5/9/00 (cont'd)
Megan called the furniture finance nazis because they sent us a bill for $359, which is the total balance due on the account. (Last month the "minimum payment" was $159, so that's what I budgeted for this month's payment.) Apparently, this month marks the end of our "six-months-same-as-cash" period, so if we pay off the "loan balance" of $191 by the 24th of this month, the account will be paid off and we will be rid of these assholes entirely. Fuckin' A. Which is cool, because I had budgeted to pay them another $159 in June and $60 in July, which I now won't have to pay. Which means I really don't have to get a second job after all. <Sigh> It would have been nice to have the extra money though, but shit, how the hell can I expect to work a second job when I don't have time for my first one and all the other shit I need to get done?
I really need to get my ass in gear as far as this job goes. I need to get organized and get motivated. So I can be Super Suck-retary. Yee-hah. My life's dream realized...NOT.
So I think I am definitely going to stick with the master plan and go to law school. I definintely think there is a large part of my personality that would be seriously turned on by practicing law. It's a big game--see who can do the best research and put on the best show, be it in person or on paper. And I love writing papers. It's easy for me, because I love to write, and because it's like a big game for me--manipulation of facts and figures to make them present an excellent case for your point. I generally write papers in a day or less (start to finish, research included) and I've never received a grade lower than 89 on any of them. Not a bad track record, I must say. Anyway, I think legal practice would definitely appeal to a certain side of me, the one that revels in being a sadistic, backstabbing, ball-breaking bitch. And let's not forget that softer side of me, the one that just loves to open up excellent catalogs (like Ballard Designs, God, I love that one) and point to really pretty shit and pick up my phone and my credit card and just buy, buy, buy. I'm such a capitalist pig, I admit it, but I like stuff. I love nice stuff. I want to be the rich aunt with all the cool stuff.
And I'm kind of glad not to be looking for a part-time job. I mean, I absolutely relish my free time--the time that I don't have to spend tied to this fucking desk or another desk at school. I like to hang out in my yard. I like to cook. I like to clean my house (though you'd never know to see it right now). I like to play with my dogs. Hell, I even like to spend time with Megan. :) And a second job would just rob me of so much of that. Mostly because part-time job bosses don't seem to realize that hey, it's a part-time job to me, pal, it's hardly my fucking life, and maybe you DO sleep here, but by God, I've got plans for the evening.
But I can't say I wouldn't jump at the chance to have enough cash to get the fuck out of here for a weekend or two.
"Let's open up a restaurant in Santa Fe..."
It seems so bizarre to me that the more money you make, the more money you need. Four years ago, Megan and I were living on my paychecks--about $1100 a month. Plus her $50 a week from her part-time job. And we managed. Granted, we were totally busted, and we only had one car that we trusted on long highway trips, and we lived in a shitty apartment, and we charged our way into total debt, and we borrowed a lot of money from relatives if some unexpected expense came up. We now make, combined, more than double that, and it seems like we are consistently "broke." Well, we're broke because now, we actually pay our bills. And we both have decent cars (some more decent than others). And we live in a very nice house with a very nice new furnace and a/c. And we pay cash for everything instead of charging gas and groceries and clothes and vacations and everything else. So we're really not "broke," per se, we're just "living within our means" while trying desperately to live beyond our means as we have done in the past. It's exhausting, trying to play the American Dream game. Chinese checkers was so much more fun.
Ha, that "American Dream" reference made me think of an old Melissa Etheridge song, "Nowhere to Go" or whatever it's called. I have great fun taunting Megan about how much Melissa looks like Megan's mom these days. I'm sorry, but Melissa was the great dyke hope, and she let us down. Now, maybe that's a lot of weight to hoist upon the shoulders of someone who probably didn't want it in the first place but just wanted to be "one more big time rock and roll star." But the thing is, she kind of took it upon herself when she and Miss Julie went prime time and started plastering themselves and their "hey, look at us" lives all over the media--Time magazine, the Advocate, Lifetime freakin' television--and then talking about their fight for gay rights. And then they don't even really fight. Melissa's playing hostess for Lifetime, and sporting "baby on board" stickers on her guitar case, and the rest of us--who can't AFFORD to hire lawyers to take care of our personal business and find all the loopholes so that we can adopt each other's children and get "galimony" when we split up and all that other shit--are expected to pick up where she left off and continue to admire her for all she's done for "the community." Fuck. What community? And what has she done? She's a musician, and she's a damn good one (although I personally didn't care for her last album, particularly that song she wrote to cash in on the whole Matt Shephard business), but that's all she is. She's no activist. She's a rock star who has sex with chicks. End of story. Hell, she's not even that great of a rock star--how many times has she been to rehab? NONE. How many times has she been hoisted off the floor of a recording studio? NONE. By God, Stevie Nicks has shoveled Melissa's weight in coke up her nose and she still looks better than Melissa AND she's damn near twice Melissa's age. Take that, Julie Cypher. I quote from Absolutely Fabulous--"who dies in their own vomit these days?" (God, I love that show!)
I don't know where the Melissa tangent came from. I think the weather has made me unnecessarily hostile. Or maybe it was my bad hair experience last night. Who knows.
Tonight, I need to clean my house. Or at least sweep the damn floors, it's starting to look really gross. I should clean the litter box. I should clean off the computer desk and try to make it so I can actually find the desk. I should walk the dogs, or do some other kind of exercise. I should get my china out of the hall closet and put it in the cabinet. I'm shoulding all over myself again, aren't I?
I should stop that.
Still more, because I can't quite shut up today...
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