Saturday, January 28, 2006

The following ladies and gents is why I tend not to get too optimistic
or hopeful.

So today I thought we were going to have to move rooms and that we
were all paid up until the first.

That is what I was told on the phone, that is what I was told when we
got here. That is what I'd been planning on this whole time.

Apparently not.

There was a knock at the door at 11:30 wherein we were told either
check out or pay. And pay in ten minutes because the lady at the
front desk was about to do the books.

So instead of being able to stay through the first without any further
bank account voodoo I had to about empty my account to stay through
the 4th.

Which means.

I have to do some serious bank account voodoo so we can move into the
apartment I want (barring anything going wrong with that) on the
tenth.

The issue is that it will cost another 550$ to stay here until the tenth.

I don't get paid next until the 8th.

Even if I did get paid on say the third or something I wouldn't be
able to afford to give the rest of the deposit, move in costs and such
at the apartment.

I really thought this was the one chance for something to go right
I've been wanting. The leasing agent at the apartment has really gone
above and beyond to see that we get it. Her boss did something
unheard of by allowing us to rent with a very small additional deposit
because of the fuckery of my previous landlords. Not to mention have
just enough left over for a moving van, and ramen for two weeks. And
enough to pay storage in MI and here.

Now. To put it frankly we have enough money to maybe eat the rest of
the week if we eat lean. No money to pay storage. There won't be
enough money to stay here and move into the other place, much less get
moved into there.

I put on a brave face for Byootiful. He's been sick again and most
likely is going back into the hospital after we get moved. But I
honestly just don't know what I'm going to do.

I don' t know people with money. I don't have the kind of family who
would give me money if they had it.

I have fought for every little bit of happiness and feeling of well
being I've ever had. I work for it. There are very few times in my
life I can think of where I became at all complacent or took what I
have for granted.

So now here I am. Sitting in an ugly little room that truth be told I
don't really like. Right back where I started. All my issues
chomping at the bit to get a piece.

I sit here wondering am I such a shit human being that regardless of
what I do, many basic comforts are just not going to happen for me.
Regardless of how hard I fight, how many times I try to do the (ever
elusive) right thing.

I spend a lot of time looking at myself and examining my motives for
doing things. I keep a hard eye on myself so that I don't become
greedy. I know my limits. I know when I am and am not just being
shitty.

Maybe I am in fact wanting too much.

Maybe the issue is that I have in fact fucked up my life enough that
the things I desire are just not in the cards for me. I can
acknowledge that and take responsibility for that. And I think in
time I can accept it.

What I can't accept is this state of perpetual panic and feeling like
a piece of shit. That is what I don't know how to process or deal
with. It's partly because I honestly strive to live a decent life and
be a decent human being. (My occasional yelling at strangers aside.)
I have it ingrained into me the idea that you get out of life what you
put into it.

For most I wouldn't think that to be such an issue.

For me?

I put everything into trying to get life to a point where I can feel
safe and feel like maybe, just maybe I am in fact a good human being
who deserves the basic things. Maybe occasionally something really
good to happen. A two minute interlude of something that doesn't
resemble panic or pain. Sure maybe. Meanwhile I'm killing myself to
get things done and here I am.

Nothing.

So what now?

Keep going.

In case anyone is wondering I'm not crying. I haven't cried for
probably almost a year or so. I cried for ten minutes in the hospital
with Byootiful last May. A couple of minutes in the shower while I
was packing the last apartment up.

I can't don't cry.

I don't have the time or the resources for it.

Now what do I do?

I don't know.

For once I just have no idea what to do now. I don't know where to
turn. I don't know what to do. I wish I did.

I tried the Salvation Army and was given the run around. I tried
various other agencies all of whom said no in varying ways. I make
too much money. Don't live in the right zip code. I'm not married.
My credit sucks. Yadda yadda.

My stance is proven yet again.

The only person I can really count on is myself. No disrespect to my
friends and other people I love. But the truth is the only
person(thing what have you) I have to fall back on is me.

And I am breaking my own back.

That's probably about the last I'm going to say about it. Talking
about it doesn't do anything aside from waste time that I should be
spending trying to figure out how to not be homeless, and be able to
be in the apartment with more than the clothes on my back.

As was proven to me in childhood, my teenage years, and now my
adulthood. Nothing is ever O.K.
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