weirdlet | Entries tagged with status

Daddy's home, in much better shape, on big-gun antibiotics to treat the urinary tract infection that was two days away from killing him, and promising to go to the physical therapy I'd recommended some time back. That's not why I'm flailing at this particular moment though- it's the finding of an absolutely stunning The Secret Garden/Buffy the Vampire Slayer crossover fic that feels A) perfectly in character and B) pretty damn nifty so far.

Also- Firefly+Serenity=awesome. Am converted from my heathen ways.

Oh joy. Dad went in to the doctor and then t'hospital willingly, and I come home from the cross-fandom geek-gathering with the news of kidney failure. Makes sense, and I hope they can either reverse it or deal with this shit one way or another, but-

seriously-

-a day or so ago I was going on one of my little rambles of thought that kind of happen at me rather than directed by me and thought one of these days he's going to have kidney failure and of course I'll step in and I swear to god if I have to give one to him there will be leverage to get him to take better care of himself and fuck me but I hate when my little fore-visions start coming true because it's equal parts freaky and it's-never-good-news.

Ravening shit, I want my daddy back, whole, happy, and able to participate in his own gorramn life to his satisfaction as well as mine and my mother's. Seriously. It gets to the little desperate chokepoints where you start to think 'anything but this' but what you really want is the opposite of 'anything' because 'anything' is a lowest-common-denominator of relief.

I... have been half-way thinking my dad might die sometime in the next few years, but always with the very firm belief that that will not happen. It might be miserable, stunted and harsh in between the good times, but my dad takes a hard act to kill. I would really rather not be surprised in the next few days or weeks or months. In the meanwhile, I am not yet proceeding as if it's a distinct possibility.

I'll have that breakdown when I need to and not a moment before. Thank you very much.

So, Daddy's been a bit loopy the last day and has had lack-of-progress gut-trouble for several more. We finally get the ambulance in, and *then* he wakes up enough to refuse. They tell us (nicely as possible) that the next time they're out here they're going to call property standards on us.

So my dad's sick (and being. DIFFICULT.) again, a bunch of large strange men got to tramp through my house seeing how I lived and judging (as nicely and helpfully as possible) it, Dad's going to be pissed at Mom again for trying to bring him in, and I get to really buckle down and excavate our 25-year accumulation of packrattery. Again. While still hunting for a job or comission work that'll maybe cover my student loans.

They're coming to take me away, tra la, they're coming to take me awaaaaaaaaaaay...

Current Mood: Screaming into the void

Yeah, so I got suspended today.

According to the one manager who's managed to witness most of my mistakes, I'm not catching on, too slow, making too many mistakes. I take too long counting down the drawer (I was given a tip just before he talked to me about what to fill in that would not necessitate counting it twice) and don't have the menu memorized.

I have never seen anyone else being quizzed on the menu, but then again, he is good at taking people aside and out of view of others for quiet dressings-down.

One slow day. One slow day and I'm as good as fired. Three days ago I was told I was doing a good job.

I really needed this job.

He says give them a buzz when I want to try again, and have the menu memorized, and they'll put me back on the schedule.

I want to be calm, and understanding, and not say anything that could possibly be traced back to me or googled and fuck me over for getting back in again.

Then again, I want to say a hearty fuck-you to my manager, who has managed to attempt to confirm my own doubts about my reliability, ability, and speed of learning. Thanks so much. I really needed that.

Now, since I'm clearly not cut out for either intellectual academic work or low-level hour-slave restaurant work, and my art doesn't sell, where does that leave me?

I'm not depressed. Oh, I'm miserable, but I'm not clinically depressed (I don't think- I was feeling a great deal better for having a job, but some of those commercials describe rather a lot of my youth and young adulthood). Still- the nasal, sonorous tones of "I'm so depressed..." feel so appropriate as a punctuation to my life right now...

I come in on time today for what I'm sure my scheduled hours were, only to find that my shift *ended* an hour ago- and it's slow today so don't bother to come in. Oh, and since he was sure I wasn't coming back, no hours at all for me this week. Come back next Sunday.

I'm gonna keep my eye out for another job, just in case. I've got to pay student loans tomorrow that will dig deeper into my already depleted savings, and even without fuckups like this, they aren't giving me hours. How am I supposed to learn my job without being there and doing stuff? Mom says *do* go in Tuesday for presumed payday- I've put in hours, they have to pay me for'em, right?

My dad's got a urinary tract infection again, although this time, he seems to be being proactive rather than just letting it go until it lands him forcibly in the hospital like last time (see: my birthday, unresponsive in the cardiac ward, if ever there was a time to start drinking, etc).

On t'other hand, I'm going to start working on fliers to make for gaming stores, comic shops, etc, advertising character portraits! such and such an hour/pic. It's worth a shot. Maybe it'll bring in a little money and get me some practice drawing to descriptions.

Worst that can happen is I get no business, eh? Won't be much of a difference from anytime else...

Mmh. I was scheduled for exactly two days this week- Today (Wednesday) and Sunday. I just got a call telling me it's slow so not to come in.

I did take this job as a matter of hand-to-mouth survival. I'm wondering if I'm not improving fast enough, or if it's just a matter of being least in seniority for valuable hours. Either way- I had hoped to get a chance to transition in and improve, then once I got the hang of it ask for more hours. Apparently not- I'm going to have to press to get anything.

Got the cat back from surgery, turns out the tumor (fibro-sarcoma, usually comes from irritants like being bit or vaccinated) had choked off its own blood supply which was why it ulcerated and was so rotten. Strawberry's got a big shaven Frankensteinian incision across her shoulders and is moving about very carefully.

In other news, new tenant/houseguest/roommate of houseguest moving in, going to bring in a little more money month to month. Mom says it's *possible* we might save the house with this. Me, I'm hopeful, but I'm also waiting to see my first paycheck. When and where do you pick those up? They never said, and you don't get direct deposit as an hourly associate. The joys of being New....

I keep getting ambushed by new student loans coming due. This is really irritating, especially as I need to take steps to defer or forbear each time. I must also pay the actual balance I owe my school from the past semester when I found out I'd been told I'd paid up, then told I hadn't because I had put in the paperwork for a student loan, which I had run up against the limit for. (Credit card, too, which was mostly (or at least half) run up taking care of bills for the family that I haven't seen a return on.)

( Yes, I understand that I must pay back the money... )

Woot, employment! Panera, I *will* earn my way to that overnight baker's job, come hell or high water.

I have a strange desire to catalog my current most fervent desires that money (in sufficient supply) could procure. Various medicinal and housing costs for parents and self aside, here are some of the odd little things I would like if I were suddenly filthy rich, just out of hand.

( Would it spoil some vast eternal plan-?! )

If I were a wealthy man...

Well, had my ultrasound and got the bloodwork back today- everything seems to be in normal ranges, and there was nothing visible on the scan. Meanwhile, I'm still having very mild twinges about the liver and pancreas, but that could just be bruising from the ultrasound (seriously- they dig in *hard* with that thing, and it feels like everything's sore the way it would be after being digestively sick for a day).

I'm still a little worried about it all- it's not 'perfectly normal', and it's in a couple spots that are rather srs bsness, so far as I'm concerned. It wasn't bad the way I'd heard such things are, but I don't want it to get to that point. I don't like pain, I fear death, and risking either does not make for a Happy Weirdlet- when things come home to roost that I would rather didn't, I get a bit tetchy. Still- I'll call this a warning shot and try and build up both my awareness and my plot armor by doing good things for my body. I don't like the thought of being obnoxious- but you know? The doctor's there to ask questions of, and bad patients (in the sense of being obnoxious) tend to get better help. So I made note of my concerns, phrased them in a way that I hope was polite because I hate to be alarmist, and sent them through this nifty online system they've got going in my local doctor's office.

Sometimes I think I've crippled myself a bit, trying to be diplomatic- sometimes it works, and sometimes it explodes, and it forever makes me feel either guilty or conversely very unpleasant when I've reached the 'fuckit' point. Need to work on balancing that out.

Feeling much better today. I was feeling puffy and out of sorts and very- 'careful of the full spot' the last two days, but today I'm feeling pretty okay. The longer I'm up and about the more I get the barest beginnings of the pinchy sensations under my liver, but it'll be a while before it works up to full unpleasantness, and the general feeling of overfullness that was bugging me last night is gone for now. (This of course happens after I write a note to my doctor mentioning that the discomfort's been growing over the last two days.)

It was also the second morning in a row today that I woke up with Whiskey, my psycho obnoxious alpha male mostly-outdoors kitty, demanding loves, not out.

Even he has it in him to be a medicine cat*, when the situation is dire.

In other news, last night I found a nifty Harry Potter fic in which both Harry and Dudley recieve letters to Hogwarts- Dudley, lacking much but a sort of dumb courage, gets into Gryffindor, and Harry, not wanting to be with his cousin, gets Slytherined. It's very interesting to see how things work out between them and the rest of the characters- the relationships that you're used to are not taken for granted, but are frequently addressed as they would logically be in this AU, and it's not meanspirited the way some sorts of AU takes on a canon can be. I like it.

*There's a phenomena in my house that we call 'medicine cat'. Or maybe it's just us being weird. But there are certain of our furbeasties who will cuddle up with someone who's not feeling well- particularly Duncan, the longhaired black rug with the giant Maine Coon paws. Whiskey kind of gave up on 'medicine cat' (and went out and out crazy) when my sister passed on, ten years ago (he was *her* kitten- I may write a story about a bodyguard cat gone ronin after failing to save his mistress from unfightable disease about him someday)- but he's been slowly mellowing out.

Okay. Still having occasional twinges and tenderness- if I didn't know exactly what it was I'd be fine with it, think it was just regular ol' digestive pains. But I know what it is, so I'm shit-scared.

I've talked with my mom, been all reassured, it's well before the dangerous point and years before the point she herself had her gallbladder out, and I appreciate that. I'm still just- scared. And a bit angry, just at the sheer "I was gonna go job hunting!" and now I'm feeling just a bit paranoid about running around outside my safe little shell.

Crud.

It's one of those "I'm fine" things to friends, because really- I'm the whiniest stoic you'll ever meet, but I bull through things like this. But with the scared bit, the honest answer is, no, even if it's not logical by my own standards for myself, I'm really not fine right now. I will be. But not now.

Edit- And just for the record? It's really hard to live a low-fat to fat-free life.

Fair, fat, female, forty, fecund....

Three outta five ain't bad.

Oh wait, yes, that's very bad indeed. Or it would be if this were more intense- as it is, I'm just getting occasional muscle-twinges, but going with the, ah, pale grey example, the family history, and the agreement of the doctor, I've had a gallstone.

Fucking hell.

Current Mood: blah

Just back from ACen, had a good time this year, a little more sedate. Have (or am in the process of doing so) arranged to commission some nice Jet/Zuko art from a lady named Zimmay, I enjoyed a lovely panel on Avatar: the Last Airbender (Next year, I *will* dress as one of the characters! I have but to choose, and get a job to support this endeavor!), and saw some AMVs at long last. One of them was from Akira, and as much as I hate things where everyone goes kablooie in the end, I still kinda want to see that.

Meanwhile, I'm home, parents are good, surviving after our tenant managed to not pay the rent that would have been of great help. I'm listening to the Boleodoras act from Cirque du Soleil: Saltimbanco on youtube, and scribbling away on my D&D chara Velke.

( Click for large-ish image... )

I need to figure out perspective...

Current Music: Cirque du Soleil, Saltimbanco: "Malamb", the Boleadoras act

Been a bit since I posted. Daddy's home, and incredibly much saner and happier and in less pain on oxygen day and night. He's not snacking nearly so bad, we're keeping him mostly on lean meats and some vegetation, with enough bread-stuff that he's happy (simple carby things like anything more processed than oatmeal will turn into glucose and spike your bloodsugar like nobody's business). Every little bit helps. He's still keg-bellied, but it's more regular fat and less bloating.

That last bit was probably TMI, but hell, I live with it every day, you're reading my blog, you'll deal.

ACen is this coming weekend, and I've been gathering costume bits. Hopefully mom will get a rent check from one of the tenants- we made a mortgage payment, shows we're willing to work with the guys, and things are tight. I wouldn't call this a problem, except our usual 'household' budget is halved this fortnight, which means no sneaking big things like a black tshirt onto it and feeling guilty about sneaking in a bit of makeup into the bill. We'll make it, sure, but I've learned to never trust things are going through until the money's in your hand and/or you've seen the clean bill saying you owe nothing- and even then it can turn around and bite you in the ass (signifigant look at *you*, Roosevelt University Financial Aid Department and Student Accounting...). But the sooner that check comes in, the sooner things are easier here and I can ask for my allowance without (too much) guilt.

Oh, I also took a civil service exam to qualify as an office monkey for the state, and I got A's and B's for that suite of positions- no more than one or two wrong questions a section, and typing skills practic'ly off the charts. So after already-employees and veterans, I'm on the first list of prospective callbacks for a job.

In the beauty department- I tried something this evening, washing my face in olive and castor oil with a hot towel to follow. Weird idea, I know, but it seems like I've tried everything else, and clearly sucking the oil *out* of my skin isn't working. I'm not seeing any of the flakiness that's my usual coating, and while things are kind of red after being abraded by the toweling/scrubbing the way they always are, it looks no worse than usual. We'll see how that works out- I know better than to expect a miracle cure, but it's worth a shot.

I'm looking forward to playing with my makeup for ACen^^ Goth Evo-Rogue.

Edit- Oh, and as for that lovely coat I got for my birthday- I had it home two days and one of the cats vomited all over the back of it.

I love my furbeasties. Boiled, baked, ground for sausage.

Anyway- I'm letting it dry out, I'll try and break it off once it's good and dessicated, and then have the stains drycleaned out. If it needs redyeing afterward, well, I got a guy for that. I can get it fixed before I need it, but after I can afford it.

Now that I'm in less of a lather...

( So my dad finally got scared enough to go into the hospital... )

In pleasanter news, it looks like I may be able to get the coat that was my birthday gift last year back from the leatherworker's who shortened it for me. About the time he called to say it was ready, lo these many months ago, I'd discovered just how bad the finances were and couldn't pay him. But Mom says generally they'll hang onto things for a while before selling them to recover the loss, so hopefully I'll be able to get it back for this year.

It's a really nice coat.

And the final oddness of the evening- I love Avatar: the Last Airbender. I have a cracky AU idea that I wish I were good enough friends with various other fans to spring on and get their opinions and possible collaborations. As usual, I'm late to the party and all the partnerships have been formed already, so no go for the odd man out.

Still- I have the weirdness, now I need a genuine plot.

http://weirdlet.deviantart.com/art/second-scrap-AU-Azula-119410559

( Princess Ursa does 'poisonous, treasonous things that night'... )