The Opposite of the High Life

It's fun being broke and having to live in shitholes, isn't it? I had one place where there was no hot water for a year and a half because the slum lord wouldn't get the boiler fixed. In my current place (overpriced mobile home) the hot water heater (the access to which was in the back of my son's closet as it turns out) blew out and spread water across three rooms. There's probably $20,000 in damages (which is about what I owe on this dump) and we don't dare turn on the water except to flush the toilet because otherwise it will start leaking again. Good times!

Blasted Gray Mood!

It isn't quite bad enough to be black, but it is pervasive. I keep wondering why some people seem to get a lucky break just exactly when they need it but I keep being stuck in situations that I don't want to be in. I see it logically--I've never been strong enough to stand my ground and somehow the arguments of the people that talk me into doing these things make sense at the time.

Seeing this damn nursing school thing as having been conscripted and serving out my time, like in the Army. It's not exactly like being in jail but it does curtail the freedom, big time. I'm trying to see the advantages--like if a weekend Baylor shift position opens up where I work, I will take it because then I will only have to work two days a week, 32 hours, and get paid for 40. Huge advantage! They have baylor shifts for aides, but my back and my fibromyalgia make me suffer doing aide work. I can't handle it physically.

I have been having a fuck load of heart palpitations lately. I know they're probably harmless but they're kind of scary. I don't have the money to get it checked out. And I don't have the money to get counseling for my depression.

But there is no need for reform in our health care system. People like me, the marginalized, would do the world a favor if we would just die and decrease the surplus population.

I don't get the luxury of dying, though. I am the only one in my house making a paycheck. I may be the only one capable of earning a paycheck. Yet we are too "wealthy" to qualify for food stamps even though the money runs out pretty much as the paycheck comes in, and I have to ask my parents for money every month. Yeah--that feels great.

My younger self keeps reminding me of what a loser I am--that this was not how things were supposed to be.