bitterfig

I continue to be sick.  Again.  Last time was the flu, this time it’s a pretty bad cold including a hacking cough that makes it sound like I’m about to throw up.  Truly lovely.  Even though I’m sick I’ve still managed to pick up a couple hours work at Biff’s office today and yesterday.  The other woman who works there part time has pneumonia so I’m comparatively healthy. 

 

I’m trying to work at Biff’s as much as I can because I’m completely out of paid time off at the market which means that I’m not earning any income for the days I miss work (Tuesday, and tomorrow at least.)  I’ll probably have to dip into my savings which I always hate to do.  Of course it doesn’t help that recently in a fit of self-indulgence I bought myself a bunch of DVDs—Eastern Promises (gratuitous violence! homoerotic subtext!), Stardust (Mark Strong!), Danny Boyle’s Sunshine (more Mark Strong!  Philosophical inquiry into the meaning of existence!  Cillian Murphy’s cheekbones!), and the anime collections for Magic Knight Rayearth I (Clamp cuteness!) and Simoun (cuteness and genderfuck!  It’s set on a planet where everyone is female till they turn 17 when they choose their sex). 

 

I will say in my defense that I got all of these used on e-bay so even though I spent too much I could have spent a whole lot more.  I tend to think this way far too often.  For instance when grocery shopping I recently shelled out $11 on a big, big bag of Pacific Rose Apples (which are the yummiest) and justified it by thinking that  compared to the people I see at the market who spend $112 on a cut of meat it really wasn’t that  extravagant. 

 

This afternoon I watched Lost in Translation.  I saw it in the theater when it first came out but I’ve wanted to watch it again based on a conversation I had with this guy I went out with a couple times over the summer (known as the Guy in the Ethyl Meatplow t-shirt).   We were talking about movies at one point and I mentioned that I liked Sophia Coppola’s films.  He was said that as an Asian (he was Filipino, born in the Philippines but raised in America) he’d found Lost in Translation really offensive and stereotypical.  I didn’t remember any of this, but it had been about four years since I’d actually seen the film so I thought if I ever watched it again I’d keep an eye out. 

 

Watching it again I still really didn’t see anything that I would consider offensive.  I can almost see how scenes like the one with the “tear my stockings” woman border on derogatory stereotypes but to me the humor saves it.  Bill Murphy’s character is sort of rude sometimes but it seems to ring true for the character and you get the feeling he’d be just as snide in any setting. 

 

Yet as I write this I realize I’m using the same excuses that people give me when I’m offended by sexism in a book or a film.  It’s just part of the story, it’s the character, it’s meant to be funny.  This sort of bothers me.  Is there something there that I’m unable to see from my vantage point of white privilege?    Does everyone wear their own pair of blinders that shuts out what doesn’t apply to them? 

I had hoped that with Christmas behind me and my car finally working I’d have some relief from tooth-clenching, stomach churning anxiety however on Thursday (12/27) I got a letter from Illinois Unemployment saying that I was working for Biff’s property management company during the time I collected unemployment—08/26/06 to 09/23/06—so they want their money back. 

 

This is totally inaccurate—there are certain things I don’t forget and I was terminated from my job at the property management company on Sunday, 08/14/06 and the last day I worked was Friday 08/12/06.  I did go back to work part time (off the books and under the table) but that wasn’t until early November-- I remember this because when I went in that first day all the half empty cups and kegs were laying around the yard from Biff’s Halloween party the night before. 

 

I sent a semi-hysterical e-mail to Biff (who’s trying to enjoy what may be his last vacation sans child).  He’s assured me it will be taken care of so I’m trying not to dwell on it obsessively and overall things seem to be looking up.  Work has been quite manageable, even pleasant for the past few days.  The boy I sort of like leant me his copy of Rushmore, which I’d never seen before through I like a couple of Wes Anderson’s other films.  I wonder if he leant me this particular movie to send a coded message that he’s receptive to a relationship with an older woman (actually that’s the sort of obscure connection between reality and fiction that only I would make).    

 

I’m obviously a little annoyed with my mother for all the pressure she put on me to be in New York over Christmas and she sent me an e-mail yesterday that I found particularly irksome.  Eileen, the woman who was our pastor (as well as a close friend) when I was living with my parents was getting married.  Mum’s immediate response-- “This’ll be the third time she’s gotten married.  Why bother?”  Mum later recanted somewhat and said that it was probably good that Eileen was still willing to try, but the initial reaction is so typical of my mother’s worldview—no tolerance for mistakes, judgmental of and superior to anyone who doesn’t abide by her standards which are the result of a very sheltered life dominated by fear the unknown and the need to control. 

 

I’d like to say that I haven’t let Mum’s views on relationships color my own but in all honesty they have.  I really feel like the fact that my last relationship didn’t work out means that I’m fundamentally unsuited to have any kind of a partner, like it wasn’t meant to be.  Even though I’ve had my crushes over the past five years I really can’t imagine anything coming of them.  They’re reasons for me to get up in the morning and put on my make-up but I do feel rather like I’m failed in that area, that I wasn’t good enough, that I made the wrong choices and missed my chance. 

 

Which isn’t right or real or true. 

 

Mum’s always believed in her own set of inflexible rules--  Anything too difficult was not meant to be and should be abandoned.  If you’re not happy with a situation you shouldn’t try to change it because there’s a good chance you’re the problem and you’ll be unhappy whatever situation you’re in.  If you’re in a bad situation it’s because there’s something wrong with you.  If you’re good and smart and moral you’ll find a man who’s taller than you, get married by the time you’re 25 and stay married for the rest of your life.  If not, you’re just pathetic. 

 

I think that in reality, these rules don’t exist.  The third time might be the charm for Eileen.  Or maybe the fourth will work out, or the fifth time or maybe she’ll just takes something valuable from each marriage.   Maybe someday I’ll have a boyfriend again or even a girlfriend.  It’s possible, it really is.  I just wish I could believe it. 

On a brighter note—I got a letter today from Illinois Masonic Hospital and after nearly 5 months* after my bike accident my emergency room bill has finally been taken care of.  My car insurance company ended up paying it while my Healthcare insurance covered absolutely nothing.  Rather ironic considering that back in 2003 when I was in accident and my car was totaled I got nothing from my car insurance.  This time my car wasn’t even involved and they paid.  Insurance really is insane. 

 

*My accident took place on 07/21/07, a date that is very easy for me to remember because there was sort of a months long countdown to it… It was the day Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows was released.  In fact right before I got knocked off my bike by the city bus I was wondering if I ought to swing into the nearby Target and see if they had it in stock. 

The past couple days have been pretty rough.  Work was grueling over the weekend, crazy busy and it’s only going to get worse as the holidays approach.  Meanwhile I continue to be very tired and moody.  I’m going to see my doctor before work tomorrow, just to see if there’s anything that can be done as it’s gotten to the point where I can’t seem to get through a shift at work without having to actively resist the urge to burst into tears at least once. 

 

It’s probably depression and if it is I’m not sure what my physician will be able to do to help except maybe send me to a psychiatrist for medication management.  My insurance doesn’t cover mental health but I have some savings.  I might be able to get some help from my parents; however I’m not sure they would be willing.  About three years ago I was seeing a public health doctor who switched me from Effexor to Celexa.  I got very depressed and my parents ended up giving me $1,000 to see a private psychiatrist on a regular basis so I could get decent medication management.  The money made it possible for me to have about six sessions (1 hour sessions, not ten minutes like I’d been getting) with a decent doctor and get my meds straightened out, however I think my parents were thinking that the expenditure of $1,000 would be enough to fix me for good.  Obviously this would not happen so I’m pretty sure my mother would see any further treatment as a waste of money (she’s occasionally asked about my therapist “are they making you any better or just taking your money?”)

 

Worst case scenario I could go to another public health doctor which means in-depth ten minutes sessions to gauge and one size fits all medication.  Sadly, when it comes to mental health care all too often you get what you pay for and unless you can pay you don’t get a heck of a lot. 

 

Well, we’ll see.  I do think that whatever my problem has been the past few weeks it must be partially seasonal.  The past two days have been the mildest November  days ever and I’ve actually felt a bit better.  This morning was the All Store Team Meeting from 6:30 to 8:00 a.m.  Always a delight.  I’ve got to work 2:45 p.m. to close but I managed to catch about a hour and a half sleep around mid-morning.  I’ve discovered that the trick is to resist the urge caffeinate when you first wake up, then you can actually get to sleep later on. 

For some reason I can not begin to fathom I was paid on September 29, then one week later (October 5) got a pay check for one week.  I will get my next check on September 19.  I can’t figure out if this is a good thing (getting a check after only one week) or a bad thing (living two weeks on a one week paycheck—though of course I still had part of the last paycheck left over.)  Either way it messes up my budgeting, which I have a certain way that doesn’t account for random one week pay periods.

 

On Friday I went to Andersonville (a neighborhood quite a ways to the northeast of where I live) to meet with one of the editors of a website interested in local journalism.  They’d contacted me back in August and I submitted a piece to them last month, an article about the Bucktown Arts Festival adapted from my journal.  They seemed interested in having me do more stuff for them but I sort of wanted to find out more about the site and what they were looking for just because it seemed rather sports heavy and also because with my two jobs I’m probably not going to be able to do articles very often. 

 

I got an idea of what the website is after—community based journalism about events that aren’t really being covered by larger news sources.  The editor said that it would be okay for me to write for them where I could, that they wouldn’t require weekly pieces or anything like that.  It’s okay to only write for them when something I’m interested in comes up and I have the time

 

They don’t pay, so I really don’t have the luxury of going out of my way to cover things for them but I would like to do some writing for the site.  It’s a good excuse to talk to people and since a lot of my co-workers at the market are artists, musicians or activists of various kinds it could also give me an opportunity to help them out with a bit of publicity. 

 

The meeting went well, but directly before it I had a rather upsetting (at least to me) incident.  The editor I was meeting was going to be out of the office and couldn’t get back till 3:30 p.m. and because the buzzer was broken he asked me to meet him outside.  I showed up early as usual and was standing by the door reading Mishama and minding my own business when a woman dragging along a huge suitcase came up and started talking at me. 

 

I really would have preferred to have kept reading my nice little book about fascism and homosexuality but I thought it would be simple common courtesy, one human being to another, to at least acknowledge this woman was standing there talking and not just tune her out or tell her to please fuck off.  So she spent about five minutes going on about how she was an educated woman and a word processing specialist and her sister and a EKG machine and how she was in an intensive outpatient program.  Eventually she finally got to the part where she asked for money.  I didn’t have any cash on me so I said, “I’m sorry, I don’t have any cash.”  She snapped back, “I’m sorry you wasted my time.”   So much for human courtesy, I guess the proper etiquette would have been to ignore her or tell her to go away. 

 

The office where I had my meeting was right next to the Andersonville Brown Elephant.  Brown Elephant’s are a series of thrift shops in Chicago run by the Howard Brown Heath Center, a GLBT health organization, so after my meeting I went in and looked around.  I didn’t really find anything I liked.  There was a book of zodiac images by the retro hipster artist Shag I wouldn’t have minded getting but it was fifty cents and the credit card limit was $10 and I really wasn’t lying when I told the lady I didn’t have any cash.  When I was there, it was mostly quite but when I was about to leave this old Billy Bragg song “Richard” started playing really loud. 

 

This is a song that fascinated me when I was in college because it seems to precise and detailed, as if it must be talking about an actual situation but I never could figure out what that situation was.  Like an overheard fragment of conversation, a window into someone’s life but you have no idea what you’re looking at.  I remember I actually wrote a story based on this song, trying to create a context for the lyrics. 

 

Hearing it again, echoing in the warehouse space of the Brown Elephant was a sort of odd experience.  It was so familiar and yet it’s been years since I’d listened to it.  I’d always been so focused on the lyrics I never realized that Billy Bragg does a lot of really strange things with his voice during the song, there are some very odd vocal inflections going on not to mention harsh guitar riffs.  Still, it’s the lyrics that really get to me.  My favorite lines-- “You helped me make this bed, but you won’t help me sleep in it.”  “Our Titanic love affair sails on the morning tide.” and “Do you think I only love you ‘cuz you sleep with other boys?” 

 

 

Maybe because I watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind again last week, when I heard the song this time the line about sleeping with other boys sort of reminded me of how Joel thinks that Clementine is unfaithful and promiscuous.  She denies it and both times I’ve watched the film I found myself believing her.  It always seemed to me like part of his fantasy of her as someone free in ways he will never be and also as someone he can be resentful towards. 

Yesterday was my little niece Kitten’s third birthday.  She’s getting to be such a big girl. 

 

I had a day shift at work so I was hoping to spend the evening making her a wonderful original hand-made Birthday card but we were short staffed at the market so I ended up working a fairly epic shift (8:37 a.m. to 5:40 p.m. to be exact) and by the time I got home (I’d ridden my bike) I was too exhausted to do anything productive.  At least I managed to balance my till for the second day in a row. 

 

Yesterday was also my one year anniversary at the market.  When I started a year ago I’d hoped to be in a graduate program for creative writing by this time but since I wasn’t able to get in I have to start looking at other options.  I’m simply not making enough money.  I refilled my Effexor XR prescription this morning and I had to put it on my credit card because my medical flex-spending account has run out.  This means I’ll have to hit my brother-in-law up for free samples at least for the rest of the year.

 

I hate being a poor relation. 

 

I was listening to Talk of the Nation on NPR a few days ago and found out that there’s a program in Chicago that gives low-income families cash incentives for things like getting a library card, getting an annual check-up, paying the rent and other bills on time, attending parent/teacher conferences, and going to church etc. 

 

Listening to the piece I found myself having a bit of a knee-jerk reaction along the lines of “What the fuck?  I pay my bills on time.  I’m never late for work.  I take my medication and stayed in school and nobodies giving me cash incentives.”

 

Of course before I get too resentful I need to keep in mind that I’m an educated, middle-class white girl who has access to resources and benefits that the average person living in true poverty would kill for.   I’m having some financial difficulties right now but problems but I’m not trapped by poverty.  Much as I dislike doing it, I have my family to fall back on and I have the education and skills to get a higher paying job, it’s simply a matter of overcoming my lack of confidence so I really can’t begrudge people in genuine poverty what little help this program gives them. 

 

Though I still can’t help wondering about people on food stamps who shop at Whole Foods.  Even with my 20% employee discount its still super expensive. 

 

Sigh.

 

I am a miserable excuse for a social justice liberal. 

I spoke to me mum last night and my Grandmother came through the surgery without any problems which is a big relief.  I realize the recovery won’t be easy for her but I was mainly worried that the hour and a half operation would just be too much for her. Selfish as it might be I’m thankful she’s okay and is going to keep living for at least a while. 

 

When mum was on the phone I hit her up for money.  I hate that I do this, I hate that I need to do this and I’m not able to make a decent living on my own but she asked if I was doing all right with money and I answered honestly that I’m not.  I had to get my windshield wipers replaced and even though it was only $40 that’s $40 I don’t really have. 

 

I really need to start looking for a better paying job; I’m just not sure if I can find one.  Tomorrow will actually be my one year anniversary at Whole Foods (as well as my niece’s third Birthday).  I’m working tonight and I’m a bit nervous because the last two times I worked my till was off-- $10 short on Saturday and $20 over on Monday.  I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’ve balanced my till every time since I got written up for a $50 overage on Easter.  And at least then I had the excuse that I was starving myself.  Right now I’m actually feeling pretty healthy for the first time in quite a few months.