Tag: life

injury update: you have to be kidding

I took a tumble while I was out on Saturday seeing the doctor, so now the tally of injuries has been added to. Now my right foot and ankle are bandaged and not particularly weight bearing, my left wrist is in a brace and my right arm is in a sling. Typing hurts, stairs are nigh impossible, and I’m effectively down to one hand.

Thanks to a doctor’s recommendation from Joshua, I have a physio appointment on Wednesday, but except for that, I’ve canceled every other plan to leave the house for the rest of the work week. If I’ve somehow missed you, please forgive me. I suddenly have a lot on my plate and very few resources. Much love to you all and thank you for your patience.

now I have a diploma!

365:2010/07/10 - radiation burn (the results of learning algebra)
365:2010/07/10 – radiation burn (the results of learning algebra)

My GED test results arrived yesterday. I got 100% on Science, Language Arts/Reading, and Social Studies, a 95% grade on Language Arts/Writing, (likely because I was a self-referential smarty-pants in my essay), and approximately 65% percent on my math, which was a passing grade by ten percent.

I got the above sunburn by sitting outside, under a tree, bashing my head against algebra for four hours right before my Friday tests. (I had been wearing a shirt with a lace pattern down the back, which shows in the burn, except where my back was protected by the length of my hair.) It was so obviously painful that one of the teachers giving the test brought me wet paper towels to put on my shoulders while I was writing, and then brought me to the first aid room after the test to put serious anti-burn goo on them, so I could move without wincing. What she didn’t know is that a little kid had bashed my head with a kicked soccer ball while I was out studying, too, which slammed my jaws together, clipping off part of my tongue. I had been sucking ice the entire test, which is the only reason that she could understand me when I spoke. And yet, all that, and I only got 65%. There is no justice.

why does it hurt?!

  • Janet Fitch’s 10 rules for writers
  • Amanda Palmer Performs The Popular Hits Of Radiohead On Her Magical Ukulele

    I had thought to go to the doctor today and get a reference to the UBC Dept of Sports medicine, (there are multiple walk-in clinics in my neighborhood), but apparently I am still too much of a wreck to negotiate complicated topography, e.g. stairs. As such, I am stuck in my apartment, popping ibuprofen, nestled in ice-packs, ankle up, arm in a sling, trying not to despair too hard at the world. Given that sitting about doing nothing is a sure fire way to drive me crazy, I tried catching up on some of the transcription work I have that’s due at the end of the month, only to find out that typing for longer than four minutes feels like fire’s been injected directly into the veins of my left arm. Another fail. This leaves me too passive for words, which I hate, so instead of typing, I tried calling various financial services I’ve been meaning to call, to try and see if there’s anything that can be done about my EI debt. Short story long, no, apparently there isn’t, what the government wants, the government gets, but a credit counselor will look into it and we’ll have an appointment anyways. (At one point it was suggested that I investigate disability options and try and find out if my car accident damage counts me as a legal cripple, because I’m not already feeling bad enough about myself and situation. Yay.) Now, all options exhausted, I’m trying to make dinner with only one hand, while standing on only one leg. So far, I’ve diced a potato and almost my thumb. I hate that so little feels like such a victory.

    • tell me the signs of brain damage

    What a roller-coaster! I started my week long 9 am – 4 pm employment program on Monday, luckily landing in with a bunch of unusually clever folks, only to fall deathly ill late Tuesday afternoon, (so feverish I deliriously went into convulsions and my mother stayed the night taking care of me), right after booking a wedding shoot for Saturday. All of Wednesday was lost to recovery, and today the fact that I only fell down once while walking around my apartment has been an incredible victory. Tomorrow I’m going back to my program anyway, then calling the groom, who I have never met and do not know, to finalize details, before meeting Tony’s bus from Seattle, and racing as fast as possible on a broken foot over to the Folk Fest to catch Shane on the main stage. On Saturday morning, after what will feel like not half enough sleep, I will finally meet the bride and groom as they pick me up on their way to pick up a sailboat, which we will then sail over to the wedding, where I’m going to do my damnedest to not fall off a dock while trying to stay out of everyone’s line of sight while still getting good pictures, while Tony likely sets off for the Folk Fest market, carrying my extra gear. If all goes well, we’ll meet later at Granville Island for more pictures, the reception, and more pictures, where, who knows, maybe I’ll even sit down. Will I be okay being so busy after being so sick and running around on broken bones? I don’t know, but I can tell you this – I certainly don’t have any plans yet for Sunday. Except to go to an evening movie and, oh yeah, Folk Fest until I drop. Hah!

    Speak the truth, even if your voice trembles

    Back when I was laid off in December, I couldn’t get a Record of Employment from my previous employers. Told me I was a contractor, then that contractors don’t receive them, which I knew was wrong for a number of reasons, not least of which being that I’ve received them in the past as a contractor, at jobs where I’ve actually, you know, signed a contract. “It’s just a ticky-box at the top,” I said. “Oh, uh, well, we forgot to get you the paper,” said they. Awkward. I went in again to the same excuse, then finally, after growing tired of pestering and running out of time to apply for EI, I went in to the Employment Insurance offices. “Hello, here’s all the paperwork I have, I would have brought more, but my employers are withholding. Am I eligible?” The lady behind the counter was very sympathetic. She asked me some questions, had me fill out a form. Of course I was, she said, “it will be fine.” The Ministry would request my ROE for me and all would be well. Right? Wrong.

    The Ministry requested it only to be refused, so the quest for my ROE was turned over to the Canadian Revenue Agency, the Canadian equivalent of the IRS, and my claim was suspended while they investigated, leaving me again without any income. Once their decision was made, I was meant to receive a phone call and a copy of all the paperwork involved, including my missing ROE. That, however, is not how things went down. I never got a phone call from either the CRA or EI or any of my case papers in the mail. Instead the only thing I received was a bill of collections notice from EI stating that I owe them back every penny they paid me. Calling the office got me nowhere. All their operators could tell me is that my account was “under investigation, decision pending”, no matter that a decision had obviously been made, given the improbable, terrible bill in my hand. Calling the CRA proved equally useless. (“I can tell you nothing of the case in question, except that given your lack of income, you may defer the debt until August. The best news is that because this debt is in no way your fault, you do not have to pay interest.”) And yet I still don’t have an ROE. Or an income. And now I’m in far worse debt.

    Which brings me to this week. Given my precarious financial situation, where I’m not making enough to cover food and shelter, essentials in the bottom tier of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, I’ve caved and signed up for the dole. From here on in, I’ll be receiving rent $75 a month from the government, as well as enrolling in JobWave, their outsourced employment program. It might not be enough to live on once the EI debt starts collecting off the top, but it’s the only option I seem to have left. I signed up yesterday, answering simple questions, sitting in a cubicle under a giant canvas printed poster of a pop art John Lennon, a copy of one of the Twilight books on the desk. The staff seemed nice, but even so the place seemed painfully stereotypical, a community center rec room, beaten chairs and cheap computers, walls tiled with brightly coloured print-outs and stacks of photocopies so degraded from endless duplication they could have been printed by a soot blower. Even the other clients, the word they use for us, seemed to be stamped out of some sad, run down machine, all first nations people with cheap red and faded blue tattoos, obviously poor and missing some teeth, or teenagers in death metal t-shirts and rebellious high top boots, their manifest frustration shimmering off tiny pentagram necklaces, too annoyed by living for life. I’m not sure what I expected, but somehow it seems that wasn’t it. I’m not sure yet how I fit in.

    All such details aside, however, it sounds like I’m being signed up for some good programs. The woman who processed me into the system gave me two packets of bus-tickets before I left to make sure I could get to my classes and an application form for a year long Vancouver Parks Leisure Access Card, which grants access to free swimming and half off the Community Fitness Centers, so I can try and fix my broken body a little more on my own and get back into better shape. Tomorrow I have a four hour course called Tools For Work, and then on Friday I have another one called Setting The Stage. Not sure what the second one is about yet, but I imagine it will be a sort of an education overview introduction course to the program. (Next week is a week long course called Job Club, from 9 am – 4 pm. There goes my mornings. Ouch.)

    Honestly, I was meant to start today, but my upcoming GED tests are crushing me with stress and I couldn’t bring myself to sleep a wink last night, so I called them this morning and moved it to Friday. Scary, sort of, because Friday is when my exams start, so now I have my JobWave course from 9am – 12 pm, my math test from 5:45 – 7:15 and then my science test from 7:30 pm – 8:50, but I’m hoping that filling up my day with employment issues will distract my despair, like waving a shiny string in front of a cat to keep it away from a wounded mouse.

    excellent links and a job interview

  • Vintage Design: Hidden posters of Notting Hill Gate Tube station, 2010
  • Green Upcycling: High Line Park transformed a derelict elevated railway on NY’s Lower West Side into a mile-and-a-half-long “park in the sky”.

    I had an interview this afternoon for a job I’m sincerely hoping to land, an ace position with a respectable creative sector company, that requires such a perfect fit for my skills that it’s almost a little silly. Plus, bonus, it comes with room for independant thought. (The number of executive assistant jobs that have replied to me lately that should have advertised for a receptionist instead has really been getting me down. Note to potential employers: Personal assistants and executive assistants are two different things.) My only concern, as I know I’m well qualified and have no worries there, is that it’s been so long since I’ve done an interview that I might have come across as either incredibly dull or even a bit repetitive. I found myself agreeing with so much the interviewer had to say, after all, that I must have spent an entire ten minutes nodding my head and replying, “Right.” How.. pedestrian. How incredibly, incredibly bland. On the other hand, I did walk in with an asymetrical purple fedora decked out in six kinds of feathers, so there’s hope.

    I kid. Well, not about the hat, that really is my hat. But about my concerns. In my heart of hearts, my anxieties don’t stem from such superficial worries, but the very real chance that one of the other applicants will get the gig. This terrifies me. Not because being underemployed well and truly sucks, but because the position I interviewed for today is the first job to come along in a long time that I truly want. Not only would I be good at it, I would enjoy being good at it, I would thrive, and that’s precious in a day job. I hate having to constantly choose between doing something I appreciate for flaky employers who “forget” to pay me or steady yet tedious work that painfully reminds me that every minute on the job is a minute I will never get back. It grinds me down. If I’m fierce about anything, it’s that I want to add to the joy of the world, not the grime, and this looks like a chance to do that and get paid for it! Be still my beating heart! And yet, I am flawed and I doubt. What if I don’t get it? What if another person is better? Thankfully, they’ll be making a decision by Tuesday at the latest, so I don’t have long to wait.

    • about to go out into the light

    “There is a verifiable population of kangaroos living in the wild in the township of Émancé, about an hour outside of Paris. The kangaroos are descended from a breeding population which escaped during a botched burglary attempt at an animal park in the 1970s.”

    Shaking the last bit of milk out of the carton into my bunny and flower shaped local health-food alternative to kid’s cereal, I realize I’ve just played mimic, my hand repeating the exact motions of shaking the last sound out of an electric boot. Looking to find meaning in the moment, given that this is breakfast, (and breakfast should always involve a certain level of introspection), I expand the spark of revelation into the far more liberating idea that my past will be very little like my future. Life might be financially hard right now, but in this minute, it is not at all apparent. I feel free standing in the kitchen, held by the love of the past twenty four hours, my friends, the future. I have sunlight, food and this associated gesture grasped in my hand, a physical manifestation of what I have accomplished, who I have become close to. The prosaic motion of my wrist has blossomed into a crack in time, sluicing away some of the hard, bitter veneer painted on my skin by bad history. Poor past choices are flaking away, being replaced by wonderful new memories almost every single day. Though I might be damaged, I am recovering. Though I am alone, I am not lonely.

    stress, a subject of some familiarity

    File Taxes

    The woman at my appointment said not to worry about my back-filing, just to get last year’s paperwork in as soon as I could, but I’m finding it a struggle. Does anyone know how to do this based only on income? I don’t have any T4’s, any proper employment slips, only cheque stubs that list the amount I was paid.

    Finish Highschool

    First-Time Writing Fee = $60.00. To take the test, I must submit a completed APPLICATION TO WRITE GED TESTS form and appropriate fees to the GED Testing Service in Victoria. The next tests are on June 4th & 5th, but the paperwork needs to be in a month ahead of time, so July 9 & 10 are more likely. It takes both days to attend all of the exams. (“The five tests take seven hours and twenty-five minutes to complete.”)

    Learn to drive

    I have been taking the ICBC Online Practice Knowledge Test for learner’s licence almost every single day, and consistantly scoring in the 90% range. Once I return to Canada, it’s $15, a vision test, and I’ll officially have a Learner’s Permit. Next step: unearthing patient friends with cars.

    Learn something new

    The constant search for employment is wearing me down. It’s been fruitless for months, now. Rent is looming, no one’s calling me back. I want to learn some marketable skills, give myself some direction. Does anyone know of any education assistance programs? My income is essentially zero right now, and I’m running out of ideas.

    it hailed today and blessed us with fox rain

    tony

    To Do List (updated)

  • Sell giant mirror.
  • Paint the livingroom white. Ready the livingroom for painting.
  • Purchase paint for the mirror frames.
  • Paint my bedroom. Ready my bedroom for painting.
  • Obtain cat-resistant curtains.
  • Obtain new bed sheets.
  • Reorganize hall closet.
  • Frame the posters/art.
  • Get new glasses. Pick up glasses/contacts. Learn how to use contacts.
  • Learn to drive.
  • Pass highschool.
  • File taxes 1999-2009. Fill out my 2009 Tax Forms.
  • Take a dance class.
  • Learn something new.

    Work on my life continues to escalate, much of it thanks to Tony.

    There’s other things too, (like job hunting, love letters, cleaning my room, completing my workspace, writing and compiling the picture book, working on Thread of Grace, charting out some travel plans, getting more exercise, being more social, finalizing the groom’s party wedding planning, researching schools, and finally, finally, catching up on my massive photography back-log), but those are all being chipped at, bit by bite, and don’t feel quite as much like “one good shot and they’re done” kind of tasks. In regards to this list, I’m trying to take at least one step forward every single day. Monday I applied for five jobs, picked up my 2009 tax forms, officially requested my employment slips, had an eye exam and a contacts fitting, visited with Jay, and significantly made a dent in the clutter in my room. Today I applied for three, returned all the phone calls and most of the e-mail I’ve been neglecting, started pinning down travel plans with Lung, dropped by Dominique‘s, edited a chapter of a friend’s novel, and bought a pail of white paint. Tonight I’m going to start on my tax forms, hook up my printer and scanner and clean more of my room. Tomorrow I’m planning on finishing what I don’t get done tonight, prepping my livingroom for paint, sorting some of the front hall, visiting with Randa, and still finding time for a bike ride with Kyle.

    • he makes me laugh

  • Fighting allergies by mimicking parasitical worms.
  • Of all the people in human history who ever reached the age of 65, half are alive now.

    Tony was just here for a week on a languid “vacation”, semi-officially off work after his product shipped and Microsoft turned a winking eye on the staff. Good work! Yeah, you, uh, should, you know, “work from home” this week, everyone, yeah. You know? We were slothful, staying up until four every night and indolently waking up at noon every day, something I haven’t done in years. I was concerned such a state of affairs might drive me batty, my itch to accomplish scouring my skin, but instead it was oddly refreshing. We were lazy and lovely and cuddly and snuggly and warm, and Dominique called me sappy, and I thought, how wonderful that sap has replaced my blood. I felt a bit like a battery being recharged, like my inactive down time would pay off in a burst of focus.

    And, so far, it has.

    When I put up my to-do list, Tony stepped in and offered to fund a “Jhayne Diagnostic Test” for my birthday. Kicking the tires, he called it, to see if I’m alright. Making sure I can see him, making sure I’m smart enough, and eventually, that I’ll be able to drive him around. Can’t have a girlfriend that isn’t up to par, he said, and smirked, and if he had been sitting beside me, I would have bashed him with a pillow. He was in Seattle, though, so instead I shook my fist.

    So this week we found a place on-line that sells lingerie for more full bodied ladies, BreakoutBras, and snagged a batch of Harlequins that were on sale, and on Saturday I went to Image Optical, an optometrist who offers a free pair of glasses with every eye exam, which includes a contact lens exam/fitting, got my prescription updated, and picked out some frames. (Not that my glasses will be free. My vision is terrible and to purchase lenses that will not warp space and time costs a significant chunk extra. The blind tax, I call it. Unavoidable. Only $140 in this case, though, half of what more places expect.)

    Today I go downtown for an appointment with the tax office to request my employment slips of the past ten years, then head over to the optometrist, credit card the glasses, (my mother is going halvers with me), and have my eyes measured for contact lenses. My eyes have apparently stabilized in the last few years, not entirely, but the prescription is no longer a bizarre, finicky one that requires custom attention, so the lenses are fairly basic, and the glasses will be finished and ready for pick-up tomorrow. Once that’s accomplished, and I can see without fog again, I’m going to march right over to the ICBC Driver’s Center and take my written Learner’s test.

    The ball is rolling, ladies and gentleman. The gloves are off.