Something in the universe wants me to buy pasta.

Yesterday when Ivan came home from work, he said, "I have to show you what Monica gave me."

"Who is Monica?"  I asked.

"A co-worker," he responded, "and a--what do you call it?--'couponer.'"

He proudly brought over five coupons for Barilla brand pasta and warned, "They're only good for a couple more days.  At Giant Eagle."  Apparently if we were to buy any two boxes of Barilla pasta, we could save $0.55.  Five times.

I didn't really take him that seriously.  I vaguely wondered how this had come about (Did she bring them specifically thinking he would want them?  Did she have them and he expressed interest?), but truthfully was tired from a long day and it didn't seem important.

"So should I go to the store and get them?" he asked hopefully.

"What?  No.  Ten boxes of pasta?  Are you insane?"

He seemed surprised.  I continued, "Besides, I guarantee the store brand we buy for a dollar and like just fine is cheaper at full price than Barilla pasta is with these coupons.  In fact, I would put money on it.  Which seems ironic."

"Oh, okay," he said with a hint of disappointment.  "I just thought it would save us some money."

Looking back, I think I was not very charitable in that conversation.  His financial habits have often been a point of contention in our relationship.  I'm the one always suggesting ways to save money.  I'm the one giving lectures about cutting back, doing without.  And while it seemed strange to want to buy ten boxes of pasta when we only eat it on occasion and out-of-the blue to bring home coupons, this was a genuine attempt on his part to please me in that way.  I should have been kinder.

Sophia, however, was excited to come across the little stack of colorful papers that were now on the end table.  She carried them around the rest of the evening, and added them to her collection of colorful paint swatches that she like likes to pull in and out of the little drawer of her table and the microwave of her play kitchen.  At bedtime, she grabbed her favorite two blankets and two stuffed rabbits, and then rushed over to scoop up the coupons.  She often takes random things to bed with her.  Since she's so good about her bedtime and can chatter to herself and play happily for as much as an hour if she's not yet tired, I didn't think anything of it.

This morning she brought all the coupons back down to the living room with her, and when it was time to go she grabbed those, too.  "Honey, why don't you put the coupons on the table and then you can play with them again when we get home?"  I suggested.  She smiled at me and carried them over and tucked them into the little side pocket of the bag I was carrying.  I laughed.

So.  Here I am.  With the capacity to purchase 10 boxes of discounted pasta, sitting at my desk.

Ouch

Today just got a whole lot rougher.

Full mind, empty belly

Holy mother of god are we poor right now! The last time I was this broke it was, like, 1997.

I didn't have any money to eat lunch today and was pretty bummed about it. MAGICALLY my office suite ended up with a donation of free pizza after some event ended and it was just about the best thing EVER. Guess I'll have to pick up all the pennies and nickles that spill from my pockets to the floor when I take off my jeans (and drive Ivan crazy). There's no money for lunch tomorrow, either, but it's a work from home day and that is a major consolation. At least I can be hungry at home in my pajamas.

I suppose one day we will look back on this time period and laugh. Because we are sick sons of bitches like that. Right now it's not too funny, though.

Looks like...

...I need to find that new job a lot sooner than I thought.

Thinkin' 'bout leavin'

Last night the Golden Gate Bridge had my number again. I'm terrified of that thing. There's something about it that draws my brain to it in times of despair.

I'm thinking about leaving San Francisco. Like, for real.

I used to feel optimistic. I used to have a feeling that things were going to work out for me--somehow, some way. I felt that good things were in store for me. That all ended a couple of years ago. I've struggled to figure out how to get it back, and I keep coming up short.

Things have gotten bad again, and it wasn't until last night when I told anyone just how bad they had gotten. I barely do the things I need to do to take care of myself, and this has to change. I deserve a lot more.

I'm giving some serious thought about moving to North Carolina, at least as a temporary stop en route to somewhere else, to be with my aunt for awhile. I need to leave the job that makes me want to slit my throat. I need some mental and emotional support. I can stay with her awhile while I look for a job. I can focus on myself and stop struggling so much just to survive. I need to sit with the idea a bit. If I do it, I need to seriously save some money, so it probably wouldn't be until after my summer class is over.

I'm scared. But I feel like there might be away out of this mental prison I'm living in.

"Even though we ain't got money, I'm so in love with you honey..."

As many of you know, my grandfather passed away on Feb. 7. There was an insurance policy divided three ways that my mother, uncle, and I are supposed to receive. I got the paperwork for it today, and I was woefully unprepared for the flood of emotion that would along with the copy of the death certificate that accompanied it.

Apparently there is another insurance policy that is in dispute between my mom, uncle, and step-grandmother. Lawyers are being consulted on both sides. My mom's trying to tell me not to talk to Wanda. I want no part of any of this. I don't know who's right and wrong, but it makes me sick that they've resorted to this.

This is ridiculous.

I'm tired of scaring the hell out of myself by nodding off on I-280 before the sun comes up. I think I'm going to have to start traveling with a pillow and blanket in the car at all times.

In other news:

I'm positive my creativity has left. Gone. Shot. My boxes wait unfinished. My new greeting cards wait patiently for captions. Large portions of my bedroom walls remain bare. I have unwritten stories in me yet that haven't figured out how to come out. Even words I love hearing and reading are in short supply. The most interesting creative endeavors I have coming up are an origami paper unicorn centerpiece and a meat-shaped cake. Things have to get better.

I think it may be this whole full-time job nonsense. Note to self: Must put in more nights on the street corner so I can cut back on the 40 hour/week gig.

Today everything feels too small:

this cup of coffee, this desk, this office, my bank account, the amount of time I have to do things I enjoy as compared to things I have to do, the open space in my brain, the topics of my dreams, my capacity for rational thought, the constraints associated with sanity, my vocabulary to describe all of this…

A memory

One humid summer afternoon when I was six years old, I was playing with my neighborhood friends Traci and Beau. Traci and I were the same age, and Beau must have been about four.

We were sitting on Beau’s front steps, pondering what to do with ourselves. “We could play hide and seek,” I suggested. We agreed that it was too hot for so much running. Traci suggested we play Barbies.

“My dad said I’m not allowed to play Barbies with you guys anymore,” Beau muttered.

While we were mulling over our options, the mailman arrived and handed Beau his family’s mail. On top was an envelope from Publisher’s Clearinghouse Sweepstakes with bold, capitalized words saying, “CONGRATULATIONS! YOU’VE JUST WON 10 MILLION DOLLARS!”

We instantly flipped out.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, YOU’RE RICH!” Traci and I cried, hopping around excitedly. Beau sat in a daze for a moment as this knowledge sunk in, and then he was jumping up and down with excitement as well.

We immediately began to make plans for the money. Traci and I practically fell over each other shouting out suggestions for how it should be spent. “You can build the biggest tree house in the world!” I cried.

“You can buy your own plane!” Traci added.

“You don’t ever have to go to school again!” We were both envious of this.

Beau happily joined in the planning and, because he was a sweet little boy, said, “I’ll give you guys some money, too!” We all danced with joy.

Too impatient to wait for Beau’s mother to get home so we could break the news to her, we ran inside Traci’s house to tell her mother about the Corbett family’s new-found fortune. She laughed and broke the news to us that everyone got those notices—that she’d gotten them in the mail, too—and that it didn’t actually mean anyone had one 10 million dollars. And…just like that…we were crestfallen. Our plans for trampolines and brand new bikes and an endless supply of Doritos were gone.

I would give anything for five minutes of such pure, unadulterated joy again.

Balls to the wall

Today I applied for research studies, interviews, and focus groups on:

- Getting people to comply with documents requiring signatures and approval
- Examining how cognitive load influences pain perception
- Providing taste-testing and feedback on snack food
- Participating in a market research study on the topic of personal finances

I also applied to participate in a focus group on an unidentified topic. All it said was that it takes place in San Francisco for one and one-half hours on Jan. 6 and "if you feel you are the right individual, please call..." I don't what it is, but I feel I'm the right individual so I called and left a message.

I applied for part-time and temporary positions to:

- Interview Jewish women about working during World War II
- Serve as a pet food demonstration representative
- Proofread a 400-500 page opthamology textbook

Finally, I responded to something that said, "Make predictions, get paid." I can make predictions. I can't vouch for my accuracy, but I can definitely make predictions.

Looking for a condom alternative?

One of my friends from high school, Brian R., was in town last night with his fiancee. We went out for dinner and drinks and had a lovely time. I was reminded of why I always thought he was one of the nicest guys I knew in high school.

[As indicated in the previous entry] I tossed and turned fitfully last night and was unable to sleep until about 4am. I did a lot of things during that time, including watching YouTube videos. One of the videos I watched was my favorite scene from Love, Actually:



I also watched all the videos I could find on crows and ravens.

When I woke up this morning, all of my hair was standing straight up in the air in a most dramatic fashion. Seriously. Even my eyebrows were pointing upward. I was exhausted and running late for work and tamed it the best that I could before heading out the door. When I arrived, one of my co-workers said, "Wow. Your hair looks very...lion-like today..." and I burst out laughing.

I am researching opportunities to make money on Craigslist. I found a women's research study where you could make $500 testing out a new diaphragm. Unfortunately, it requires that you have sex once or twice. I asked my Magic 8-ball if this is in my future, and it said, "Not a chance."

Lean

Ugh.

I am awake stressing about money.

Because of budget cutbacks, I can't teach a class next semester. My income at my regular job is not enough to pay for the apartment, car to get to work, and the rest of the bills. I'm starting to feel a little bit on the verge of hysteria, to be honest. I'm strategizing ways to continue to feed the parrots and myself.

I've put in job applications, signed up for product testing and focus group mailing lists (because if you get selected for one they pay you anywhere from $50 to $150 bucks for a couple hours of your time), and started looking around my house for things I might be able to sell. I have a nice coat that my aunt got me that I've only worn once so far. I have a round-trip plane ticket that I got when I was bumped from a flight home. I have an extra TV. I'm getting rid of cable and downgrading my cell phone plan.

Beyond continuing to come up with ways to creatively advertise my greeting cards and putting in additional job applications, I'm not quite sure what else to do.

I don't have the money for Christmas presents. My grandpa is in renal failure. My car got towed and cost me $500.

I'm feeling freaked out and anxious and I needed to vent.

Um, I got a second job.

I know, I know! It's getting ridiculous. I have been teaching part-time at San Francisco State in the Human Sexuality Studies department. This fall I will be teaching an evening Quantitative Methods course (basically, statistics) in the Sociology department.

You may wonder why I accepted this second position. I'm glad you asked. This is why:

1. I love, love, love teaching statistics. It's easier to tell if you're doing a good job than it is in other classes. If even one of my students can't do a one-way ANOVA, I know it immediately. It's much harder to be able to tease out whether each and every one of them grasps the more theoretical constructs of the other courses, like, "In what ways did footbinding serve to maintain the patriarchy in China for nearly a thousand years?"

2. I need the money, fools. I ain't wealthy or anything. I've got a trip to Europe with Nannette to pay for in a few months. And the car that I need to buy. And the iPod adapter thingy that I'll need to enjoy my music during my commute. And--don't forget--I need to pay for those pole-dancing lessons and more bikini wax jobs from the infamous Vietnamese waxer-lady, Penney.

3. It's good to have a bit of a back-up plan. While I'm excited about my new full-time job, you just never know. When they find out I do things like take pictures of public bathroom stalls, they might be a little alarmed. I don't want to burn all my other bridges.

Huzzah!

With my mind on my money and...

I wrote this on Tuesday, but was significantly delayed and distracted from posting it here...

I got me a job! I got a job! I got a fucking job! (It was starting to get a little stressful.) I GOT A JOB! I've only interviewed for one so far, but that's the one I got. It's with Sociometrics in Los Altos. They ended up offering more money than I actually thought they were going to. I haven't accepted their offer yet--I've just begun the negotiation process--but I will most likely be taking it. It's 35 miles south of San Francisco so....(drumroll, please)....I will have to buy a car! (No more Muni stories! No more Alan the foot fetish guy! I will not be masturbated on, either!)

Okay, wait. My head is spinning. I. Got. A. Job.

Ohjesusfuck...I'm like a grown up now. I'll have a 401K. How terrifying.

Now I won't have to be a hooker out of necessity. I can just do it for fun.

I didn't actually think I'd get this job. There are only 14 people in the company and when I read their credentials they're all from Harvard and Stanford and Brown and Johns Hopkins. I don't care who you are...this is a little intimidating.

I got a job. Okay.

I am trying really hard not to freak out about this.

There is a chance that I may get back two years worth of federal taxes that I should not have had to pay from back when I was a grad student in Richmond.

The details of how/why are too boring to go into.

Granted, my salary was not even as high as it is now (and it's hard to imagine it being any lower), but still...it would be a very significant chunk of money.

If this happens, I'm going to do something exciting. Very exciting. Maybe I'll cruise around some fjords in Norway. Maybe I'll go back to Capri and try to make my dream of swimming in the Blue Grotto come true. Maybe I'll go see the Red Square in Moscow. Maybe I'll go to Thailand. Maybe I'll visit the souk in Marakesh. Maybe I'll finally see Machu Picchu.

I am getting dizzy. The possibilities are endless.

Funniest "let me leave you my inheritance" message EVER

--Forwarded Message Attachment--
From: annen_joubert@yahoo.de
Subject: INHERITANCE
Date: Tue, 26 Feb 2008 03:20:05 +0100

Dear Beloved,

Glory to God in heaven. My name is Mrs.Annen Joubert from South Africa. I am married to Mr. Abraham Benjamin Joubert, who is a farmer here in South Africa for many years before he died in 2004. We were married for eleven years without a child. He died after a briefillness that lasted for only four days.Before his death we were both born again Christians. Since his death I decided not to re-marry or geta child outside my matrimonial home which the Bible is against. When my late husband was alive he deposited a total sum of $10. Million (Ten Million, U.S.Dollars) with bank in Europe.

Presently, this money is still under the safe keeping of the Reserve Bank Recently, my Doctor told me that I would not last for the next Two months due to my cancer problems. Though what disturbs me most ismy or better still a Christian individual that will utilize this money the way I am going to instruct here in. I want a church or God fearing individual that will use this fund on, orphanages and widows propagating the word of God and give help to mankind. The Bible made usto understand that blessed is the hand that griveth.

I took this decision because I don't have any child that will inherit this money and my husband relatives are nota good Christians and I don't want my husband'shard earned money to be misused by unbelievers. I don't want a situation where this money will be used in an ungodly manner. Hence the reason for taking this bold decision.

I am not afraid of death hence I know where I am going. I know that I am going to be in the bosom of the Lord.Exodus 14 VS 14 says that the lord will fight my case and I shall holdmy peace. I don't need any telephone communication in this regard because of my health because of the presence of my husband's relatives around me always. I don't want them to know about this development.Please assure me that you will act accordingly as I stated here in

With God all things are possible. As soon as I receive your reply I'll forward your personal information to the bank in Europe so that they will contact you as the legal owner of this fund before transferring the fund into your nominated Bank Account in your country. I will also issue you a letter of a authority that will empower you as the original-beneficiary of this fund. I want you and the church to always pray for me because the lord is my shepherd.i will stop here becouse of my health Hoping to hear from you as soon as possible. Read Hebrews13:15v16 New Living Translation

Remain blessed in the name of the Lord.

Mrs.Annen Joubert.

A dramatic form that does not observe the laws of cause and effect and that exaggerates emotion...

I admit that I am ridiculous. Okay? I admit it.

Take this past week, for example. It was a bad week from the first few seconds I opened my eyes Monday morning, and it didn’t let up the whole time. I was filled with overwhelming anxiety and doubt. This is pretty much the stuff I was anxious and doubtful about:

1. I will never, ever get a job.

2. I will never, ever have health insurance again.

3. Because I will never, ever get a job and never, ever have health insurance again I will lose what is left of my mind and end up wandering the streets, wild-eyed and ranting, and giving blowjobs for crack, turkey sandwiches, and cups of coffee.

4. I am crazy.

5. I am a fundamentally unlovable person.

6. Because I am a crazy and fundamentally unlovable person I will die alone, and should I somehow manage to bypass #1 and #2 and get a job and health insurance, I will die alone in a scary house on a hill with a bunch of pets as opposed to alone in the street.

You get the idea.

I called friends. I drank much alcohol and called friends. I took long, meandering walks. I called friends after drinking much alcohol and while taking long, meandering walks.

I used a lot of analogies for myself: a piece of driftwood on the ocean! A sinking bag of stones! A horse with no name! (Okay, I didn’t use that last one.)

I bemoaned that I had nowhere to go, nothing to do, and that if I disappeared tomorrow no one would notice for days.

I laid on the floor of my shower and let the water run over me. I laid in the backyard staring upward. I laid with my head under pillows in my bed.

I posted blogs only to take them down again because they were too intensely dark and personal.

I cried. About everything. Yesterday I cried when some school kids made fun of a ranting homeless man (that will be me one day, after all) and I cried when a different group of school kids made fun of one of the little girls in their group and wouldn’t talk to her or sit with her on the bus.

Fuck school kids.

Fuck my amplified emotions.

Fuck me.

I am pleased to announce what seems to be a break in the aforementioned ridiculousness. I hope this break lasts a long fucking time.

I’m surprised my wonderful friends still answer their phones.