improperlyhuman: (Default)
I finally got my transportation card today. I spoke to my case manager's supervisor last Friday, and she sent me one in the mail. It has one hundred and thirty bucks on it, so I might be able to attend that CBT after all. I wanted to go over next county and pick up my hair clippers (which I left at my latest campsite) because my head is crying out for a haircut, but I still had remnants of a migraine from last night and didn't want to worsen it. I also have enough to visit my radfem contact (who agreed to hang out via e-mail today).

I slept better last night and even went to bed in a rather nice mood (why, I'm not sure). I've been having dreams every single night again, but I'm not on sugar so I don't know why. Adjustment issues? I don't begin to feel irresistably sleepy until early morning, so tend to get up early in the afternoon, which makes it difficult to manage my errands.

I went to the local Chamber of Commerce today and got a nice welcome packet and a phone book, which I had been seeking for high and low for the past couple of weeks. Couple of weeks! It's been so long already.

I went out hippie style and ditched the toilet paper completely. There aren't many places to shop here, so I ended up at WalMart, where I was able to get two yards of fleece for less than two bucks a yard. I figured that cotton would be more absorbent, but the cotton fabrics they had actually seemed less absorbent by the feel of them. So I cut up my fleece and now I have a large supply of reusable toilet paper.

I'm in the process of rehabilitating my skin and hair. I use coconut oil. Previously, I had the softest skin west of the Rockies, but the cold and the rarity of bathing in the unhoused life put me off of regular moisturizing.

Well

Dec. 27th, 2014 01:39 pm
improperlyhuman: (Default)
I went to the property management company to sign my lease and pick up the keys, and was held up for a while because the employee who is handling my application didn't leave word that I should be allowed to move in without paying my deposit first. I was damn near having a nervous breakdown in the waiting area while they called her and got the ok. This and the irateness I was met with when I asked the housing coordinator if she had the agreement needed to process the deposit cast a nasty mood over the day, but, in the end, I was able to move in on Monday the twenty-second.

The next challenge was food. I moved in with about a fifth of a jar of almond butter, two-thirds of a package of rye crispbread, one can of spicy chili, and four microwaveable cups of brown rice. I also had about twenty-four dollars of food stamps + cash benefits, (I thought) twenty-nine dollars in the bank, and a couple of dollars worth of quarters.

I didn't get to the apartment until late in the afternoon. I was starving and didn't quite know my way around town, but I noticed a Little Caesar's pizza restaurant as the social worker drove me to the complex. She congratulated me and hugged me and it didn't bother me. My bike had been disassembled to fit into the trunk of the tiny government car, so I walked it in the dark after she'd left and I'd showered. No shower or bath in five months; I scrubbed myself until my skin was red and my arms hurt. It wasn't as epic as I'd expected it to be; I didn't feel as refreshed as I'd expected to.

The pizza (the crust of which is vegan) cost about twice as much as I'd anticipated, but I was starving and had nothing to cook with and I'd been wanting pizza since forever, so I paid the sixteen bucks. I surprised myself by finishing the whole pie in one sitting (minus one slice I indulged myself on the walk home).

Oddly, the electricity was still on in the apartment, but the rooms (I have a 2-bedroom apt.) are still dark because I don't have a lamp. The heat vent of the bedroom in which I'd chosen to sleep didn't seem to work, so I set up shop in the other. I sleep in the closet.

The next day, with no dishes and no microwave, I resorted to heating the chili, still in its can, in the oven. I sat it on half of the pizza box and dumped the rice onto said box as well.

After running some errands, I couldn't put off grocery shopping any longer. I headed for Wal-Mart, which I thought that I used to pass on my courier route last year, but I ended up heading in the opposite direction and biking around the edge of town (which was not far because the down is apparently far smaller than I'd thought). I ended up with a huge hole in my tire. I got directions from a postal worker and set off on foot.

I hurt my back carrying tons of groceries and a stock pot back to my apartment from Wal-Mart and the Dollar Store. I'd depleted all of my funds and had had an irritating and embarrassing time at the self-checkout as I'd tried to balance my payments between my different accounts. $4.66 of food stamps, twenty bucks of cash benefits, and goddess-knows-what in my bank account, as it was declined.

The next day, I went to my appointment at a local church food pantry. The guy gave me some good stuff, much of which was wholesome and even vegan: sugar-free shredded wheat, two bags of whole wheat pasta, and even a jar of sugar-free peanut butter, among other things.

Annoying neighbor keeps talking to me about nothing.

Case manager showed up yesterday (hours late, as usual) with a bunch of non-vegan food that I refused except for a bag of apples and a can of pears. She also gave me some Christmas-themed pajamas, a blanket, sheets, a towel, a pair of socks, some ugly scarves knitted by a donor (and one nice one), which I wish I had not taken, but I suppose I'll just re-donate them along with the non-vegan food I got from the food pantry.

She also messed up my transportation situation, refusing to load money onto my transportation card (which is accepted by several different local area transit agencies) and instead buying a bus pass that's only good in the county. I was pissed. I have an autism assessment in Sacramento that I'll now have to pay for myself; I won't be able to go to the CBT for my insomnia, and I'll have to get myself to Berkeley as well. I don't know why she didn't get what I asked her for. I'm finally going to ask for another case manager. I'm tired of her b.s. Something is wrong with her.

I finished Desert of The Heart. It was not endearing at all. I disliked all of the characters, their stupid hang-ups, their absurdly poetic conversations, and the author's pretentious attempt to wring symbolism out of every boring detail of her overall uneventful story. On a positive note, sitting here in the public library (which seems to have an excellent Internet), the movie has finally finished downloading (along with the last Hobbit movie and a low-budget thriller/horror film). I hope that I can forget the book.

My days have been rather boring. No Internet access. I started some in-depth studying of TeX, a typesetting system I use in my freelance technical writing, hoping to start up earning some extra money, especially now that I know that I've a one hundred and fifty dollar deposit to pay for my electric service.
improperlyhuman: truck tipping over on the highway (tipping truck)
Rather than making the long and involved post I'd intended, I think I will off to camp early this evening. Daylight savings stuff has thrown me off, and I need to get up early tomorrow morning to go see an apartment.

I bought myself a proper tent today at a local sporting goods store. It was on sale for twenty-five bucks; the downside is that it's a large, three-person tent, color of royal blue, and so will be more difficult to hide than present accommodations. I guess I can disassemble my camoflage tarp tent and lay it over this new one. I considered moving camp back across town to avoid the construction workers, but I'm too averse to dealing with those damned ticks.

Not sure I'll try to set up this tent tonight. If the apartment situation can get settled quickly, I'd like to be able to return the damned thing and suffer a few more nights in my tarp tent to get my money back. On the other hand, it's only twenty-five dollars.

It's suddenly wicked cold here. My freezing-feet related insomnia is back.
improperlyhuman: (Default)
Rain and mice.

I guess the crumbs I've been leaving around since I began having rice cakes for breakfast attracted the mice, but I have no idea what would motivate them to venture into my tarp tent. There's no food in there.

Before going to sleep last night, I cleaned out some droppings and turned over the sleeping pad I keep immediately underneath my sleeping bag. I woke up this morning with a dropping on the pad just a few inches from my head. The tarp tent is only about three feet wide. That must mean that a mouse slipped right past my face while I was asleep and risked being crushed underneath me as I rolled over (which I do frequently at night). Why? Had this creature no fear?

Actually, I'm just assuming that I'm being visited by mice. The droppings look the same as the messes I found when I lived in that damned garage. This morning, however, I heard a croaking sound alarmingly close to my head as I lay pondering the droppings. I'd heard it before, but decided it came from somewhere in the dirt nearby. I decided that it was time to get up. Later, as I prepared to move the tent, I found a small green frog sitting on top of it. Now, I don't know what to think.

It was a warm, sunny day this afternoon. I'd hoped to dry out my outer sleeping bag after the rain day before yesterday. I left it hanging on a fallen tree with a bunch of clothes. I think I left all my stuff uncovered. It rained rather heavily early this evening. The inside of the tarp I took down wasn't even well-protected. Looks like it'll be a wet night for me.

I was supposed to look at an apartment on Wednesday, but I declined the invitation to meet with my worker. She didn't show up to our appointment. Again. Unbelievable. I didn't find out what was happening until someone else from the organization called me an hour after our appointment time to say that she'd called in sick. Having been aware of this pattern and the rain, I really wish I had gone to that apartment viewing instead.
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A volume entitled Chicana Feminisms: A Critical Reader has been lying on the rack at the front of the library ever since I began visiting this summer. I finally grabbed it today. I've been wondering how "Chicana Feminism" differs from feminism of any other variety. I didn't read much of it; it's boring as hell and written in the flowery, annoyingly subjective style particular to the humanities academy, seasoned with the irritating textual characteristics particular to academic feminism (text littered with "agency" and "praxis," the ambiguous packaging of multiple meanings into single words, as in "Literary (Re)Mappings: Autobiographical (Dis)placements by Chicana Writers," and awkward sentences in which abstract concepts are the subject of action verbs). 

It seems to be little more than a cultural studies reader, it's only claim to feminism reflected in the various and sundry experiences of womyn it details, and written from an unusually (and self-consciously, I think) subjective perspective at that; I was surprised to find that some of the chapters concern the experience of a single womon. I was thinking to myself, "what has this got to do with feminism?" And then I remembered my habit of thinking of feminism in terms of power structures and brainwashing and compromised bodily integrity artificiality and how to fix womyn's situations. I think of radical feminism as feminism. The contents of this book, what to me seems to be dull, irrelevant details about ho-hum sociopolitical movements and incessant word-play in the service of self-important autobiography, is not alien to modern mainstream feminism, and is perhaps quite similar to academic feminism (I can't say for sure because I do not and cannot stand reading that stuff).

There is discussion of the differences that mark female lives in this book; it is culturally- and individually-specific to a greater degree than anything else I have ever read with regard to feminism. From what I gather, it seems that telling one's personal story is seen as some sort of form of power. That's straight-up liberal feminism right there. Belying the subtitle, the book seems to be far more narrative than analytical, and this is why I find it boring and toothless. There's some analysis in it, but it's of the oblique, value-neutral, poetic variety that would earn one a good grade in a literature course, and there isn't nearly enough explicit man-blaming. If I were to judge based solely on this collection, I would say that the chief distinctions between Chicana Feminism(s) (I still haven't figured out why the noun is in plural form) and the feminism to which I am accustomed are the extent of subjectivity and that the text tends to be be partially in Spanish.

Goddess, I am so tired from the errands I ran today. I thought that I would recover, but it seems that I was wrong. I'm going to have to come back and read this post to make sure it reflects what I actually want to say; I think I tend to use the wrong words when I'm fatigued.

The Veteran's Service Officer was not in his office today, but his assistant or whatever gave me some more numbers to call (likely dead ends) and two twenty-ride bus passes. I wasn't able to register my separation document at the County Clerk's office because they will only register an official copy. The VSO's assistant ordered that for me online.

I finally got some vegan pizza today, but it wasn't very tasty and definitely not what I wanted, a weird-tasting pizza topped with red peppers and sweet onions. Besides that, I also bought some hi-cut socks with the money guy gave me yesterday, so that my legs won't be so vulnerable to scratches from the brush I regularly walk through.

Walking through the brush last night as I returned home (and I don't like to say that I'm homeless because the woodlet, and the outdoors in general, is at least as good a home as any other; better, in my opinion), I think I was almost caught. I was crunching through the leaf-carpeted area at the entrance to my woodlet, and I somehow couldn't find the narrow path between the bushes that I've followed so many times by now. Back and forth I crunched, looking for a break in between the branches, panicking when I couldn't find it, suddenly hearing voices, and recognizing that I had gone beyond the point which I sought. I tried taking my shoes off, but creeping about in my socks didn't modulate the noise one bit.
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I decided that the 15th of this month would be laundry day. I was sleeping across the street from the vineyard, on the east side of town, and most of my clothes were stashed in the mini-forest on the east edge of town, so I had to make a long trip.

It was a crappy day. As I arrived at the laundry mat, I saw that my tire was flat. I added some air at a gas station (air is A DOLLAR at gas stations now! WTF?), but it was flat again after I finished drying my clothes, so I understood that I needed a new inner tube. With the last twenty-five or so dollars in my checking account, I made it over to the bike shop downtown. I had no tools, so I had the shop employee install the tube. I paid sixteen bucks total. The guy told me that the tube had a couple of THORNS in it, and I remembered the prickly bushes around my hiding spot over by the vineyard.

With very little money left, I decided that I couldn't risk another flat, and rather impulsively decided to spend the night back on the westside, at the edge of the tick-infested forest. It seems the ticks are only underneath the canopy of trees; I slept (or rather tried to; I had only my sleeping bag liner and was rather cold and uncomfortable) in some tall, brownish grass-like plant life and didn't see a single one. I was uncomfortable with this because this area is near the road and I was more likely to be discovered. Indeed, I spent the next night there and was sitting on a log, contemplating my errands for the day when a surveyor showed up. I didn't move or acknowledge him, and he didn't say a word to me, but went on into the forest about his surveying business.

Normally, I would have left my hiking pack there and bike into town, but I figured he might call the cops or have it removed, and it wouldn't have been a good idea to try to return to spend the night, so I had to pack up all my stuff and take it with me. I couldn't really pack it ALL up, though; the pack itself is unwieldy enough by itself, but I have no practical way of carrying the clothes I've brought with me (they've been stashed either in the mini-forest or behind the bushes over by the vineyard for the entire time I've been street homeless (as contrasted with vehicle homeless)). So, I hid my laundry behind some trees, hefted my pack, and moved out. I hid my pack behind some bushes in an undeveloped lot between rows of houses in the suburbs and went to scout out another place to stay.

I got caught up in the library and didn't get to scouting until after dark. I try to stick with places that are out-of-town to avoid being attacked and noticed. In a cul-de-sac at the end of the last street in the industrial park just outside of town, I found another mini-forest behind some sort of gated business. It's quite perfect. There is a large wall so that no one can see what I'm doing. Perhaps stupidly, I like to do my scouting without my pack, so I had to ride all the way back into town to retrieve it. I came back and snook behind the bushes. I was going to set up camp right there, but decided to go further into the forest. I was a bit too tired to set up my tarp tent, and I didn't expect to encounter any ticks, so I just got into my sleeping bags and ended the evening.

Just as I was about to sneak out late next morning, I discovered that I had yet another flat. Back tire this time. I sat there behind the bushes for a long time trying to figure out what to do. I had two dollars in my checking account because I'd been too lazy to prevent the debit for my gym membership (which I plan to cancel). I would have had to walk quite a ways to get into town, in the heat, and with irritation I thought again of the bus pass that my vet case worker has apparently been working on for what...two months now? I thought maybe I could patch up the hole with the duct tape I had in my pack.

I finally texted my sister (I really do not like asking for money) and asked her to deposit twenty bucks into my checking account so that I could get another repair at the bike shop. We went back and forth for a while, during which time I snuck back to my camping spot to wait out the heat no matter what happened. It was my mom who finally got to the bank. She gave me twice as much as I asked for, so I allowed myself the luxury of taking the bus back into town with some of the money I've been saving for bus fare for my CAT scan appointment day after tomorrow.

So I got my new tube installed at the shop, stopped at WalMart to get some tools (I finally got my bike seat raised to a comfortable height. such a simple thing, yet such an immense improvement). I had a dinner at the grocery store next to the highway (Amy's vegan loaf with mashed potatoes, peas and corn, with a carrot cake Lunabar for desert). I felt so comfortable with money that I gave someone a buck fifty to get a burrito. I kind of regret that because now I'll have to stop by the bank for more bus fare. Actually, I don't, unless I want to save fifty cents.

Almost forgot! I have made great strides with the Stand2Pee technique, motivated by the fear of getting stuck with a tick in my nether regions (I usually sit on logs to pee). I still dribble a bit each time, though. It's difficult to get the flow started, especially when the need to go isn't urgent. I tried yesterday afternoon when I knew I only had a little fluid to get rid of, and found that I couldn't get the flow started at all.

improperlyhuman: (Default)
Pulled a tick out of the back of my damned neck this morning. Went to the emergency room this afternoon and was basically told not to worry unless I start to notice symptoms, but got a blood test anyways.

Seriously creeped out. I think I'm going to go sleep next to that vineyard again tonight.
improperlyhuman: (dark Mulder)
My van was finally ticketed (apparently due to some asshole complaining to parking enforcement about not having my parking space available once some carpooling program moved to the lot I was in), and I've moved out to a wooded area on the outskirts of town over here in a neighboring county. It's ok aside from the ticks (one of which I pulled out of my leg yesterday morning) and the small animals keeping me awake all night with whatever they are doing in the bed of dry leaves on the ground and the constant fear of being discovered and assaulted. I spent the night of the fourth at a local college. My first night under the stars was spent just outside the property line of a vineyard.

I blew most of my money towing and storing my vehicle (so that I can reap the cash benefit for retiring it later) and purchasing camping supplies and a used bicycle. I'm trying to make food stamps stretch over the rest of the month, but it's a struggle. I'm not even trying to cook; I purchase ready-made vegan food from Whole Foods, Trader Joe's, and Fresh and Easy, and I've microwaved frozen dinners in Raley's and Fresh and Easy a few times. I basically have a banana dipped in peanut butter for breakfast, plus one other meal per day.

That was ok at first, but I've been getting hungry lately, due to all the biking, I guess. I've been riding for untold miles scouting out new places to sleep because sticking to a single location increases the risk of discovery. I've ridden over to a neighboring town today. The library here is crap.

I desperately need a bus pass. My veteran's case manager is still on leave or vacation or whatever.

To escape the ticks, I bent to the level of WalMart shopping. I bought a tarp and made a sort of potato-chip-bag tent out of it, but one end was still open, and I found TWO ticks in my inner sleeping bag (and a spider in the outer) this morning. I don't know how I'm gonna close it up. I bought some stick-on velcro, but it's not gonna work well.
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In today's mail I received a letter indicating that I am close to the top of the list for the Section 8 housing voucher program in one of the counties up north for which I applied. I didn't expect this to happen so soon! If I want to move there, I will have to get my cash assistance transferred. I'm not sure that this is possible. Some quick Internet searching only turned up inter-county transfer information for the Cash Aid Program for Immigrants — nothing about the cash assistance programs for parents or indigent non-parents. I am going to be right pissed if immigrants can transfer their cash assistance and I cannot.

Last night I had a vivid dream about being on a sort of work-date. Well, only one part was vivid — my date's body and what that felt like. I was with someone and we were getting very friendly but couldn't get as friendly as we wanted to because we were babysitting three or four boys. The kids kept running in and out of the house. When it was time for us to send them home, we couldn't get in contact with the parents. Weird. I didn't have any sugar yesterday, not even any juice.
improperlyhuman: this icon is a picture of crowd of people with text "please stop breeding" (breeding)
My registration has expired and parking enforcement has apparently not noticed. It is as I expected; I'm good at least until next month.

My case worker canceled my appointment. She apparently became ill after smoking her first cigarette two months after quitting. She was barely able to talk the last time I saw her. Setback. I went in the day of the appointment and spoke to her boss, who once again treated me like an idiot. While I was beginning to speak to her she interrupted me and waved at me as if I hadn't seen her! WTF? On top of that, she had no information for me.

If she finds someone to repair the van, I will wait it out in a motel for a few days. I'm looking for funding for that. If I need further accommodations, I will go up to the county line and hide in the woods.

I received my veteran's ID in the mail day before yesterday. My photo is blurry. It expires in 2024. I wonder why.

In today's mail, I received confirmation of my placement on the Section 8 waiting list in three counties further up north. They did not accept the letter from Social Services, so I was not given homeless preference. They want a letter from a shelter. How can I prove homelessness?

The phone company rep finally found a solution to their unacceptable shipping policy. She offered to ship the new phone to a local UPS store. I think that she expects me to pay the fee for this service. After all they've put me through!

My next medical appointment is on Monday. I will refuse to leave until the doctor gives me a referral to the autism clinic.

Game Over

Apr. 15th, 2014 05:24 pm
improperlyhuman: (dark Mulder)
Well. I went to the DMV today. I had to. According to the recorded message, their phone line is inaccessible via payphone, as per DMV's request. Why would they request something like that? Outside of thousands of dollars falling out of the sky, there's no way that I can smog my van and insure it, so I can't re-register it. Without current registration, parking enforcement will eventually impound it. I can't wiggle my way out of this one. Time to find a new place to live. On the bright side, I wore my ear defenders while in line and they did a good job of blocking out the noise. Or maybe that was just the effect of contrast. I was amazed at how loud it was when I took them off to speak with the clerk.

Hours ago, I e-mailed the Veteran's Advocate I saw previously, hoping for a response to my housing referral request before the end of the day. I hate waiting on other people.

...unless, I find a private property owner willing to let me live in my van on said property. Then I could register the vehicle as non-operational (which only costs $19 bucks) without a smog or insurance or getting it to a smog station...But where to find such a thing is the question.

Pills and alcohol aren't completely off the table. The occupational therapist offered me a prescription. Would be a waste, though.

Yesterday marked the six week anniversary of my ssi hearing. If the lawyer was right, I should hear something within the next six weeks.

As for the van, I might be able to get some money for retiring it. There is that housing program the social worker hooked me up with back when the van first broke down, but I'd have to get someone to fill out a disability report with no end date as proof of income, not to mention meet with the annoying administrator who talking down to me. And I would seriously consider killing myself rather than take this option. The roommate is not the only issue; it's accepting defeat. I've refused to live a mainstream life for so long, and to be done in after all of this is terribly angering and frustrating, anti-climactic even. It's having to deal with all of these fucking people, program administrators and crap, idiots looking at my records and concocting goddess-knows-what assumptions.

Asshole

Apr. 12th, 2014 04:47 pm
improperlyhuman: this icon is a picture of crowd of people with text "please stop breeding" (breeding)
Impending migraine and anxiety after asshole maintenance worker confronted me again today. I was throwing a cardboard box, some aluminum cans, and a few papers into the recycling receptacle. He followed me, tapped me on the shoulder (the blood boils at the memory), and told me that I couldn't throw away my "household trash." Not use the trash and recycling bins at all? Not sustainable.

I will be e-mailing a complaint to his department tomorrow. I am, however, quite wary about identifying myself. If they find out about my housing situation, they'll possibly discriminate and take his side. On the other hand, I don't want my e-mail to end up in spam due to being sent from my recreational e-mail account. I have this dark cloud of tiredness and disgust inside of me. I have to get out of this life soon, it's literally driving me crazy.
improperlyhuman: screenshot of Apocalypse from X-Men: The Animated Series (apocalypse)
It happened again today. I stepped into the post office and was a few steps from the end of the line of customers when he nearly ran into me to get into line before me. Quickly, smoothly, like it was no big deal. This has happened to me before, this quiet but blatant rudeness. I don't get it. I'm always left wondering if this happens to me because people think that I am younger than I am. People seem to try to take advantage of me in ways that they wouldn't dare attempt with an older adult. I'm so weary of it, because what can I do? I can't force people to respect me. I was taken by surprise today, and I couldn't think of anything to say. I doubt that anyone noticed what he had done, and if I had said anything, I would have appeared to be the instigator. I've stood up for myself before and been brushed off and ignored.

I was reminded of why I hate television today. That show that I thought was so great? Recurrent "black" jokes and a bonus rape joke in season 5. Maybe this is the "edgy" season. The new office page goes out to buy coffee and, as she's handing it out to the employees, one guy finds that "the black one" is written on his paper coffee cup. An employee on the editing team, a civil war re-enactor, gives another employee a CD of "authentic civil war" music. 'Don't let your black friends listen,' he says. So funny. What is this, is this supposed to be post-racism entertainment? I can't find this stuff funny because it...reminds me of things. Things that happen in real life. My mind is too exhausted to even experience a coherent emotion at the thought of what this actor is doing on this show.

Foiled again at my medical appointment today. The doctor told me to make another appointment in two weeks to get a referral to the autism center. I was so pissed. Two years I've been at this. Appointments are apparently incredibly short. I did get my physical therapy appointment, as well as a referral to something called a rheumatologist, I think. My lab tests all came back normal except for something to do with autoimmune antibodies. The crowning glory of this visit was that my appointment was set up with yet another new doctor! I was almost laughing. What's with all these guest star doctors? Is the job market so shot that even medical doctors have to be independent contractors now? Or maybe they are getting them from a temp agency. At least, this doctor is supposed to be a primary care physician for me...temporarily? I don't know how they are going to play it; I'm just irritated that the appointment is closer to three weeks away than two.

The only truly positive thing I have to report are my exchanges with an unnamed radical feminist about the location of womyn's land.
improperlyhuman: this icon is a picture of crowd of people with text "please stop breeding" (breeding)
I called the phone company representative today. She said that she would attempt to wrangle a special exemption for me so that they would send me a phone. I told her that I also wanted the company to consider changing the policy entirely, so that no other physical-addressless person would have to suffer what I went through.

I had no idea how much I'd overspent this month before checking my accounts an hour ago. My combined savings and checking balance is below $100. I'm going to take back the $20 CD player (which I had already decided to do because I could not find the required C batteries in either dollar store), and I hope to get back the thirty bucks the phone company fraudulently charged me. I called my bank about it today, and found out that the claim had not been filed! wtf? The clerk asked the pertinent department to file, so hopefully it will get taken care of now. They have to send me paperwork to fill out, so it will take a while.

I called the social worker who tried to convince psychiatry to see me. She referred me to a different agency. Another referral. My cash aid certification expires at the end of next month. I have another medical appointment day after tomorrow. I'm going to press the doctor to fill out my disability report based on my hand condition. This doctor doesn't know me, but has access to the info in my file from the occupational therapist now. I REALLY don't want to see a therapist. I'm not mentally ill, and therapy won't help me.

I would like to live on womyn's land, but I really don't do well with other people. If I could find a nice place with a separate dwelling on the land, and understanding people who will keep their distance from me, it would probably be better than living in an apartment.

Ouch

Apr. 6th, 2014 04:10 pm
improperlyhuman: (Default)
My fucking hands hurt. There aren't any braces for this.

The single parking pass machine that takes cash wasn't working properly on the first; I was tired from my errands that day and decided to wait until the second to put money into the bank for my new debit card. I ended up with a $43 parking ticket. I saw the police officer outside my van just as I was about to get out and catch the bus to the bank. I didn't want to be seen, so I stayed inside and missed the bus, had to wait another hour because the bus schedule here was made to be as inconvenient as possible.

I bought myself some ear defenders a couple of days ago. They don't block out the human voice well, and they hurt my ears. The pain is the pain of a loud noise, ironically.

Finally received word about my FCC complaint. Somebody representing the phone company claims to have made several unsuccessful attempts to contact me. IDIOTS. I DON'T HAVE A WORKING PHONE.

My period has been off-schedule and the blood is weird and unbloodlike on the first day. I don't like this. I feel like nature is toying with me. I thought it would stay the same for the rest of my menstruating years. Why don't they tell us these things.

I finished reading Le Petit Prince. I do not understand the end.
improperlyhuman: screenshot of Apocalypse from X-Men: The Animated Series (apocalypse)
The psychiatry department proceeded much faster than the social worker said; at the end of the orientation, I received an appointment for the next morning (yesterday). I got to the bus center and temporarily couldn't find my bus pass, so I tried to buy another, at which point I found out that something strange was going on with my bank account. My debit card was unexpectedly declined. I found my pass and made it to the appointment on-time, but someone from the program met me in the waiting room and told me that they wouldn't be able to help me. The guy said that they couldn't refer me, and (like others before him, although I do not understand why) kept repeating that they do not assess for autism (which is not what I asked for, obviously). I tried to get them to give me the goods anyhow, because a psychiatric evaluation could help the autism center with evaluation, but the guy said that I was not eligible, whatever that even means. It occurred to me that they weren't actually doing psychiatric evaluations, although the social worker said that they would. Speaking of the latter, I was not supposed to see her anyways, as the doctor had referred me directly to the psychiatry dept. They seriously need to get their shit straight.

I walked to the clinic across the courtyard and tried to make an appointment with my primary care physician, but she is unavailable for about a month and a half; her absence is why I saw someone else at my first medical appointment. The clerk told me that my PC wouldn't give me a referral without ever having seen me, and that the doctor I had seen had been a one-time stand-in. So I now have an appointment with a third doctor, whom I've never met. This is the person I have to convince to give me a referral. I also booked another appointment with the social worker. I don't even know why I did that. Oh, I just remembered! My medical certification for cash aid is going to expire in a month or two, and I need to make contact with someone who can sign off on it for me, otherwise my life will get very ugly very fast. I do not want to see this social worker. Her accent is unpleasant and I hate asking for stuff and I don't want to talk about my personal life or have some sort of therapy even though my lawyer told me to do so. I hate being in that waiting room and listening to the noise people make. However, if the occupational therapist I'm seeing on Monday agrees to sign the paper (not likely to occur), I could avoid all of that.

After leaving the clinic, I went across town for X-rays of my arms, wrists, and hands. I could have seen the occupational therapist the same day, but I declined the appointment to have time for the psych appointment! Dammit.

I finally checked my bank account online, and found that the phone company I used to make a credit card call to the occupational therapist the day before had charged me twice: $1.98 (for the call, presumably), as well as a mysterious $30.99. Lucky for me that I'd tried to make a debit purchase, otherwise, I would've been none the wiser and lost most of my remaining balance to those shysters. I rushed to the nearest payphone and reported the fraudulent charge. The clerk said that the charge seemed to be for some sort of telecommunications equipment(!) and that my card had to be cancelled. I have no cash on hand, so after I got off the phone, I tried to make it to my bank with my day pass, but they were closed. Now I have no access to my money, and no way to purchase a bus pass to get to the bank. My only choices are to hope that the new card arrives within the next two days (obviously unlikely) or to walk the approximately four miles round-trip to the bank, which wouldn't be so bad if my right gym shoe didn't have a hole in the sole. If it weren't for dwindling food supplies and the necessity to buy another bus pass to get to the occupational therapy appointment, I could wait for the first of April for cash. I did some scrambling in my van this afternoon and came up with a single meal's worth of chili. This evening, I'll probably be having a very simplified version of chana masala. Tomorrow will probably see the end of my breakfast supplies. I guess I'll be going for a walk tomorrow and enjoying a nice migraine. I just came down from one yesterday, so I didn't dare attempt the voyage today.

No Energy

Mar. 7th, 2014 03:24 pm
improperlyhuman: (dark Mulder)
I was in the sun for too long today and it zapped my energy. I still don’t understand why that happens. I found out that my GP appointment was canceled; I’d missed the message due to my non-functioning phone. I was so fucking irritated.

I have no energy of late (maybe it’s all the appointments/traveling I did this week) and anxiety problems.

I can’t re-register my vehicle unless I take it to a special smog station. I’d prefer to just not register it, or register it non-operational, but I’m worried that it would get towed from the parking lot I’m in. There’s always something fucked up on my horizon. I don’t know what to do. I live in a bottomless well of physical and psychological fatigue.

ABAS II

Dec. 8th, 2013 04:48 pm
improperlyhuman: truck tipping over on the highway (tipping truck)
In yesterday's mail, I received a reminder for my evaluation appointment next week. I was not expecting this to arrive with a questionnaire. It is the Adaptive Behavior Assessment System, 2nd edition, adult form (ages 16-89, it reads. what would they do with a ninety-yr.old?). I am to rate the frequency with which I correctly and independently complete activities pertaining to Communication, Community Use, Functional Academics, Home Living, Health and Safety, Leisure, Self-Care, Self-Direction, and Social. The Work section is only for the currently employed. The creator(s) purposefully included activities that are appropriate for both children and adults, so the form includes everything from writing one's name to balancing a checkbook. I've come out rather normal on most of the scales, but my Leisure and Social seem a bit low. In the case of Leisure, there are a lot of items that involve doing things with other people. The Social category consists of things such as seeking friendships, talking about feelings, and complimenting others. My sole zero rating (not able to do) occured in this section: I honestly do not think that I'm capable of keeping a stable bunch of friends. I got a bunch of low scores there. I'm also not looking so hot on the Home Living section. I hate household cleaning and procrastinate on it like crazy. I can't recall ever having even thought of dusting furniture on my own.

The form is somewhat poorly designed. The questions are meant to be answered with respect to whether or not the activities are performed when necessary, but quite a few items, especially in the Leisure and Social sections, are never necessary. I don't think allowing the subject of this assessment to rate herself will result in the most accurate answers, either. A main component of ASDs is not knowing when something is "necessary." Fortunately, each item includes an option to indicate that the answer was a guess. I actually did have to guess on some of them.

I have been driving myself crazy in the endless quest to find marker pens for Arabic writing. I went out and did some shopping today, which resulted in a waste of over eight dollars for something called a Copic pen. These Copic pens are apparently a hot item. They were locked in their own cage at the front of the store (away from the other pens and markers), and the store employee would not let me hold the pen while I continued to shop, but held it at the register for me instead. I don't see what's so damned special about it. It bleeds through the page. It does have writing points at both ends, but only one is at all suitable for my purposes. It turns out that it is too big and bulky, however, and apparently isn't even the correct type of pen. Fortunately, I found a cheap Arabic writing pen online today. I won't be practicing until it gets here; I simply cannot bear to attempt to use these substitute pens. My writing must be perfect.

I have diversified my eating habits somewhat. I found a container of curry spices at the Filipin@ grocery store, and I will be cooking my second pot of...damn, I can't remember the name of it. I used to cook it all the time in France. Indian dish with garbanzo beans. Speaking of beans, I think I will be able to add a lot more legumes to my diet. I have been skipping them because they take forever to cook and would cost me a fortune in butane canisters. But, duh, I had forgotten about soaking them! I have some split peas that have been soaking since yesterday morning, and they were soft enough to bite into when I tried one early this afternoon. So I will be having split pea soup tonight.

Chana Masala! That's what it's called.
improperlyhuman: screenshot of Apocalypse from X-Men: The Animated Series (apocalypse)
It's been quite cold and I haven't been able to sleep at night. It's my feet again. Three pairs of socks, enconsced inside three sleeping bags, and they still freeze.

Today I got a call from the regional center for developmental disabilities. I've finally been scheduled for my ASD evaluation. It's next week.

I'm trying to eat a low-grain diet again. I was getting sick of brown rice anyways. Let's see what happens.

I made sushi for myself a couple of nights ago! I'm bad at this. My sushi always falls apart. :(

Between the trip to the VA rep and the insulation I bought for my broken window, money is short this month. I'm thinking about becoming a research subject. I'm itching for a new Russian textbook. I'm tired of Rosetta Stone. It's a great start – but that's all it is.
improperlyhuman: (dark Mulder)
I called the Super WalMart today. The employee said that they do not allow overnight parking. I had a community services employee offer me transitional housing again yesterday. I told her that I was hoping to live alone. She had someone call me back today. He said that I should apply for state disability, and that I should apply for a VA pension! My incredulity was apparent, even over the phone. I don't qualify for a fucking pension. I tried to fill out a state disability application this evening. There was a required question that I literally had no answer for, so I didn't know what to do. I tried to put nonsense in the text box, but the site wouldn't accept my answer. I'm wondering if it's something that disqualifies me. Well, I will go see this guy next week, but this doesn't solve my problem. These are long-term solutions.

So, my last three chances are:

the local clinic social worker I used to see
the VA social worker, for whom I left a message today
tow the van somewhere and hope no one calls the cops, at least not until the next month when I'll have the money to tow it again

I've had this van towed four times so far this year.

Meanwhile, our downtown area is gentrifying. One of the buildings has been renovated, and undoubtably over-priced studios are being rented out, with preference given to "working artists."

I haven't been sleeping and I've had migraines almost every day.
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