Now That I'm Forty...

Monday, April 26, 2004

Fiscal Calisthenics
Okay, so here's what happened today. I rescued some of my money from my bank account.
Remember the joy I had from my EZPass ability? Yeah, well, according to their secret brilliance, they determine how much money they are going to charge you based on what THEY think your driving patterns are. This month, they decided they needed to take 3x as much to prepay my account than they have last month. This depleted my checking account below the amount of a transaction I arranged maybe four hours earlier. So I was up the creek. The transaction was a withdrawal to pay another installment of my Credit Consolidation plan. With both parties informed of my situation, I discovered that the bank can place a stop payment, but only do it for free after you've begged them like a crackwhore aching for a hit. Otherwise, they charge you just as much to stop a payment as they do for an overdraft if the payment came and you had no money, but they pay it anyway, leaving you with a negative balance.

So you know what I did? After the bank said they would do it, but couldn't guarantee that it would happen in time, I ran to the ATM and took out all the money I had in the account right now. So if they somehow fail to tell the computer "Stop Payment" (something that evidently coasts 30.00 dollars to do), and my account goes into the negatives, at least I know have cash in my pocket to live off of until my next paycheck.

Yup, I live from paycheck to paycheck. And in such a condition, I'm attempting to pay off my credit card debt. Which doesn't at all touch my school loans--I have those on hold "due to hardship". The hardship being that I don't want to pay them back and deprive myself of the convenience of eating prepared meals instead of cooking them myself.

So you see, I'm quite a financial whiz! I've got Wall St. quaking in their boots!

My friend the doctor? He is a Type Double-A personality. He knows how to make George and Abe weep! He took the same career opportunities I currently have and parlayed it into a five-digit savings account AFTER taxes, plus a doctorate. From that example, you'd think I'd have hit the ground running. But his mom and dad didn't raise me--MINE did. Thus I work part time at the nursing home and am reluctant to take on new cases in my evening job. I say I'm just trying to acclimate to the work, but I actually like not working a lot. I could turn into Work Monkey and sock the stash away in prep for my New York practice, but I'd rather play D&D and City of Heroes.

Mmmh. Not good.

Well, writing this out is giving me some ambition. I want to blame my folk(s) and my genetics (possibly I have a mental illness sapping my ambition), but ultimately I know I can do it. I've done it before, in order to get my BA, and I did it when I was getting my MA. I'm no stranger at working hard, but I'm TIRED of it. I want ONE job. Is that too much to ask? (Then why'd I take both? Bad habit, I think.)

I hear my doctor friend telling me, "Be a Work Monkey for just 8 more months--then you'll have your dream. That's less time than it takes to give birth!" And he'd be right.

Okay. So maybe things will get better. Maybe I'm getting over whatever made me sick for the past few days.

Me at 4/26/2004 11:43:00 PM

Another Window Into Me
This is what I deeply, deeply dig. All I lack now is the 200 excess pounds, severe halitosis, flaking scalp, and rancid social skills, and then you can write me off as a geek casualty. Right now though, I've managed to play with moderately successful people who do their fair share of 'fitting in' to society. I game with computer technicians and programmers, cops, schoolteachers, archeologists, magazine writers, real estate agents, playwrights, and lawyers. And they game with a therapist. Later on this year, I'll be gaming with a doctor.

I like it for all the reasons in the above article. Call to adventure, comrauderie, escapism. Plus the people I game with are all really smart people. We quip around the table in shades of genius. We're like "Friends" for the Mensa Society. It takes up a lot of my time, but so would cooking, eating, blogging, and other hobbies I like doing. One proble--it takes me away from the ladies. Those who I game with are spoken for and WOW does it make me jealous! Mind you, 70% of the fellas are married, and another 15% thereabouts are in relationships, so I'm really the only heartsick geek that I know among the crowd. Yay, my own little niche!

But we're a safe bunch. Very middle of the road. We won't be slaughtering your cats or snatching your children or anything. We don't believe magic is real and we have the same philosophies of good and evil as you do (which is--we don't really know either!). We might not be that much fun at your party, but we do have fun nonetheless.

Alright, so I showered, got the gook out of my eye, and shaved. I haven't eaten all day, so I'm pretty sure I'm sick with something or another, but I'm glad I got the chance to blog. I'm going to hit it again tonite when I tell you what adventures I've been having with my bank account, the latest escapade being today, but now I have to go to my evening appointment. Yeah, that's right--if I had gone t work today, I'd have worked a "double". See? I'm not THAT lazy.

Pfeh. Gimme a band of orcs to fight anyday.

Me at 4/26/2004 03:25:00 PM

Good Morning, Work-A-Day World
This is your favorite independent contractor learning that he really doesn't like getting up in the morning.
Now I know why people drink, but I don't see how it's an answer. Changing my routine from relax to hustle cuts like a knife, and a stiff vodka might serve to take the edge off, but then what? Another drink? And another and another?
I have two jobs right now, which was the idea when I said I'd take them. One job wants me to be in Jersey two mornings out of the week. I should be leaving the house at 8:00 AM if I'm going to be arriving conscientiously on-time. Providing that I only have to do this twice a week should mean that I zip my lip and do the dang thing. Yet as my Sundays draw to a close, a dread invades my bones like a terminal disease. I feel like I should cancel this gig and increase work on my evening situation. There's a little justifying part of me that says, "Yes! You can't function at your best with such a feeling of dread! You're doing a disservice to your clients!"
Whatever. I just don't want to go to work right now.
May I blame my neighbor's dog? The little psychopath in the next building who let her animal bark continuously from 4:30AM to just a little while ago? Should I blame it on myself, who didn't go to bed until 1:00AM? Should I blame it on my left eye, which ran tears last night from about 11:00PM until 12:30, was blood moon red, and feels sticky now? Should I blame it on the low-carb green tea with blueberry flavoring?
I dunno. I don't guess I actually like my day job. I have a number of clients who are more than elderly--they have Alzheimer's. I can't quite figure out how to treat Alzheimer's. Last I heard, there was no cure for it. I'm suppose to go through behavior techniques with them, continually reinforcing until some change occurs. They forget me as soon as I wheel them back to the dayroom. One of them is a century old. If that doesn't earn you the right to cuss out the odd attendant or two, nothing does, so why should there be a therapist trying to make with the behavior mod all up in your grill?
I hate to admit that. I took the job with all sorts of Mary Poppins and smiles, eager and idealistic. Now I find that I'd rather lay back in bed more than eat and pay rent.
My friend Chris says that the optimum lifestyle is to be homeless. To live off the land and pay no man anything. At least, I think that's what he says. Considering that so much of my work efforts go to paying taxes, utilities, rent, car insurance and maintenance, just so that I can maintain my health, so that I can go to work....seems a little pointless right now.
Know what?
I'm going to call out sick.
I feel like I do that a lot. This is only my third week at the day job, and of that, only my fifth time going, but I think I should quit--quickly and painlessly--like lopping the whole hand off instead of a knuckle at a time.
In fact, I feel like I swing back and forth a lot. One might even say I'm Bipolar. Much enthusiasm one day, like I'm going to conquer the world, then the next, I'd love to bury my head in my covers, resign all my jobs, and play computer games for a solid month. But you know, even when I get to do that (like the three weeks after I resigned, before my day job finally placed me) I had the constant feeling like "I should be doing something. I should shave and comb my hair at least. I should wash those dishes. I should cook more, then I'd save more money and be healthier. I should should should..."

I should be an actor. I should get a bunch of 8x10 glossies of me printed and apply to all the New York soaps and Broadway plays. I should get me some ridiculously phat salaries for a steady gig in performance and have my friend Brian tell me how to invest. Then I could hire a hitman to assassinate those dogs next door.

I should start taking Xanax or Prozac.

I should go back to bed.

Me at 4/26/2004 05:41:00 AM