Jerry Brown is Stressing Me Out

It seems like every six months I get the itch to go back to school, and then something comes up to derail the process before I get very far. The car catches on fire, or we have to move two or three times in as many months or I'm just soooo busy with my job and social life, or I'm laid out by migraines all the time. Excuses, excuses.

So, it's not really any kind of a big deal, but I filled out a fafsa and submitted it to the community college I attended a hundred years ago. I've filled the thing out probably half a dozen times since I dropped out of school. What I've never done until ten minutes ago is email the disabilities coordinator and ask for more information. I'm hoping that they'll be able to guide me through the process, and hook me up with a counselor who can help me figure out the best course of action for me. They have a pretty full online schedule and a decent looking disability section of their website, so I was feeling optimistic. Cross your fingers for me, y'all.


We're low on food and funds again. We have beans, a few veggies and some leftovers that we should be able to make stretch until our next check, and if we get desperate my parents aren't that far. I'm lucky that way. But still, hunger is scary. I've been seeing this campaign on tv for battling "food insecurity" in our communities. The ads are peppered with sad looking kids and older people, with a few everyday joes thrown in for the "it could be you" factor. It's all very well meaning, but I really wish they wouldn't call it food insecurity. I mean, sure, I'm definitely insecure about where my next meal is coming from, I worry about getting enough nutrition when I can't afford fresh produce, but that's not the main problem. The real issue is that I'm hungry and can't afford healthy food. Why don't we get us all fed and then we can worry about who's insecure, hmm?


Apparently they changed some rules again with the public assistance and there's a rumor that we might qualify. I'm not getting my hopes up, but we're applying for food stamps, housing assistance and for a few hours of in-home care a week. If our new governor doesn't cut all of the programs before I can get any help, that is.

(Dear Jerry Brown,

Please don't take away what little the elderly and disabled have. We need help. Raise taxes. If someone should be paying, it should be those who can afford it.

Thanks, steph (a woman with a disability who relies on the services you are planning to cut))


In other news, I've pinched something in my back (as we say in my family), a little more than halfway down my spine on the right side. It's making it hard to walk, bend, move, and a sudden sneezing fit brought me to my knees this morning. It's so bad, I've resorted to narcotics. (I mean, barely, I'm such a lightweight that 1/2 a soma and 1/2 a vicodin on a full stomach had me feeling drunk as a skunk.) And, of course, my head is already showing signs of displeasure at my choice of medication, but you know what, head? I could hardly move without crying out. And my back? Responds to drugs! Not like you, asshole, I've yet to find anything to shut you the hell up, so you know what? Bring it on! Beat me all about the head as much as you want, you'd probably be doing it anyway. Jerk.

I should go to bed.