It's the Murder that Bothers Me

So, drinkin', watching The Spanish Prisoner, because my copy of Time Bandits I ordered from Netflix broke.

And it's the murder (sorry if you haven't seen it yet) that bothers me. So stop reading now if you want to see it but haven't.

So, back to the murder. In the end we find out that the FBI has been watching him the whole time. So they watched the murder happen. And they allowed it.

That bothers me almost as much as the pro-capitalist, trust the company point of view in the movie.

And another thing that bothers me, not just about this movie but all movies, everyone ends conversations over the phone by just hanging up. They don't say goodbye or anything.

Try that in the world and see how far it gets you.

I'm tired of looking at the same stuff on the interweb.

Sure, I can watch some movies or tv on netflix, but what if I only want to spend a cigarette on the web?

I'm bored because I set the alarm and woke up at six thirty this morning. Even though it's Saturday. Because I think that sleeping so much as I have the last few weeks actually makes me more lethargic. That wasn't the case yesterday when I was running on five hours of sleep.

I guess it turns out I'm not as good at wasting time as I used to be.

Anxiety

Just finished with the third and final bout (for the week) with the therapist. And had a mini anxiety thing as soon as I was out the door.

Anxious today.

Applied for who knows how many jobs. Had to fill out the salary requirement this am. Just thinking about that maked me anxious.

So anxious I just missed the stop for my transfer. But it's all good.

I get to spend more time with you.

I think I'm going to go out by myself tonight. Going to see some Schubert.

It's at eight at the hysterico-ontological theater.

Looking at my application

I just had to fill out an application for a job.

You know the kind where you have to put how much money you've made and how much you'd like to make?

Well, there are big differences between the two for me. And it looks totally crazy. Because I list my stipends from school--which are like half salaries.

But without explaining it includes tuition and the like, it looks like I made less than minimum wage.

Together with the references--I fucked up and put the same people I put for supervisors--I must look totally insane.

Ah, the indignities of looking for employment.

Couple this with my anxiety of asking for the money I think I need, which seems astronomical to me... I couldn't sleep last night thinking about it.

And crazy stress dreams.

It got so bad I went for a run this morning at five. And that was mortifying too. I haven't been running in a year and I smoke close to a pack a day. One and a half miles nearly killed me.

When I was manic, I could run seven miles six times a week and still smoke.

Ah, the joys of mania.

Unemployed Man's Blues

This job stuff sucks.

I just figured out that, with loans, I need to make about 40k per year, figuring on 35% tax, which might be low, considering I live in the city.

Who on earth is going to pay me that. Maybe I can move into some sort of shared-apartment. Pay less rent. Maybe $500 less? I pay almost $1200 for my studio. Find some living situation to share and pay something like $750--seems possible. I'd save lots of money.

Then there's the thing like requirements--adobe suite. I know nothing of this, yet I must pretend to.

What if I asked for $42,000-$45,ooo.

I don't even know why I'm thinking about these things. It's not even like they're going to give me an interview.

And if I ever do find a job that pays me enough to live, I'll probably fuck it up due to general incompetence.

Looking for a job

So let me know if you have one. I'll take it.

I've been sending out resumes over the interweb, and I've gotten so that I don't get nervous when I send them.

That part's down, mostly since I figure I'll never hear from these people again.

The automated applications are the worst--takes forever to fill out and you can be sure that a machine will almost certainly eliminate you before a human being sees your resume.

Anyway, I've gotten two responses today, which makes me nervous. Shaking. Talking on the telephone is not easy for me.

I guess it's a good thing.

Still, don't get hopes up.

Intimacy

Meet with the therapist for our wednesday session. I brought up something that surprised me.

I remember him being very direct about how I would be really disapointed if I left school without the doctorate.

I brought this up.

I'm not good at conflict. Even imagined conflict. Was very afraid I'd hurt him.

Not the case. Not at all. He was glad I brought it up. Seems like he wants to know these things. Wants to work on them with me.

Made me feel vulnerable. Was afraid he'd lash out at me in anger. I suppose my paranoia knows no bounds.

But it was good to get things out. Was a good experience.

Ativan helps

Even just that little bit.

I was frantic about this tiny post I had to make for the art-blog I said I'd write for, it was anxiety provoking.

But then I popped my magic little pill, 1/2 mg of peace and quiet. Was able to write.

Two things: one--why don't they give this out like candy. Two--what must it felt like to take 20 mg like my dad did during his death-bed panic attacks?

Unless I eat a whole prescription at once, I suppose I'll never know.