Don comes home last night after my day immersed in thinking about family dynamics and asks me if I want to buy a house in the general vicinity where he works (Parker, Elizabeth, Elbert County). “Uh…how are we gonna do that, you need like 10-20% down?” I ask him. He tells me he knows someone through his boss that can maybe arrange something with $0 down but–honestly, I think it’s a terrible idea. I mean, yeah, I have a thing with owning a piece of the earth–I want something to plant a tiny house/earthship inground pool under glass with tropical plants but–I don’t know if that’s the best idea until we get our other channel going, get some other income in. I am still somewhat paranoid about having something happen to entail disability–and as I told Don, I keep working to keep my contribution higher–though what I did just read was the average was $1165 a month, and as they quote “That is barely enough to keep a beneficiary above the 2014 poverty level ($11,670 annually).”

What the ever living fuck–no way–and shit I have had it ALL shredded–At this point I still have my full vision and there is nothing preventing me from getting on the phone, clearly, on a daily basis. That walk home on Thursdays is getting to be a bit of a chore because I am exhausted and honestly–there is no purpose served to coming in as much as they want us to–aside from spreading illness. Seeing people on Thursdays they do treat you like you’re a face they want to see–but I have the personality on the phone with my customers, of being the sweetest thing you could ever imagine. I get compliments all the time, but my voice works well with phone servicing–it was low before I lost it and the zombie dust repair…and now it is somewhat lower. You have a hard time yelling at someone with MY voice, trust me, because I truly give a shit. I fix everything–air, people’s requests, I book tours. I send people all over the world and I make that company a SHIT ton of money. For such a measly salary–man you wanna see something sad? I make this company millions, considering each trip has a value of $6-$25,000 and I have already booked 55 THIS MONTH. They pay the agents a commission–what we get is just over $15 an hour and yes, 6.5 weeks of vacation and some travel allowance so it’s not terrible. And the pension and all that–but look at this. TWICE a month this comes out of my paycheck before I get anything. No wonder I have had to waitress at points just to survive. In fact–yes–if I had neglected to mention this which I might have–I waitressed from March-May of this year and walked out on the dude and told him a bunch of things any owner should know…god, did I write about that? Who knows, anyways, I did do that. Oh god I am sure I did. But this is also garbage insurance, a discount plan with prices determined by United but I still have the same giant multiple thousand dollar bills courtesy of the hospital, anyways.

I told Don when I die I want to be cremated as for me, getting preserved in a box taking up space is not only creepy, but pointless. I told him it would have plastic chunks and some metal in between the ashes and he should stick a chopstick in there to check it out. He thought that was horrifying but come on now. YOU KNOW YOU WOULD WANT TO DO IT. He said he wanted to keep the urn and ashes, so I guess I gotta design it–but..I made him promise that when he died, he had his daughter go throw us in a volcano, because, come on now. Do I want to leave a jar with a bunch of ashes and metal and plastic for generations to come? NOPE. THROW IT A VOLCANO–we will decide which one eventually, but any one would be fine. Honestly. Throw me back to the elements–there’s no need to keep an empty shell.

So..he says he wants to get a house here and I want to win the lottery. As it is, my birth mother had property we had been talking about trying to buy from her for years but they sold it, IN ELBERT county, just to point out the irony of it all. But, ya know…we have needed a truck for the entire time we have lived here and they have like half a dozen or more sitting on property doing nobody any favors so why would I think we would ever be a part of any equation? I mean, I did, for five minutes. It’s like Don said…he doesn’t like you–you are a reminder someone else’s dick has been in his wife and they don’t think about you at all. Which–is true, but a hard pill to swallow, because really who does anymore?

Everyone stinks. My god if I could figure a good life out–I am telling you, property out here to build a few shipping container studios and do some art and writing retreats and classes and have it be green friendly–man, wouldn’t that be something?

That would of course be something VERY fucking difficult to attain. And I would prefer to do it in California or somewhere lower in altitude even because I am starting to think this shit might be altitude related–my mini strokey things. They have happened a hell of a lot and when I was east they happened…like every 6 months. Now it’s twice a month or more it gets pretty bad. UGh. No disability I cannot survive on that. And if we did manage to win the lottery and/or make some money on this concept show–well, AM-A-ZING because I told Don today that the solution to what is going on politically–is to stop being poor. I am going to figure out a way to not be poor and I am sending EVERYTHING out to do that. Please send some vibes, too, should you happen on this. I really am NOT asking for too much. Just something besides my shit credit, no nothing having ass–I have seriously busted my ass EVER since I had this issue. I have managed gyms, I have bartended, I have managed spas, I have waitressed. I have modeled, I have worked as a receptionist, I have sold gym memberships, very expensive skin care and makeup and I could probably write a whole book on my job experiences actually. But, for the most part–until I had the subclavian vertebral carotid thing–I worked 2 jobs. And even after I had that–I fucking worked full time AND went to fucking an ivy league school FULL TIME. I didn’t even have a wedding, guys–send me some of your good vibes because all my wishing has left me with my dad’s wise words:

“Shit in one hand, and wish in another, and see which one fills up faster.”

Yup. That about says it.