2013 in review (and 1Q 2014)
It's about time I got off my duff and posted something. So, here's how it goes.
On the job front, my multi-billionaire Dreamliner-jetsetting CEO managed to buy back the company. The stock jumped up prior to the sale, so I didn't get too badly screwed on my personal holdings. There was a last minute "challenger" who wanted to buy it up too, an individual whose name goes something like "I con", which would be a good sobriquet taken as a pronoun and a verb. Fortunately, the investors collectively told him to piss up a rope, which is a good thing since he would have sold everything he could have gotten his greedy paws on and exported all the jobs he could to our friends in wonderful India.
Not everything is rosy, though. Not long ago Mr. Dreamliner went on an "efficiency" kick and we got a round of layoffs. (How many billions does this guy need to have a fulfilled life???) Fortunately, the Angel of Death passed over my abode and I was unscathed. But, they're moving my cheese. Earlier, I was working a 10x4 schedule. Some pencil pusher made a decision from on high to change it to 5x8. Earlier, of those three days off, I could work all three and make progress on my bills if the managers allowed me to do so (which is definitely not guaranteed, especially when the pencil pushers think we're getting paid too much), or work two days and tread water, or one day and lose ground, or no days off and really lose ground. But now, my options are to work two shorter days and barely scrape by, etc. The good news is that some of my loans are getting paid off in the future, but the bad news is that this happens in 2015. So then... what does the rational rat do when his cheese gets moved...? I've put out some feelers, but not much so far. There was something that came up right away that I should have jumped on a little harder, though. Silly me...
The credit millstone around my neck is getting chipped away one bit at a time, though progress has been glacial. This new development at work doesn't help, nor the lack of even a cost of living raise, nor the pay cut they sprung on us earlier. I did manage to get the house refinanced at just about the right time, though I'm having to pay a couple hundred more per month. Half of that is this blessed "private mortgage insurance" thing. Since my LTV is now well below 80%, I asked about getting it removed, and discovered that they are requiring a bunch of stuff I don't remember seeing in the contract. Specifically, you have to be there two years before they'll take it off, and they charge a "because we can" fee, and that's all on top of an assessment I'd have to get. I'll have to go over the fine print once again; if it's not there, then theoretically they don't have a leg to stand on, but it will take a major effort to fight their bureaucracy.
There's more I could go on about the financial situation, but that would start getting a little personal. The short version is that my GF is one of the few honest people on the planet, my roomie and a former roomie are decidedly not (which is just a smidge irritating), and I'm being held hostage by my former GF's new (actually not so new) BF's feelings that he's not emotionally ready or whatever to let her move in with him (cue the violins). Further drama is likely to ensue unless certain people not always in the habit of acting as adults start doing so. Looking out for one's fellow citizens in tough economic times is all well and good, but this is starting to piss me off.
Sadly, one of my cats is gone. I've been taking it pretty hard. And the cherry on the sundae was when someone tried to bait-and-switch me on the price of cremation. He had failed to explain that there's a $135 difference between brushing half a pound of ashes into a cardboard box and returning it as opposed to brushing the ashes into a trash can. Some people should be strangled with their own guts, while being broiled over an open fire, while him Allen Ginsberg poetry is being recited. Anyway, if I sat through Grizzabella's farewell from "Cats", then by the end of it I'd be sobbing my guts out and clutching a bottle of vodka. Damn, it was hard to type all this.
And on the subject of sick cats, I found out that the price of a bottle of insulin went up from $90 to over $200. I taped the informational booklet around it, which will hopefully keep it from breaking in case I drop it. I wrote the manufacturer, asking if the price of their materials doubled, if my pharmacy was gouging me, or if their CEO decided he needed a new yacht. Their form letter response, to-wit: "Sanofi U.S. considers the medical value a given product provides as well as a variety of market conditions in the United States when determining price. However, the final price an individual consumer pays is dependent upon various factors including an individual's health insurance coverage." So I guess that means that if you're a full-size adult who presumably needs lots of those bottles a year in order to keep from going into organ failure, and you don't have insurance, you're basically screwed. Bless their hearts.
And speaking of insurance, I'm now paying more for less coverage. At least my policy wasn't cancelled like so many other people. Thanks, Washington!
On the diet front, after several weeks of constant hunger and not eating what I really want to... no results! I've decided to give it a rest. I'll give it another go some time in the future. This may be a while. Until then, I'll have to renew my restraining order on Captain Ahab. Unfortunately, every time I go to the beach, some environmentalists come along and try to push me back in and save my life.
As for my spiritual life, I'm basically now the heathen equivalent of a Christian who only goes to church on Easter and Christmas, and mostly through the force of habit. I'd get a little more involved locally if not for the fact that my job schedule conflicts with a lot of that. Oh, well. I've given some thought to Thelema, since I can actually understand what Uncle Al was saying, but I just can't wrap my little brain around the third chapter of Liber Legis, which I figure would be the equivalent of believing in the Ten Commandments except for numbers 6, 7, and 8. Besides, I don't really see myself as fitting in. I'd consider Episcopalianism if not for the fact that you go to the deepest bowels of hell if you use the salad fork for the entrée.
My writing projects are proceeding, but slowly. Episode 0 is almost to the point that I'd consider it ready for market. There's a little progress on Big Hank, and a tiny bit on Episode i, but they've stalled out.
On the plus side, last November I got to see Vegas for the first time for my gal's birthday. I bet on the Dolly Parton slot machine, because Dolly is a sweet lady who'd never do anything bad to me. Well, results weren't too great. I played another machine because the picture reminded me of one of my pals here; that worked out. And there were lots more. All in all, I was doing okay the first day, but the next day I gave it a rest after I had lost a net $20. Hey, at least I didn't bet the house note :) And I had quite a blast singing opera at Dick's. We got to see one of the shows, dinner theater at the Excalibur. Most other stuff was booked up, unfortunately. We'll have to come back some time.
My cokehead uncle tried to get me to add him on Facebook. Yes, the same one who stiffed me on three months pay. (And on my next job, I had to steal their junk food to survive, until that one fell through.) Later, he tried to get me to add his LinkedIn account. Did he want a letter of recommendation or something? LOLOLOLOL! Yeah, so this was in the late '80s, but he hasn't lifted a finger to even apologize, to say nothing of paying me back. (I wonder what the dough would be worth now if it had been invested in the stock market since then?) Despite what you might gather from my second paragraph, my tolerance does have its limits. As Edmund Burke said, there is a point beyond which forbearance ceases to be a virtue.
And this segues nicely into the next item. I just heard from an almost-GF from a year ago. After I endured poly drama of epic proportions, she sent me an "I've been doing some thinking" text message. Why is it that people think it's acceptable these days to kick someone to the curb with an email or text message? Many moons later, she got ahold of me again, and soon after conspicuously told me how great things were going with her new BF. And just now she contacted me again; it looks like she wants to get back together. It rather seems like I'm designated as (in the immortal words of Howard Stern) the break-glass-in-case-of-emergency dick. Ummm, not so sure that's gonna work for me...
And, that's about par for the course with any other new glimmerings on the social horizon for the last few years. I'll spare you the details, since I don't want to bore you to tears. At this point, I really don't care any more. Lots of people have a very vibrant social life, which I chalk up to "things that happen for other people". I've decided that polyamory doesn't work if there aren't any local prospects who are actually serious about getting together, aren't complete flakes, aren't going to disappear off the face of the earth, aren't going to friend-zone me (I already have plenty of friends I never hear from), and aren't going to spurn me with an email or a freaking text message.
So, other than some bright spots, it's been kind of sucktastic, but I'm hanging in there as the walls close in on me. Peace out.
On the job front, my multi-billionaire Dreamliner-jetsetting CEO managed to buy back the company. The stock jumped up prior to the sale, so I didn't get too badly screwed on my personal holdings. There was a last minute "challenger" who wanted to buy it up too, an individual whose name goes something like "I con", which would be a good sobriquet taken as a pronoun and a verb. Fortunately, the investors collectively told him to piss up a rope, which is a good thing since he would have sold everything he could have gotten his greedy paws on and exported all the jobs he could to our friends in wonderful India.
Not everything is rosy, though. Not long ago Mr. Dreamliner went on an "efficiency" kick and we got a round of layoffs. (How many billions does this guy need to have a fulfilled life???) Fortunately, the Angel of Death passed over my abode and I was unscathed. But, they're moving my cheese. Earlier, I was working a 10x4 schedule. Some pencil pusher made a decision from on high to change it to 5x8. Earlier, of those three days off, I could work all three and make progress on my bills if the managers allowed me to do so (which is definitely not guaranteed, especially when the pencil pushers think we're getting paid too much), or work two days and tread water, or one day and lose ground, or no days off and really lose ground. But now, my options are to work two shorter days and barely scrape by, etc. The good news is that some of my loans are getting paid off in the future, but the bad news is that this happens in 2015. So then... what does the rational rat do when his cheese gets moved...? I've put out some feelers, but not much so far. There was something that came up right away that I should have jumped on a little harder, though. Silly me...
The credit millstone around my neck is getting chipped away one bit at a time, though progress has been glacial. This new development at work doesn't help, nor the lack of even a cost of living raise, nor the pay cut they sprung on us earlier. I did manage to get the house refinanced at just about the right time, though I'm having to pay a couple hundred more per month. Half of that is this blessed "private mortgage insurance" thing. Since my LTV is now well below 80%, I asked about getting it removed, and discovered that they are requiring a bunch of stuff I don't remember seeing in the contract. Specifically, you have to be there two years before they'll take it off, and they charge a "because we can" fee, and that's all on top of an assessment I'd have to get. I'll have to go over the fine print once again; if it's not there, then theoretically they don't have a leg to stand on, but it will take a major effort to fight their bureaucracy.
There's more I could go on about the financial situation, but that would start getting a little personal. The short version is that my GF is one of the few honest people on the planet, my roomie and a former roomie are decidedly not (which is just a smidge irritating), and I'm being held hostage by my former GF's new (actually not so new) BF's feelings that he's not emotionally ready or whatever to let her move in with him (cue the violins). Further drama is likely to ensue unless certain people not always in the habit of acting as adults start doing so. Looking out for one's fellow citizens in tough economic times is all well and good, but this is starting to piss me off.
Sadly, one of my cats is gone. I've been taking it pretty hard. And the cherry on the sundae was when someone tried to bait-and-switch me on the price of cremation. He had failed to explain that there's a $135 difference between brushing half a pound of ashes into a cardboard box and returning it as opposed to brushing the ashes into a trash can. Some people should be strangled with their own guts, while being broiled over an open fire, while him Allen Ginsberg poetry is being recited. Anyway, if I sat through Grizzabella's farewell from "Cats", then by the end of it I'd be sobbing my guts out and clutching a bottle of vodka. Damn, it was hard to type all this.
And on the subject of sick cats, I found out that the price of a bottle of insulin went up from $90 to over $200. I taped the informational booklet around it, which will hopefully keep it from breaking in case I drop it. I wrote the manufacturer, asking if the price of their materials doubled, if my pharmacy was gouging me, or if their CEO decided he needed a new yacht. Their form letter response, to-wit: "Sanofi U.S. considers the medical value a given product provides as well as a variety of market conditions in the United States when determining price. However, the final price an individual consumer pays is dependent upon various factors including an individual's health insurance coverage." So I guess that means that if you're a full-size adult who presumably needs lots of those bottles a year in order to keep from going into organ failure, and you don't have insurance, you're basically screwed. Bless their hearts.
And speaking of insurance, I'm now paying more for less coverage. At least my policy wasn't cancelled like so many other people. Thanks, Washington!
On the diet front, after several weeks of constant hunger and not eating what I really want to... no results! I've decided to give it a rest. I'll give it another go some time in the future. This may be a while. Until then, I'll have to renew my restraining order on Captain Ahab. Unfortunately, every time I go to the beach, some environmentalists come along and try to push me back in and save my life.
As for my spiritual life, I'm basically now the heathen equivalent of a Christian who only goes to church on Easter and Christmas, and mostly through the force of habit. I'd get a little more involved locally if not for the fact that my job schedule conflicts with a lot of that. Oh, well. I've given some thought to Thelema, since I can actually understand what Uncle Al was saying, but I just can't wrap my little brain around the third chapter of Liber Legis, which I figure would be the equivalent of believing in the Ten Commandments except for numbers 6, 7, and 8. Besides, I don't really see myself as fitting in. I'd consider Episcopalianism if not for the fact that you go to the deepest bowels of hell if you use the salad fork for the entrée.
My writing projects are proceeding, but slowly. Episode 0 is almost to the point that I'd consider it ready for market. There's a little progress on Big Hank, and a tiny bit on Episode i, but they've stalled out.
On the plus side, last November I got to see Vegas for the first time for my gal's birthday. I bet on the Dolly Parton slot machine, because Dolly is a sweet lady who'd never do anything bad to me. Well, results weren't too great. I played another machine because the picture reminded me of one of my pals here; that worked out. And there were lots more. All in all, I was doing okay the first day, but the next day I gave it a rest after I had lost a net $20. Hey, at least I didn't bet the house note :) And I had quite a blast singing opera at Dick's. We got to see one of the shows, dinner theater at the Excalibur. Most other stuff was booked up, unfortunately. We'll have to come back some time.
My cokehead uncle tried to get me to add him on Facebook. Yes, the same one who stiffed me on three months pay. (And on my next job, I had to steal their junk food to survive, until that one fell through.) Later, he tried to get me to add his LinkedIn account. Did he want a letter of recommendation or something? LOLOLOLOL! Yeah, so this was in the late '80s, but he hasn't lifted a finger to even apologize, to say nothing of paying me back. (I wonder what the dough would be worth now if it had been invested in the stock market since then?) Despite what you might gather from my second paragraph, my tolerance does have its limits. As Edmund Burke said, there is a point beyond which forbearance ceases to be a virtue.
And this segues nicely into the next item. I just heard from an almost-GF from a year ago. After I endured poly drama of epic proportions, she sent me an "I've been doing some thinking" text message. Why is it that people think it's acceptable these days to kick someone to the curb with an email or text message? Many moons later, she got ahold of me again, and soon after conspicuously told me how great things were going with her new BF. And just now she contacted me again; it looks like she wants to get back together. It rather seems like I'm designated as (in the immortal words of Howard Stern) the break-glass-in-case-of-emergency dick. Ummm, not so sure that's gonna work for me...
And, that's about par for the course with any other new glimmerings on the social horizon for the last few years. I'll spare you the details, since I don't want to bore you to tears. At this point, I really don't care any more. Lots of people have a very vibrant social life, which I chalk up to "things that happen for other people". I've decided that polyamory doesn't work if there aren't any local prospects who are actually serious about getting together, aren't complete flakes, aren't going to disappear off the face of the earth, aren't going to friend-zone me (I already have plenty of friends I never hear from), and aren't going to spurn me with an email or a freaking text message.
So, other than some bright spots, it's been kind of sucktastic, but I'm hanging in there as the walls close in on me. Peace out.