Breathing...breathing.

Again with the franticness and the money worries. I got to work Tuesday, only to discover (having left my cell phone there) that my boss had called to tell me to stay home, the weather was horrendous and nobody was going to be shopping. (Being from the more humid East Coast, it hadn't occurred to me that a single rainy day would slow people down at all...) So I closed the shop right back up, and headed to her place to talk about hours.

Now, I'm not making enough. And there's no way she's ever going to be able to pay me enough, not out of this little store. I love working for Linette, love the store, if I could share expenses with anyone I'd probably be okay but, well, I can't.

I tried to tell her this, but I know how very much she depends on me, and the best I could say was that I needed to be working full-time to survive. At which point she promptly told me that she could give me those hours, and thanked me (again) for being so dependable.

I left feeling worse instead of better. Much, much worse. And yesterday was no better; I waffled between searching for a job now (and possibly leaving her in the lurch for the summer) and waiting until the end of summer (which would leave me further in debt, though less so than just working as little as I've been). I wrote down the four hundred dollars Linette had given me the day before, and realized that she'd overpaid me. Not something that'll upset her; I'll just work until I make it up. Which is a good thing, because if I'd given her the extra money back right away, I wasn't going to be able to make the rent.

I determined to talk to her, tell her I needed to look for another job, then wussed out, then decided again, and then when she came in to relieve me there were customers and I couldn't. As I'd planned to stop at the other place where my stuff is being consigned, I left instead of waiting.

See, in addition to the bookmarks and the bath salts I'm also going to be selling some of my clothing there. Some of it is stuff that I would have taken to the Salvation Army otherwise, and that doesn't bother me, but the thought of selling clothing that I like and just don't wear too often had me feeling horrendously desperate. I didn't want to look at the bags in the back seat of the car.

I went to Wal-Mart first, looking for something to hold up the little sign I made for the bookmarks. I didn't know how to describe the thing I was looking for, and realized after wandering randomly for about fifteen minutes that if I tried to actually ask someone, I was going to burst into tears, or possibly throw up. That was that; I aborted the shopping trip, put off the visit to the Glass Rose until the next day, went home and ate popcorn until I felt better.

I went over to Tim and Ray's, and Tim and I made dinner. We watched V for Vendetta over dinner (rather a horrifying experience, given current events) and I hung out for a while. The movie, frighteningly enough, was a nice break from reality, but it came flooding back once it was over. I dragged myself home, tired and stressed but determined that the next day I'd at least do something about the money problem.

That's when the good news started. Sitting in front of my door was a bag of clothing. I'm assuming it was from Dwen, who's given me castoffs before. Two long crushed-velvet skirts, one back, one deep maroon; a long comfy light-blue pyjama-type shirt that I could probably also get away with wearing with jeans; and another top, not my style, but something I could happily sell for a couple bucks. I pulled everything out of the bag and tried it all on, even the sweater I won't keep. And just smiled a lot.

While reading my email I got word that a local SCA member is giving away a bunch of plants she doesn't have room for, so today I went to pick up two nice big tomato plants. A totally random check for ten dollars showed up in the mail, a refund for I'm-not-sure-what from my old doctor back in Pennsylvania.

While at the Glass Rose to drop off more bookmarks and the clothing, the lady who runs the place told me that she'll have a check for me next week, and that her son in California is interested in buying some of my bookmarks as well. I checked in across the street at another place I had clothing for sale, and they'll have six dollars for me next week.

I stopped at the bank to deposit money; with the random check, just enough to cover the rent. I took a deep breath and told myself that at least it was enough. Then off to work.

I got here and Linette handed me a five dollar bill; someone had bought three of my bath teas. Ten minutes later Tal came over with a ten from one of the bookmarks I've been making for him. And about an hour after that, a lady came in in a screaming hurry to buy gifts for her kids' three teachers, and left with bath salts for each of them. Eighteen bucks.

Thirty-three dollars today off of things I've made.

I did talk to Linette, and told her I need health insurance. She can't give me that, I know, and while she's not thrilled, she isn't upset, either. I told her I'd work for her while I'm looking for something else, and do the occasional evening or weekend once I find another job. So now I can look for a job and not feel like I'm letting her down.

Perhaps I'll train Ray how to run the place, so she has someone to replace me with...

In any case, I get the clue: things will be all right. Just keep working at it.

Pentecost!

Yes, I had to work all weekend, and yes, that meant I wasn't going to be able to go to Pentecost mass at my new congregation. Well, I decided this morning that church was more important and my boss could deal, and went anyway. Late to work by an hour, but we've brought in enough sales today that I doubt the boss will mind.

The Lutheran congregation which goes before us went late today, which doesn't surprise me -- it's Pentecost, after all, and they just confirmed a whole raft of kids and had a lovely band playing and it was grand. I sat in the narthex and enjoyed the music, and then slipped in when they were done to help change things over for our mass.

Wound up untangling a whole lot of bright screaming red balloons which we then used to decorate the sanctuary with. Odd to think that part of my ministry is untangling but I'm by far the best of those who were working on it -- all the sewing helps! I wore red and so did a lot of other people, so it was pretty festive. We didn't manage a whole band but we did have a violin player and a guy on bongos and various small percussion-ey things in addition to the usual guy playing guitar; it was nice.

Instead of a normal sermon we had a 'people's homily'; people took turns standing up and saying something about the congregation and (generally) how they'd been made to feel welcome there. It was kind of cool though I'd hoped for something with a bit more meat in it. But then I didn't have the nerve to stand up myself, and if I had I wouldn't have said anything more substantive than anyone else, so I suppose I oughtn't to complain. I guess I was hoping for more of a feel for how the congregation sees itself, if naught else.

They feel themselves to be welcoming (which I already knew) and they also feel themselves to be more open to the Holy Spirit than the RC church in general (which doesn't surprise me). I was tempted to stand up and say something in the direction of finding out how welcoming they are -- they don't yet know that I'm bisexual et al. I guess I kinda wussed out on that, though.

I wonder if part of my calling isn't to stand up and make exactly that point. If I do have a ministry (apart from balloon-untangling) I feel that LGBT rights and acceptance is part of it. I'm already doing that work, if quietly, here in this blog. (And here the reminder to myself to do the great Story of my Life post I've been failing to get around to.)

I mean, yeah, I'm bi. And poly(amorous/androus/something). And that's a part of who I am, but so is the fact that I'm Christian and love cats and like to cook and eat popcorn and swim and garden. And I'm out of shape and have asthma and crappy eyesight, and grumble about traffic and don't have enough money and sometimes forget to scoop the litterbox. Really, I'm about like everyone else. And when the concept of who I sleep with is considered no more important than what colour my hair is, then I think I'll have gotten somewhere.

But until I have the native balls to stand up in my own (very accepting) congregation and say something about it, I'm not getting very far on that one, am I?

--

And then there's my other congregation, the new one; Sophia Catholic Community which I think has all of three or maybe four of us, invented out of whole cloth within the last week, and intended to be a home for people like me who perhaps wouldn't find one much of anywhere else. More about this over at Mother Laura's and I'm sure I'll have more to say about it as well. Things have been complicated in my part of the world, I tell you what.

But it's Pentecost, and what better season to sit back, listen to what the Spirit has to say to us...and then go and follow Her words?

Much, much better.

A good night's sleep makes many things all better.

Having spent the night with it elevated, the toe is some better today (though still achy and I don't want to whack it into anything). All the cleaning I did yesterday served multiple purposes -- my apartment is clean, which always lifts my spirits, and I also got to spend basically the entire day running around, cleaning, straightening, and chanting 'the Queen is coming, the Queen is coming' because while Adhemar is hardly Elizabeth, he's still the Queen. And thus not thinking about the other huge exciting issues in my life right now, which was a nice break.

I have to work a lot this weekend, since Linette (the boss) is off doing a show down in Boulder. Which is annoying, because I really wanted to celebrate my first Pentecost with my new congregation, though I'm thinking about going to an earlier Sunday mass at one of the local RC churches. I don't think going up for the Eucharist would be a good idea under those circumstances but at least I'd be there.

I'm also going to be at work a lot while Adhemar is here, which bugs me, but also keeps us from being in each other's hair the whole the time. For those what don't know, Adhemar is my dear queer friend from the East Coast, a grand and lovely human who I miss dearly. We're trying to convince him to move out here, though with little expectation of success. As I've found that Colorado is home for me, home for him is within an easy drive of The City.

On the up side, I'll also be making more money than usual, and that's not a bad thing. The jobhunt still goes slowly (partly, alas, due to my recent bout of 'brain full') but eventually the right thing will turn up. I have faith in this, if only because if I didn't I wouldn't get out of bed in the morning.

Sort of setting the thoughts of discernment aside for a bit, as I've gotten to the point where I go round and round and round and round and get nowhere. I'll stick with the quiet listening but ease back on the active 'please tell me what you want!' stuff. It'll come when it comes.

Just kind of quietly happy at the moment. Adhemar's here, got in last night and we had a lovely meal and talked and laughed for hours. He drove me in to work today and took many pictures of my jewelry and stuff for a website he's going to build for me, and then he wandered around Lyons for a while while I (alas) had to keep watch over the store. Just being around him makes me happy, and he's here for a whole week.

I'll get back to the more thoughtful posts in a bit I'm sure. I need a break from all the thinking, though.

Toes!

It seems to be becoming an epidemic -- I broke my toe today. Whacked it into the counter at Tim's. And just in time for a visit from my dear queer friend Adhemar from the East Coast, which had me cleaning madly all day. Not that that's what I broke my toe doing; no. Just walking into the kitchen.

I'll live. It's just cracked, nothing out of place, but it hurts like whoa and dammit, I wanted to walk places this weekend.

*gimps around, whining*

On the up side, the apartment is cleaner than it's been ever ever and I get to hang out with Adhemar for almost a week. :) On the down side, I'm working all weekend since it's Memorial Day, and unless I can find someone to sub for me I won't be able to make it to church at all. :/

Brain full. Life slow down now?

*snuggles cats*

Baptism?

Just spent a couple hours rereading and labeling my posts. I suspect that I've gone from no labels to far too many, but that's how things go. Is that an em-dash or a hyphen there?

Having some thoughts on the whole baptism/confirmation thing, due to a post at RevGalBlogPals.
I feel like there ought to be something to mark me actually turning Christian, but I've already been baptized and confirmed (and had Eucharist), and I can't get baptized twice, can I?

If I were a much more Evangelical type I suppose I'd call this being born again and maybe answer and altar call -- am I right about that? I don't even know enough to know -- but I am so, so not the Evangelical type. I guess being Catholic (even Independent/Ecumenical Catholic) is about as far on the other side of the scale as you get.

So I don't know. I kinda feel like the desire for something like that is maybe selfish, and I hate being the center of attention (and I'm thinking about doing what?). And I have no idea what'd be appropriate anyway.

It's a thing to think about, in any case.

Been spending a fair amount of time terrified lately. Job and money worries, the usual 'what can I do for a living that I want to do', and now the vocation and the worries about how I'm supposed to pull of that on top of everything else. And then I read a lovely post by The Kitchen Door. Please, go and read it all. Go on; I'll wait.

"How can we do this?" Mary asked how she could possibly become pregnant, but she wondered who would take care of her if she did, too. It can be pretty hard to be a single mom now, but then it was fatal. As explanations go, “an angel came” is pretty weak when you’re up against a group who could stone you for getting pregnant.

What’s her fiancé, Joseph, going to say? What will her parents say? Her priest? How can this work? Will Joseph still marry her? Will anyone believe her?

What will the baby be like? Will a Messiah be like the other babies she’s seen? Will she be a good mom? Can Joseph love this baby that isn’t his? Is there anything special she should be doing?

Is she going to have the money to feed him? Should the child Messiah go to special schools?

And more than anything: why me? Why not someone wealthy, powerful, or at least more experienced? Surely there’s someone kinder/smarter/holier that prays more/keeps house better/would know what to do with a baby.

But this young girl, this teenager, put aside her questions and fears and worries and doubts and said, "Yes. Let’s do this."

Compared to that, my problems are pretty small. Fairly unlikely to get stoned. No child to worry about (most especially not one that special), just the cats. Probably several people I'm going to have to convince of this whole vocation and a few who are going to look at me pretty funny (you've got a what?) but who's to blame them? That's about where I am still, too. Definitely a couple of people, maybe some reading this right now, who think I'm supremely unsuited for the task. Know what? I agree; but then, who is suited? We've all got our issues and our dumb moments and our unbelief. We're none of us perfect; we're all sinners.

But for all of my worries and my 'how am I gonna do this' and my 'Domine, non sum dignus', I can know one thing: God loves me. And so one way or the other, it's gonna work out. If He picked me, He picked right, and I can trust in that.

Sunday early afternoon.

Home from church. Belly all hungry. Soul all full.

Off to garden!

Original Prayers

Recently I've been coming across a lot of prayers which really speak to me. I've gotten into the habit of scribbling them down on a scrap of paper and either carrying them with me or putting them where I'm most likely to say them -- the evening one is in the Bible next to the bed, the one for after Eucharist is in the purse I take to church, the one where I ask for help in discerning my call lives in my back pocket...

Last night Ray decided to stay at a friend's place to play Magic all night, so I stayed with Tim (the bed, alas, is not big enough for three, as we've discovered generally to the distress of whoever winds up in the middle). Left my nighttime prayer at home. So I'm lying there trying to remember the thing...

Keep watch, dear Lord,
with those who work,
or watch,
or purr,
or snore,
err wups,
how is he asleep already?
Grr.
Um.
Hi Thomas *pause to pet cat*
Right.
Tend the sick, Lord Christ,
give rest to the weary,
bless the dying,
comfort the disturbed,
disturb the comfortable,
oh bugger,
that's not it either.
Err.
Sorry.
So, um. It's dark and I'm going to sleep now.
Can you just keep an eye on me?
Amen.

More often than not, when I don't have a written-down prayer with me, this is how things wind up.

I figure if nothing else, it's genuine...

Friday Five: The Righteous and the Seriously Screwed Up

Perhaps I'm a bit opinionated on certain things.

1. Mac? (woo-hoo!) or PC? (boo!)
Why yes, the Friday Five author reserves the right to editorialize!

Linux uber alles! (Alas, I'm stuck using a PC).

2. Pizza: Chicago style luscious hearty goodness, or New York floppy and flaccid?

Thin crust for me. If I wanted more starch I'd eat a bagel.

3. Brownies/fudge containing nuts:
a) Good. I like the variation in texture.
b) An abomination unto the Lord. The nuts take up valuable chocolate space.
[or a response of your choosing]

B. I'm a purist in odd ways. I like my chocolate chip cookies...without chocolate chips, so I can just eat the cookie part.

4. Do you hang your toilet paper so that the "tail" hangs flush with the wall, or over the top of the roll like normal people do?

Over the top, of course! Like all right-thinking folks.

5. Toothpaste: Do you squeeze the tube wantonly in the middle, or squeeze from the bottom and flatten as you go just like the tube instructs?

I squeeze haphazardly until there's little enough left in the tube that I can be arsed to make the effort to squeeze it properly.

Bonus: Share your favorite either/or.

Peanut butter first, or jelly? Jelly, of course!
Crunchy or creamy? Crunchy, though not so strongly as some of my other (not)humbly-stated opinions here.
Blinds open or closed at night? Open! So totally open.

This was fun. Much better to be ridiculously opinionated over small pointless things and save the thoughtfulness for the things that count.

Being a conduit for the Word

This is why I know it's not just me making this whole thing up.

Not two hours after I posted my previous 'what do I do now' plaint I read this in a lovely, thoughtful post in Quaker Pagan Reflections:

I applied for membership in Mount Toby the day after I spoke in meeting for the first time. I'd been attending for over a year, but I was really blown away by what a profound experience it was to speak in meeting. It’s inexpressible to anyone who hasn’t experienced something like it. There are words that describe it, but like other very profound feelings, the words are just prattle unless you’ve been there. I felt stretched by the message passing through me, and a little wobbly when I sat down again, and—this is the important part—I felt like when my spirit contracted again, back to its normal just-human size, it never shrank back quite all the way. I was left forever afterwards a little bit larger for been a conduit for something so vast and deep.

That conduit? I think that's what I want to be.I still don't know how or 'what do I do next' but I think maybe I have an eye on where I'm heading.

...now what?

Okay, so over the last couple of weeks I've had a lot of thinking and a lot of surprises and I guess I'm pretty much admitting that I've got some sort of vocation, some sort of calling. Though said admitting didn't happen without a lot of angst and 'say what' and generally looking over my shoulder to see who They where looking at oh you meant me?

Yeah.

So I'm in a state of 'err now what?'. I think I probably need to do some looking around and seeing what one does with a vocation. I mean, okay, one can go to seminary. And then...be a priest. Or teach theology. Or do mission work. Or many, many things I don't know about I'm sure.

...of course the first resource I find when I poke at Google is a DVD entitled 'Fishers of Men'...for the purpose of 'actively invite[ing] men to consider a vocation to the priesthood'. My emphasis. This from the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops.

When I go on to read their FAQ on priesthood, ordination, and the seminary I note two things: one, they're pretty profligate (date I say deliberately so) in their use of 'he' and 'man' and such. The second? That reading the question-and-answer about 'What is the meaning of the laying on of hands?' and 'Why does the ordinand lie prostrate during the ordination?' brings up such a longing in me...

I'm going to skip the whole discussion of women priests for now, because it's been addressed so thoroughly by others. And if there's an issue for me, that's not it; the church I go to has no issue whatsoever with women as priests. I don't believe they have any problems with me being bisexual, either. I suspect if there's an issue it'll be the fact that I have two boyfriends. How that's going to shake down, I don't know. I certainly don't have the theological knowledge to address it myself, other than to point out that plenty of guys in the Old Testament had more than one wife and what goes around, comes around. Which argument I don't think would get me very far.

In any case. That's not so much the question right now. The questions is, in fact, 'what now?'. Jesus said 'Come ye after me, and I will make you to become fishers of men.' And straightway they forsook their nets, and followed him.

So how does one go about that these days? I have no net to forsake. I have a job I could give up, but then I'd have no money and it's hard to do the good thing when you're living in an alley. Besides which, the cats would be upset.

I don't feel the need to figure this out right away. I've got time. I've got other things to worry about, too. Which I feel bad about -- what's the lack of sufficient job compared to a calling from God? -- but again, I need to have my life in order before I can go helping others.

So I guess I pray, and I think about things; I talk to people, and do some reading. If any of the many clergy out there who read this have a 'vocation story' you've posted to your blog, I'd love a link; reading about other people's experiences has helped me a lot in dealing with mine.

General Catchy-up-ness

Yeah, so I haven't been so much with the typing this week, have I? Except for my whingey-spew last night. Well, I'm done with that.

So the last time I posted with any substance was...last Thursday? Jeez-o-Pete. Okay. Friday I hung out at Tim and Ray's, and we probably watched Tim play Grand Theft Auto and laughed a lot. Then there was sleeping, and work on Saturday, during which time I did something I'm sure, and then, uh. Saturday night which I don't remember at all.

Sunday I barely scraped myself out of bed to go to church. Oh, yeah! Saturday night we went grocery shopping late, and then were too hungry to cook, so we drove a half hour to Boulder to go to the IHoP (it made sense at the time, I swear), where we ate a lovely meal briefly interrupted by a bunch of guys in glittery lizard suits. I eventually wandered over to ask what that was about (odd to be the ask-er, instead of the ask-ee) and they said they were kineticists. I contemplated retreating at this point with what information I had (the glittery lizard suits included inflatable tubes atop their hats, which, well, let's just say the were very happy to answer my question, or so they claimed and demonstrated) but persisted, eventually finding out it was about a race. With human-powered vehicles. Over land, water, and the occasional mud pit. More to be found here and here. At which point I did retreat.

So we get out of the IHoP at one, thence home at about one-thirty, thence to discover that I've left my purse in the restaurant. Wouldn't have cared so much except that I was taking care of Dwen's dog Inga, and I needed my keys to get into her apartment. So, bless them, Tim and Ray put me back in the car and drove me back to IHoP and I think I got to bed at about three.

So. Up and found clothing and off to church. Much more comfortable with it this time. I sat in the center of the congregation and felt very included. A lot of people said hi and thanked me for coming back.

The priest wasn't the same guy as last week, which I did feel a little uncomfortable with -- not that I was worried about him in particular; I just tend to cling to the familiar when I'm in an unusual place. He gave one of the best sermons I've ever heard, though, and when I talked to him afterwards he was really nice.

He did the lamb sermon, which I know a lot of people on RevGalBlogPals were planning to avoid like anything. But he started out with a time he was in Guatemala on mission, and most of his group went on to the next village but he stayed behind to help a couple with wedding planning, and when it came time to catch up with the rest they offered him a horse and a guide, and he accepted the first but turned down the second...

Any sermon which includes the phrase 'never do this' is one I'm gonna like.

So as you've probably already guessed it didn't go well. He didn't get lost; the horse just made a big circle and came right back to the village. But that was his segue into 'sometimes you need a guide; no, really'.

It turned into 'standard lamb sermon #5.3' for a bit there and I'm afraid I zoned out. But he got me back when he said that, really, most people these days don't have a lot of experience with sheep. If Jesus had come now, he proposed, He might have used a different way of explaining things altogether. At this point the priest pulled a baggie out of his pocket, crouched down, and made c'mere noises, and up the aisle came bouncing the Most Adorable Tiny White Fluffy Poodle Evar. And my brain melted.

I did pay enough attention to catch the rest of the sermon and it made a lot of sense. Training and taking care of a dog is, I suppose, a pretty good parallel to the good ol' sheep-shepherd thing. And I certainly know dogs better than sheep.

And then there was communion. I went up for it this time. It was nice and a little odd, not familiar but still somehow comfortable. Actual unleavened bread as opposed to squooshed-flat dry cracker, real wine instead of grape juice. And it felt...sort of quietly real. Not the great transformative experience I've always wanted but as someone pointed out to me recently, sometimes those don't happen because we're not ready for them. God doesn't want to break us, after all. And I appreciate not being broken.

Sat back down and had a good pray until communion was done. Sort of floated through the rest of mass, talked to the priest afterwards and admired his woven-in-Guatemala stole. Then got me a good puppy-fix with the poodle.

The rest of the day was supposed to be gardening and putting up the new tent Tim and Ray got at the Salvation Army. Well, we entirely failed in both; I passed out on the couch at their place and in fact basically kicked Tim off so he couldn't play Grand Theft Auto. For which I later apologized.

Ray made dinner (nearly all by himself!) and that was it for the day. More catchy-up later, I suppose; and more thoughtful posts to come as well. Just been a bit with the babbling yesterday and today...

Friday Five: Parties!

And again, the RevGalBlogPals Friday Five...this week about parties...

1) Would you rather be the host or the guest?

Either is fine under the right circumstances. I like hosting as long as I have the space, can get it clean, and can supply food/snacks as I prefer. So with sufficient prep, yes.

I like being the guest of it's a party I want to go to (as opposed to one I'm obliged to go to; those are fewer these days, though), if I have time to do the prep I want (the people around here do a lot of costume parties, and I'm a stickler for authenticity even outside the SCA), and if I haven't been so busy with other things that I have no brain left.

2) When you are hosting, do you clean everything up the minute the guests go home? Will you accept help with the dishes?

Usually the place isn't too much of a mess. I'll get the leftovers put away, of course, and at the very least get the dishes into the sink and soaking if they need it. Help with the dishes? Absolutely!

No shame about leaving the place a mess if I'm exhausted, though, as long as the food's dealt with.

3) If you had the wherewithal, and I guess I mean more than money, to throw a great theme party, what would the theme be?

Hm. Something fun and costume-ey, as that's the tradition here and I really enjoy it. The James Bond party was fun but not something I'd throw. The villains party was a blast. Maybe a Firefly theme party if I had the right people to invite; that's a specialized theme. Nothing medieval; I do that all the time.

4) What's the worst time you ever had at a party?

You know...I don't think I've ever had a really horrible time at a party. I've been bored, antisocial, annoyed; but nothing worse than that that I can remember. There's always been somewhere to slip off and be grumpy on my own...

5) And to end on a brighter note, what was the best?

Possibly the surprise 18th birthday party my high school friends pulled off on me. It worked, and I'm a paranoid soul. I still don't know how they did it.

Or any of the New Years Eve parties Ben's parents threw...excellent theme parties by people with the money and other wherewithal to pull things off. Frex, the one year they had a 'do a scene from your favourite play' theme, I got to spend the evening in the basement, running three cameras by remote control to get the best angle on what was going on.

Might be just a bit of a geek.

--

In other news, feeling better than last night. Sometimes you just need to whinge some, I think. Or at least I do.

Spent a bunch of time alone last night, just goofing off and doing thins I like; and then hung out with Ray today, and we took Shanti for a long walk. Went partway around the lake, kept the Mighty Huntress from eating several birds, another cat's mouse (and wasn't that fun), and a prairie dog, much to her annoyance. She keeps acting like she's about to jump in the creek, though she hasn't yet. I just have this image of fifteen pounds of soaking-wet long-haired pissed-off cat...

The people at the consignment place I went to yesterday think my stuff can sell at a higher price than I had on it, so I'll get more back than I thought I would. They're also willing to put out my bookmarks (at twice the price I thought I could get for them) and are talking about buying some themselves! So I'm feeling a lot better about that, too. It's not a great deal, but it's something.

And then there was 'hey, I've got an hour before work...how do you want to pass the time?' which always cheers me up. And smirking at Tim when we passed each other in the parking lot, me going to work, him on his way home.

Another hour and I'm off work, thence to Friday Night gaming with the most annoying (but fun) character I've ever played in my life.

Extended whinging

Tonight's task? Combatting depression with jobhunting. Fair warning: this is long, whiny, and doesn't have a happy ending.

Working for Linette, even with hypothetical extra income from selling my things, just isn't ever going to be enough. I need a steady income, and I need health insurance. It doesn't seem like that's too much to ask for, does it?

I've had a hard time pushing myself into doing anything about it, though. Did a bit of jobhunting last week, then nothing this week until just now. I get up in the morning...around noon...and then do not a lot until three...at which point I go to work until seven...there to fail to do much anything useful. Maybe make a bit of jewelry, but then I stop because I don't have a good clasp and I can't afford to buy more. Or today, when I ran out of wire: a twenty-dollar purchase. Not a lot? Yeah, but that twenty dollars will also buy a month's worth of cat food and that's the point I'm at.

Along similar lines, today I (again) took the Ecological Footprint Quiz and discovered that, even with all I've been doing to try to reduce my impact on the earth, I'm still up at almost five earths (the number of planet earths we'd need to support everyone if they lived like I do). Spent a while afterwards vaccilating between whinging about 'look how much I do, how can I do more' and thinking about how much more I could do if I had just a bit more money to spend. Organic food? Love to! Local food? Sure! Better mileage car? That'd be brilliant! Right now I've got peanut butter and English muffins and a tomato every once in a while, and I can barely afford to gas up my car much less buy a hybrid. Ride my bike? Sure! Once I get the tire replaced. Again with the money.

It just feels so futile. Yes, we have a garden, and it's organic to boot, and we're going to plant as much stuff in there as will fit. And how much difference will that make, in the end? Yes, the farmer's market opens this weekend and yeah, I'll buy what I can afford there instead of at Safeway. Won't be a lot. Right now, I'm only feeding myself breakfast and lunch; for dinner I'm depending on Tim and Ray, who aren't exactly flush right now, themselves. They're trying to buy better food as well but they're also getting to the point of 'I can buy organic food, but the cats will starve'.

I did, finally, find a place that's willing to put some of my jewelry out for consignment today. And yes, this is a good thing, but it's not the good kind of consignment: they keep half of what your stuff sells for, instead of the ten or twenty percent a decent artists' coop or other consignment place will charge. So to actually cover my expenses and even a fraction of my time I'll have to price things high enough that likely, nobody will buy them.

I asked my boss if I could work Sunday instead of Saturday this week (thus losing three hours of pay) so I could go to the local SCA event and maybe sell some stuff there. Well, it turns out that the way I get out of work Saturday is for Linette to find someone else to work for me instead of switching, thus losing me eight hours of work, and on top of that there's no room for merchants at the event anyway. I sent an email to my boss, hoping to head her off before she finds someone to cover my shift, but we'll see.

And it's hard to want to go into work anyway, knowing that while it's a bit of pay, it's not enough. Right now, yeah, I'm paying my rent and my bills with it. Everything else, and I mean everything -- gas, what food I buy, my various (and expensive) asthma meds, Chocolate's trip to the vet for a urinary tract infection (not stones, thank God, but still a two hundred and fifty dollar visit) -- is going on my credit cards. Tim said to me last week 'you're mortgaging your future' and ever since then I haven't been able to stop panicking.

Add to that my thinking about the priesthood (there, I said the word). Jesus said, put down your nets and follow me. I'd love to; but I signed a lease...and there are the cats to take care of...and how can I serve God living under a bridge anyway? People would have to take care of me, and how does that make anything better? So I try to serve God as I can, but I have so many other things in my mind right now...I know I should have faith, but it's hard. It's so hard.

I finally got off my butt to send out a bunch of resumes, at the very least. And I have a few places to call tomorrow; and while I was out today I found out a couple of other places I could maybe get to take my stuff. So there's maybe hope there. And now I'm going to go make dinner, and stick my head in a book until it's time to go to bed.