Don't worry about a thing-Every little thing-Is gonna be alright

I have come to the conclusion that my bank is run by a trio of moles with only an abacus to keep track of the finances of the people that bank with their furry blind little rat selves. That's the only explanation for why 5 days after I deposited a check (a student loan check, which is, correct me if I'm wrong, from the Federal gov't I do believe) it isn't listed as having been cashed. The bank seems to say-sure, you put in a check, but it might be one of those religious tract 1 million dollar bills-we gotsta be careful you know.
Stupid fuckers.
Like I don't have enough issues. Honestly.
On the bill front-once the money is showing up in my bank account I'm going to spend it on the hospital bills. Just write two checks, sob as I mail them off and wait for the money to be deducted and the memory to start fading. Suffering a bit because I don't have the loan money cushion is better than knowing that bill is hovering over me waiting to be paid. A lot of people would disagree, but I can barely think straight with the bill out there. It's some weird--I'd go so far as to say psychosis--with me. The idea of being in some debt that is not school or mortgage (should I ever have one of those) makes me want to get destructive on myself. Especially since I have come to the conclusion that I got what I deserved. That's what that church I was raised without taught me-you get what you deserve. Oh-and never more than you can handle. I must be really damn strong. Hell, I keep going, don't I? I am so very very strong. And when those bills are paid then I'll get to pretend that I'll be okay. If you pretend long enough it comes true-right.
The really well paying gig I had or the weekend felll through. I've only worked one day this week and that's probably all I will work. But next week I have a 40 hour gig and it could last into the next week. So, I'm down $300 but I'll make a little more than that next week.
They keep me working and I keep pestering them so they know I am available. It will lead to a job. Eventually.
Ever get tired of waiting for the man?
Today when I talked to Mik she already had the good news that we had tickets to see Colbert. (Cuz Mummy tells all my good stuff. Mean Mummy.) She pointed out that it was highly likely that she would be unable to get the day off or even see me since she only has one day off a week and that she's way down the Jersey shore not near the city. So, while we are psyched, we are also reserved. At least I have found a hostel that I can stay at for three days for less than $100 and if I can fly from Akron/Canton and the 'rents will watch the big bad beastie then I can get to NYC for about $100 (or maybe less with AirTran-again reserved about all this some grandparents don't like watching little dogs---it's over $300 to fly from Nashvegas to NYC but only about $150 to drive-or I could do round trip to Akron for about $80, still cheaper than flying from here) so I can spend the rest of the money I don't have on good stuff like food and tourist-y crap. Cuz-I am so serial when I tell you-I am going to be such a tourist in the Summer in the City. The hostel I've picked out is right by Central Park-I hope to go to the zoo and see the Penguins. I admit-when I see Central Park in my mind it looks like Shelby Park only flatter. And featuring more hot dog sellers. I'm such a member of the bourgeoisie.
So I flail betwen misery and joy. Reality and madness. One minute I'm okay and the next I want to down the whole bottle of hydrocodone (which would succeed in making me feel icky at best.) I just want to get work and make enough money to get by and then move to a job that pays enough to survive. I don't want to be wealthy or anything but I'd like to know my rent was paid.
Oh well. People keep telling me I'm better than what I'm making but when your combined earnings for two years wouldn't buy a used Camry it's hard to feel terribly picky.
I'm reminded of the immortal words of whoever wrote the theme song to "One Day at a Time"
This is it, This is life, The one you get, So go and have a ball
Keep on doin' what you do, straight ahead, we'll muddle thru
One Day at a Time

I only remember this because I was named after the older daughter---sorta...I mean, Mum and Dad weren't big Mackenzie Philips fans but that's where they got the name. They needed a different name for their baby.
I'm named after a smack addict.
And Miki's named after my dad.