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May. 20th, 2010
I stopped up my mom's house earlier and she sorta ... well, snapped.
Not at me, per se, but mostly because she's the only one in the family who's got anything remotely resembling good credit, which means the rest of us end up turning to her when shit goes down. Take my brother, whose computer pretty much imploded the other day. He can't get the credit to buy a new one because he can't pay a bill on time to save his life, so he's whining about it and it's pissing her off.
My father ... well, that's their problem. Suffice it to say the only thing I've ever even heard them fight about is money.
And then there's me. I pay my bills on time unless there's some dire financial shit going down. I rarely buy clothes anymore, and that's only because four years at a factory does not lead you to have anything appropriate for an office, and it's either that or nudity or no job. I buy everything I can used, and any new shiny I can scrounge up the money for is the cheapest I can get, and usually gets paid for out of the change jar under my desk. I don't go to the movies, I haven't gone to a concert in six years or a con in four (my last vacation), and I haven't gone out with my friends since St. Patrick's Day. The only thing I splurge on is food. I have no credit card because I can't get one, and I'm still debating the logistics of filing for bankruptcy to cover the credit card debt I already have from a long time ago when I was young and shouldn't have been let out of the house, much less anywhere near a credit card application. I can't go back to school just yet because my college loans are still all fucked. I take good care of my car save for my usual sloppiness, and all I get for it is a car I can't afford to replace but need to get to work that started spewing parts every time I come anywhere near it in heinous mechanical injuries the mechanics continues to assure me are not my fault, which is beginning to make it suck even more.
I'm trying, I'm really fucking trying, and it really fucking sucks to see my mom that close to tears because I almost literally have nowhere else to turn when things go wrong.
(I say "almost" because my only other option is putting up a Paypal button, which even I know is pathetic and tacky and wanky as all fuck. And I beg you not to respond and tell me it isn't and give me internet hugs, because I love you guys and I appreciate the help so much, you have no idea, but it's okay, let's get real here. Even *I* want to punch myself in the nose when I have to resort to that.)
My mom went off on a rant for about ten minutes about how none of us have good credit, so whenever we need money we turn to her, and how now my brother is flashing her these puppy-dog eyes, and I just kind of sat there and let her go off before saying, "... yeah, I should probably go." Because my brother wouldn't feel like shit for batting his eyelashes at Mommy and asking for her credit card, but I sort of want to kick myself in the face when I have to call her up and say, "My transmission just blew" or "I don't have my insurance yet and I just had to get a $600 root canal." I'm not even looking for money when I call her when shit goes down, at least not from her. I just want to cry into the phone for five minutes and not have someone treat me like I'm doing it for fucking attention instead of because my transmission went to pot the second I caught up on all of my bills. (It's not like my mom says it outright when shit goes down and I'm crying into a phone, but she does a fine job of implying it. Which ... hell, if I were really THAT desperate for attention I'd strip and dance my way down Main Street. I'm shy in real life AND I've been on the internet for fifteen goddamn years. I'm ... not really a big fan of attention, because while I appreciate the sentiment behind the good stuff, I just get reflexively uncomfortable and self-conscious and kinda mute.)
I'm just kinda upset at the moment. In a particular anti-feminist move, I've decided I'm blaming my hormones, rather than the fact that I'd currently rather go hide in my closet and not come out for the next sixty years than interact with people or go anywhere near my car or write anything or even put a toothbrush anywhere near my teeth, since I'm pretty sure any of those is bound to end in infinite tragedy and possibly bunnies on fire.
EDIT: Also, I seriously have to start a paper journal so I have some place to get this stuff out of my brain other than on the blog lots of people read. *sigh*
Not at me, per se, but mostly because she's the only one in the family who's got anything remotely resembling good credit, which means the rest of us end up turning to her when shit goes down. Take my brother, whose computer pretty much imploded the other day. He can't get the credit to buy a new one because he can't pay a bill on time to save his life, so he's whining about it and it's pissing her off.
My father ... well, that's their problem. Suffice it to say the only thing I've ever even heard them fight about is money.
And then there's me. I pay my bills on time unless there's some dire financial shit going down. I rarely buy clothes anymore, and that's only because four years at a factory does not lead you to have anything appropriate for an office, and it's either that or nudity or no job. I buy everything I can used, and any new shiny I can scrounge up the money for is the cheapest I can get, and usually gets paid for out of the change jar under my desk. I don't go to the movies, I haven't gone to a concert in six years or a con in four (my last vacation), and I haven't gone out with my friends since St. Patrick's Day. The only thing I splurge on is food. I have no credit card because I can't get one, and I'm still debating the logistics of filing for bankruptcy to cover the credit card debt I already have from a long time ago when I was young and shouldn't have been let out of the house, much less anywhere near a credit card application. I can't go back to school just yet because my college loans are still all fucked. I take good care of my car save for my usual sloppiness, and all I get for it is a car I can't afford to replace but need to get to work that started spewing parts every time I come anywhere near it in heinous mechanical injuries the mechanics continues to assure me are not my fault, which is beginning to make it suck even more.
I'm trying, I'm really fucking trying, and it really fucking sucks to see my mom that close to tears because I almost literally have nowhere else to turn when things go wrong.
(I say "almost" because my only other option is putting up a Paypal button, which even I know is pathetic and tacky and wanky as all fuck. And I beg you not to respond and tell me it isn't and give me internet hugs, because I love you guys and I appreciate the help so much, you have no idea, but it's okay, let's get real here. Even *I* want to punch myself in the nose when I have to resort to that.)
My mom went off on a rant for about ten minutes about how none of us have good credit, so whenever we need money we turn to her, and how now my brother is flashing her these puppy-dog eyes, and I just kind of sat there and let her go off before saying, "... yeah, I should probably go." Because my brother wouldn't feel like shit for batting his eyelashes at Mommy and asking for her credit card, but I sort of want to kick myself in the face when I have to call her up and say, "My transmission just blew" or "I don't have my insurance yet and I just had to get a $600 root canal." I'm not even looking for money when I call her when shit goes down, at least not from her. I just want to cry into the phone for five minutes and not have someone treat me like I'm doing it for fucking attention instead of because my transmission went to pot the second I caught up on all of my bills. (It's not like my mom says it outright when shit goes down and I'm crying into a phone, but she does a fine job of implying it. Which ... hell, if I were really THAT desperate for attention I'd strip and dance my way down Main Street. I'm shy in real life AND I've been on the internet for fifteen goddamn years. I'm ... not really a big fan of attention, because while I appreciate the sentiment behind the good stuff, I just get reflexively uncomfortable and self-conscious and kinda mute.)
I'm just kinda upset at the moment. In a particular anti-feminist move, I've decided I'm blaming my hormones, rather than the fact that I'd currently rather go hide in my closet and not come out for the next sixty years than interact with people or go anywhere near my car or write anything or even put a toothbrush anywhere near my teeth, since I'm pretty sure any of those is bound to end in infinite tragedy and possibly bunnies on fire.
EDIT: Also, I seriously have to start a paper journal so I have some place to get this stuff out of my brain other than on the blog lots of people read. *sigh*
Out of curiosity, I finally went ahead and budgeted the bills I currently have including gas and groceries with what my monthly take-home will be once my benefits come out of my paychecks.
I break even. And that's if I'm really, really lucky.
This month it's a heater coil. A month ago it's a root canal when I'm not covered by insurance yet. A month before that it's the transmission. Lucky? What's that?
Ugh. And my mom wonders why my savings account is a plastic jug under my desk.
I break even. And that's if I'm really, really lucky.
This month it's a heater coil. A month ago it's a root canal when I'm not covered by insurance yet. A month before that it's the transmission. Lucky? What's that?
Ugh. And my mom wonders why my savings account is a plastic jug under my desk.