grendelkhan (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} grendelkhan) wrote,@ 2007-11-06 22:50:00 |
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they come in threes.
It is, of course, no more than a stupid, stupid superstition that disasters appear in threes. This didn't stop it from happening to me.
The first two events, occurring shortly after my last post in quick succession, were the loss of my job and the loss of our pet hamster, Simon. After months and months of having my pay and benefits quietly shortened, the client finally decided to cut me from their staff. Brian had no other work for me, so I'm laid off. I should have seen it coming, and I suppose I did, but I was hoping that I could slide through until I finished librarian school, which is certainly not now the case. I haven't been unemployed since I started working more than two and a half years ago. It feels like a never-ending weekend which gets ever more ominous as I do construction work for my father (the house is, again, being fixed up) and do some independent coding on a sketchy sort-of-volunteer basis which I might eventually get paid for. I've had an interview and a few calls, but mad cheese has not been forthcoming. I have savings, Carin works, and I have plans for this sort of thing--many of my expenses are less than essential--but I do miss getting books twice a month.
Simon had been off-and-on ill since the last time she got sick. She wasn't cleaning herself, she wasn't taking food, and as we were driving up to the veterinary hospital, she died in Carin's hands. My parents were kind enough to provide us with a space in their little pet graveyard out back, and we buried her that night. I didn't know her that well, but she'd gotten much friendlier after the first time she'd gotten sick (with the abscess behind her eye), and was okay with being held by people. I knew she was important to Carin, but I didn't think I'd miss her quite as much as I did.
I remarked, shortly thereafter, that I was waiting for the third shoe to drop, and drop it did. I am ill again. Having not bothered to get follow-up medical care in the four years since I was last sick, it seems that things had gotten worse--that is, they've spread throughout the whole of my large intestine. I underwent a fascinating diagnostic procedure, for which the preparatory process was the worst part (drinking two liters of polyethylene glycol with electrolytes was nearly impossible; I don't know how people ever drank four), and am now on a large pile of daily drugs, one of which has a small but nonzero change of causing terrifying psychological side effects.
I also learned why one goes under sedation on an empty stomach. When I woke up, they gave me some crackers, which I enjoyed heartily. When I got back home, I promptly threw them back up, partly through my nose. I don't remember the last time I expelled the contents of my stomach before that, but I think this will be a memorable landmark. Never before have I been so confused as to whether to blow my nose or to snort-and-spit.
Through all of this, Carin has been particularly wonderful and supportive. I expected her to be angry at me for losing my job; she wasn't. She's been understanding about us being on a budget, and she cared for me far more than she had to while I was essentially bedridden. Her already-formidable skills have been growing by great galloping leaps. I knew this, but it was nice to go to Portfolio Day with her on Saturday and watch the cranky-acting admissions guy from Cooper Union (which I mainly know of as Cooper "you have no chance of getting in" Union) say nothing but nice things about her portfolio and tell her that she had the chops to be an illustrator, though they don't offer a program for that there. She's taking flute lessons in preparation for a competition in the spring, too.
My star may be drooping, but hers is clearly ascendant right now, and it's nice to be able to bask in a little of that reflected glory. We've gone through a lot to get to where we are in regards to each other, and I'm damned proud of the two of us. We can do everything from talking about art or music or politics to cooking together to dancing like idiots to "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger", and it's all just plain better because she's there.
This doesn't exactly fit in with the morose tone of the rest of this post, so I'm sectioning it off. Carin and I went out for lunch yesterday with a genuine gosh-darn celebrity and two of his fascinating friend. Tim Kreider, darkly brilliant writer of The Pain -- When Will It End? (and one of the best caricaturists since Dave Sim, in my opinion), his friend and stock character Jim (also known as James the Large, who is indeed a very tall man), and Jim's wife Sarah, who's a librarian at an archival library at the other end of the state. It was a fantastic day; all of them were absolutely fascinating folks, and the day was packed with sparkling conversation. Tim even took the time to look at Carin's portfolio, which she'd keep keeping in her backpack, and drew a little toon of himself in there, which I'll scan at some point.
I don't really exaggerate when I say that I believe that the companionship of one's fellow human beings is, if not the most essential thing in life (I suppose actualizing one's potential would have to be that), definitely in the very top tier. If I have that, then things really aren't that bad.
It is, of course, no more than a stupid, stupid superstition that disasters appear in threes. This didn't stop it from happening to me.
The first two events, occurring shortly after my last post in quick succession, were the loss of my job and the loss of our pet hamster, Simon. After months and months of having my pay and benefits quietly shortened, the client finally decided to cut me from their staff. Brian had no other work for me, so I'm laid off. I should have seen it coming, and I suppose I did, but I was hoping that I could slide through until I finished librarian school, which is certainly not now the case. I haven't been unemployed since I started working more than two and a half years ago. It feels like a never-ending weekend which gets ever more ominous as I do construction work for my father (the house is, again, being fixed up) and do some independent coding on a sketchy sort-of-volunteer basis which I might eventually get paid for. I've had an interview and a few calls, but mad cheese has not been forthcoming. I have savings, Carin works, and I have plans for this sort of thing--many of my expenses are less than essential--but I do miss getting books twice a month.
Simon had been off-and-on ill since the last time she got sick. She wasn't cleaning herself, she wasn't taking food, and as we were driving up to the veterinary hospital, she died in Carin's hands. My parents were kind enough to provide us with a space in their little pet graveyard out back, and we buried her that night. I didn't know her that well, but she'd gotten much friendlier after the first time she'd gotten sick (with the abscess behind her eye), and was okay with being held by people. I knew she was important to Carin, but I didn't think I'd miss her quite as much as I did.
I remarked, shortly thereafter, that I was waiting for the third shoe to drop, and drop it did. I am ill again. Having not bothered to get follow-up medical care in the four years since I was last sick, it seems that things had gotten worse--that is, they've spread throughout the whole of my large intestine. I underwent a fascinating diagnostic procedure, for which the preparatory process was the worst part (drinking two liters of polyethylene glycol with electrolytes was nearly impossible; I don't know how people ever drank four), and am now on a large pile of daily drugs, one of which has a small but nonzero change of causing terrifying psychological side effects.
I also learned why one goes under sedation on an empty stomach. When I woke up, they gave me some crackers, which I enjoyed heartily. When I got back home, I promptly threw them back up, partly through my nose. I don't remember the last time I expelled the contents of my stomach before that, but I think this will be a memorable landmark. Never before have I been so confused as to whether to blow my nose or to snort-and-spit.
Through all of this, Carin has been particularly wonderful and supportive. I expected her to be angry at me for losing my job; she wasn't. She's been understanding about us being on a budget, and she cared for me far more than she had to while I was essentially bedridden. Her already-formidable skills have been growing by great galloping leaps. I knew this, but it was nice to go to Portfolio Day with her on Saturday and watch the cranky-acting admissions guy from Cooper Union (which I mainly know of as Cooper "you have no chance of getting in" Union) say nothing but nice things about her portfolio and tell her that she had the chops to be an illustrator, though they don't offer a program for that there. She's taking flute lessons in preparation for a competition in the spring, too.
My star may be drooping, but hers is clearly ascendant right now, and it's nice to be able to bask in a little of that reflected glory. We've gone through a lot to get to where we are in regards to each other, and I'm damned proud of the two of us. We can do everything from talking about art or music or politics to cooking together to dancing like idiots to "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger", and it's all just plain better because she's there.
This doesn't exactly fit in with the morose tone of the rest of this post, so I'm sectioning it off. Carin and I went out for lunch yesterday with a genuine gosh-darn celebrity and two of his fascinating friend. Tim Kreider, darkly brilliant writer of The Pain -- When Will It End? (and one of the best caricaturists since Dave Sim, in my opinion), his friend and stock character Jim (also known as James the Large, who is indeed a very tall man), and Jim's wife Sarah, who's a librarian at an archival library at the other end of the state. It was a fantastic day; all of them were absolutely fascinating folks, and the day was packed with sparkling conversation. Tim even took the time to look at Carin's portfolio, which she'd keep keeping in her backpack, and drew a little toon of himself in there, which I'll scan at some point.
I don't really exaggerate when I say that I believe that the companionship of one's fellow human beings is, if not the most essential thing in life (I suppose actualizing one's potential would have to be that), definitely in the very top tier. If I have that, then things really aren't that bad.
