(no subject)
So, blah. Lots and lots of shit has been happening.
Warning: ranting.
I'm not even sure where to begin. I wandered around Europe for the better part of last month, which was absolutely brilliant. Paris, Amsterdam (and some other miscellaneous cities in the Netherlands), and Rome (with my cousin from Germany, who speaks English fairly well, I speak absolutely no German, and neither of us speaks any Italian). I also took a forty(ish)-minute train into London, hung out in Camden Town, spent all my money on books, comics, and alcohol, and ended up missing the last train home. So I spent the night on the street outside King's Cross, which would have been fairly interesting, if I hadn't had to pee so badly, and nowhere with a toilet was open...
The entire time I was adventuring there was a little reminder in the back of my mind that we still had to be out of our place by the third of May, and that I was still unemployed. Everything was so far removed from my problems, but it was there.
So two weeks ago I got home again, and guess what-- like I expected, the boys did nothing to start finding a new place to live. Jon is completely clueless when it comes to this stuff, not that I should have any reason to be less clueless, but for whatever reason he's under the impression I am. Therefore, it all falls to...me. We found some things that looked promising, but then I had to leave again, to (an amazing three-day concert in) the middle of the desert in California. It was around 108F/42C in the daytime, I was literally dripping sweat. Especially when packed in amongst a million other bodies, dancing in the sun. I am now TAN. Or at least have funny tanlines... And between the end of the last performance sunday night, and when I got home monday, we lost our place to live. Apparently there was a notice on our door, Dorian called Jon and Jon called the guy we're subletting from, and he said 'HAY GUYS JUST KIDDING, LOL. YOU DON'T HAVE THREE MORE DAYS. MY BAD. KTHNXBAI.'
When I returned home, we were homeless.
So that was a fun fucking night, packing and cleaning til around six in the morning tuesday. Because I wasn't fucking STRESSED enough. So, now, our options for finding other places are gone, we get to start all over. Last week was mainly us trying to regroup and recover, and naturally, as people like to do in this situation, everybody's been acting like GODDAMNED CHILDREN. I love being shat on by the universe, or fate, or, hell, even 'god' if that's what it is. And then having everyone expect me to play mummy to them. THERE'S A REASON I'M NOT HAVING CHILDREN, FOLKS.
It gets better-- sarcastically, or seriously, depending on how you look at it-- because after we went through all that, we get another call that said 'LOLerz!!11!!!one!!1 NVMND, YOU HAVE ANOTHER MONTH. TYPO. SRY HAHA.'
AFTER we found a place to put our shit.
AFTER I'd spent at least four hours CLEANING the goddamned place.
AFTER calling Eric, Richard, Mike, Cisco, and Quin to move our stuff out.
I started laughing really hard, and then I started crying.
Oh yeah, and my futon's broken. Its a really flimsy bed now. And I'm sick. I have a cough that's gotten me close to vomiting a few times. Eric and Dorian are hardly not talking. Jon hurt his hand (again) punching Cisco's truck. I have no health insurance. My father's depressed, because a month ago he lost his job because he 'took too many days off' when he was IN THE HOSPITAL for most of those.
Christ, that's just the tip of the fucking iceberg. Pardon the overused metaphor, but sometimes, there's a reason its overused.
There are bright sides, too. Some very incredible things have happened, that I hope I'll be able to keep in my memory as little moments in time where life was, for a moment, infinite. I want to compile them all in notebook one day, so I can look back and think-- this was my life. There was drama, there was shit, but these were the moments where everything was free. And they're just as much a part of me as all the sludge.
And now the major crisis has passed, the cusp of events.
So I'm sitting alone in the studio, with my futon, my bags, an umbrella, and my laptop. There's a puddle on the ground and the toilet doesn't work, but I'm here and we can figure this shit out.
Its these times that make up life. This is the time I'll be looking back on, years from now. Youth and hot tempers, cigarettes and long nights.
And, er, we have grunions in an energy drink can in the freezer. Apparently. o.O
Warning: ranting.
I'm not even sure where to begin. I wandered around Europe for the better part of last month, which was absolutely brilliant. Paris, Amsterdam (and some other miscellaneous cities in the Netherlands), and Rome (with my cousin from Germany, who speaks English fairly well, I speak absolutely no German, and neither of us speaks any Italian). I also took a forty(ish)-minute train into London, hung out in Camden Town, spent all my money on books, comics, and alcohol, and ended up missing the last train home. So I spent the night on the street outside King's Cross, which would have been fairly interesting, if I hadn't had to pee so badly, and nowhere with a toilet was open...
The entire time I was adventuring there was a little reminder in the back of my mind that we still had to be out of our place by the third of May, and that I was still unemployed. Everything was so far removed from my problems, but it was there.
So two weeks ago I got home again, and guess what-- like I expected, the boys did nothing to start finding a new place to live. Jon is completely clueless when it comes to this stuff, not that I should have any reason to be less clueless, but for whatever reason he's under the impression I am. Therefore, it all falls to...me. We found some things that looked promising, but then I had to leave again, to (an amazing three-day concert in) the middle of the desert in California. It was around 108F/42C in the daytime, I was literally dripping sweat. Especially when packed in amongst a million other bodies, dancing in the sun. I am now TAN. Or at least have funny tanlines... And between the end of the last performance sunday night, and when I got home monday, we lost our place to live. Apparently there was a notice on our door, Dorian called Jon and Jon called the guy we're subletting from, and he said 'HAY GUYS JUST KIDDING, LOL. YOU DON'T HAVE THREE MORE DAYS. MY BAD. KTHNXBAI.'
When I returned home, we were homeless.
So that was a fun fucking night, packing and cleaning til around six in the morning tuesday. Because I wasn't fucking STRESSED enough. So, now, our options for finding other places are gone, we get to start all over. Last week was mainly us trying to regroup and recover, and naturally, as people like to do in this situation, everybody's been acting like GODDAMNED CHILDREN. I love being shat on by the universe, or fate, or, hell, even 'god' if that's what it is. And then having everyone expect me to play mummy to them. THERE'S A REASON I'M NOT HAVING CHILDREN, FOLKS.
It gets better-- sarcastically, or seriously, depending on how you look at it-- because after we went through all that, we get another call that said 'LOLerz!!11!!!one!!1 NVMND, YOU HAVE ANOTHER MONTH. TYPO. SRY HAHA.'
AFTER we found a place to put our shit.
AFTER I'd spent at least four hours CLEANING the goddamned place.
AFTER calling Eric, Richard, Mike, Cisco, and Quin to move our stuff out.
I started laughing really hard, and then I started crying.
Oh yeah, and my futon's broken. Its a really flimsy bed now. And I'm sick. I have a cough that's gotten me close to vomiting a few times. Eric and Dorian are hardly not talking. Jon hurt his hand (again) punching Cisco's truck. I have no health insurance. My father's depressed, because a month ago he lost his job because he 'took too many days off' when he was IN THE HOSPITAL for most of those.
Christ, that's just the tip of the fucking iceberg. Pardon the overused metaphor, but sometimes, there's a reason its overused.
There are bright sides, too. Some very incredible things have happened, that I hope I'll be able to keep in my memory as little moments in time where life was, for a moment, infinite. I want to compile them all in notebook one day, so I can look back and think-- this was my life. There was drama, there was shit, but these were the moments where everything was free. And they're just as much a part of me as all the sludge.
And now the major crisis has passed, the cusp of events.
So I'm sitting alone in the studio, with my futon, my bags, an umbrella, and my laptop. There's a puddle on the ground and the toilet doesn't work, but I'm here and we can figure this shit out.
Its these times that make up life. This is the time I'll be looking back on, years from now. Youth and hot tempers, cigarettes and long nights.
And, er, we have grunions in an energy drink can in the freezer. Apparently. o.O