So earlier today I replied to a post on CL, and heard nothing...
And I went about my day, such as it is.
And then, in the late evening a reply.
It seems that I was one of the few who actually got through because someone flagged her post, and yet... why? it was well written, not spam and not offering that which would offend. My working theory; the spammers didn't want the competition.
Somebody needs to remove affiliate marketing from the CL/internet mix. That would help. SO would fixing Verizon's lame DHCP which will reissue different IP addresses to the same mac address; within a short timeout limit. (That's what allows the local spam posters to connect, post, disconnect and be REBORN!!! as a different IP). But, that would limit the business model of the internet provider.
Never mind net neutrality; we've got Pirates here aplenty!
Well, enough jousting at windmills. Wait until I lose my house; then see...
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Saturday, July 17, 2010
the disadvanges of being me
form follows function, foolishness tries to lie
I sit here getting inebriated, not telling nor tries
for the song and the dance
no appetite have I
just sitting here being me
miserable broke and alive
I look to the universe and ask it "why"
nothing responds to me
not even in my mind
form follows function, foolishness tries to lie
I hold within my my own guilt
my fears and failed tries
I don't have a plan in place
tried to explain to others
But no-one really is listening
and no one can help recover
the center that I lost
the moment profound
interrupted by roommates
but still in the sound
of life as it happens
and very little concerned
because I'm just me
and scared/food for worms
I am what I fear most
or am I at all?
I exist in the moment
my guilt held thrall
I would kill, no that isn't right
but judgement wished down
for other's malfeasance
my own troubles compound
Because I am just me
an island of self
and no-one hold succor
and no one offers shelter
and no one can save me
from myself.
I sit here getting inebriated, not telling nor tries
for the song and the dance
no appetite have I
just sitting here being me
miserable broke and alive
I look to the universe and ask it "why"
nothing responds to me
not even in my mind
form follows function, foolishness tries to lie
I hold within my my own guilt
my fears and failed tries
I don't have a plan in place
tried to explain to others
But no-one really is listening
and no one can help recover
the center that I lost
the moment profound
interrupted by roommates
but still in the sound
of life as it happens
and very little concerned
because I'm just me
and scared/food for worms
I am what I fear most
or am I at all?
I exist in the moment
my guilt held thrall
I would kill, no that isn't right
but judgement wished down
for other's malfeasance
my own troubles compound
Because I am just me
an island of self
and no-one hold succor
and no one offers shelter
and no one can save me
from myself.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Sometimes a project is the best medicine
So a friend of mine had a project he wanted done; a whole-house fan in the attic. We had some Dell Rack-Glides left over from a datacenter install; so...
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Life, more interrupted.
So I have more posts on the back burner, and am mulling over some advice from my family...
to declare bankruptcy. I have to consider it; I am well and truely screwed. But, I've always been proud of my ability to ride this crap out; but this time...
Don't know, can't tell.
But there are certainly are more folks on my *list* than there used to be.
Damm.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Advice for the renter
1. Because of the economy, more folk are taking in boarders than ever before; when I was canvassing I saw 10 people (extreme case) in a one room apartment.
2. If you can find work that actually pays bills, then you have a better situation.
Why: (a) because then your work and your living situation are not tied together like living with a boyfriend or a fwb situation (which I'm seeing a lot more of advertised on CL, btw. Scary).
(b) Also, it's easier to negotiate a better deal when you aren't using labor dollars to pay for housing, especially if the labor dollars are not tied to some actual "rate". Eg, You work 4 hours at $10.00 / hour and therefore accrue $40.00 of rental payment; which offsets the $400.00 a month that you owe. At least that makes it clear how much work you're trading...
3. There are lots of adverts for rooms to rent on CL, on Roomates.com -- except you have to pay to play; and other venues. I like CL because it's predictably cheap and if you monitor it enough, you get a decent sampling of what's out there. (Which allows me to figure what's fair to charge for a room, and when I have my head buried somewhere dark). That will give you a quick snap of what rents look like in the area you are checking, and you can determine what is out of line, or if you are paying a little more for some extra amenities...
4. The area you wish to live in, especially if you are "not from around here", can be a significant issue. Both because you don't want to be too far from your work --- public transportation or personal notwithstanding; and also because you want to research the crime / violent assault statistics so that you don't get jacked up.
Eg, the Los Angeles Times http://projects.latimes.com/homicide/blog/page/1/ , and also http://spotcrime.com/ca
Depressing, but worth paying attention to.
5. Also -- in light of 3,4 specifically... using Google Maps to locate both the housing that you are interested in (including street view), and also to see how far it is from the work situation, and also the crime statistics... worth checking.
6. You want a clear rental agreement, with costs, terms and definitions; and you should plan on paying a deposit, unless you work out some other arraignment. (Eg, build deposit over time). But, always look for roommates in your social-economic level, and stay away from anyone who might have very different morals that are not yours! (bad things happen that way). The old joke about...
Friday, July 2, 2010
postcards from the other side: and now a view from the other side
I'm just now coming back to myself. I can't talk, and wish...
Life becomes interesting when you hit that particular wall. I'm grateful for breathing and know it's a blessing, but my inner voice screams louder and won't get off my chest.
It will have to wait.
I can't even begin, but the time kept so slowly, and the images so vivid. I am grateful for breathing and it isn't a win. I'm out (sorta) from under and yet just beginning.
I have friends, and that is enough. Thank you all for that.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
And now a view from the other side of the universe.
6/28/2010
I had a new experience. One I hope *never* to repeat. Not ever.
It started Monday afternoon, with my introduction to a mode of transport where you sit on your hands literally, in a waterproof, stain proof safety enclosure ripe with the smells of disinfectant (if you are lucky) and that you cannot extricate yourself from. From there, to a green room resembling a shower that is waterproofed and has a water drain in the center. That door sounds like a heavy car door or freezer; clanging shut with a ringing finality.
At one point, a brief interlude... an interview. Then, applying my other boot to my mouth, just to make sure that both are equally ensconced as close to the tonsils as my own erring ways can place them; I continue to dig myself deeper.
Then a pause;... and the door opens again. The younger sister of a woman I dated a year ago; and she and her family had made it clear that I was no longer welcome... *embarrassment*. Because she is a police officer, because of the situation I find myself, and because that I have no idea what to say to her except the truth... (which really amounts to "I want to get out of here, but cannot possibly imagine a way, unless someone shows me") and yet...
No succor here; but encouragement. It's cheaper and easier... and there is still really nothing that anyone can do. The watch commander, the policies in place, and the rule of law win the day. I sadly, do not.
I have a slight health condition, it's not immediately life-threatening; but in our most modern age, all precautions must indeed be taken... and the facility I am at does not possess the necessary medical personnel in the slight chance that I might, in fact suffer an event while in their care is an unacceptable risk. So then, off to the "bigger boy's" locale; at the lovely Van Nuys hotel of slightly older vintage, more disinfectant, and much scarier proposition...
I'm placed in a holding, where a pile of used food wrappers, milk/juice cartons already consumed, half eaten sandwiches and burritos are arrayed in a loose pile, and several (scary to me) but similarly unfortunate individuals are also ensconced. One is on the phone constantly (of which there are three), pleading with his girlfriend (theorized) to not believe that the text messages meant that he was corresponding with some other woman but that his friend was the culprit; he guilty of being a "parolee in the presence of another parolee" when collected... they were celebrating by drinking beer after planting some rosebushes at his mother's/grandmother's (?) home; and I can only think --- from my uncorrupted and untainted world view :: WTF?
His friend, with enough gang style tattoos (yes, I have watched TV) to insure instant respect in any high security facility; is trying to negotiate the transfer of $30.00 from one person to his girlfriend/family so that they can buy food... and that said person can keep half, as long as at least some (unknown) amount does reach his charges.
There are three phones, two working.
I call three friends whose numbers I've still got and recite back to each the phone numbers of the others, and hope to the luck of answering machines for succor from my distress.
Then sitting there in a complete and utter funk; I watch as some more individuals enter and immediately demand food from the authority figures that have routed them; and behold... sandwiches and apples similar to the waste on the floor is brought forthwith. The lines with authoritarian clerks wearing the sigils of their trade are at work, dispensing unknown magics and directions to the waiting crowd outside.
This crowd outside the clerk's area..., some of whom are members of the same select group and the others their charges; being primarily distinguished by the presence or absence of physical manifestation of the tools of their trade; and interestingly enough the "presence" that they carry while standing outside the location I find myself imposed within.
I sit. I watch, and I despair.
Some are called out and go elsewhere, I know not. Some new are added, and one "Roy" [or Leo?] introduces himself to all and sundry one by one... stating that you "need a brother to watch your back"... and trying to ingratiate himself with some other perhaps more powerful (?) individual or group... He asks me who I am (not where I'm from ... for which I'm strangely relieved) and then starts his pitch all over; as if I could somehow help him... and yet; in mid-sell, he topples slowly to the floor... eyes glazing and voice silent.
A moment of confusion goes by... and I start to look to the group outside... but one of the more scruffy inhabitants (who I had already judged and discounted); makes a gesture toward the group extant, and then points significantly at the floor at my feet.
Authority enters in masse; we are herded watchfully into another smaller place of staying; and a brief discussion of what the white boy is in for... because either they wish to explain the future or further tempt my direction at rabid fear and depression... and we wait.
The gentleman (and I use the term loosely here), who had already admitted to being diabetic and having been acquired during the course of his pastime as it were; wanted to know about food ... and we wait.
The door clangs open, we are herded back out and into our original location, now steaming wetly of disinfectant and other smells best not dwelled upon; and sandwiches are thrust upon the diabetic complainer; and we sit. "Leo" is not there.
And another group of petitioners and their Shepards enter; this time including some fairly attractive and young members of the female of the species. They also are dispensed instructions inscrutable and quiet; and move on.
Others are called; I sit. More enter, one that converses entirely in Spanish, and his cohort, who is busy talking to two others in English at the same moment... and I can catch only one word in 3 or 10, it's fast and I am very lost... and I wait.
I almost doze, I've reached that breathing point where the world slows and you can hear your own heart and there is space in the beats, and my name is called. At Last I think, and then find I am being interviewed by a technician to determine what medicine I need to secure my continued existence, and my blood pressure is taken. 151 / 110 75 or thereabouts, I knew it was higher, because I am stressed and because I have not had my medicine... but really?
A doctor then queries me and prescribes from his list; and I take two pills. They are not what I usually take, but hopefully... and back to the location of waiting, I sit.
One person, scratching madly, triggers memories of critters-past; and I start to imagine that I have acquired a host of the biting, crawling, infesting variety last experience with the cat's flea outbreak. I am *fairly* certain that it exists only in my mind; but is I sure....?
Time passes. I sit. Only the unimportant changes. Awaiting transfer to the next location.
The guy with the girlfriend and the rosebushes is back...
And I'm called. To an interview room it seems. "Do you know AAA_BBB"? I am asked.
Why yes, I concur; and am escorted to a room with phone handsets against glass; and handprints and smudges sprinkled liberally thereon. An officer leaves me there, and enters again on the other side of the glass, in a room that will dispense a meeting perhaps? And a woman, matronly but not too old, "somebody's Mom" it seems; and she tells me that she is a person of the requisite authority to negotiate on my behalf; and been started on this conversation by my friend, who for various reasons is not allowed further within (he's not just a citizen, you see).
For a pittance, a price... I can in fact be set free.
The paperwork is extensive, and includes all my assets, my relatives and much more. But I understand the caution, even as I long for the door. You see my options are quite limited, but I had a decision to make; whether to wait for THREE days to before authority state my case...
Or almost immediately out, for the small fee already mentioned; as long as I keep to my promise of intention. To appear and be queried, perhaps for more unpleasantness; I can be set out with this fee...
On my OWN recognizance.
I pay. I don't have it; but I pay anyway.
I still cannot go home; but at least...
I'm AWAY!
I had a new experience. One I hope *never* to repeat. Not ever.
It started Monday afternoon, with my introduction to a mode of transport where you sit on your hands literally, in a waterproof, stain proof safety enclosure ripe with the smells of disinfectant (if you are lucky) and that you cannot extricate yourself from. From there, to a green room resembling a shower that is waterproofed and has a water drain in the center. That door sounds like a heavy car door or freezer; clanging shut with a ringing finality.
At one point, a brief interlude... an interview. Then, applying my other boot to my mouth, just to make sure that both are equally ensconced as close to the tonsils as my own erring ways can place them; I continue to dig myself deeper.
Then a pause;... and the door opens again. The younger sister of a woman I dated a year ago; and she and her family had made it clear that I was no longer welcome... *embarrassment*. Because she is a police officer, because of the situation I find myself, and because that I have no idea what to say to her except the truth... (which really amounts to "I want to get out of here, but cannot possibly imagine a way, unless someone shows me") and yet...
No succor here; but encouragement. It's cheaper and easier... and there is still really nothing that anyone can do. The watch commander, the policies in place, and the rule of law win the day. I sadly, do not.
I have a slight health condition, it's not immediately life-threatening; but in our most modern age, all precautions must indeed be taken... and the facility I am at does not possess the necessary medical personnel in the slight chance that I might, in fact suffer an event while in their care is an unacceptable risk. So then, off to the "bigger boy's" locale; at the lovely Van Nuys hotel of slightly older vintage, more disinfectant, and much scarier proposition...
I'm placed in a holding, where a pile of used food wrappers, milk/juice cartons already consumed, half eaten sandwiches and burritos are arrayed in a loose pile, and several (scary to me) but similarly unfortunate individuals are also ensconced. One is on the phone constantly (of which there are three), pleading with his girlfriend (theorized) to not believe that the text messages meant that he was corresponding with some other woman but that his friend was the culprit; he guilty of being a "parolee in the presence of another parolee" when collected... they were celebrating by drinking beer after planting some rosebushes at his mother's/grandmother's (?) home; and I can only think --- from my uncorrupted and untainted world view :: WTF?
His friend, with enough gang style tattoos (yes, I have watched TV) to insure instant respect in any high security facility; is trying to negotiate the transfer of $30.00 from one person to his girlfriend/family so that they can buy food... and that said person can keep half, as long as at least some (unknown) amount does reach his charges.
There are three phones, two working.
I call three friends whose numbers I've still got and recite back to each the phone numbers of the others, and hope to the luck of answering machines for succor from my distress.
Then sitting there in a complete and utter funk; I watch as some more individuals enter and immediately demand food from the authority figures that have routed them; and behold... sandwiches and apples similar to the waste on the floor is brought forthwith. The lines with authoritarian clerks wearing the sigils of their trade are at work, dispensing unknown magics and directions to the waiting crowd outside.
This crowd outside the clerk's area..., some of whom are members of the same select group and the others their charges; being primarily distinguished by the presence or absence of physical manifestation of the tools of their trade; and interestingly enough the "presence" that they carry while standing outside the location I find myself imposed within.
I sit. I watch, and I despair.
Some are called out and go elsewhere, I know not. Some new are added, and one "Roy" [or Leo?] introduces himself to all and sundry one by one... stating that you "need a brother to watch your back"... and trying to ingratiate himself with some other perhaps more powerful (?) individual or group... He asks me who I am (not where I'm from ... for which I'm strangely relieved) and then starts his pitch all over; as if I could somehow help him... and yet; in mid-sell, he topples slowly to the floor... eyes glazing and voice silent.
A moment of confusion goes by... and I start to look to the group outside... but one of the more scruffy inhabitants (who I had already judged and discounted); makes a gesture toward the group extant, and then points significantly at the floor at my feet.
Authority enters in masse; we are herded watchfully into another smaller place of staying; and a brief discussion of what the white boy is in for... because either they wish to explain the future or further tempt my direction at rabid fear and depression... and we wait.
The gentleman (and I use the term loosely here), who had already admitted to being diabetic and having been acquired during the course of his pastime as it were; wanted to know about food ... and we wait.
The door clangs open, we are herded back out and into our original location, now steaming wetly of disinfectant and other smells best not dwelled upon; and sandwiches are thrust upon the diabetic complainer; and we sit. "Leo" is not there.
And another group of petitioners and their Shepards enter; this time including some fairly attractive and young members of the female of the species. They also are dispensed instructions inscrutable and quiet; and move on.
Others are called; I sit. More enter, one that converses entirely in Spanish, and his cohort, who is busy talking to two others in English at the same moment... and I can catch only one word in 3 or 10, it's fast and I am very lost... and I wait.
I almost doze, I've reached that breathing point where the world slows and you can hear your own heart and there is space in the beats, and my name is called. At Last I think, and then find I am being interviewed by a technician to determine what medicine I need to secure my continued existence, and my blood pressure is taken. 151 / 110 75 or thereabouts, I knew it was higher, because I am stressed and because I have not had my medicine... but really?
A doctor then queries me and prescribes from his list; and I take two pills. They are not what I usually take, but hopefully... and back to the location of waiting, I sit.
One person, scratching madly, triggers memories of critters-past; and I start to imagine that I have acquired a host of the biting, crawling, infesting variety last experience with the cat's flea outbreak. I am *fairly* certain that it exists only in my mind; but is I sure....?
Time passes. I sit. Only the unimportant changes. Awaiting transfer to the next location.
The guy with the girlfriend and the rosebushes is back...
And I'm called. To an interview room it seems. "Do you know AAA_BBB"? I am asked.
Why yes, I concur; and am escorted to a room with phone handsets against glass; and handprints and smudges sprinkled liberally thereon. An officer leaves me there, and enters again on the other side of the glass, in a room that will dispense a meeting perhaps? And a woman, matronly but not too old, "somebody's Mom" it seems; and she tells me that she is a person of the requisite authority to negotiate on my behalf; and been started on this conversation by my friend, who for various reasons is not allowed further within (he's not just a citizen, you see).
For a pittance, a price... I can in fact be set free.
The paperwork is extensive, and includes all my assets, my relatives and much more. But I understand the caution, even as I long for the door. You see my options are quite limited, but I had a decision to make; whether to wait for THREE days to before authority state my case...
Or almost immediately out, for the small fee already mentioned; as long as I keep to my promise of intention. To appear and be queried, perhaps for more unpleasantness; I can be set out with this fee...
On my OWN recognizance.
I pay. I don't have it; but I pay anyway.
I still cannot go home; but at least...
I'm AWAY!
I think my picker is broken, Despicable roommates and another sleigh ride to hell
Well, the Ex-roommate/GF has left the building. It only cost my friends (who collected for me) about $400.00 and an entire day wasted while the gal made changes to an agreement that stated that "She was being paid money to vacate the premises and not return". She added all sorts of clauses about not trying to collect money for past debt, not coming after for software purchased on my credit card for her laptop (wtf?), and wanted yet more clauses to hold her harmless for stealing items from me... huh? Now I have to wonder WHAT she took.... inventory after she left doesn't tell me much except that she is a pig; and you don't want to know the details.
I'm just a livid an-gry person who wants to hunt her down and after that... I"m not sure but I know it's not legal in the US.
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