life, nature, observations, peace, poetry, society, storage, urgent, writing

2/1: Ashes #poetry

[Have two donations now. A bit over 100. Still a ways to go. I have until Monday 6pm to get the past due to storage. Any help is appreciated]

***********

Skyline changes.
Blocking out the sun.
Haze of distant smoke
Fills the gaps.

Destruction breeds rebirth.
The trees savor the fire.
Never mind how.
It just does.

Ashes breed the Phoenix
Of nature undone.
Cyclical world knows how to
Survive by itself.

Leave it be.
It knows what to do.
Don’t rush the process.
The Phoenix will rise again.

~A

Posted in anxiety, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, emergency, peace, poetry, storage, urgent, writing

1/31: The Stone #poetry

(Yes, still in need of help)

**********

The path in the woods
Meanders
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
Chosen.

~A

This is a fantasy variant of my “happy place” when I get a panic attack. I imagine myself on the rock.

Posted in auction, community, creativity, crowdfunding, faith, family, friends, gratitude, life, observations, poetry, storage, urgent, writing

1/30: Communication #poetry

(Yes, still looking for help to finish catching up on storage. Need to get it paid up before the end of the month.)

******

Words on paper.
Strings of syllables.
What means one to the writer
Seen otherwise by readers.

Notes on a page.
Little black dots on lines.
Opens worlds to each other.
The universal language.

The face tells time.
Hands move in measured increments.
We live within those movements.
Finite freedom.

Spoken in hands.
Bodies talking without words.
Gestures and pantomime.
Graceful awkwardness.

Silence is golden.
Speak with nothing said.
Language surrounds us.
Even when we don’t talk.

~A

Posted in auction, community, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, disability, dreams, emergency, faith, family, friends, gratitude, individuality, life, observations, poetry, society, storage, urgent, writing

1/29: The Questions (#poetry and #crowdfunding)

(Two days to get storage caught up. Two days to scrounge up about $700. Any help is appreciated.)

The Questions

Where along the way
Did I take the fork in the road?
Paths crossing others’ journeys.
Illuminated briefly.

When did I start scaling walls?
Stepping on myself
Just to reach the other side.
Inflicting pain.

Why leave behind so many?
Burning bridges that refused to burn.
I cannot be for everyone
What I need myself.

What do I do now?
The one within tires easily.
She wants success but
Peace more so.

How must I balance myself?
I am not what I once was.
The pieces shattered.
Some beyond repair.

What am I now?
No longer The Child.
Never The Mother.
Too young to be The Crone.

My path is wide.
Too wide. Too much.
But to narrow it, I must
Sacrifice part of who I am.

That will not do.

~A

Posted in anxiety, auction, bullying, community, creativity, depression, faith, friends, gratitude, life, poetry, society, storage, writing

1/28: The Ugly Duckling

[I’m desperately close to losing everything for good. No more deals from storage. I need to get the remainder from earlier this month paid up before the end of the month. There’s about $700 remaining (was $666, but there have been late fees added on). I’ve made very little this month that is still available. Other bills and what I have right now has to go to my rent for the apartment for February. I’m still stuck. Help is vastly appreciated.]

The Ugly Duckling

Playground teasing.
Eyes. Ears. Teeth. Clothes.
Anything fair game.

Go home to subtle insults.
Useless. Slow. Stupid.
Unwanted child.

Look in the mirror.
What do I see?
Not normal.

The ugly duckling.
Looks at herself.
Wonders when.

When will I be pretty?
When will I be smart?
When will I be accepted?

She looks again
Years gone by.
She’s grown up now.

The mirror shows it all.
You have always been pretty.
You have always been smart.

But will I ever be accepted?
Love yourself first.
Accept yourself first.

You don’t need them to be you.
Their acceptance is conditional.
Yours is not. Be yourself.

~A

Posted in anxiety, chronic pain, community, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, disability, dreams, emergency, faith, life, poetry, storage, writing

1:27: Moss and Ivy #poetry

Ancient stone wall
Crossing the path before me.
Fog enveloping the trees
Along the way.

I climb over.
The moss making my hand slip.
Another hurdle done.
The fog is magic.

I glance back and the wall of fog
Makes the wall vanish.
Did it ever exist?
Or just in my mind.

Each step is treacherous.
Loose stones and tree roots cross my path.
Moss and ivy hide the undergrowth
Flowers strangled, desperate for light.

Another stone wall.
Taller than the last.
I see sunlight over the top.
Unable to reach me.

There is a way.
Must be.
Buried under moss and ivy.
The answer waits.

~A

(Still need to raise about 700 to get storage in the clear before the end of the month.)

Posted in anxiety, community, crowdfunding, depression, faith, family, friends, life, poetry, storage, urgent, writing

1/20: From Darkness #poetry

[I need a little more help finishing getting storage caught up for good. Then I can get big stuff out and move the rest to a smaller unit. Any help is appreciated. If I don’t catch up, it goes to auction and I get no more second chances. Need about $700 total.]

Climbing foot by foot.
Pitch black below me.

Tendrils reaching up
Twisting itself around my ankles
Trying to pull me back down.

I see the sky above
As I slip back.

Rain from above
Makes the climb difficult.
I ask. Beg for help.

A rope hangs over
The edge barely within reach.

I regain my strength briefly.
Holding the rope and pulling myself up.
It slips out of my hand as it has before.

Tendrils below reach again.
I am tired of fighting it.

Cry out again. Help.
I cannot do this alone.
I am almost there. I feel it.

The rope appears again.
I reach for it.

The rain hits me again, blinding me.
Just a little more.
I can do this with a little more help.

~A

Posted in artsy stuff, community, creativity, crowdfunding, dreams, gratitude, life, poetry, storage, writing

1/15: The Rain

[I still need some help to finish getting storage caught up before the end of the month. I have a second larger financial commitment to also cover, as well as smaller bills. Any help, sharing included,is greatly appreciated.]

☆☆☆☆☆

Rain washes the dirt away.
Sending it below the city.
Streaks of grime mar
The sides of buildings.
Running.
Along the mortar
Between the bricks.

Drops hit my face.
Flatten my hair.
The rain soaks through one layer.
Two layers
Three.
Gets to my skin and
Makes me cold.

Others run to stay dry.
I stand in the open.
Unconcerned of image.
I know I will not
Melt
From the rain.
I’m a good witch.

The clouds pass above me.
A brief glimpse of what
Is beyond.
Light and dark.
Worlds
Rule the blackness beyond.
As the stars tell their stories.

~A

Posted in anxiety, bugaboos, community, conformity, crowdfunding, depression, disability, empath life, gratitude, life, poetry, storage, writing

1/14: The Void (#poetry)

(Still need some help to finish catching up on storage. As I have to save up for other things as well. Any help/sharing is appreciated.)

Standing in the middle.
Never enough.
Sometimes too much.

Where do I sit?
When the table is full.
And no one sees me.

The outcast who sees more.
More than the box.
More than the road ahead.

I am not the help.
But I am also not the boss.
I am in the middle.

Waiting to be seen.
When those who matter
Look up from their meal.

The emptiness of space
Separates me from them.
I cannot hear their words.

The vacuum silences the critic.
It also silences the muse.
Space envelopes the vacuum.

Scream into the void.
Yet I hear nothing in return.
Not even my own voice.

I see them at the table.
All the same. All puppets.
The strings tangled together.

The puppeteer enveloped by the void.
Unseen but there.
The puppets think they have control.

I hold my own strings.
No one owns me.
No one controls me.

The table remains full.
I wish to sit, but
Not to be controlled.

I remain in the middle.
Holding my own strings.
Outside the box.