Ah, Dude
Well, it's finally happened: as of April 4, I am officially fifty years old. I kind of feel it. My insomnia is so bad now that today I posted on Twitter:
Gotta turn my clock around/Start living like a person./Don't keep vampire hours/Or things will much worse than...they already are. Forgive me, I think that might have been three hours' sleep.
And so 'tis! I'm beginning to feel human only now, two hours before I have to go out, visit my personal trainer, come back, pick up Cal, hopefully hand him off to his respite worker Lucas, etc. Yesterday we did our tax appointment, at the absolute last moment, and discovered that we're in pretty good straits. I was able to claim income from beading for the first time, which meant I could expense my beads and findings; sweet. No refund, but I don't owe anything and I'm going to get money from HST, while Steve is getting a nice chunk. The plan is to put at least half of both straight into Tangerine and fucking leave it there for as long as we can. Toting up that receipts was an eye-opener, especially in terms of eating out, which we just have to stop doing unless it's a very, very special occasion. (I actually sorted the receipts and boiled them down to the largest ones before I reckoned them, so while it looks like we spent $4,000+, it's more like $6,000+. What the fuckitty fuck.)
Even better is the fact that hey hey, if we actually managed to get our shit together and re-qualify for the respite/therapy expenses we've been racking up, the government might end up owing us $30,000 back-dated dollas that could then be applied to saving money for Cal's inheritance, or getting him more therapy, or whatever the hell. Oh God, I am the shittiest mother sometimes.
Otherwise: I'm working on a story, waaaay too slowly, and considering a bunch of essays. Could I actually sell them somewhere? Man, that'd be nice. Today's Tor.com gives me to understand that people are hungry for female villains, which got me thinking about how I tend to see the first Saw trilogy not as the tragedy of John Kramer's failure to teach any-fucking-body any-fucking-thing but as the tragedy of Amanda Young's failure to believe that change is possible, even if you've previously survived having a reverse bear-trap bolted to your face. It's her vaguely sociopathic life-instinct that allows her to become his (supposedly) first apprentice, her drive to revenge herself on her own life, but that's also the thing that John ends up condemning her for rather than actually taking her aside and teaching her to overcome it--what he wants is for his apprentices to be as objective and emotionless in their judgements as he is, but he's dying of a brain tumor, and they're not. It's never gonna work, and Amanda proves why: her very human but also specifically female sense of despair, of self-punishment, leads her to undercut herself even as she seems to bloom toxically, and the result is near-Jacobean carnage, a total party kill that's like a demonstration of Nihilism 101. Nihilism vs existentialism, I guess. "I Hate Myself And Want To Die" would make a good title. But will anyone find this interesting aside from me?
Okay, back to it.
This entry was originally posted at https://handful-ofdust.dreamwidth.org/578001.html. Please comment either here or there using OpenID.
Gotta turn my clock around/Start living like a person./Don't keep vampire hours/Or things will much worse than...they already are. Forgive me, I think that might have been three hours' sleep.
And so 'tis! I'm beginning to feel human only now, two hours before I have to go out, visit my personal trainer, come back, pick up Cal, hopefully hand him off to his respite worker Lucas, etc. Yesterday we did our tax appointment, at the absolute last moment, and discovered that we're in pretty good straits. I was able to claim income from beading for the first time, which meant I could expense my beads and findings; sweet. No refund, but I don't owe anything and I'm going to get money from HST, while Steve is getting a nice chunk. The plan is to put at least half of both straight into Tangerine and fucking leave it there for as long as we can. Toting up that receipts was an eye-opener, especially in terms of eating out, which we just have to stop doing unless it's a very, very special occasion. (I actually sorted the receipts and boiled them down to the largest ones before I reckoned them, so while it looks like we spent $4,000+, it's more like $6,000+. What the fuckitty fuck.)
Even better is the fact that hey hey, if we actually managed to get our shit together and re-qualify for the respite/therapy expenses we've been racking up, the government might end up owing us $30,000 back-dated dollas that could then be applied to saving money for Cal's inheritance, or getting him more therapy, or whatever the hell. Oh God, I am the shittiest mother sometimes.
Otherwise: I'm working on a story, waaaay too slowly, and considering a bunch of essays. Could I actually sell them somewhere? Man, that'd be nice. Today's Tor.com gives me to understand that people are hungry for female villains, which got me thinking about how I tend to see the first Saw trilogy not as the tragedy of John Kramer's failure to teach any-fucking-body any-fucking-thing but as the tragedy of Amanda Young's failure to believe that change is possible, even if you've previously survived having a reverse bear-trap bolted to your face. It's her vaguely sociopathic life-instinct that allows her to become his (supposedly) first apprentice, her drive to revenge herself on her own life, but that's also the thing that John ends up condemning her for rather than actually taking her aside and teaching her to overcome it--what he wants is for his apprentices to be as objective and emotionless in their judgements as he is, but he's dying of a brain tumor, and they're not. It's never gonna work, and Amanda proves why: her very human but also specifically female sense of despair, of self-punishment, leads her to undercut herself even as she seems to bloom toxically, and the result is near-Jacobean carnage, a total party kill that's like a demonstration of Nihilism 101. Nihilism vs existentialism, I guess. "I Hate Myself And Want To Die" would make a good title. But will anyone find this interesting aside from me?
Okay, back to it.
This entry was originally posted at https://handful-ofdust.dreamwidth.org/578001.html. Please comment either here or there using OpenID.