You can’t always get what you want, the song says. But sometimes you get what you need.
Well what I need is a fuckin’ break.
And a vacation, somewhere. I haven’t traveled since 2008. I haven’t done anything travel-wise since going camping right after I was laid off.
I’m slowly going crazy, and not the kind of crazy that people find endearing. Things have got to change, or shit’s gonna burn.
I forgot to write last night. Been writing in this blog for almost 6 months without fail since I exited Toronto East General. And on Good Friday, I lapsed.
Trying not to beat on myself for it. But this is a goal I must keep. Not just for my mental health, to use this as a mental clearinghouse. But as a way to keep writing, when I’m not focusing on a play or short story. I feel bad enough that I’m behind on the rewrites, but this. This burns.
I’m also burnt by this staffing agency. The login system for my hours still isn’t working. This means I won’t get the $240 for March 31st on Monday (when it was originally to be paid), and the deadline for April 1st-15th is Monday noon. IF I get an email out with my hours worked with a response by my supervisor confirming it sent to the agency by Monday at noon, I’ll see the money on May 2nd. Given that I have just over $200 until the end of the month, I’m gonna be extremely screwed if it doesn’t come in. I was counting on that $240 to show up. That would’ve made it easier to get to the 30th. I’ve emailed my rep and asked. Quite frankly I think they should cut me a fucking cheque on Monday once I have their ‘proof’.
I was trying to come up with a clever blog post tonight, but that’s just dumb.
It’s not what this is about.
Sometimes I forget.
Tonight I (again) reminded myself that I wanted to start talking with God. That I keep saying I’m going to do it and then forget. Not happy. Waiting to find out what my hours will eventually settle into. Right now it’s 10-6:30 but that could become 12:-8:30. I wanna go back to Al-Anon, and there’s a meeting in the Beaches at a reasonable time but it’ll depend on my schedule.
And I need to make/take lunches in with me. When I was doing 2 days/week with the newspaper, I took in sandwiches. Why am I so unmotivated now? Especially when I am still unable to log in my hours, even though they guarantee I’ll get paid on time? If I don’t, I’m fucked. That’s rent and all my bills. I’ll be tapped out by the end of the month. There’s gotta be tokens around, as a fall-back.
The stress is just. I need one thing to go right; enough to keep forward momentum.
Plus there’s the fact I haven’t written anything for the play in over a month. The ideas are there, and they’re good. But my schedule’s out of whack and I’m adjusting and it’s leaving me less hours, and I need to prioritize.
I would rather not think of all this for the rest of the night. I need sleep.
It’s not just for fires. Unless you consider anxiety to be a fire. Which, yeah, I guess it can.
This was a physical attack. Like my core body temperature dropped and it felt like I was experiencing hypothermia (not that I’ve had hypothermia). With minor parts dehydration.
I finally have a Portal ID to log in hours. Only I can’t log in hours.
I shit you not. There’s more bugs in the system than a 2-star motel off the Vegas Strip.
And now that I’ve finally gotten onto the website, I learned of a new wrinkle. I need a timesheet for each week signed by supervisor and emailed in. So let’s review:
What. The. Holy. Fuck.
And today I got a call from a new recruiter, with a 13-month contract. If only she’d called 2 weeks ago. Seriously.
I’mthisclosetobreaking.
Forgot to pick up my pills at the pharmacy.
Blanked on putting the ham in the oven to cook tonight so I’d have food tomorrow.
I called a co-worker Jennifer when her name was Jessica.
There are mornings I will remind myself several times to put the pass around my neck before heading out to work and won’t realize I’ve forgotten it until I’m at the office.
I’ve double-booked appointments even though I never book more than one on the same day, for this exact reason.
These are the days of my life.
I feel so small.
Fighting this for days.
My instincts are wrong.
My gut lies.
Everything’s out of focus.
I have none again. This is troubling.
Today was not a red banner day.
Sorry, got nothing tonight. Too sick, too tired.
Must sleep.
