It made perfect sense at the time
Yesterday as another errand to be run I took my phone into At&T to have them fix my text messaging. Every text that I was sending was coming up like a slide show message; nothing life altering, just annoying. So after less than 10 minutes of the guy trying to fix it with no avail I made the only logical choice I could think of: I scrapped my old Razor and bought an iPhone instead. Just spur of the moment.
My boyfriend equates this rash decision with needing to dig a one foot hole and instead of grabbing a shovel, opting for a stick of dynamite instead.
Naysayers aside, I like it and was going to get one eventually anyway. But more importantly, look pretty….shiny….ooohhh…
And now I finally own a piece of technology at least 5 minutes before it becomes obsolete instead of 5 minutes after for once in my life. Horray for spontaneous expensive decisions! Yah!
OSU is going to rape my wallet
I fully realize that college is expensive; it’s the primary reason why I am just now going to a full level university vs. the ill regarded community colleges that have occupied my time for many years now, but Jesus Christ is Ohio State ever going to milk me dry.
I have not even stepped foot in a classroom or bought one book and I am already paying ridiculous fees just to get in. So far I payed the $40 application fee (normal, expected), and then I had to pay the $100 acceptance fee just to ever get a chance to register for orientation. One hundred dollars just to say “yes, that application I sent in was in fact NOT a joke, and I will prove how serious I am by giving you this check as payment for reading the piece of paper attached with the “yes” box checked. Thank you so much.”
Now I finally have the orientation lined up so I can register for classes and that’s going to be another $25 plus separate costs for food and parking.
I realize that $165 isn’t that much, but given that these costs just keep popping up every week and a half, it’s getting a little worry-some. I suppose I should get used to being poor and destitute though if I plan on writing for a living.
Proof that I possibly have entirely too much time on my hands.
Because I’m a crafty mother fucker I not so secretly enjoy creating fun, adorable things, especially to wear. As such I met my mild obsession with 40’s style feather hair clips by creating some of my own instead of spending the exorbanite amount that they sell them for online or at boutiques. Apparently they were successful because then last week my co-worker Audra, also a hairdresser, said that one of her clients wanted one for her wedding and I would be paid to do it. Naturally I agreed because I have a massive hard-on for all things wedding and love to lend a hand in any minute manner possible.
So her colors were ivory and silver and this is what I did:
A close up, all hand beaded.
And what it looks like on, me. Because like I wasn't really going to try it on.
So what do you think? I feel it’s simple-elegant and I dig it, but I still have a few days before I give it to her so I can always make changes.
I also made one for Audra; just for fun, it’s wild, funky ‘Lisa Frank’ colors, though I kind of want to steal it myself now.
Fun right?
Frankly too pissed off to sleep
Moments ago my boyfriend told me that he wouldn’t be able to join me at a work event tonight because something had just come up, and by something he means our friend Greg*.
You see Greg, though he comes across as this strong confident person because of this fabricated persona that he’s created for himself and now feels the massive need to live up to, is actually just constantly one failure away from a monumental breakdown of epic proportions. He becomes self loathing and goes into a ‘dark place’ in ways that I have never seen from any person before.
I’ve known him for years; he’s been a co-worker, a roommate, even my boss for a few months there, and every time that he gets depressed it gets worse. This time he is dealing with loosing a general manager job recently at a local wine bar ( sincerely through no fault of his own), and now apparently his girlfriend of the past year has left him. Women are always the primary cause for these hollowed out depressions for him, and to cope last time something like this happened (and apparently also many years before I met him), he turns to drinking obscene amounts, as in, enough to kill some people. He also turns to coke and pills, all at the same time.
That’s actually the reason why he was fired from the job where he was my boss: because he was so stressed out by the pressures being point on him, and so afraid of failing, that he essentially sabotaged himself by doing this shit to the point of being nearly unrecognizable as a friend. Last summer John and I spent so much time trying to talk him down from these deeply depressed states; trying to be a good influence, and trying to be good friends by taking his absurd 4 am strung out phone calls where he says that he’s hit a new low and promises to us that it will never happen again.
Of course it did though, however after last summer’s events he really seemed to have turned his life around: he got a good job, he quit all the drugs, and he got a girlfriend who really understood him and wanted to be there for him. She even took him to her family’s for holidays, he was thinking marriage.
Now this morning, after blowing us off last night for a dinner, John gets a message that Greg sent at 1 am saying loosely “Heather left me, but I’d leave me too. I’ve got a bad job, I’m fat, and worthless. Want to find some pills and coke.” So now John will spend the evening with Greg once again trying to pry him out of this miserable drug-induced hole that he’s dug for himself. At this point though I love and deeply care about Greg, I’m about at my end. I can’t pretend to not care about the catastrophic damage that he is doing to himself anymore, I can’t be part of his life if this I what he’s going to do with it whenever something goes wrong. Call me closed minded, call me a bad friend, but I need him to know that if he gets into that shit again I’m out, my friendship gone.
When we lived together I had to sometimes check to see if he was still alive after a particularly bad night. That’s not supposed to be part of being someone’s roommate, I shouldn’t have to deal with the possibility of finding an overdosed body dead in my house! And now, I’m afraid he’s going to die. Every time that he gets depressed it gets worse and worse, every time a new rock bottom. So now all I can imagine is his funeral, and it makes me so angry that I can barely speak, or apparently, sleep.
*not his real name
A day in the life of a Ginger 