... okay, so two months is better than eight, right?
Belated general situation report ...
Yes, we are still living in my mom's attic.
Tree's still employed, and getting more useful to his employers week by week. His teeth are, for the first time in a number of years, not in critical condition; they're now stabilized and getting steadily repaired (and getting us steadily more in debt, but we'll cope).
I'm still not, but I'm starting to come to grips with the whys and wherefores of it; to which end, we're looking for at finding a psychiatrist to help investigate the possibility of an autistic spectrum or similar disorder. (I'd say 'previously undiagnosed,' but when I finally had enough information to bring up the topic, Mom admitted that she'd been wondering for a long time - she just hadn't said anything.) Failing an actual diagnosis, I at the very least need similar help with coping skills; I fail at job interviews and at jobs simply because I don't understand the unspoken rules, the ones that are so pervasive as to be presumed instead of stated.
In the mean time, I'm looking at the possibility of doing work online, over the net - where everything is stated! hurray! - at least where I can. The biggest area of this currently is, obviously, Web-related stuff or programming; I'm not good enough at either (yet). There are some other possibilities that I'm prodding at, though again, I still need further information or experience for all of them - it's a race to obtain it!
(It's funny when a million things you've never understood collapse into one problem. There's a long stretch where there are too many things wrong, and you can't imagine anymore how you're going to solve any one before the others eat you. Then there are a few days when you get an idea and you learn the shape of it; and then suddenly, almost all at once, you realize that the problem may be susceptible to solution...)
Willow is rubbing up against the monitor. I interpret this to mean that she loves you all, or possibly that someone with allergies is reading. Hopefully it's the former.
Yes, we are still living in my mom's attic.
Tree's still employed, and getting more useful to his employers week by week. His teeth are, for the first time in a number of years, not in critical condition; they're now stabilized and getting steadily repaired (and getting us steadily more in debt, but we'll cope).
I'm still not, but I'm starting to come to grips with the whys and wherefores of it; to which end, we're looking for at finding a psychiatrist to help investigate the possibility of an autistic spectrum or similar disorder. (I'd say 'previously undiagnosed,' but when I finally had enough information to bring up the topic, Mom admitted that she'd been wondering for a long time - she just hadn't said anything.) Failing an actual diagnosis, I at the very least need similar help with coping skills; I fail at job interviews and at jobs simply because I don't understand the unspoken rules, the ones that are so pervasive as to be presumed instead of stated.
In the mean time, I'm looking at the possibility of doing work online, over the net - where everything is stated! hurray! - at least where I can. The biggest area of this currently is, obviously, Web-related stuff or programming; I'm not good enough at either (yet). There are some other possibilities that I'm prodding at, though again, I still need further information or experience for all of them - it's a race to obtain it!
(It's funny when a million things you've never understood collapse into one problem. There's a long stretch where there are too many things wrong, and you can't imagine anymore how you're going to solve any one before the others eat you. Then there are a few days when you get an idea and you learn the shape of it; and then suddenly, almost all at once, you realize that the problem may be susceptible to solution...)
Willow is rubbing up against the monitor. I interpret this to mean that she loves you all, or possibly that someone with allergies is reading. Hopefully it's the former.