here, have a hearty dose of irritation
It must be the time-of-the-monthness: my mood is twisting this way and that like a story that doesn't know what it's trying to tell. And yes, it is that time of the month, and just now I am contemplating giving up being human, because the human body is gross and ridiculous and incomprehensible and I am a bit sick of it, thanks. Not just the being female bits, because the world is well schooled on how disgusting that is, but... colds? And coughing and earaches and how my nose always runs when I bicycle in cold weather and headaches and the constant arbitrary aches and pains and irritations that my body springs on me at least once a week. I mean, do leprechauns have to deal with this nonsense?
Yesterday was bad, because we were supposed to drive out to Clearfield to get me a learner's permit for driving, and then I found out I'd been indisputably stupid and hadn't looked things up and I had to have my Social Security card which I hadn't seen in months (for those of you who worry, it's in the house, somewhere; nobody's running around pretending to be me, although that would be a nice way to pretend my bank debt isn't any of my doing and have the government take care of it or something), and I had to have stuff signed by a doctor to prove I wasn't physically or mentally incapable of learning to drive safely, and I didn't have any of those things, and I was already in a foul mood because when I went to apply at Ross, the door had a NOW HIRING sign on it, and when I asked the manager, she said they weren't hiring but I could fill out an application (online) anyway, and I was too flustered to say "BUT YOUR SIGN!". And everyone tells me they're not hiring but I can fill out an application anyway, but nothing ever comes of it, and I am so exhausted of looking for work and never finding any. Dad thinks I don't pursue jobs hard enough, which is tosh -- I call them and drop in and call them again and stage sit-ins until they promise to call me back and still I get nothing. What about me is so unhireable?
I'm beginning to think that the only route here is to go back to my original plan, which was Do Something Radical For Money. I'm still working on that EP, by the way. I really wish I had a microphone, so it would sound a mite less lo-fi than it already will, but there's not much I can do about that until, you know, I have money. I'm planning to have seven songs (because I like that number), and ask for at least seven dollars for it. It will probably go up on NoiseTrade, because they make it simple for unsigned artists to upload, promote, and sell their music, plus I don't have to pay anything. The actual content of said EP is what's holding me back, of course... as in, there needs to be more. I've made my own versions of several traditional songs, and currently have one song entirely my own that fits in with the aesthetic themes of the other songs (it's turning out to be sort of freak-folk, sort of like a really lo-fi Vashti Bunyan with very little accompaniment). And my mother is scouring Goodwill for eBayable things, which I might have a go at as well -- a lot of really high end brands tend to turn up at our Goodwill for pennies. I've bought things for myself, like a wool Banana Republic skirt for three dollars still bearing a $98 price tag -- who knows how much I could get someone on eBay to pay for it if I wasn't keeping it for myself? Certainly enough to make a profit, anyway. We'll see if anything happens on that front.
Anyway, yesterday I was further reminded of my inexplicable ability to not get hired, and then we couldn't go to Clearfield because I had been stupid, and I spent half an hour scouring my closets for my Social Security card -- fortunately my mother had a spare for some reason, and I will not lose this one. And tearing through my closet did have one good result, in that I found the TARDIS Christmas card that builtofsorrow made for me, which is far too awesome to be languishing in the closet, so it's quite visible on the memory board now, along with
lady_moriel's postcard from Istanbul, which also disappeared into the depths of the closet and was rescued. Regardless, however, I was miserable and hormonal and felt immensely stupid and cried a lot and I actually don't know who that was yesterday, really. And then I got sick. Ergo yesterday was rubbish, only redeemed by copious doses of Winchesters and some chocolate.
Now the doctor's signed my silly paper and we can go to Clearfield tomorrow, and it's awfully ridiculous that I'm even looking forward to driving to Clearfield, as it is one of the most depressing towns I have ever set eyes upon -- every time I've been, the sky's been overcast and dour, and I suspect that it is somehow always that way -- but I would like my learner's permit, and also Clearfield has Ollie's, which is some sort of bargain basement warehousey store that happens to have masses of overstock and mildly damaged books. (I bought a gorgeous hardcover of Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell for... five dollars, I think? That book is massive and it's expensive, especially in hardcover.) Also they have a Goodwill. Which is not the same Goodwill we peruse every week or two. Which therefore makes it especially interesting. You know, somehow. Also also, new car, which is very entertaining to drive in (and has a CD player, what ho! trying to think of something I could burn that my mother would really like).
And you know what else? I really miss writing the Novel. I haven't managed to get over this awful sticky patch of Very Important Plot Element That Kind of Shapes The Entire Story Except I Don't Know How It Works Quite. And it's really lonely in this writingless world, it is.
Yesterday was bad, because we were supposed to drive out to Clearfield to get me a learner's permit for driving, and then I found out I'd been indisputably stupid and hadn't looked things up and I had to have my Social Security card which I hadn't seen in months (for those of you who worry, it's in the house, somewhere; nobody's running around pretending to be me, although that would be a nice way to pretend my bank debt isn't any of my doing and have the government take care of it or something), and I had to have stuff signed by a doctor to prove I wasn't physically or mentally incapable of learning to drive safely, and I didn't have any of those things, and I was already in a foul mood because when I went to apply at Ross, the door had a NOW HIRING sign on it, and when I asked the manager, she said they weren't hiring but I could fill out an application (online) anyway, and I was too flustered to say "BUT YOUR SIGN!". And everyone tells me they're not hiring but I can fill out an application anyway, but nothing ever comes of it, and I am so exhausted of looking for work and never finding any. Dad thinks I don't pursue jobs hard enough, which is tosh -- I call them and drop in and call them again and stage sit-ins until they promise to call me back and still I get nothing. What about me is so unhireable?
I'm beginning to think that the only route here is to go back to my original plan, which was Do Something Radical For Money. I'm still working on that EP, by the way. I really wish I had a microphone, so it would sound a mite less lo-fi than it already will, but there's not much I can do about that until, you know, I have money. I'm planning to have seven songs (because I like that number), and ask for at least seven dollars for it. It will probably go up on NoiseTrade, because they make it simple for unsigned artists to upload, promote, and sell their music, plus I don't have to pay anything. The actual content of said EP is what's holding me back, of course... as in, there needs to be more. I've made my own versions of several traditional songs, and currently have one song entirely my own that fits in with the aesthetic themes of the other songs (it's turning out to be sort of freak-folk, sort of like a really lo-fi Vashti Bunyan with very little accompaniment). And my mother is scouring Goodwill for eBayable things, which I might have a go at as well -- a lot of really high end brands tend to turn up at our Goodwill for pennies. I've bought things for myself, like a wool Banana Republic skirt for three dollars still bearing a $98 price tag -- who knows how much I could get someone on eBay to pay for it if I wasn't keeping it for myself? Certainly enough to make a profit, anyway. We'll see if anything happens on that front.
Anyway, yesterday I was further reminded of my inexplicable ability to not get hired, and then we couldn't go to Clearfield because I had been stupid, and I spent half an hour scouring my closets for my Social Security card -- fortunately my mother had a spare for some reason, and I will not lose this one. And tearing through my closet did have one good result, in that I found the TARDIS Christmas card that builtofsorrow made for me, which is far too awesome to be languishing in the closet, so it's quite visible on the memory board now, along with
lady_moriel's postcard from Istanbul, which also disappeared into the depths of the closet and was rescued. Regardless, however, I was miserable and hormonal and felt immensely stupid and cried a lot and I actually don't know who that was yesterday, really. And then I got sick. Ergo yesterday was rubbish, only redeemed by copious doses of Winchesters and some chocolate.
Now the doctor's signed my silly paper and we can go to Clearfield tomorrow, and it's awfully ridiculous that I'm even looking forward to driving to Clearfield, as it is one of the most depressing towns I have ever set eyes upon -- every time I've been, the sky's been overcast and dour, and I suspect that it is somehow always that way -- but I would like my learner's permit, and also Clearfield has Ollie's, which is some sort of bargain basement warehousey store that happens to have masses of overstock and mildly damaged books. (I bought a gorgeous hardcover of Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell for... five dollars, I think? That book is massive and it's expensive, especially in hardcover.) Also they have a Goodwill. Which is not the same Goodwill we peruse every week or two. Which therefore makes it especially interesting. You know, somehow. Also also, new car, which is very entertaining to drive in (and has a CD player, what ho! trying to think of something I could burn that my mother would really like).
And you know what else? I really miss writing the Novel. I haven't managed to get over this awful sticky patch of Very Important Plot Element That Kind of Shapes The Entire Story Except I Don't Know How It Works Quite. And it's really lonely in this writingless world, it is.