The Last Boring Finance-Related Entry of 2002

So. When I applied for food stamps, medical aid, etc. back in early November, I was (logically, I thought) assigned to the caseworker who interviewed me. Unfortunately, Caseworker Number 1 had medical problems of her own and seemed unable to keep track of any of the necessary forms I'd brought in for her review. By the time I received the letter stating that (A) my case was required to be decided within 30 days yet (B) would not be decided within 30 days due to "AGENCY DELAY BEYOND OUR CONTROL", I had been assigned to Caseworker Number 2.

Fine and dandy, I thought, maybe I'll get some food stamps or a little money to throw at the landlord, eh? Yeah, right. Come to find out (after many fruitless phone calls & visits to the office) that Caseworker Number 2 is out on leave and nobody knows when she'll be back. So in hopes of finding out what the heck was going on, I called Supervisor Number 1, who didn't answer the phone, and then called Supervisor Number 2, who told me I had been assigned to Caseworker Number 3.

Ohhkay. Caseworker Number 3, being buried under all of Caseworker Number 2's files, has not actually been doing anything with those files until the people who were waiting to hear what was going on called her up and asked her. Naturally, I'd never called her before today because I'd never even heard of her before today, much less known she had anything to do with my application I've been waiting to hear about for the last two months. Anyway, Caseworker Number 3 looked through my files and, exasperated by the fact that she'd been given an application which should have been completed by someone else over a month ago, gave all the files and forms and fluff back to Caseworker Number 1, who was, beyond anyone's expectation, in the office working today.

Oy.

Meanwhile, I owe the landlord approximately 20 times as much money as I have.

In other news, I get to meet with a lawyer next Tuesday to discuss the Social Security appeal.

This has been the final boring poverty-related entry of 2002.

(no subject)

Back in the summer I left this comment in somebody else's journal:

You've got interesting ideas. You have enough raw talent that you're already a good writer, perhaps in need of some polishing but good nonetheless. With some work on your part, you could be an excellent writer. Combining your wordsmithing and your ideas, perhaps you could even be a great writer.

But I'm not going to encourage you to write because you'll be rich and famous and a critical darling one day. All of that "success" stuff is too dependent on the whims of fashion, word-of-mouth, the economy, publicity, and other things over which you have virtually no control.

The truth of the matter is that, no matter how good you are and how hard you work, one day you could find yourself an old man at a boring job you took to pay the bills because you never could get published anywhere but here, never had your writing read by anyone but a relatively small audience. You will have brought joy to a few people's lives, made a few people think deeply, but you will not have been "successful" as the common man defines success.

The most likely alternative to that scenario, of course, is that one day you will find yourself an old man in a boring job you took to pay the bills because you were too afraid of failure to even try to write anymore. In this case, your words will have brought joy to no-one, and the only thoughts you will have made people think are thoughts that they didn't want to be an old bitter grouch like you. You are quite right when you say that fear is your enemy.

The real question isn't "Can I be a successful writer?" but "How much of a coward am I willing to be?"

(This has been yet another comment that's written almost as much to me as it is to you. :-))

Y'know, I make a surprising amount of sense sometimes.

Everyone else is doing it...

I tried to come up with some nice New Year's resolutions, honest I did. But somehow even a resolution to eat more dark chocolate in 2003 didn't seem like one worth making. After this year (and the one before and the one before that), I can't even pretend to know which plans will help me and which it will be better to abandon. I can't even pretend to pretend. So all I can say is that I'll keep on trying to coalesce, whatever that requires, until it's time to do something else.

(Note: Nothing in this post should be taken to mean that I won't be eating more dark chocolate in 2003. Just thought I should clarify.)