Self-portrait, 10/21/09
* The place that I interviewed with a couple weeks ago offered me the job. After much consideration, I officially turned it down today. I spent about three years living on $10/hour, which is what the job pays, and I just can't go back to life that way. I had to take into consideration the possibility that I'd have no additional income after the end of the year and knew immediately that I couldn't survive on the part-time hours the company was offering. I was told during the interview that benefits weren't available, but later found out I'd be entitled to vacation time and entrance into their retirement-savings program. Better than nothing, but I was going to need to be promoted to full-time to get health insurance, etc. The company listed their range of part-time hours from 12-39, so there's a good chance I would've lingered at almost-full-time just long enough to lose my mind. I just have too many things to pay for and pay off, among them the student loan debt that threatens to suffocate me every time I think about it. I just can't keep deferring Sallie Mae. I deserve a full-time position with full benefits instead of shooting myself back to 2002. As thrilling as it was to choose between paying rent and, oh, buying groceries or attempting to keep all the utilities on at the same time, I don't want to live that way again and I don't have to. It may be a risk to turn down a job when the economy is crap but I've made a decision that's made me happy (at least on the 'not settling' front) and now I can continue to pursue a job that's full-time and offers benefits from the get-go. A novel concept, I know.
* Speaking of novels, I'm going to participate in this year's National Novel Writing Month. To date, I've written two (baaaaaaadterribleawfulmykingdomforaneditor) novels and have started two others. (Fifth year! Wow.) I love the discipline the month offers and have mentioned the idea to King V and Queen S. They both write some pretty good fiction. I'm glad to know a number of my friends, including Steele (*waves hi*) are going to be writing this year. I have no idea what to write about but I've got, what, four days to come up with some kind of idea and outline and whatever... I can write a third bad novel. Not a problem.
* When I got home today, I had an "apology" from my upstairs neighbor for last night's vacuuming. It started with an apology and then things got weird. (Trend! Trend!) She said her apartment is infested with fleas and that she's been cleaning and laundering nonstop to combat the problem. Having been there all too recently -- and finding the problem sadly reoccurring now that Gizmo has ditched her flea collar; thanks a lot, cat -- I was a bit sympathetic but still really can't figure out why Nutjob McCleanfreak thought it was cool to bust out the vacuum at 1:30 a.m. Her note says, "I thought you slept in the front of the house..." (which, in Crazy, apparently means "Can hear no sound one room away, please dust-bust until dawn) and ends with "...and that was why I couldn't leave the porch light on." Um. What? Oh... right. A couple weeks ago, we had an altercation-via-note (Trend! Trend!) about her leaving the porch light on in the middle of the night. I was routinely turning it off before bed, not realizing she was leaving it on so she could see the porch when she came home from her second-shift job. She snarked at me for turning the light off and I responded that I wasn't doing so out of malice. Now she leaves our foyer light on all night and I can sleep without an oppressive light shining into my room. But apparently I'm a bad person for not wanting her to vacuum when most people are asleep because I got my way a couple weeks ago. I know it will shock you terribly that I've upped my search for a new place to live. (I've only been bitching about this apartment for three years; how about some forward-moving action, Maxine?) I want to save the money to get my windshield wipers fixed (yep, still broken) and then save money for a deposit and moving costs.
* Blah.
* Speaking of novels, I'm going to participate in this year's National Novel Writing Month. To date, I've written two (baaaaaaadterribleawfulmykingdomforaneditor) novels and have started two others. (Fifth year! Wow.) I love the discipline the month offers and have mentioned the idea to King V and Queen S. They both write some pretty good fiction. I'm glad to know a number of my friends, including Steele (*waves hi*) are going to be writing this year. I have no idea what to write about but I've got, what, four days to come up with some kind of idea and outline and whatever... I can write a third bad novel. Not a problem.
* When I got home today, I had an "apology" from my upstairs neighbor for last night's vacuuming. It started with an apology and then things got weird. (Trend! Trend!) She said her apartment is infested with fleas and that she's been cleaning and laundering nonstop to combat the problem. Having been there all too recently -- and finding the problem sadly reoccurring now that Gizmo has ditched her flea collar; thanks a lot, cat -- I was a bit sympathetic but still really can't figure out why Nutjob McCleanfreak thought it was cool to bust out the vacuum at 1:30 a.m. Her note says, "I thought you slept in the front of the house..." (which, in Crazy, apparently means "Can hear no sound one room away, please dust-bust until dawn) and ends with "...and that was why I couldn't leave the porch light on." Um. What? Oh... right. A couple weeks ago, we had an altercation-via-note (Trend! Trend!) about her leaving the porch light on in the middle of the night. I was routinely turning it off before bed, not realizing she was leaving it on so she could see the porch when she came home from her second-shift job. She snarked at me for turning the light off and I responded that I wasn't doing so out of malice. Now she leaves our foyer light on all night and I can sleep without an oppressive light shining into my room. But apparently I'm a bad person for not wanting her to vacuum when most people are asleep because I got my way a couple weeks ago. I know it will shock you terribly that I've upped my search for a new place to live. (I've only been bitching about this apartment for three years; how about some forward-moving action, Maxine?) I want to save the money to get my windshield wipers fixed (yep, still broken) and then save money for a deposit and moving costs.
* Blah.
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