Coffee Rhetoric: Grey Gardens
Showing posts with label Grey Gardens. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Grey Gardens. Show all posts

July 13, 2011

Not Defeated...

Frustrated... Back to Square One... Need a freakin' break... Cheated... annoyed... ANNOYED ... In need of a reprieve... mentally exhausted... have no time to sulk but I really want to sulk ... At my wit's end ... DETERMINED ... Deserving... Mercurial ... Would love to curse aloud ... Desperately wanting to break things ... sick of heavily sighing ... Want to go far-far-FAR away ... Am introspective... Misanthropic... In need of company...$ being > than my growing list of of needs... Sick of politics... Sick of politicians... disgusted by the economic state of this country and the world at large... sick of getting shafted... tired of working from this crummy ass laptop... sick of people and their bullshit... Over indecisiveness... over being over... blah blah, so forth, so on, and blah... 
But I'm not defeated... 

March 26, 2011

Attack of The Social Networking Whingers

Histrionic Personality Disorder: Histrionic personality disorder is a condition in which people act in a very emotional and dramatic way that draws attention to themselves... This personality defect seems to affect a lot of users of social networking sites; especially Twitter and Facebook. Unhappy and angry at the world, and used to barreling their way through life with a dark cloud hovering over their heads... causing torrential downpours o'er top of others', the wonders and immediacy of social media has accelerated the impact in which many Negative Nellies and Neds can offend and annoy... almost ruining the experience for others simply trying to utilize the medium to connect, network, and just enjoy themselves. 
I've only recently started enjoying my Twitter timeline all over again, after avoiding my feed due to a number of assholes, narcissists, and jerks. They were at the top of the timeline... always... and the frequency of their vitriol seemed to saturate my feed, overriding the ones I actually enjoy reading. Their sanctimonious indignation as they criticized other people's updates or Tweets, notwithstanding the ridiculous randomness of their own. This post was a looong time coming, because quite frankly I'm fed up. 
The Whingers are projectors... whining at a rate faster than the speed of light. Perhaps they desire more followers and wish to be @'ed with more consistency, so rather than asking for more followers, simply deleting "friends" or unfollowing someone, they practically hold a press conference, complete with the pomp and circumstance of it all... ANNOUNCING how unworthy the social media masses are, of their rhetoric... perhaps hoping some poor soul will beg and plead not to be one of the ones on the chopping block... "Oh, I hope you won't unfollow me. I thought we were cool!" one misguided soul will probably try to reason, not seeing the public announcement for what it is... a cry for attention and validation, because anybody just looking to scale back will just do it
The Whingers rail against other people on their Facebook status updates for not showering them with praise and adoration or for not stopping what they're in the middle of doing to answer their instant messages, not keeping in mind that people may have a small window of opportunity to jump on quickly and then off before getting on with life... and so Whingers will make more idle threats but not before mentioning how brilliant they think they are or how they "keep it real" while everyone else is fake for not engaging their foolery and insults.    
Look, enough already! Social media, if used with enough savvy, can be a fun, beneficial, and enjoyable forum to utilize. I understand people are passionate about certain things and need to vent out loud. However, if you hate life and are just looking for attention, to bully and/or insult people because you're insecure, don't want to read what other people have to say because you think your word is the only one that's born, or to be a play-play celebrity/mover-n-shaker in your own mind, then you should probably abstain and stop making it an unpleasant experience for others. If you're a Whinger, love dishing it out sans being able to take it; keep in mind, you don't have the right to antagonize people using this medium just because you can't get a grasp on life. Perhaps a therapist's couch would be more fitting, just put a fork in it already and avoid collecting followers and other Facebookers if they annoy you so much. Just Tweet/update your Facebook status into an abyss of nothingness.  
That is all.           

April 11, 2010

Closer

I write a lot about the pain of Tantalus Torture... of desperately yearning for something that is so-so close that it tickles your nose and makes your eyes flutter, as it gently touches your lashes... only to have it dance away, mocking you, as you try to grab hold of it. That has been the story of the last few years of my adult life, and so I never fill my basket with all of my eggs. I'm always expecting the unexpected. I jut my chin out defiantly and take each day as it comes... However, I am extremely famished. The pangs in the pit of my stomach twist, gurgle, and wrench... demanding to be fed. I take in sustenance... as much as I can... but am never sated. I eat, I consume, I gobble, I greedily stuff my gut but my hunger is a bottomless pit. 
This current situation... it works, for now. I'm grateful to be in its midst however, I want the whole lot.  I'm greedy and it's oooh so close... ready to be gobbled up, but how long will it last? I'm not a pessimist, but I'm already mentally preparing myself... in case this grande bouffe disintegrates and slips through my fingers... To be cont. ...




March 27, 2010

Le sigh

Sigh, sigh, sigh, sigh, sigh, sigh, squeezes eyes shut, sigh, rubs temples, sigh, sigh, opens mouth to say something, sigh, angrily swipes at eyes again, sigh, heavier sigh, sigh, sighs, sigh, sighed, can't stop sighing, mouth tenses up, sigh, sigh, sigh, what the hell?sigh, sigh, pulling it together, sigh, lifts back, sigh, sits up straight, sigh, blows nose for tenth time, sigh, curses, sigh, rolls eyes, sigh, FML, sigh, calls horrible names, ohmmm, sigh, ohmmmmm, sigh, sigh, gnashes teeth together, counts, ohmmms again and sigh. 
That's all I've got right now. 
To be continued... 

February 17, 2010

NOT.The.One

Dear Life,
Alright, I get it! My tenacity has rubbed you the wrong way.  In fact, my resilience has driven you to test me over and over and over again. Almost to the point that I feel as if I've become your official whipping post.  Now, I was emphatic about starting this new year off to a great start... all around. But alas, to no avail, because you're constantly picking on me. Don't you have any con artists and sketchy characters to teach a lesson?
It wasn't enough that you stomped on my fingers repeatedly while I was desperately hanging onto that window's ledge for leverage a couple of years ago, feet flailing beneath me... desperate for firm footing, because you wanted me to fall onto hard concrete... a broken heap. When that didn't work...when I managed to pull myself up and in... throbbing fingertips and all... you withered away, shrieking like an exorcised banshee... vowing to come back to kick my ass.
Listen, this latest kick to the gut and ribs left me rolling on the floor, clutching my sides in pain. I was not expecting that type of assault. So why continue the onslaught while I'm down? I'm struggling. Crawling. Dragging myself across the floor, in an effort to ward off your attack and stand back up, and you reeled back with your stiletto heel, pointed to perfection- (hey, Karmic bitches need to look fly too)- and administered one final, sharp kick. I thought that one would cause me to projectile vomit all the fight I had left in the pit of my stomach, all over the walls. I was able to choke it back down, however. I curled up in a fetal position to ward off your wild attack as best as I could... as you flailed your fists, shrieked, spat, and stomped like a petulant toddler. I'm still in shock... my ribs and sides are still quite sure from that last kick. But I was still able get back up... and stagger to a safe corner to plot my next move and get my bearings and second wind back.
I'm still mulling. I'm still plotting. A little defeated and bruised... but up and pondering my next move. 

xoxo
Coffey


February 03, 2010

Just Drive

I feel like I've reached an impasse. A never-ending maze with an elusive exit. So many decisions, so many things to nibble away at, but I'm completely deadlocked. People, places, and things never cease to perplex the hell out of me. And at times, it's overwhelming. I've had moments where I've attempted to check out, but alas, to no avail, because worries, my thoughts continue to plague me. I manage to be aloof in certain aspects of my life i.e., dating; wishy washy suitors, and an endless supply of assholes. In other aspects? Not so much; opportunities, my livelihood, my future. 
Ofttimes I think I have a dubious guardian, who loves toying with me and seeing me grapple with the worst luck! Or perhaps I'm an unwitting contestant in some twisted reality television program, where the masses are watching me wrestle and fight my way to the top. I don't know, but I continue to shadowbox. To bob, weave, sidestep... dance... twirl my way to what I feel is rightfully mine! I'm at a loss right now. I don't know how to plot my next move but I do know that I'm ready for my turn. I'm thinking. I'm pondering. I'm pissed. Intense game of mind play at work. Please do not disturb!
The fight continues. This is round 20.

January 12, 2010

Witching Hour

I live basement level. Last night, during the wee hours, the pipes put up quite a ruckus. Banging! Clanging, Thrashing, ... the sounds were akin to someone hitting a metal baseball bat against a steel pole, with brute force over and over and over again. Pause. Then over again. Or perhaps something was trying to force its way through the heating vents above my bed? Was ceiling cat trying to make a nervous breakthrough? I'm not sure. Either way, I woke up in fits and starts. My heart leaped with every loud clang. I was already restless and edgy. I'm a chronic insomniac, and so was hungry for any semblance of sleep I could get. I'd suddenly drift off, and then CLANG! My heart thumped against my chest and my head started to throb. My mind started running its ever increasing lap. I tried in vain to lull and soothe my thoughts... to no avail. A bit paranoid and somewhat leery, I didn't get to sleep until 4AM. I felt like Catherine Deneuve, in Roman Polanski's psychological thriller, 'Repulsion,' minus the androphobia and sexual repression.
This late-late evening, I am still restless. While the malevolent spirit that lives in the vents is quietly lying in wait. Anxiety won't offer me any reprieve. I'm worried about many things. I'm antsy. I'm apprehensive. I'm resolute. I'm petulant. My eyelids are heavy and my retinas burn with fatigue. I want to cry frustrated tears, but because I'm resolute, I can't manage to squeeze any out... So, I'm keeping a vigil at this late hour ...

November 20, 2009

On and On, and On and On...

... The beat continues... throw in unusual dreams, a brief fugue state where I lost 24 hours and had my days mixed up, for I'm running on lack of sleep most of which I've caught up on, and bouts of stress related anxiety. Things that make my stomach gurgle with agitation: "Hang in there. We're living in difficult times," and the ubiquitous, "Have you found a job yet??" When all I asked was, was, "Hey, how's it going?" Sigh. Firstly, while I really appreciate a great pep talk, I'm not keen on being pepped if I'm not down, haven't asked for input, or needing to be picked up. I confide in family and close friends when I need to vent a frustration. I also have my creative outlets... most of which involves writing and this trusty old blog that's been with me through thick and thin, thank you (not) very much. The patronizing tone is enough to make my smile wane and my middle finger twitch. My fugue state wasn't so bad. I do have an alternate universe I like to vacation at every now and again.
Alas, I'm brainstorming a way to make my own opportunity come to fruition as I continue my triumphant march. In the meantime, if you're a virile and wealthy gentleman with a heart of gold to match your pockets, feel free to sponsor me and make my dreams of being a socialite come true.
I keed, I keed... ;-)

October 11, 2009

Flailing

I've been trying to fight this cold, pressure in my chest for the past few days. Amazing what a number stress can do to one's body. One moment of vulnerability and sick just grips your body like a wendigo does a desperate and hungry soul. Add stress and the insatiable need to excel, to prosper, to just get a break for once and no amount of Vitamin C or medicine can break its hold. The chest pressure is the most distressing. As much as I'd like to relax, the pressure (no pun intended... actually, pun intended) is on.... things are starting to mount, those who collect are staring to circle, and while my resolve isn't broken it is cracked. The hunt is exhausting for I feel like I've exhausted most if not every resource available to me. I inhale... I wheeze like Linda Blair in The Exorcist. I exhale... more demonic sounding wind. I need to exorcise this lame luck! I'm working hard to exorcise this lame stroke of luck!
One bright spot is that I do have an interview this Wednesday, at a non-profit that does great work to benefit homeless women and their families. While it is part-time, I am hoping I make a good enough impression so that I get an in. As much as I hate to speak such things out loud, because I'm slightly superstitious and believe doing so before a result has come to pass, will result in a unfavorable outcome... perhaps spilling it open with mild splash ... and letting in marinate into the universe will ... *I don't know* ...

September 20, 2009

Whatevs...

A recent foray back into the world of temp agencies has CONFIRMED the reasons why I haven't registered with one in so long. Bullshit, constant runaround, indecisive clients, lack of courtesy and consistency. Which is unfortunate, because I had such high hopes for this current one I registered with. I was sold. Needless to say, I'm back at square one... my resolve is still intact however, and this is all that matters.
I am so over job hunting, but do it out of necessity. Am pounding the pavement and doing everything short of working the stroll (which would probably be lucrative at this point). How do certain people with no discernible skills, education, personality, or professionalism manage to get hired and stay employed?? Oh, do tell! If only I were born a socialite... ah, whatever. I do enjoy having a strong work ethic, so nevermind. ... not saying having tons of money wouldn't make life damned easier while I navigate the trials and tribulations of job hunting.
Hopefully my one-on-one I booked with a job counselor will present results, insight, and leads!

August 26, 2009

The Beat Plays On

Oya- Yoruban Goddess of wind, change, fortune, and chaos.
Life continues on in its current state... the force is playing Jedi mind tricks with my Psyche- Aphrodite be damned! ... for last week wasn't the best of weeks mentally or physically. But I triumphed with grace, kicked my sinus/respiratory issues along with the dubious heat? rash I developed (which I suspect stress, along with the oppressive weather, made me susceptible to)- and am carrying on, ducking, bobbing and weaving, because I. am. not. the. one. I know I may stumble again from time to time with every blow to the gut and frustration will grip me until I achieve results, but it won't maintain its hold. Optimism and fierce determination restored, I'm carrying on with carrying on. ... exploring options and hoping for the opportunity to thrive. Sometimes chaos manifests into a worthwhile outcome.
That is all.

August 19, 2009

Off-Balance

"If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what wouldn't be it would. You see?" Italic
-Alice, Alice in Wonderland
I don't know the minute intricacies of the term 'qui' (better recognized as 'chi'), but my research has indicated that it basically translates to "energy flow," and is compared to western notions of energeia or elan vital. Further research and etomology indicates that energeia was a technical term used widely by Aristotle and may or may not be the source for the word energy... or the term 'being at work', activity or perhaps actuality. Elan vital, on the other hand (coined by French philosopher Henri Bergson in his book 'Creative Evolution'), more or less translates to "vital force"... electricity, life, essence being breathed into something or other...
What does all of this philosophical rambling mean? In plain language, it's me saying my chi... my energy... my life force is off balance. Suddenly, despite my optimism (and struggle to remain so), is on shaky ground. I have these intermittent moments (exacerbated by PMS) where I'm gripped by anxiety: My stomach hurts and is all gurgly, I may get a headache, my sinuses become plugged giving way to a sore throat, a zit or two, cumulus clouds reign for the briefest of moments and I start brooding. My mood becomes dark. I become leery, introspective, somewhat misanthropic, because then I start mulling things over. People aren't who or what they seem. ... Gripping, I feel as if I'm hanging on by the tips of my fingers. And I'm just... solitary. ... Alone by choice and because sometimes I have no choice. I just am. Some folks don't get, or want to understand just... stuff. Instead they want to dictate, speculate, and worse yet... patronize, forgetting completely what it's like to struggle over a hurdle or to have off days... or to just feel mentally drained. Suddenly I don't have the right to feel worried about the immediate future and my livelihood. So I sort of withdraw and become self-contained.
The hunt is an exasperating process. The climate we're in makes it seem like I'm appealing to a panderer sometimes. And it's disconcerting. Either way, I'm still hanging on. by.the.tips.of.my.fingers. My pride and ego are like an undulating tidal wave, but I'm not broken... just bruised a little.
*Image: Paul Gaugin's The Brooding Woman, 1891

August 11, 2009

Getting On

Coffee, tea, wine, friends, me. Me, wine, coffee, he. He, she, a little poetry, family, books, and cultural activities... These things among other interests are helping me keep my sanity. These. things. are. helping. me. keep. my. SANITY.
I haven't inhaled any toxic or noxious fumes. My mind is still crystal clear. I have intermittent moments of frustration, but I'm still here. I can still hear. I'm can steal here. I have STEEL back there.
I'm rambling. But it's all incoherently connected. Thursday will find me spilling open in front of strangers, Saturday will find me a year older and ever the more wiser. Next week will find me still ducking, bobbing, and weaving as I shadow box. The week after next, I'll still be standing and tanner... my resolve stronger.
Needless to say, I've stumbled, but I'm none to worse for wear, despite those frustrating interludes. In SPITE of those frustrating interludes.
That is all.

June 28, 2009

Disturbia

As difficult as it is to admit this out in the open, some days I feel... lonely. I feel alone. I honestly have never admitted that out loud... verbally or in writing. Here's where the revelation becomes slightly more provocative... I feel lonely because I don't trust very many people, and I'm an extremely leery and guarded woman. Certain circumstances as of late, have caused me to become even more self-contained. Nothing worse than opening yourself up to folks... whether within the context of dating or budding friendships... only to have your privacy or your trust compromised.
I honestly don't know that I feel that bad about being a loner, however. This post is definitely no lament. I mean, I have my moments where I think I need to be more trusting, more open, but then I shake it off and say "eff it."
This is something I grapple with daily, I did as a teenager and I still do at the age of 31. Perhaps this is why I'm still single, while both of my sisters (one older, one younger) are married. I've never had a long term relationship or sustained one long enough to want to introduce him to my family or friends. I must say, my wariness isn't unwarranted. Men I've dated have proved to be, wishy-washy, self-entitled jerks. I'm not one to settle just for the sake of having warm man parts to keep my mattress comfy. Friends? I have very few. I keep the circle tight. I've networked and tried to reach out to no end, only to come up against shady types, who aren't that trustworthy afterall, and will flip quicker than a mafia rat. One friendship that continues to sustain is my dearest and bestest... Cat. Who I've mentioned numerous times on this blog. Thank heaven for her. I guess my point is, today is one of those days where I'm feeling, well, bored and lonely and felt the need to spill open, out loud about it. While I'm not particularly saddened or regretful for being as leery as I am, it can become exasperating at times ...

June 20, 2009

"I wonder if I've been changed in the night? Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!"
Alice, Alice in Wonderland

February 07, 2009

Splat

About a week or so ago, my queen-sized inflatable bed lost its juice and deflated. Much to my chagrin, I woke up on the floor. I literally had to rooll out of bed... or the remnants of what once was. Scrambling up and out proved irritating. I felt like I was in one of those inflatable bounce houses that kids frolic in at indoor playgrounds. Needless to say, I've been sleeping on a palate on the living room floor. This is the reality of my sleeping situation. Which isn't bad, but I didn't relish seeing a spider scramble from under my comforter when I woke up. Not a good look. Not the type of living creature I want to share my bed with. Fret not me, for pretty soon (hopefully within the next two weeks) I'll have a real king-sized bed to wallow around in, and a couch to boot! At no cost. It pays to have friends who need to part with items they no longer need.
Friday was a fun giggle fest. Despite not being as settled in as I'd like, I hosted a small, intimate gathering. Lots of drinking, trash talking, and conversation ensued... followed by a viewing of Pimps Up, Ho's Down: The Director's Cut. Despite how many may feel about this in-your-face documentary, there are a lot of pearls of wizdumb to live by. Women with low self-esteem beware. Economic times are tough, and while the Pimps Up... documentary was made approximately 10 years ago... they prey on the downtrodden and the disenchanted. Whatever you do, don't eyeball a pimp wrecklessly, lest you want to give up 10-15% of your earnings. 'Nuff said. The DVD skipped a few times, and the fact that I've watched it on the dozens was called to the table. I cannot tell a lie. It's one of my favorite discs to pull out. King James and Scorpio are pimps with hearts of pure gold.
On a completely different and unrelated note, despite what that disgusting and perplexed looking rodent they pull out of the ground dictates, I sense that Spring is on the horizon. I always feel anxious and wait with bated breath for Spring to arrive. I don't know what it is about this particular season, but I look forward to it every year. This winter has proved to be long, depressing, bitterly cold and unrelenting. I am literally begging for a reprieve. I want to put my little snowman away for the year. As far as dating prospects go, there aren't very many here. I've come to that sad conclusion. One may have to outsource for a man who acts like he has some sense and respectability. I'm leery and disappointed anytime anyone approaches me. I'm guessing the corny pick-up line with never die the slow death I'd like it to. The total lack of respect and originality makes me feel like I need to walk around strapped! Needless to say, the season in this cold city has been dry in that respect, but then again, I've been extremely preoccupied and uninterested. I'd be a liar if I said this didn't bother me to some degree.

January 17, 2009

Are Witch Titties Really THIS Cold??

It's bitter cold, and my mood is just about neck and neck with this blasted weather. It is definitely days like these that make me curse being born and bred in New England. I blame Canada. In any event, I can't seem to warm up. I can't relax in the confines of my home, because it's freezing. It's a to-the-bone type of chill that is simply inescapable, regardless of how many layers you hide under, how high you crank the heat up, how much Vicks Vaporub you slather under your nose, and how tight of a fetal position you curl up in!! I can wish for man to cozy up next to, but he'd be of no use to me, because he'd be shivering and complaining right alongside me. He'd touch me, and I'd probably shrink away from his touch, due to his hands being ice cold.
How depressing. Last night, bundled up and on the cusp of a nervous breakdown because the bus driver decided to take his sweet time letting pulling up to the stop, my fingers were frozen almost to the point of no return. This is with insulated leather gloves on, a wool coat, and a wrap. Settled within the warm confines of the bus, I glowered angrily at the driver, then I gingerly peeled my gloves off gasping at my blue tinted fingertips!
This is the kind of weather that forces people to walk stooped over as they pull their layers tighter to their bodies muttering and cursing under their breath and to be pissy drunk until they slump face forward on the bus, because the pain of the cold is too much for them to bear. The kind of havoc that wrecks plans, dispositions, and heating bills! As discomforting as I find hot, humid, stagnant air to be, I'd definitely take that kind of summer over this any day. I find it easier to keep cool. Keeping warm? Not so much. I'll admit the cold air has been great for my pores, but sidestepping people sneezing and hacking into the brisk air, and stepping over globs of spit and phlegm on the sidewalk doesn't do anything to soothe my soul or my mild germaphobia. I'm finding myself eating a myriad of strange things for breakfast, in a desperate bid to warm up from the inside out (atomic fire balls and coffee anyone?) Pressing lunch time errands go ignored, because I simply can't bear the thought of going out into the frosty air. As kinky as this may sounds to some, every morning and every evening, I cover myself, neck to toe in thick body butters and generous globs of Vaseline... a vain attempt to keep my skin supple, moisturized, and protected from the ash dying to attach itself to my skin! I'm a greazy woman this winter! And I'm loving every second of it as I'm triumphing over the ashiness. It's an especially mad, cruel, winter or at least it has been these past couple of weeks. The city of Hartford, CT seems allergic to plowing the snow piles properly, making it rather difficult to navigate the curbs and cross the street. Today, a blind woman fell over a pile of snow as she gingerly stepped off the bus, swinging her stick wildly into the air trying to find her way. The bus driver simply looked on from the perch of his seat, as the woman struggled to her feet and dusted herself off. A friendly passenger ran out to tend to her, "Okay, she's up on her feet, let's get going," I heard a dry teenage voice mutter impatiently from the back of the bus. Empathy is officially dead, folks. Nothing left to
do but mull over looming debts that need to be paid and drown my
winter blues in a sea of red wine. piping hot mugs of black coffee, and strong, spicy teas.

August 26, 2008

School's in Session

How do I know? Because, despite the fact that I took an earlier bus to work, I still managed to be ten minutes late. Seems my bus got caught behind a stagnant school bus's flashing STOP sign, every other block! And once the children are settled and seated on the school bus, you know the driver has to fucking sit there for an additional five minutes, just to spite morning rush hour commuters, and to go "nah nah nah nah nah nah" over the fact that traffic HAS to stop when a school bus driver's STOP sign comes out.
I also noted the young hellions waiting at their respective stops. Faces greeeazed up and glistening. Scrubbed of this summer's funk and muck. School uniforms pressed new school bags slung over their shoulders as they waited to be picked up... reluctant yet hopeful looks on their faces. One kid looked downright distraught. As if he weren't quite ready yet. Needless to say, I do NOT miss those days. While some students' start date is this week, others begin the stresses of academia next week. I have been and will be avoiding the mall at all costs! Nothing worse than the school shopping rush! Wall-to-wall bodies taking up every inch of the mall. Parents sucking their teeth at indecisive and petulant tweens. Teenagers cutting their eyes at their mothers for not letting them purchase those $200 Citizens of Humanity jeans. I'd rather wait my turn.
As far as the Condo I Covet goes, progress has stalled. Par for the course unfortunately. See, the universe and the forces that be, seem to have it in for me. Contentment, PEACE never comes sans attached strings! I don't have it that easy. Some people are simply lucky bitches, others have to fight, beg, and plead for a little luck. For a tiny break. For some good karma. So in the meantime, I'm back to pounding the pavement (so I'll have a back up plan)- until I hear the good (or fucked up) word. My sanity is contingent on my settling into a place of my own again, and having some semblance of stability.

May 26, 2008

Argh!

Oh Jesus Christ almighty, Do I feel alright? No not slightly, I wanna get a flat I know I can afford it, It's just the bureaucrats who won't give me a mortgage, Well it's very funny cos I got your fucking money, And I'm never gonna get it just because of my bad credit, Oh well I guess I mustn't grumble, I suppose that's just the way the cookie crumbles. -Lily Allen, Everything's Just Wonderful
Apartment hunting is turning into an annoyance unparalleled. Even more tedious than hunting for a job!
I don't recall it being this much of a pain in the ass. I assume that the current economic climate we're living in has a lot to do with it. Personal experience and research has dictated that it's definitely best to rent from an individual landlord or privately owned buildings. As individual landlords seem more human than CORPORATIONS, who lower your FICA credit rating, apparently, every time they do a background check on prospective tenants.
Unfortunately, I seem to live in a sea of LEASING AGENCIES, saturating the classified ads and internet and who have made the process of renting one of their shady "luxury" apartments stringent. In fact JUST TO LOOK is a nightmare- As illustrated by one leasing consultant from an apartment complex that shall remain nameless, who tried to effing con me out of 25 bucks to LOOK at an apartment, notwithstanding the fact their website said it was FREE to look and that the credit check is what costs 25 dollars! I'm not surprised, considering all the negative reviews I read about said apartment complex on apartmentratings.com . Questionable leasing practices and dubious building maintenance seem par for the course, apparently. My prior history with a leasing CORPORATION has made me leery, but this experiences has pissed me off and left a bitter taste in my mouth.
These corporations want every thread of your personal information... this includes tax forms, your first born, two drops of blood, a urine sample, a strand of hair, and your dignity (which I'm struggling to hold onto with every fiber of my being)- because they've NEVER had to go through this process before, EVER. And so can't relate **(rolls eyes)** I also promised myself I also wouldn't go on a diatribe about the fifty dollars holding fee another leasing agency has YET to reimburse me, for holding an apartnemt I essentially didn't get afterall. Or that my phone call has YET to be returned, concerning my damn money!
The condo I MAY have rented sounded really promising, had I not been stood up on Saturday like a jilted date, by the woman leasing it. And who did not return my calls, when I phoned her to tell her I was very lost and couldn't seem to find the unit. Despite having asked several people, one of whom, unwittingly, led me into a sleeping pit bull's lair. Fortunately there was no violent show down and my limbs are still intact. I spent a lovely Saturday afternoon distressed, tearing up-frustrated behind a large, dark pair of shades (PMS no doubt), and stumping up and down the street hunting for my would-be condo. Alas, to no avail.
So the search for an apartment for rent, owned by an honest landlord who has some semblance of dignity and isn't a money grubbing asshole, continues. ... I know this annoying set of circumstances is happening for a reason and that when I DO finally find it, it will be a match made in heaven.

May 04, 2008

Evermore Curiouser...

The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice. `Who are you?' said the Caterpillar. This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, `I--I hardly know, sir, just at present-- at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.' `What do you mean by that?' said the Caterpillar sternly. `Explain yourself!' `I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, sir' said Alice, `because I'm not myself, you see.' `I don't see,' said the Caterpillar. `I'm afraid I can't put it more clearly,' Alice replied very politely, `for I can't understand it myself to begin with; and being so many different sizes in a day is very confusing.' `It isn't,' said the Caterpillar. `Well, perhaps you haven't found it so yet,' said Alice; `but when you have to turn into a chrysalis--you will some day, you know--and then after that into a butterfly, I should think you'll feel it a little queer, won't you?' `Not a bit,' said the Caterpillar. `Well, perhaps your feelings may be different,' said Alice; `all I know is, it would feel very queer to me.' `You!' said the Caterpillar contemptuously. `Who are you?' Which brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation. Alice felt a little irritated at the Caterpillar's making such very short remarks, and she drew herself up and said, very gravely, `I think, you ought to tell me who you are, first.' `Why?' said the Caterpillar. Here was another puzzling question; and as Alice could not think of any good reason, and as the Caterpillar seemed to be in a very unpleasant state of mind, she turned away. `Come back!' the Caterpillar called after her. `I've something important to say!' This sounded promising, certainly: Alice turned and came back again. `Keep your temper,' said the Caterpillar. `Is that all?' said Alice, swallowing down her anger as well as she could. `No,' said the Caterpillar. Alice thought she might as well wait, as she had nothing else to do, and perhaps after all it might tell her something worth hearing. For some minutes it puffed away without speaking, but at last it unfolded its arms, took the hookah out of its mouth again, and said, `So you think you're changed, do you?' `I'm afraid I am, sir,' said Alice; `I can't remember things as I used--and I don't keep the same size for ten minutes together!'
-Alice in Wonderland, chapter 5: Advice from a Caterpillar