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So, I got something pretty exciting in the mail -


I have a driver's license now.

The excitement lasted all of the few minutes it took to put the license in my wallet over top my state ID and now...

Wtf do I actually do?

Here are my choices: Get insurance on my car, get the car repaired, inspected, and registered, and, you know, drive it, and end up completely blowing my carefully worked out budget.

Or, leave the car at the other house, unregistered and uninsured, and continue to have people drive me to and from work or walk two miles in the mornings or wait for the meager amount of transportation around here (that doesn't run in the winter.)

I think I can't afford to drive. I really, really can't. I don't think I'm going to be able to make my bills and loan payments if I'm also paying for car insurance, and my car needs about $1500 of repairs before it can be registered, and I don't have that either. Yeah, I could put that on a credit card. I do that with enough other stuff. But if I keep doing that shit, I'm just going to end up maxing out the credit cards. And I sure can't put the insurance on the credit card... can I? Even if that was an option, it doesn't seem like a very good one.

My driving record is so horrible that my insurance would cost something upwards of five hundred a month, and that's just absurd. That's six grand a year. Of course, letting the insurance lapse this past year didn't help at all, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

And here's the thing - I'd almost be okay with driving without insurance. Unless I got pulled over or in (another) accident, I'd never get caught. I'd almost consider it worth the risk. But that's not even an option, cause I can't get the car registered without insurance, and driving around with the car not registered is something I COULD get caught doing, very easily, and is the main reason I haven't just been driving around with a suspended license anyway.

I'm also the worst driver ever, and would just rather live somewhere were I can get on a bus or a train or something and not worry about driving in the first place...

I do not like it here.
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Well, first and foremost, my taxes - I have to fill out some forms and provide some information and get some things notarized (wtf do I find a notary? Anyone?) but one of my main concerns has been pretty much alleviated - I am not in a great big pile of scary and intimidating horse shit with the IRS. Although... as of right now, since nothing is resolved, or course, I still owe them money, technically - which freaks me the hell out. Which is why I was initially inclined to just re-do my taxes and pay the penalty and the interest. But I have this feeling that if I do that, I'll never get that money back, ever, and, as several people pointed out, the same thing will very likely happen to me next year.

...I'm pretty sure that this while production will land my parents in that very same horse shit pile, though. But... that's their fault, right? I mean, they have to know they were being fraudulent. So they should know that there are consequences for that kind of stuff. Right?

Oh, so many exciting things going on in my life, what to write about today? Hmmm, well, there's, I hate my job. Then there's a bit of I hate my job, too. And you know what? I hate my job, too. It's fucking boring and I can't stand it. Which job? Doesn't matter. They're both boring. Even the coffee shop. I used to think it wasn't so bad there but all my coworkers are in high school and all the tourists are idiotic and I've pretty much had it up to here with doing the EXACT. SAME. THING. Every day, day after day after day.

Yeah. I know. That's part of having a job and I should just suck it up and deal.

Except, for, you know, I've had so many jobs, and they haven't all been like this. I don't know if it's that I'm older now, and my older and more mature (lol) brain is getting frustrated working a "kid job" or that all this has been brewing for longer than I thought it has, or if these are simply the worst and least stimulating jobs I've ever had. It's probably the last thing I mentioned, though. Yeah, it's definitely that. These are just the worst jobs I've ever had.

So... moving on. Ah, I know, I went to the supermarket.

I feel like such a lazy-ass getting groceries delivered. I made this deal with myself about it, see... )

Tell you what, I am not cut out for the life of a soap opera star, that's for damn sure.

Anyway, that's pretty much it. Told ya my life was exciting: parents who lie cheat and steal with no remorse, scared of the supermarket, frustrated with my shoulder, and intimidated by a situation I created with my own friends. GO ME.
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Ok so one day a few years ago when I still lived with Daniel he was doing something in the corner behind his computer, like with the guts of it or something, and he asked me to pick up his phone and make a phone call for him. Fine. So at the time he had his phone programed to dial on voice command, and so he told me what to say to get it to call. He liked it that way cause he said it made him feel Star Trek-ish to say "call Jay" and the phone would call her. Also fine.

Except for the phone wouldn't recognize my voice! I had to give up and dial her from, you know, pushing buttons and the like.

This just furthers the theory that I talk funny. I don't think I sound different. There's no reason why I should sound different - I used to have a little bit of a stutter but the older I get the less it happens - I speak, as far as I can tell, exactly the same as everyone else. I have no type of speech impediment. Just, voice recognition stuff can't even hear me. It doesn't even process that I'm speaking!

I went to Philly yesterday, back to my old 'hood, to visit a friend that lived down the street from us. He had just gotten home from the hospital - he got shot, oh, sometimes last fall, and he had been in the hospital ever since. It's a pretty sad story - he is basically going to need someone to take care of him for the rest of his life. He's not, like, my bestest friend ever, but we lived on the same block, and we'd hang out pretty often, you know, have a few beers together, order take out, sit on the porch, you know, all that EOL stuff.

I wish this was a cute story but really it's just regular old life )

So we sat on the porch. The back porch, the one where they built the ramp. (Not even the same house - he's staying with his parents, they live in a different part of the neighborhood) Couple other peeps from down the street came over with a couple pizzas. We drank some beers. Well, I drank my beer from one hand and held my friend's beer for him and tried my damnedest not to spill it when I tilted it back. The first nurse left early, the night nurse arrived late. We went inside. We locked the door so the nurse would have to knock. We watched some weird freak-nasty porn. This was the routine back in the day, see, when we lived down the street from each other and my friend could hold his own beer. Yes, freak-nasty porn, and on that big TV, too. But it wasn't a single thing like old times. It wasn't a bit like old times.
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So work last night was just... weird. I was in a kind of space-y mood, I guess, since my mind was definitely still in Philly with Krissy. I was sitting at the employee table waiting for my shift to start (I was kind of early) and Bevan sat down next to me to count his money from lunch, and he was like, "So, how was the booty call?"

I had told him, see, about how I was going to visit my ex, and how I was kind of unsure why exactly she wanted to see me so badly, and he said it sounded like a booty call. I said it didn't sound like that to me, but if that's all it was, I was game for that too.

It was not a booty call. And I told him that. So I got to be right. He asked me a little more about how it went, but as much as I wanted to talk about it with somebody, I was afraid that if I started talking about it I would just start unloading all of it right then and there, and I don't want to dump all that shit on him. So I just said that love sucks and so does breaking up, even a year after the fact, and that I really should have just stayed here and told her I didn't see the point in us seeing each other.

And then to keep him from asking me anything else I asked him how him and Jury are doing, and he said something about her turning down a summer internship thing up at Penn State because she wanted to spend the summer here, and I was like, oh shit, thats... stupid... isn't it?

Isn't it, though? She was offered an internship and turned it down so she could spend the summer with her boyfriend? And of course I can't really think about her without thinking how her boyfriend cheated on her while she was away - that didn't really bother me at all at first (although the whole situation did, and still does) but now that she's around, yeah, it does bother me. He cheated on her, and that's pretty dirty, and I like him, he's an awesome person, but at the same time, how awesome can he be if he'd cheat on his girlfriend...

This is why I don't support long distance relationships, you see. Or any relationships at all, come to think of it.

Anyway. Bevan didn't think it was stupid of her to turn down the internship.

More work stuff, some ranting, and some of me getting all offended by stuff )

I've got some other rant-worthy shit going on at that job, and I've got some lovely "but isn't this Starbuck?" stories from my other job, too, but I'll save all that for another time, I think I've worked myself into a tizzy enough here.

Erica invited me over to "lay out" with her sometime this weekend - I am dubious about that, for several reasons. It's not that I don't want to hang out with Erica - clearly she does not find me "annoying" being that she has called me several times since we last hung out, which was only Monday anyway. I am not opposed to trying to get a suntan or anything, but I don't own a bathing suit and I have no intentions of wearing one anyway, so it might be pretty miserable and hot and sticky and nasty sitting out in the sun all day wearing... clothes. Even if I'm wearing some spiffy skimpy top, I'd say I'd probably get intolerably hot anyway. And knowing me, probably not drink enough water and get dehydrated too, or something stupid like that.

I dunno, just laying around in the sun trying to get a tan is not really something it has ever occurred to me to do, although I know people do it all the time. I'll have to think about this one a bit.

I'm not much good at hanging out with girls... I know, it sounds horrible, because I am a girl, but all the things I can think of that I might suggest we do instead are either sounding to me like a date, like "hey lets get dinner and see a movie" or are totally cliche "girl time" things, like "oh let's go to the mall and go shopping!"

...but I would definitely enjoy a trip to the mall. I've been trying to get to the mall for, like, months and months and months. But maybe she doesn't want to shop. She has no job, maybe she has no money, and that's why she wants to lay around outside, cause it's free. Hey, I don't have any extra money either, and here I am getting all excited at the prospect of spending what I don't really have. GO ME!

Girly stuff like... we could play with each other's hair - girls do that together, right?

Ok I'm stopping this, this is just getting too bizarre. Maybe she would like to watch Doctor Who with me, I'll put some eps on my laptop and bring it with me, or see if she wants to come over here. She doesn't seem to be much into sci-fi but a lot of people have been grabbed by New Who cause it's just that good, even if they're not really the sci-fi type.

Hm. I'll have to think on that one too.
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I had this nice day today, you know, after work I went to my favorite hot spot for funky things (which is only open on the weekends in the winter, go figure) and bought some super-strong bleach for my hair, since I'm planning to go ahead with the platinum hair plan. I bleached out the top part of my head, so now it's, hmm, light yellow over maroon - interesting looking, really, of course it's not going to stay that way. I just don't want my hair to fall out or break or anything so I'm giving it a break. Of course everyone's gonna be like, oh, Lara, I like your hair! But they always say that whenever I change it. It doesn't actually look that great. I need to bleach it again, and then I need to, like, let it sit with toner in it for like five hours or something. Then it should be white. We'll see about that.

And, you know, my scalp is all pink and puffy and so is my forehead and so are my fingertips. Sigh, the price of having white hair... someday maybe I'll be old and it will turn white on it's own :P

Ok but, see, while I was lounging around, listening to music and letting my hair bleach, I came to this sudden realization: I HAVE COURT TOMORROW.


I have known about this for months. In fact, since last time I had court. Um. Okay. Should not be a problem. But, it is, of course. Two things: one, I have to work tomorrow at the Coffee Co. I cannot do both. I have tried desperately to get my shift covered, but, like, come on. Half a day's notice? I pretty much called up and was like, yeah, not coming in, regardless, because losing my job because I didn't show up would be worse than not showing up to COURT, but, I really, really don't want to lose my job. Jobs are hard to find in the winter. I'm lucky I have two, and even with two, I really only get about twenty five hours a week, combined. If I lost this job, I would not be able to get another one. Not one I could actually, you know, get to without a car.

And speaking of car - I have to be in Camden tomorrow morning. Which means someone either needs to drive me to AC so I can get on a train or a bus, or I need to call a cab to come here and take me to AC, which is mad expensive, to say the least, and the last time I did that the cab was late. I CAN'T BE LATE.

So, my hair looks stupid, and I have royally screwed myself. Yet again.

Go me.
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I just woke up.

Aren't I just the loser? Seriously. It's quarter after four in the afternoon. Nobody's here, I can tell, my car isn't outside and it's completely silent downstairs.

So I was thinking about going back to dying my hair platinum. Not platinum blonde- real platinum, like silver-white. It's been maroon-ish for a while now, maybe it's time for a change. Although, I don't know. With all the focus on trying to be healthy and all, maybe I don't want to go messing with all that bleach again. I'm really indecisive. I just know I'm getting tired of my hair the way it is, and god forbid I actually let it grow out naturally (whatever that looks like)

I was also thinking that I need to get a move on with this house. I have some contractors coming in to do the kitchen in two weeks - very exciting! The bathroom is already done - those are the two major things, I believe. I want to have the whole floor ready to rent by summer, which means that by summer I will be living downstairs again, and my tenants will be leaving. They know that, they've always known that, apparently that's just the way it is here, everyone moves twice a year - somewhere nice in the winter, somewhere crappy during tourist season.

But see... when they leave, um, who is going to drive me to work?

Why am I such a fucking idiot, anyway?

Whatever, I'll deal with that when it comes time. Maybe I can apply for a restricted work license or something like that.

I was talking to another hostess at the restaurant last night and she made the observation that a lot of people who used to be hard core into drugs are now hard core into medications, like anxiety pills and antidepressants and mood stabilizers and such. That does seem to be true and I always assumed that those are reasons people get into drugs in the first place - they're unhappy and trying to fix it. But I started wondering about the flip side - I wonder if excessive drug use actually damages your personality, so that to be normally functional again without drugs, you need other drugs to keep you stable?

But whatever. I hate talking about drugs.
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All right, well, not that I'm terribly happy about turning twenty four and still having a shithole of a life, I have to admit, I'm doing a bit better than I was for my twenty-third birthday.

To make a very, very long and sob-inducing story short, Krissy and I don't see each other any more. I can't say we "broke up" because we were never officially "together," but... yeah. We don't see each other anymore. For one thing, the distance was starting to be a problem. Her driving over an hour to see me was one thing, but her driving over an hour to come pick me up was something else entirely - I don't live anywhere near any kind of public transportation that can get me to Philly. I mean, there are busses and trains in and out of Atlantic City, of course, but, what, am I going to fucking walk to AC? So no. And her coming over here is just... was just, I should say... but, this is a dry town. There are no bars. And the other towns around here, they're tourist towns, really, and when it isn't tourist season, they're just little hick towns and it's just not the same as Philly and she certainly wasn't impressed. And of course my house isn't terribly impressive or even comfortable, either.

I met Krissy's family. I think that was the last straw. We don't belong together, her and I. That was made perfectly clear.

I don't belong in anyone's life.

I still work in the restaurant a couple days a week, cause I get a ride from my downstairs tenants, which is cool. And I have a part-time job at a coffee shop a few blocks from here, near the bayside. That's an okay job. The first floor of my house is rent-able now, which is cool I guess, and I'm renting it to these two Haitian kids who are always speaking French and stuff, I can't understand them half the time even when they're speaking English. I met them at the restaurant. They're cooks. Um, so, I finished the first floor up, mostly, decently enough, anyway, in October, and they moved in right away, which leaves the second floor for me, and I've been slacking on making the second floor rent-able too.

And the second house is totally stalled because of zoning bullshit that I have no clue how to get around. I need, like, some type of knowledge I seem to be lacking, or something.

So, yeah, I live on the second floor of my own house, go me. I have fallen down my own stairs about once every other week. It's great fun.

I, ah, lost my driver's license, also - I don't really want to talk about that. It was my own fault and it was stupid, and I almost went to jail or something. I'm a fucking idiot, to tell the truth. So, anyway, my downstairs tenants drive my car. And drive me to work, conveniently.

I'm so fucking poisonous. I don't know why everyone doesn't hate me. Oh, for all I know, they all probably do. The ones who count, anyway...



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Lara I.

October 2012

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