Changes Over A Passage Of Months.

At the end of May, I was laid off from Ulta.

It wasn't just me.  A girl that had been hired right before me, and that I had gotten close to over the time I was there, was let go just after me. The reasons were completely an utterly transparent. A corporate store front salon has very little to offer in the way of really building yourself as a stylist in respect to skills learned by older, wiser stylists that can be looked at like a mentor. And, I was never gung ho about the job to begin with. What I was excited about was the BENEFITS!!!

And, you know, I could go on and on about the lame things that were going in in that place. I am the first to admit that I am not above a good ranting. But, its been months. The anger and let down of losing out on an opportunity to get actual health insurance benefits through a corporation that uses a GREAT health care plan has faded-but it is not gone completely.

This is because I am sure the fact that I was about to start getting said benefits- that the company has to pay to provide- is one of the reasons that I was let go. Along with the fact that I was booked nearly solid for 2 weeks as of the day I was fired. It was as if they couldnt afford to keep us. We were not working on a straight commission split. We had a base pay, and a goal we had to meet, to get our commission. Just like working at a retail place.  That salon had been in the red for so long. The pressure was on the management, who then put the pressure on us. There was one girl who worked there out of the five of us who was not a good hairdresser. Sorry, I tell the truth even when it is not very nice. But what she was was a manipulator. That girl could domineer someone in to something that removed all the cash from their wallet before they even knew what had happen. Their heads would be spinning.  I admire that, in a way. I am of the opinion that you must use your powers for good, not evil.

As a hairstylist, it is our job, if we are of moral fibre, to create an environment of trust with our clients. Telling them the hard truth, such as I mentioned before, is one of the ways, as well as actually ONLY giving them recommendations for what is appropriate for them.  You are to be honest. There is no reason for lying. Believe me, I know. Back in the days of my youth, I had a great problem with telling little lame lies. I thought that no one would want to know the truth about me, because I have never been anywhere, I had never did anything. I was just a boring sci fi geek with a bevy of book smarts.
People pick up on the things that you are uncomfortable with, no matter if you lie about them or not. The brain picks up the fake, the forgery.

Unless they want to believe.

There are cases where people will readily accept a blatant forgery, and like it as well. Oh, I can make a list.  I can pull from my own life, I can tell you about situations that you would cry about. How about, when I met my first ever boyfriend, the first man I even slept with, and I hated him. Something about him repulsed me. Somehow, my brain ignored the forgery, and I ended up in an abusive relationship that caused me to lock myself in a bedroom just to get away from him. My mind had wanted to protect me, and in the end, caused me harm by ignoring my first instinct.

And so a similar theme, but far less traumatic, happened in that salon. The one forgery in the place brought in the money, and the rest of us, even if we were great hairdressers, fantastically loyal to the customers we stockpiled with our skills, honesty, and personalities, had to go. Add that to the fact that the salon was not willing to spend some money to make some money, and the fact that we were beating out this "moneymaker" with our service dollars and appointments, and the forgery was harder to believe.

But they were used to her. Their minds wanted that familiar state of being, where they didnt have to think about all the crap that had gone on, and they wanted it to be simple.

And so we went. And with it, my closest chance so far at good health. At a life with less pain, and more time to be productive. Of course, I have been depressed. But life, in any state, goes on.

The Crafts Blog.

Hi everybody!


I just set up the crafts blog, finally. Its called "One Lucky Bug" just like my etsy store.
It's still blank, but I wanted to give you guys the heads up to mosey on over there in the next few days and add it to your following. Lots of cute pictures and tutorials and whatnot are going to be there.


As for this blog, back to some really important information in just a little while.

Follow The Link.

I will write a letter pertaining to me shortly, I just wanted to post this link to remember it.


http://notdoneliving.net/openletter/id

Yep, I Was.

BTW'S.

Here is a linkie to my etsy site.


http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=6058354

Enjoy, buy, and help a poor poor girl get some meds. Yay for meds!

And Thats How You Know.

There's something about intense pain that opens your eyes. And your mind. It's a rush, really, and you feel high. Not high like whoa man this is good stuff. As in the top of a mountain high. Above it all. The ratrace, those bills that lay unopened and unpaid, those rumors, any heartaches untouched still begging to ache in the middle of the night during Dr. Drew. Who has time for those things? I have this pain, thats what. It's an all consuming thing and the sharpness is familliar. Turning my head makes me dizzy and closing my eyes bring images too vivid to be dreams. The feeling is as white hot as a new star and as comforting as that face I look for in a crowded room, solace in the fact that it will always be there accepting me in the craziest town behaviours I can muster.

Does it look like it? Do I wear the pain on my face? Is it like a dress that fits badly? In those hollows under my eyes and around the slope of my nose, are the words written: Ouch, ouch ouch. Here, and here, and here as well, it hurts. If you were to take my face in your hands, would the truth be prickly and jolt your fingertips? It eats my optimism.

It's funny how nothing ages you more than something hurting. I mean a physical hurt. Heart hurt makes you jaded, but physical pain makes you haggard, changes the life you once led and takes memories right from your brain. Sometimes for me even looking at people I have had intense connections with is foreign. I can't fathom a time when I would share a similar lifestyle or moral compass as certain people. Friends. Former lovers. There is always those one or two people that own a portion of you after it's over, you know? And I am either the perfect being or too feel too much pain, because I don't miss those parts of me owned by others in the slightest, just as if I wouldn't miss my nail clippings. They are simply gone. I remember being with them and I remember touching them, but I don't feel a loss. I don't feel anything. Is that a limp? Is that wrong? Important and special things have happened in my life aside from the pain to change me, I suppose. The love, the direction.

What I DO miss about certain people is the fact that they DID own me. A piece of me, for a small period of time. But one can't always be on the dole, can they? Rationing off portions as if there is no telling when the ship is going to meet its destination. What's much better to give it all at one time. To one source. And that's scary.

What I feel the pain has done is let me see things clearly. Being above it and having that sharp clarity has taken scales from my eyes. And that's how I know.

It's Not All About Sick.

So I actually started this blog initially, at the advice of my friend Ryan Marshall over at http://pacingthepanicroom.blogspot.com/.

The idea was that I would write about my illnesses, and healthcare as an industry in this country. I've been quiet lately, because I have been thinking. What do I look like to an outside viewer? Does it look like I am just a person who is all negative, complaining about ever little ache and pain that comes by in the ebb and flow of daily life? Someone who cannot deal with any little discomfort? And do I look like a person just looking for a handout, not willing to do any of the things that involve work to get me to a place where I am healthy and moderately pain free?


Such were the ponderings of late, looking over past entries, listening to myself and the every day complaints coming out of my mouth.

And you know what? I DO complain a lot. That is just the way that I am. But, I complain in a cute way. Ha, if you can imagine that. It is not in a serious-please-put-your-pity-on-me-and-do-everything-for-me way. At least, that's how I see it. I ask Alex all the time if I complain too much, and he responds in that "we are a couple" cute voice that yes, I do. But then he quickly corrects himself and says that I dont. Which means I do, but that it does not bother him, or that he feels that it is warranted complaining. On the whole, I have stopped talking about the major way my body aches and pains every single day. I try to just remark on the days that I wake up and feel fantastic. There is a person that I know of that I try to use as an example of what NOT to do, how not to act. Everything this person has commentary of is negative. It's like, Wow, its raining. Wow, my cat threw up on my favorite shoes. Wow, my head has hurt for 140 days straight. And I am like SHUT THE FUCK UP! Tell me some cute things about your life. Just that personality that everything is something. Do you know what I mean?

And that is really not me. At least, not in my head. And that is an interesting point. How we see ourselves is not objective enough. How we view ourselves can't possibly be accurate, can it?

So that is why I have these times of severe introspection. I try to see what I am doing "wrong" so that I might take measures to correct it. I want to make sure that I am not taking anything or anyone for granted, or advantage of them in a bad way.

And I think I do that in a way in regards to Alex. I don't mean to. He really does put up with me. It's because he truly loves me, and this fact is so precious to me, that I want to provide the same sort of thing for him. He is the money maker in this relationship, and I want to be as equal as possible. My financial situation is still 'struggling' at best. The fun time things we do are all on his dime. This hurts me, because I feel that is uneven. I know he doesnt mind at all, but I do. And I want to be steady on my feet so that we can go on vacations and do all the traveling that we always have our little dream talkins about. He has asked me, one time, when we were in an "argument", what I would do if he wasn't around to hold me up. Or if my parents weren't around to hold me up. And I really don't know.

I like to think I am a survivor, because of my illnesses, but I wouldn't. I've never had the secure footing upon which to build the proper skills that it seems every other adult has. My parents moved when I was 17, and I didn't go with them. I was in an abusive relationship, and was so brain washed that I didn't even think going with them was an option. I didn't even think about going. My brain just didnt work that way.

And it still seems that I am playing catch-up. In some ways, I think I am just going to be stunted that way forever. But, at some point, the stunting doesnt matter. It just is a part of you, a way of being. Part of the beautiful quirks and flaws that make a person unique.

However, I would like to lessen the impact of said quirks and flaws. I still have not paid a full half of rent since I moved in with Alex. The amount of money that I have brought in from my jobs is just enough to half the utility, grocery (though not always) phone and cable bills. This is also because I have to pay for doctor visits and medications.

Well, and also because of my craft habit. I actually feel validated in this hobby, because I feel that once I get enough together, I will be able to make an income from my crafticles. These things, the creative part of me that overwhelms me with a thirst for knowledge....I won't ignore. It is so much a part of me, that to ignore it would be to deny myself. And I would be lost.

After so long, being unsure about that which is me on the inside, because of my illnesses causing me to seem like I had mental illness, I will not slip back in to that mode. There is nothing wrong with my state of mental health. The health care system just got me to believe there was because I was sick and no one would believe that someone "so young" could have such complaints.

And, yes, as a result of actually being really really really (ha) really sick, I am a bit of a hypochondriac. And so what of it? I've diagnosed myself correctly more times than any doctor ever has.


So, I had a client at work yesterday, who was from Britan. While I was doing her hair, we started talking about health care. Of course. She had NHS, and now doesnt. She's a teacher, so she has health insurance through that, but still she laughs at the state of the health industry in this country. We started talking about me and what I am going through, and she said flat out for me to move. She has two boys, one 3 and one 5. She and her husband talk all the time about moving back to England, because of the simple fact that she does not want what I am going through right now to happen to her boys. She says that for all the neat things America has to offer, and how it is supposed to be the richest country on Earth, then how are we still so stupid that we do not have a National Health System? People are so freaked out about being taxed. What the fuck for? The taxes go to things that you would be paying an arm and a leg for otherwise, out of your pocket for Medical procedures and such. Otherwise, you are suffering like I am.

And, no, your opinion about what I just said DOES NOT MATTER TO ME UNLESS YOU ARE IN MY SHOES. I don't care what you have to say about it. It simply is not valid, and perpetuates, to me, the 'Dumb American' view that so many people have. It is simply not valid unless you are walking in my shoes, have gone through my trials and tribulations.

And the ting about the NHS is: You are not taxed for it unless you sign up for it. Why is that so bad to have in this country? People like me, who cannot get the medicine needed to live life HAPPILY ( the First Ammendment right, BTW's), would give FINGERS to have something like this. You don't have to "qualify" for NHS, you just sign up for it, and then the tax happens. Whopdee do. I would have a freaking PARTY! People that have never been to the UK or England in general, or to Canada, want to talk up the flaws of that system, and make assumptions, and talk all this propaganda about waiting lists and the people who have died waiting on things. Really?
I mean, really? What about people like me, who will die, and are dying, without health insurance, and are even deemed ineligible for said insurance because of "pre-existing conditions"? How do you explain that away? Population control?
They want to talk about the piss poor care that you recieve under programs like that, which is utter bullshit. Even if it were true, piss poor care is better than no care at all. Believe me.

And then people are throwing words around like "Socialized" and "Socialist" like its the God- Damned persecution of Communists back in the day. Seriously, people. Get over the burocracy of arguing every single little point and find a system that lets people LIVE. If there are flaws in the NHS, then work them out. If you are scared of a tax for an NHS, then find a way to 'opt out' of the NHS. Don't just blanket a whole group. This is the ignorance of people. This is the reason that Americans get a name for being stupid.

At least, in my opinion. Which, I have to say, is pretty educated on the matter.

Anyhow, I can go on and on about a system that I think is pretty perfect, given my expertise on the matter. I'll stop for now, as I am bound to have upset some people. Again, I don't care. Walk in my shoes.