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judecorpThis has been an emotional end to an emotional week. At least, I hope it's the end. Of the emotions, not the week; the week can progress to Saturday as planned, Saturday being Pride and all, and the forecast is for 70s and sunny. Perfect. No, it's the emo brokenness with which I've lived this week that can stop at any time, though now would be best, I'd say. For everyone.
On the side of TEH GOOD, I got to meet![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
folkyboy last night. He offered to save me from my boredom with a quick jaunt to Reveah Beach, which was educational if nothing else. The temperature on the shore was easily ten degrees cooler than my apartment, and there was a nice briny breeze (when you weren't catching wafts of pot smoke). We dipped our toes in the frigid Atlantic and he graciously answered a billion personal questions, as is my usual. I took his photo on the sand in the dark, but I can't find my camera upload cable right now, so he'll have to suffer. HA!
Also on this side of yay, Jennifer and I spent the evening sharing a lovely grilled dinner with
Ms. Shani and her Matty Jean, and also Ms. Dory. Dinner was delicious without being too heavy, and I got to eat a lot of grilled peppers, because I am apparently the only person in Somerville who eats such things. Yum. Peppers aside, the food was good and the company was delicious. Thanks!
It's no secret that I handle personal stress about as well as I handle tightrope walking - not that I've tried or anything, but I have a pretty vivid imagination. The funny thing is that I am totally competent at handling other people's personal stress just fine; in fact, I'd say that crisis intervention is one of my strengths as a social worker. When in doubt, I can always whip out my favorite work motto: Lack of preparation on your part does /not/ constitute an emergency on my part.
But personal stress, yes, that's something else. I am an admitted pain in the ass about my personal crises, because not only do I work myself up to the fatalistic 'everything will turn out terrible' end of the spectrum, but I am also largely unconsolable. This isn't as terrible as it sounds only because left to my own devices, I will calm down in under 20 minutes. But in that 20 minutes? Yeah, not my finest third-of-an-hour.
During the course of the week, after a billion resumes, a couple of phone and in-person interviews, and a lot of bad feelings, I've started to become more and more concerned about the job scenario. Which means that I've been worrying hard core about my least favorite thing ever: money (or lack thereof). It doesn't help that we slapped down $400 at the insurance agent this afternoon (20 percent), or that tomorrow morning we've got to trek to the RMV for title and registration and (I believe) a hefty excise tax bill. This is followed by a trip to the neighborhood garage for a state inspection. Being the prudent kids we are, we figured we should change our licenses over tomorrow as well, because really, who wants to make multiple trips to the RMV? That's when a little research showed that transfer of out-of-state licenses costs $90. Each.
For those keeping score at home, that's $400 to the insurance agent, $50 for the title, $30 for the plates, $200ish for the excise tax (probably), and $180 for licenses. That's gotta be the quickest and least fun $1000 ever. (And you're still wondering why I was so insistent on selling my car /before/ we moved?)
I don't usually talk about money in my journal, because a) I'm private as hell about money, and b) it's no one's damned business how much money we have, but I'll say this: we made a quick budget today and it looks like if we scrimp, we can get by with needing $4000/month for bills and expenses. And then I will say this: if we don't get some sort of income soon, we're going to blow through our moving savings /and/ the money I got for my car (which was not supposed to be touched).
So yeah, I'm having some stress. Enough to start sending my resume to temp agencies, even though temp assignments would definitely limit my ability to be available for phone/person interviews at any time. Enough to snap at Jennifer so often that, "I'm sorry," is becoming a permanent fixture in her vocabulary, something that breaks my heart. Enough to wonder if we made the right decision coming now, so soon, somewhat unprepared.
And then there's the more personal, less money-blah-blah side of things. I miss people. I miss Daina being able to drop by because she lives down the street. I miss Steve's motorcycle rides. I miss Pete across the street at Cafe Corner, and Coworker Sarah stopping by while walking her dog, and catching Patti and Fisher when I ducked out of a home visit early, and going to the circus with Carina and Scott and the twins. I'll never see Grendelina again. I miss having Peas and Sarah nearby, even if we didn't see them much, and I'll miss Rebecca and Kyle's impromptu parties. Saturday is Pride, and it won't be like Columbus at all - I won't know hardly anyone, because I don't volunteer and I don't work in the community and I don't know many queer people and it will be SO WEIRD, because Pride was like big Columbus Rock Stardom for me - I knew everyone. I miss Patty and Phoenix Pride and Kaleidoscope and Bucky, and I won't see Hopey or Velma or Robbie or Andrea or Tara or anyone. I've got little fish in big pond syndrome. It's quite the adjustment.
But it's so surreal because it's /not/ that I don't have friends here, because I do - good ones, long-term ones. But I feel like they don't know me /now/, they know me /then/. And I wish they knew Jude2.0, because personally, I like Jude2.0 better and besides, that was a long time ago. It's so weird to see old friends and be called 'Judie' all the time, because when I think of 'Judie' I think of a 23 year old girl who got married to the wrong person for the wrong reasons but with the best intentions. And I feel young and foolish and unsure and sad. That's no one's fault but mine.
So I've been quite melodramatic, quite hermit-like, and downright blues-y for a couple of days. Which really sucks. Because there are so many good things here, so many possibilities and opportunities, so much to do and see, so many old friends and family members, such /potential/ and I feel like I'm squandering it away with my emo-ness. And then I feel like I'm putting too much pressure on myself to jump right into things, so I beat myself up for /that/. Basically, I'm a grumpy mess.
But Friday night is the Dyke March, and Saturday is Pride, and Sunday I think I'm going to get to play withlorac if that's still on. And maybe in between I can put My Best Girl in the car and drive her to Wollaston so she can play in the ocean, because damn it, we fell in love by the ocean on the Cape and I want to fall in love again.
On the side of TEH GOOD, I got to meet
folkyboy last night. He offered to save me from my boredom with a quick jaunt to Reveah Beach, which was educational if nothing else. The temperature on the shore was easily ten degrees cooler than my apartment, and there was a nice briny breeze (when you weren't catching wafts of pot smoke). We dipped our toes in the frigid Atlantic and he graciously answered a billion personal questions, as is my usual. I took his photo on the sand in the dark, but I can't find my camera upload cable right now, so he'll have to suffer. HA!Also on this side of yay, Jennifer and I spent the evening sharing a lovely grilled dinner with
Ms. Shani and her Matty Jean, and also Ms. Dory. Dinner was delicious without being too heavy, and I got to eat a lot of grilled peppers, because I am apparently the only person in Somerville who eats such things. Yum. Peppers aside, the food was good and the company was delicious. Thanks!It's no secret that I handle personal stress about as well as I handle tightrope walking - not that I've tried or anything, but I have a pretty vivid imagination. The funny thing is that I am totally competent at handling other people's personal stress just fine; in fact, I'd say that crisis intervention is one of my strengths as a social worker. When in doubt, I can always whip out my favorite work motto: Lack of preparation on your part does /not/ constitute an emergency on my part.
But personal stress, yes, that's something else. I am an admitted pain in the ass about my personal crises, because not only do I work myself up to the fatalistic 'everything will turn out terrible' end of the spectrum, but I am also largely unconsolable. This isn't as terrible as it sounds only because left to my own devices, I will calm down in under 20 minutes. But in that 20 minutes? Yeah, not my finest third-of-an-hour.
During the course of the week, after a billion resumes, a couple of phone and in-person interviews, and a lot of bad feelings, I've started to become more and more concerned about the job scenario. Which means that I've been worrying hard core about my least favorite thing ever: money (or lack thereof). It doesn't help that we slapped down $400 at the insurance agent this afternoon (20 percent), or that tomorrow morning we've got to trek to the RMV for title and registration and (I believe) a hefty excise tax bill. This is followed by a trip to the neighborhood garage for a state inspection. Being the prudent kids we are, we figured we should change our licenses over tomorrow as well, because really, who wants to make multiple trips to the RMV? That's when a little research showed that transfer of out-of-state licenses costs $90. Each.
For those keeping score at home, that's $400 to the insurance agent, $50 for the title, $30 for the plates, $200ish for the excise tax (probably), and $180 for licenses. That's gotta be the quickest and least fun $1000 ever. (And you're still wondering why I was so insistent on selling my car /before/ we moved?)
I don't usually talk about money in my journal, because a) I'm private as hell about money, and b) it's no one's damned business how much money we have, but I'll say this: we made a quick budget today and it looks like if we scrimp, we can get by with needing $4000/month for bills and expenses. And then I will say this: if we don't get some sort of income soon, we're going to blow through our moving savings /and/ the money I got for my car (which was not supposed to be touched).
So yeah, I'm having some stress. Enough to start sending my resume to temp agencies, even though temp assignments would definitely limit my ability to be available for phone/person interviews at any time. Enough to snap at Jennifer so often that, "I'm sorry," is becoming a permanent fixture in her vocabulary, something that breaks my heart. Enough to wonder if we made the right decision coming now, so soon, somewhat unprepared.
And then there's the more personal, less money-blah-blah side of things. I miss people. I miss Daina being able to drop by because she lives down the street. I miss Steve's motorcycle rides. I miss Pete across the street at Cafe Corner, and Coworker Sarah stopping by while walking her dog, and catching Patti and Fisher when I ducked out of a home visit early, and going to the circus with Carina and Scott and the twins. I'll never see Grendelina again. I miss having Peas and Sarah nearby, even if we didn't see them much, and I'll miss Rebecca and Kyle's impromptu parties. Saturday is Pride, and it won't be like Columbus at all - I won't know hardly anyone, because I don't volunteer and I don't work in the community and I don't know many queer people and it will be SO WEIRD, because Pride was like big Columbus Rock Stardom for me - I knew everyone. I miss Patty and Phoenix Pride and Kaleidoscope and Bucky, and I won't see Hopey or Velma or Robbie or Andrea or Tara or anyone. I've got little fish in big pond syndrome. It's quite the adjustment.
But it's so surreal because it's /not/ that I don't have friends here, because I do - good ones, long-term ones. But I feel like they don't know me /now/, they know me /then/. And I wish they knew Jude2.0, because personally, I like Jude2.0 better and besides, that was a long time ago. It's so weird to see old friends and be called 'Judie' all the time, because when I think of 'Judie' I think of a 23 year old girl who got married to the wrong person for the wrong reasons but with the best intentions. And I feel young and foolish and unsure and sad. That's no one's fault but mine.
So I've been quite melodramatic, quite hermit-like, and downright blues-y for a couple of days. Which really sucks. Because there are so many good things here, so many possibilities and opportunities, so much to do and see, so many old friends and family members, such /potential/ and I feel like I'm squandering it away with my emo-ness. And then I feel like I'm putting too much pressure on myself to jump right into things, so I beat myself up for /that/. Basically, I'm a grumpy mess.
But Friday night is the Dyke March, and Saturday is Pride, and Sunday I think I'm going to get to play with
lorac if that's still on. And maybe in between I can put My Best Girl in the car and drive her to Wollaston so she can play in the ocean, because damn it, we fell in love by the ocean on the Cape and I want to fall in love again.
