From the over-worked mind of me.

For a brief moment today, while I was out shopping among the public, I thought it might actually be fun to be single.  I felt a little relief that I am not married to Ian right now, which is something I would have projected for myself several years ago.  Dating just does not appeal to me.  It seems more like a chore.  I just always wanted to end up with a firiend.  So I am just hanging out and whatever happens happens.  This worries me because I am not an active friend-maker.  I am not ready for anything anyway.  I just think too much.  I am just trying to make friends with myself right now.  And the plus is that I do not reject myself, often.

I am looking for a new job but I am apprehensive.  I recently applied for a postion as an Activity Leader in a retirement community for the elderly and I am excited about this. I really want to move on from ARC (Association for Retarded Citizens).  I am apprehensive because I am still lacking the confidence I need to be an effective leader again. I am just hoping it falls into place.  I recently have been considering seeing a therepist and toying with the idea of medication.  I am someone who probably needed meds my whole life but refused to even consider it.  I have been battling depression since childhood...a good 20+ years, but struggled through my problems somehow.  It is just getting so much harder to do it alone as time goes on.  I think I need help, just temporarily.

I recently went on HEAP, which is a social program to help you pay your energy bill.  I have given them 700 dollars in the last 3 months and it still wasnt enough.  I got a shut-off notice ans needed to get emergency assistance.  It was an interesting experience for me because I work in human services, so I felt like I should be the one on the other side of the counter.  But average people need help and I know it is silly for myself to feel that way.  Really, I don't feel bad about getting help from the government like I would have in the past.  Like FDR foreseen, a bit of socialism is good for democracy, society, community. And I feel I get a better understanding of how the system works, which is useful in Social Work.

I decided to ask for my old job back, waiting tables at The Spot Diner, only one day a week for spending cash.  My paycheck only comes every two weeks and sometimes it gets rough waiting for that day.  Payday is beeter than a holiday these days.  So I start the sunday following Easter, 4pm to 11pm.  I have to get used to the old nylon skirts and pantyhose again.  At least this time they have polos instead of tuxedo shirts...and YSAY to NO Bowties!!  Truthfully, I am nervous because I have not waited tables in almost 2 years...but I know I will be okay.

So...to all of you who read the post about my slum lord...well,  I finally met him and we talked.  I brought out my old bitchy student activist voice out talking about laws and rights...and I got a discount on the next to months of rent, which is really cool since I am broke.  Yeah, I have like $100.00 to my name right now.  It is a good think I ket all those beer bottles in bags in my storage closet.  It is my rainy day fund!

Other than that, I am talking to my ex alot, since we are good friends...like we were befire we dated.  It just amazes me how people can change after they leave your bubble.  I think Ian is just trying to be another person riht now becasue he is depressed about how the real Ian treated me.  He is obsessing about shallow things like being able to save money to get the car he wants or building an image so girls with find him attractive, which was never his style.  I freaked out on him today and I think he got the point.  It is at the point where I am giving him advice about girls and we still are inlove with eachother.  Besides this, I told him that I find it offensive that he goes on and on about petty nonsense about himself expecting me to magically make it better, when I am struggling to survive when he owes me money he refuses to pay me now when he promised to.  He told me today he will give me a wopping check for $200 AFTER he buys his car.  This situation makes me realize how selfish he really is and it is actually making it easier to get over him.  But I am still NOT over him by a long shot.  Still can't believe he can even talk to girls after out breakup, so recent ago.  We were engaged and living together for 4 years, going out for 5.  I won't be ready for a while.  Is this really how guys get over girls?  Do they just find a new one to fill the void?

Saint Paddy's Day had its highs and lows.  The wedding was beautiful but frustrating.  The actual ceremony and speeches at the reception were lovely.  It was at the Swan Club in Roslyn, so it was an extravigant affair.  It was all of the bullshit surrounding the wedding that was irritating.  My sister offers to be the DD and then complains that I am taking advantage of her.  So I took my own car and did not drink too much to shut her up.  She actually drank twice as much as I did.  My father then gets into an argument, luckily at the end of the night, with the only brother he still talks to.  Then cousins who became involved in the argument are suddenly trying to kiss my ass to get under my dads skin.  I hate weddings because everyone is so fake and social etiquette says you have to talk to them, or at least smile as they pass you.  My father seems to think that it does not matter what day it is, you should always behave as you mean...there are no pleasantries with that man.  Is this refreshing or just plain alienating?  I like the idea of honesty, but I think that you sometimes just have to "grin and bear it" in order to get through the evening without taking hte attention away from the bride and groom and to not make the event about the night you disowned your brother.  My family just can't get through a function, or dysfunction, togeother without a fight in some form.  I think that if I ever marry, I will elope.

I had tix to Dropkick Murphy's in Boston for St Paddy's day, but I have to attend a wedding instead.  So I am down in Long Island right now...hanging out with friends and family...the wedding is down here in farmingdale and Cold Spring Harbor.  Pretty fancy.  It is an open bar, of course, but now we have the task of assigning a DD.  I really feel sorry for the DD, who may be me, because he/she would not be able to drink on the biggest drinking holiday of the year and because they would have to drive in the snow. I know this is something petty to be complaining about...but I really look forward to this day every year.  I feel the Irish pride through communal drinking, story-telling and breaking out in song.  It is about tradition.  I will just have to party twice as hard next year.  It wont be bad...the whole affair is ripped from Irish tradition.  I will feel the Irish love, but it may have to be while completely sober.  Being sober is a very usual occurance for me, but not on this blessed holiday of drinking, celebrating the honorable Saint Patrick.  He bravely drove the snakes out of Ireland, which is a metaphor for Pagans. 
  

Last night, I watched a news program about a army veteran who served in Iraq.  The carnage he witness was so heavy on his mind and soul that it broke his spirit and he came home depressed.  He went to the VA hospital (a medical system and hosptial just for vets) and told them that he was suicidal.  The admitting nurse actually told him that he would have to call back in a day or two because they have no beds for him.  He was number 26 on the list.  He did call them back the next day and asked them if he could come in for help.  They said no.  He would have to wait.  The sad thing is that he could not wait for help and killed himself 4 days after he pleaded with the VA for help.  This made me very upset and I cried myself to sleep that night.  My father is a vet and he belongs to the VA.  He was disabled working as an operating engineer digging out water tunnel number 3 for NYC and is a diabetic who relies on insulin shots.  He has no insurance other than his VA benefits and relies on them for medical service and medications, which he needs to stay alive.  He is in a legal battle with workers compensation, but the contactors he worked for have dragged on the process for 7 years, hoping he dies before they have to give him money.  The VA has helped him, but also has been a source of much frustration because there have been many times they have neglected him as well.  They treat you like you are basically on welfare because it is a social program for veterans who can not afford healthcare otherwise.  I am sure this is not everybody's experience, but as more an more people come forward about the systematic neglect of our verteran's health care I am convinced that it is a sweeping problem that needs to be addressed by the voting masses.  As an activist, I feel the need to contribute.  I feel that my father gave his life to support his family, risked being sick by never turning down risky jobs because they were usually the most stable and paid better (usually the ones no one else wanted).  I feel like I need to do something to help him and people like him.  I am consumed by school right now, and I know my father would not be pleased if I jeopardized that for an activism campaign.   There must be somehting I can do, like write a not or an article for the paper...something.  It just is not right that people give there lives for their country and are hard working people dedicated on servicing their community, like my father did, and are shit on by powerful institutions like the government, or contracting companies like in my fathers case.  I am not naive enought to believe the world can ever be fair, but I do believe we can empower ourselves when we feel disenfranchised and make a difference.  Does anyone have know anyone who have gone through similar situations or has gone through this themselves?  Is anyone a vet who have had bad experiences with the VA or have had frustrations with the government or government institutions?  I would love to hear your experiences. 

Today was a crazy day...the energy was maddening. Today I missed an appointment to hand in a 12 - page  midterm paper because I e-mailed the worng paper to myself and therefore could not print it.  I missed my intro to social anthropolgy class because I went home to e-mail the correct paper to myself and e-mail the TA, who I was supposed to meet with.  I spent a considerable amount of time fixing my reat brakes on my car ...the drum was rusted on pretty good and it took an hour to get it off.  Frustrations grew with that and having to go to the autopart store several times, it was mainly my fathers frustration because he was helping me and gets frustrated easy.  While on a break from working on the car, my father strangled my sister's roomate becasue he through a hamper across the apartment out of anger, because the dog ate one of his heely's.  I had to get in between them so my dad would not kill him, because my dad could.  My father was always good practice for my eminent carreer in social work.  I explained how some punk kid is not worth going to jail for and redirected him to the garage to cool off.  Working on cars, I know can be good therapy for guys who can't express their feelings correctly.  As my father lay on the cold pavement, I realixed how much he loves me even though he could never show it.  I even felt selfish for asking for help, due to his health getting worse lately.  As I got greasy by detaching the brakeline from the cylinder, I relized that my father truly enjoys these moments with me even if he yells at me for turning the wrench the wrong way.  I understand that my father is ill and he is not on this earth for much longer, so I have learned to bite my tongue and tryt to turn the situation into somehting positive.  And I somewhat admire the fact that he really does not give a shit.  He has balls of steel.  We have an archive of interesting and entertaining stories about my father, and this being the second time he has strangled Justin (the first being the night before my sisters wedding and he was the best man) will be one of them.  And today I got to use an impact gun...so thrilling  and sexy.  There is definietly something cathartic about an impact gun.  I get to use one again tomorrow, since my brakes are not done. 

About 3 months ago, my landlord sold the apartment house I live in  to a guy who lives in Ozone Park...3 hours away.  They did not even have the courtesy to inform the tenants.  Due to a new law to curtail the frequent event of slumlordism in Binghamton, they passed a new law that a building must have a maintenance man, or "super" if the owner lives out of town.  Since the new owner took over, my heat has stopped working three times and I had no cold water four times and each event went on for days; I sometimes went weeks without heat.  I repeatedly told the landlord, who told me to tell the super of the problems, in which after a while I would just call the super.  I informed him that the plumbing in this building is faulty and has gotten worse since they purchased the property.  It was NEVER this bad.  I had a fight with the super a week ago, asking him when he was going to begin fixing the plumbing.  He said he has done all he can do for now and can not fix it because it is winter, so I called code enforcement  .  At the time, my apartment was only 50 degrees and my nose was numb.  It was a record-setting cold temp that night, so it actually may have been colder inside my apartment.  The police officer took my complaint and wrote a report.  My heat was working the next day.  Yesterday I was woken by the Binghamton Water Department.  A pipe burst in the second floor and flooded the first floor and basement.  Luckily, I am on the third floor.  But, I did have stuff stored in the basement.  The water guy turned the water off and called the super to inform him, and I was present when the conversation happened so I know exactly what time he was called and what was said.  I waited 5 hours for him but he never showed. I called the landlord and found out that the super lied to him and said it was fixed already...he had no idea we had NO water.   I had to go to work, but my sister stood at my apartment to watch over the whole thing.  I also called my dad in to intimidate the super; my dad is really good at that...and he knows a lot about plumbing so we can't get screwed.  My sister called the landlord and super ever half hour until she finally called the police department to fill out another code report.  The police officer also cited him on a number of other things, remarking that the house is a fire trap.  The super finally shows up NINE hours after the pipe broke, and my father made sure it was fixed that night.  The super wanted to wait till the morning, unitl my father said something about him having to pay for hotel rooms.  It was fixed in one hour and we had heat and water!!!  Thanks to my lovely sister and my scary dad, who took care of things while I was at work.  While  my super was leaving he told me to call the cops and tell them he fixed it.  I said, "NO."  Code will follow-up on Monday and discover if there are any violations for themself.  He just did not want to get in trouble, but he already is because the landlord knows he is a liar.  Anyway, he now knows that he can not mess with this Long Island chick.  I bet he responds quicker next time.  So I hope my story helps anyone going through this.  There are laws to protect tenants and they vary depending on where you live, but most places have them.  Know your rights and don't be afraid to be a bitch about protecting them. 

I am usually a myspace junky.  I have to check my page for messages at least 3 times a day.  I was never like that.  I used to despise technology (and still do).  I think it makes us dependant and lazy...and it is true in my case.  Today I was aching for something different adn an audience, because I have things to say, DAMN IT! I am feeling more depressed today...more lonely.  I have many friends and family who love me, but today I felt as though I have no one.  A teacher in highschool once asked the class if it was better to be alone or lonely.  I raised my hand, which is rare, and answered "lonely."  It is truely a sad thing when you are surrounded by people and they are invisible to you.  Today I felt like that, but tomaorrow will be different.  Everyday is different for me.  I am still getting used to living by myself.  I have not been able to sleep in my big queen-sized bed since Ian left.  I sleep on the couch.  I have to leave the TV on to fall asleep.  The quiet is the worst to deal with.  I do not find comfort in silence.  It is unsettling.  I welcome tomorrow and the sounds of the day.  I know I will feel differently then.