Tuesday, June 24, 2008

I hate money.

Tonight I talked with Julie about money.
I have irrational fears about money, and obsess over how much I have and how I'm going to pay for things. My family wasn't poor or anything. Somehow frugality was simply instilled in me. My dad grew up poor and his father grew up during the depression. I can understand where some of this obsession comes from. The thing is that in the past I haven't let money stop me so much. I was ok with buying books and music regardless of money. I don't know what's changed, but lately I've been worried about how much I have and how much I don't.
I'm in debt right now and I have a little over a thousand dollars less a month coming in than I need in order to keep up with bills, without paying off my debt. This is with working thirty hours a week and using the money my family has saved up for years on end.
Julie is telling me money is easily attainable but that hasn't been my experience. I've done the whole applying for scholarships out the wazoo thing, and I've taken out loans. The thing is that it doesn't help. My dislike of all of this makes a certain amount of sense, but it is indeed irrational. However I know of lots of folks who worked their way through college. It's a common thing. I\I don't really understand how people can think that it's ok to just defer everything. I know that its ok to take loans and to focus on ones education, but what happened to contributing to your own education. The fact is that with the amount of money I was getting in financial aide loans and all didn't pay for the remainder that was left when my parents money was spent. (it's actually my money, long story, umm probably for later) I went further in debt because of that. Before I had my reckless spending binge while in a bout of clinical depression I already had debt from paying off parts of my school and housing etc. with my credit.

I don't know what to think right now. I don't want money to determine what I do, but I can't eist without my money figured out. Julie doesn't worry about money the same way, but I don't think it's just me being all irrational, though that is part of it. I think that some of it comes from the fact that I manage my money. I have to see where it goes, distribute it among accounts, spend it, and organise it. She doesn't do any of that. Her parents juggle the finances. They probably have to go through a similar set of hoops, but she never sees the hoops so her anxiety about money is subverted. I also imagine it's easier to get a loan when you have some twenty or thirty years of credit built up. as far as my parents taking out a loan, we already have some of those out, and I'm not sure where we are financially. Frankly money is the only thing my father and I really argue about.

Just like with everything else as of late I wish I could just drop it all and just curl up with Julie. That's all I want out of anything lately.
I can't fix my craziness in a flash, I can't fix my schooling in a flash, and I can't simply slough off my monetary responsibilities on my parents. Like it or not I've taken on this stuff, or have had it pushed on me, and now I have to deal with it. I'm not alone or anything, but I sure as fuck am not in the ideal situation.

Hopefully that made sense. It probably didn't considering my track record tonight.
maybe I'll figure it out soon.
until next time

Thursday, June 19, 2008

a wonderful day for my student

My student was wonderful today. He wasn't in the classroom the majority of the time. I thing these two things may be causal. He does very well if things are put forth clearly, and in a non-classroom environment that is much easier to do. (it sometimes feels impossible in the classroom).
He followed directions well, enjoyed himself, was happy throughout the day as opposed to off and on, and his aggressions were exceedingly rare. It just makes sense though.
The reason he was out of the classroom was for a bit of testing. It wasn't for analysis. What they were doing (they being two people from the district) was introducing him to a new communication system (just feeling it out). It went' well. I don't think the communication system would stick, but his behaviour and reactions during the testing were brilliant.
I was very proud of him. His mother was also there during this (as was my consultant) She expressed surprise about some of the things I was doing, in a good way that is. for instance, in order to lead him places, and to give him a good amount of tactile input, my hands are on his shoulders a whole lot. She was under the impression that he didn't like that. It's just one of those problems that comes up when you assume every whim and need. She doesn't require him to clearly show what he wants, and so he doesn't feel the need to. If all things he wants are just given to him, why should he be insistent about it.
I'm proud of him, and I think that perhaps a switch in his mothers brain is being triggered. Maybe she'll realise the harm (and disrespect for that mater) she does him by enabling him.

She is very dedicated to her son. That is certifiable, it's simply her refusal of advice from people who know what's going on. It's a common problem, and if she realises that is what's wrong, she will take advice, because she wants what's best for her son.

other than that my day has been relatively uneventful. I may have more things of interest later, but who really knows.

Monday, June 16, 2008

post 100

I don't really feel it to be so important, but it is somewhat exciting that I'm to a one hundredth post. I'm still a little sick. I've been coughing and being up and about for more than ten minutes isn't so pleasant. I'm going to try to go in to work tomorrow anyways. I feel bad for missing a week or so of work, it just feels irresponsible, even if that's what was suggested to me by the doctor. I got an inhaler to help the coughing a bit, but that's all they could really do. It's a viral infection, and so I must let it run it's course. I can't say that's pleasing. I'm fine with it, but I hate being down, I'd rather be able to go back to work.
For the last few posts it seems that my blog has been largely complaint. I don't want to seem like the sort of person who complains endlessly.
I've watched a few football games in the euro cup, but I haven't been following too closely. I haven't a dog in that fight. I could route for just about anyone. For international Football its always Ireland at my top list. I like the Germans a lot, but that's partly due to my fascination at the skills of their goalkeeper during the world cup they played against Brasil.
I really wish I were up and about. That I've nothing more to talk about than a cold and football is really a shame. Not to say that I wouldn't be fine talking about those things.
I'm off to be sick some more. Perhaps I'll celebrate my hundredth post with some coffee. Hopefully I'll have more of interest to tell you later.

Sunday, June 15, 2008


My day has tripped along at an uneven pace. I kept wishing I could just have my life back. It's been like that for a while now. I've been doing all I can to get back into the flow of things (at least now I have) but I feel helpless. I'm in an un-enjoyable waiting time. I've done all I can, and all I am able to do now is trudge day by day back towards some modicum of normalcy. I've been sick this week which can't have helped my mood.
I don't mind the hard work, I just wish it wouldn't take so damn long. I really wish that all that I came up against stayed constant. I wish that the only problems I had to deal with were getting back to school and getting well. That of course isn't the case, and with debt, bills, and the general bullshit the world has to offer me, of course things don't feel right.
I am in a position to complain, I shouldn't. It won't do me any good, but I suppose that philosophy didn't do me any good while I was going crazy. I sometimes think about putting my fist through a wall. That's the key odd thing that pops into my brain as of late. I picture my hand slamming into plaster and the small fissures formed in the plaster, the slow-motion tearing of my skin. I picture my knuckles compressing along with the wall. I see the sharp edges scratch at the edges of my hand and wrist. It's a very involved picture. This is in a few seconds mind you. It takes longer to describe than it does to see and feel and think. I get somewhat convinced that I'm going to do this. I really _want_ to do this. It's just an obsessive thought, but it describes pretty well how I'm feeling. I just want to destroy something, my own well being be damned. I just want to fuck shit up. It isn't very rational. I try to be rational as often as possible. It doesn't make me very popular, though I suppose most of that is actually due to my lack of tact. I just want to destroy something. I imagine it's not an uncommon feeling among young men. Angry young men seem to be the norm. I just want to destroy something. Shooting things in video games only does so much.
I was having a particularly low bout in the middle of the day (the early evening by all actual accounts) I went and finally got a French-press, and made some coffee. It increased my jitters, but I felt somewhat better. That reminds me of another thing which bothers, the damn side effects from my drugs. The sexual side effects have been much less marked as of late. The details are unnecessary to go into. The shaking hasn't gotten better. It's not bad enough for me to lower the dose, especially as I'd rather have a bit of shaking than be confined to bed for days at a time.
I'm just fucking tired of everything. If I can't be well, and be with Julie, then I don't want to let the world be okay. I want to fuck things up. It's not ok for me to sit here doing nothing, being despondent. I need to fucking do something. It all stays pent up though, because what outlet is there? physical outlets don't do it (and this week I've been sick so of course those have been out). It's just something I don't know how to deal with. Anxiety, Fear, Helplessness, and Anger are my bedfellows. They get capitilisations because they are entities within themselves. I don't know how to deal with any of them. All of them are building. All of the signs point towards more of the same, or at the best a gradual incline towards something better.

I know that most of this ranting is in fact false. I know that I can do things, but I can't help but feel useless. I work, and I come home and that's it. I sometimes end up late on bills, and sometimes end up overdrawn on accounts. It's all really annoying, but ultimately this is what I have to do to get back to my feet. I have to trudge along like everyone else, and keep in the flow that the world requires of me. It's the only way I'll get the things I want, my sanity and a life with Julie (or at least a part of my life with Julie). I just have to continue working. I just wish the world didn't make it so damn hard.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

a week of illness and an examination of storytelling

For the last three days or so I've been in bed sick. It's not too horribly pleasant. On the upside I was able to comendeer a few seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer from my girlfriend. I'm just now done with the second season. It was very very good. I'm likely one of the few fans of Firefly who had never seen any buffy. My girlfriend absolutely loves the show. I can see why of course, It's told very well and has good strong female characters.
That's certainly one reason I like it. I'm always interested in stories that put people who are written in a real way into situations which are by their very nature contrived. I've always had a thing for science fiction. The literature of ideas intrigues me. Ultimately it's characters who most take me out of my world, and in these situations which are completely new, it is amazing to see the way that characters work.
I imagine that many people would put the reading of fiction, watching of films, and listening to music into the enjoyable but mostly useless category. I don't think so. There was a good argument in a "introduction to Criticism" class that I went to a few sessions of. If someone writes about something, Whaling for instance, are they really an expert on it. For advice about whaling would you read Moby Dick, or would you want to speak to someone who spent their life whaling?
That is the general view of the worth of stories. What I think people miss is that they are their own study. I'm very interested in psychology and people, and stories are a very interesting way to explore. The insights I already have I feel I have gotten from reading and writing stories. Characters are rarely written to be completely human, but even when that is the case each of them must have very particular human characteristics. We deal with humans all the time and when we read a novel we have a feel for if the characters feel real or not. Reading stories give us a chance to see what is true of humanity by looking at what isn't. If a character feels false, feels dead, then there must be something not human about them. If a character feels vibrant there is a wealth of humanity filling them. This applies not only to human characters. Anything written by a human is ultimately about humans.
This could work out to essay size, and perhaps it will some time, but for now I'm going to go back to the work of getting better.

Until next time.

Saturday, June 07, 2008

quickly passing time.

I've been drowning in a torrent of work. The hours are relatively low but the work is stressful. I've been focusing my writing efforts towards "The City, and a Misplaced Piece of Mind" I've not felt like doing much else.
I excel at my job. It makes me happy that this is the case, but my student is very hard to work with. He's been more difficult lately, and I have some lovely bruises to show for it. I still don't fault him, and I'm going to keep up the work. I don't much like his mother. This may have already been established, but if it wasn't it certainly is now.
I've already ranted enough about the mismanagement of his case throughout the years.

I've been rather blissful on the weekends, as Julie has been at home (about an hour from where I live). She's been coming to visit me, and I've been doing the same for her. The visits have been spectacular. I love her more now than I ever have, which is quite a feat considering the past two years. I'm going to see a new psychologist rather soon and look forward to the possible repair of my scattered brain. I've also been writing music. some of my strings broke on my guitar so I'm playing slightly different things at the moment, but I've about five songs that are up to performance standards when I've got all six strings.

I'll keep posting, hopefully with more frequency than I have.