It’s been a long time since I’ve dayloged. Haven’t been bloging much either. I have been working on several write-ups, cleaning, organizing, and packing my room up, doing homework, and just surviving.

As many people who read some of my earlier write-ups know, I’m crazy. I hadn’t managed to see a psychiatrist since early December. The mental health clinic I go to has assigned me yet another case manager who at first seemed much better than the previous ones but has turned out not to really care either. She acts like I’m wasting her time. Getting in touch with her is not an easy task and once I do she tells me she’ll call me back but never does. I finally made a complaint and then she called me and set up a doctor appointment. I took my best friend (one of three best friends, but the other two live in Missouri) with me, or rather she took me to the appointment. The doctor gave me an attitude “Why are you here? You’ve been on every medication I prescribe.” I asked for something for the anxiety and his answer was a “Ummm, No!” that made me angry but I’m shy and just quietly left his office with a prescription for the useless antipsychotic, Zyprexa, which I’ve been on in the past. It does not really help but does make me feel hungry all the time. I saw the psychiatrist one Wednesday, October 11, 2004 and gained about thirteen pounds since then. I find myself with a half empty bowl and my mouth full before I even realize I’m hungry. While I’m eating my thoughts turn to “What can I eat when I finish this?” I hate this feeling. All my clothes were already too small. I go back at the end of this month and I know he’s going to put me on Depakote again, which will just make me fatter.

I’ve been going to a medical doctor. He had me get a head CT because of the headaches. He also did blood and urine tests. The urine test said I have a UTI so I’m now on an antibiotic called Septra and go back to that doctor when those are gone. I have a bad back and the headaches have been getting worse and more frequent. Nothing seems to help the headaches. On my first visit he gave me 800mg of ibeprofin twice daily, and 30 vicodin. The vicodin are all gone. They help my back (if I take enough of them) but not my head. The second visit was the day of the CT scan for bloodwork, and then I saw him the other day for results. At that appointment I managed to get a bottle of ativan for the anxiety which seems to never go away anymore.

I mentioned I have been packing. I currently rent a room from my grandma and that doesn’t work too well. She wants me out but there is no where for me to go. My only income is my SSI check and it is less than what the rent is at most apartments in my area. I have no one to really help me. The mental health clinic is supposed to help me with housing, that’s why I have to have that particular case manager. She refuses to help me. I need a place where I can go to school, sleep on my schedule (I keep vampire hours), and have access to the internet (a necessity for college and this addiction called E2). My family refuses to understand and I only have 3 real friends. One is in as bad a condition as I am, lives with her parents, going to school full time, not working, and mentally ill. The other two are a married couple who have kind of adopted me as their little sister but they live in Missouri and I live in California. If they could afford to they’d help me, I’m sure they’d do anything they could for me. They help me in many, many ways, and more than I ever thought possible, especially considering how far away they are from me.

Grandma wants me out but I can’t afford anyplace I can move to. My family can’t/won’t help me with much. They’re probably by biggest stressor. Especially now that I dropped out of most of my classes. I was getting good grades but dropped them all. I hope to eventually take them again, someday, when I’ve gotten away from the control my family has over me. She’s threatening to kick me out, but even if she doesn’t she is planning on having the carpet removed from the bedrooms and having wood flooring put in that matches the rest of the house.

The winter semester starts today. I’m taking one course, completely online, through my community college and it is Health Science. One of those required for general education toward any degree. Besides the snail mail correspondence pharmacology course, and the task of cleaning/organizing/packing my physical positions I have nothing to do besides being at the computer and writing.

In my cleaning I have made what I consider a great accomplishment. While cleaning I’ve come across several razor blades. I’ve actually thrown these away. Even the shiny new ones. It was a very difficult thing to do because parts of me want to go buy more. Today I threw one away, but this time I used it before I broke into tears and disposed of the blade. I don’t self-injure near as often or as severe as I used to. This is largely do to the support of my three friends.

I need more help than I’ve got. I need housing help. I need some kind of psychiatric help beyond what I’m getting. We’ve looked for other help and there just isn’t any, at least not that I can afford. I find myself feeling hopeless and helpless. I’m depressed. I cry for no reason. Or perhaps I cry because I do nothing that makes a difference. Every time I accomplish something someone or something always has to come along and take that feeling of “I did something!” away. I want to be remembered not for my failures but for my accomplishments. I want to be remembered as helpful, caring, fun, useful, happy. It amazes me when anyone notices me at all unless they are telling me what I’ve done wrong.

If anyone reads this and has any ideas how to get me out of this small room in my grandmother’s home please /msg me.

An Apartment
For a noder on a fixed income
Noder keeps odd hours, spends most of her time on the computer,
and sings badly.

You know, life is funny.

At no point in my life have I shied from admitting my nearly-extreme leftist views. Given the choice, I think humans would rather help someone downtrodden than pick up a new sweater. I think, if given the choice, humans are decent and good and wonderful. I think as Americans it is our blessing and authority to ensure that everyone living here gets adequate health care, sufficient food and water, and adequate housing. At the same time, I'm quite open to the possibility that my opinions just might be extreme. That means, of course, that compromise is acceptable. I'm willing to say to the majority, "Yes, perhaps the redistribution of wealth won't work for America. But that doesn't mean universal health care is the same." I'm willing to admit that I am not in the majority with my extremist views. Because I'm not a zealot, I know 'extreme' does not mean 'majority.' Because if they were the mainstream views... well, they'd not be extremist.

In any event, I spent the evening last night speaking with a Libertarian. We agreed on a few things. They say the further you go to the right of "moderate," the closer you get to the far left. And there's a good deal of truth to that. But the reason the two sides are on, well, two sides is because of fundamental differences, on which we will never agree. Maybe I'm just in the closet about my fears.

As I said, I believe in the goodness of humans, an eagerness to help those in need. A responsibility held by the government of America and given to the people over whom she is governing. We're a Republic. We elect people to go represent us in Washington D.C., because we don't want to have to bother with doing it ourselves, not because we don't care. We seem to simply prefer representation, a collection of older-brother-figures to whom we can look when times seem bleak or exciting. But this Libertarian friend of mine didn't see it that way. And in the heat of a cold evening with a hot cup of coffee and a cold nose, there was a brief moment when I could understand why.

I don't really claim to be a student of humanity. I sit in my coffee shops, nose stuck in a book, glasses pressed into the bridge of my nose, ignoring those around me. I sometimes feel as though I'm not a man of the people because I feel as though the people don't really want me around. That's probably just a psychological lilt I have, and it's likely untrue. I'm charming, witty, and funny--people probably really enjoy me around, until I exhaust them.

But politics isn't really about convincing people to accept your side of the argument anymore. It's been a long time since that was the case, when debate was actually something that was used to convey a message that was not generally agreed with. Debate seems to have been watered down into a recitation of ideas spouted from the mouths of ideologues. Where's the part where the people you're hoping to represent are involved with the process beyond pushing a button in a voting booth? Where's the part where I come in?

Very little may come from this experience, of dealing with a political opponent, swaying either side to the other, eager to convey a message of, "Hey, this just might be the way things should be," but I am hopeful it's affected me in some way. This may not appear to be anything all that important to the folks here at E2, but I think I've come to a decision:

I'm going to run for public office in Colorado within the next 8 years. And I will win.

It may not be the biggest office available... but, heck, in 2006, Bill Owens, governor of Colorado, will be term-limited. Maybe that'll be my chance. Maybe not. But I think I have something to offer. It's funny that a right-wing libertarian is the one who convinced this left-wing socialist to apply to the world of politics.

Applying at GAME

Just got back from an interview for a Christmas job as Menial General Sales Person (official title: "Sales Assistant") at GAME.
Kindof odd, isn't it? Before I went, I had a good idea of what I'd say to a bunch of possible questions. As soon as I got into the interview - all of it was gone. Must've sounded like a gibbering fool for parts of it.
Anyhow. Kindof like you might expect an interview for a job at a games store, but also kindof not. I'm fairly sure I fumbled at least two of the questions, but I also noticed the guy scribbling down a fair few ticks next to notes about me. This perplexes me somewhat.
Not holding my breath, though. There were 6 other folk going for the job, and my general attitude of pessimism tends to make me figure I'm probably the least well-qualified. Anywho, guess I'll have to wait and see...

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