Archive for January, 2006
A little bit of internet detective-work got me searching for an old bitchasscunt friend and I found her.
It made me giggle to see that she's still as cunty as she was when I knew her.
Some of you might remember click. Most of you probably won't. And that's poetic justice for you.
28 January 2006 at 9:40 am | No Comments » 
the daily things
So rather recently my bank pissed me off.
I know, ofcourse, it's no surprise as I do tend to have a propensity for getting into problems with banks, but this time the incident was absolutely, positively in no way my fault.
So here's the breakdown.
On 1/03/2006, I made a cash deposit after hours to the ATM for 110.00. On 1/05/2006 I had a strange charge come up on my account for 80.00. When I called to inquire about what it was, I was told the charge was an adjustment because, apparently, I lack the sense to press the correct buttons on the ATM when I told them how much I deposited.
You see, they told me the adjustment was because, though I had typed 110.00 into the ATM, when the clerk opened the envelope all that was inside was 30.00. I will concede that I am capable of making a small error, but eighty dollars? No way.
Not to mention that I also hand-wrote "110.00" on the outside of the envelope so whatever craziness caused me to mistype also controlled my handwriting.
So I was pissed, yelled at a supervisor about the whole situation. They said they would investigate the incident but I was upset that they arbitrarily removed 80.00 from my account without even so much as a letter, much less a phone call giving me the heads up. If I wasn't the type to manically check my account online every day I wouldn't have noticed it and I would've been counting on money that didn't exist.
My fury was unmatched when he insinuated that the reason I was so upset was because I intentionally lied about how much I deposited and was upset that I got caught. I demanded that my account be closed right then because I wouldn't be subject to that kindof thing when I'd been banking at the same branch for over two years. I was, and still am, pissed.
So they claimed they would start an inquiry, which allegedly would take three to five business days. I heard nothing for two weeks. Every other day I've called to find out what the deal is, every other day I've been told that there's still no developments.
I was pretty sure the money was gone, because if they couldn't find the mistake, and as it was all made in cash, I assumed the liklihood that someone walked away with it was very high. My roommate said that was impossible and echoed the sentiment of the bank, that I probably miscounted. I was livid with him, too.
Then, last night, without ceremony, I noticed an 80.00 deposit put back into my account.
Fuckers. I feel so vindicated.
28 January 2006 at 4:54 am | No Comments » bitching
That one day social causes will be based around facts instead of a book of feelings written by a bunch of stone age men with a warped sense of morality.
That one day the power in the world will shift from the white men who live in glass offices around Wall Street, Manhattan to the middle class, the poor, to those who will do better with it.
That one day humanity will do something to make me believe Anne Frank when she said we're all really good at heart.
That one day the gays, blacks, women and everyone else will wake up and realize they aren't equal, that those in control have given us enough freedom so we think we're on par with everyone else so we'll stop fighting, and say FUCK YOU, go for the power, fight for it with tooth and claw and hair pulling and high heels and stop accepting NO as an option. That one day the revolution comes and when it does the world becomes something better than it is now, something more transparent and honest than it is now, something that I could be proud to be apart of instead of this longing that I feel everytime I step outside into it.
23 January 2006 at 12:25 am | 1 Comment » introspection
It's funny to me what it takes to trigger a memory.
But in order to tell that story I guess I should explain that out of nowhere I began to think about the old choir I used to sing in when I first moved to NYC that was instrumental in enabling me to survive and stay in NYC. I started thinking about it right after my birthday I guess, because I remember googling the choir's website at work in order to find out, off-handedly, when auditions for the new season were. I remembered that I joined the choir shortly after moving to NYC so theoretically they should've been coming up.
The website unfortunately had no information and I filed it away in the back of my head, but didn't forget it.
By then I'd decided already to rejoin.
When I left the choir after the completion of the season it was mostly because I felt weird about everything. The easiest way I can think to explain this fact is they helped me out in a gigantic way that I'm not really used to, and the only way I could deal with the strangeness of that situation was to run away from it.
But I decided to go back because the experience was, most certainly, life-changing for me, and I enjoyed the half year I spent with some of the most flaming people I've ever known. (That's a compliment.)
So I contacted one of the important people from the choir and inquired about auditions. Set up a time. All was good.
I was excited mostly because I saw this as a chance to come back to these people who previously knew me as downtrodden and in desperate need and show them that I'd managed to make it on my own. Part of it was selfish as I wanted to show them I was self-sufficient and doing great but part of it was also me wanting to show them that their help hadn't been given in vain, that I hadn't returned to New Orleans dejected.
My plan would've been carried out in great detail if, the day before the audition, my part-time boring job hadn't called me to tell me that I was fired. I won't go into the details of it mostly because I'm annoyed and don't care, but basically the circumstances are incredibly unfair and I have little but contempt and shock for the owner of the restaurant.
Be that as it may, I'm determined to go forward. I'm doing a pretty good job so far at being optimistic and happy, but that's mostly because I'm very likely going to make more on unemployment than I did actually working there.
So, to the point of the first paragraph of this entry. I auditioned, I got in, the first rehearsal was Tuesday. On the long subway ride up to the church that was at once so familiar and scary, a song came on over my iPod that I hadn't listened to in forever: "Space Dog" from Tori Amos. Unrelentingly this brought me back to Slidell and a boy I once knew named Jeff Bateman, who I was quite incredibly infatuated with while Kent was in Canada. He was the first boy I actually asked out, the first one to turn me down (though this was because he'd just been dumped a few days before by someone he was dating) and over the years since I left him at 16 I've heard snatches about his whereabouts… he'd become a slut, he started doing drugs, you can assume the worst.
I haven't thought about him in forever but somehow that song brought him back, him, oddly, not Kent, because on his birthday I played "Space Dog" on the piano in the auditorium for him and embarrassed the shit out of him just like I said I would. It made me smile to think of how red his face was.
Sometimes I have missed the places I've left so violently, without an easy way back. I guess the connection between leaving Slidell the way I left it and leaving the choir the way I left it is that both times I was running away because I'd finished and decided to go forward to the next place.
But I went back to the choir and though the first rehearsal was terrifying it was also exhilarating and at the end of it, after we'd all gone across the street to the bar in our nightly ritual, someone asked me what it was like to be back after three years and I was able to say, "It was good. And I wouldn't have been able to stay in New York if it weren't for you people."
It wasn't much, especially in the face of what they did for me so generously and unquestioningly, but it was thanks. And it was weight off of my shoulders to finally stop running and turn around to say it.
21 January 2006 at 2:31 am | No Comments » the daily things
