Sunday, November 11, 2018

Saturday Night Insomniac Talking

So it's late at night- 11:27 as I start dictating this.  November 10th, soon to be the 11th.  November 11, 2018 is the 100th anniversary of the end of World War I.

I've studied history.  I maintain that in many ways, we are still fighting WWI, particularly in the Middle East.  In many ways, we are still fighting the Civil War (see: "voter suppression in the South."). Though I thought World War II was over, apparently it isn't, as Nazis are here in the halls of power in the US.

We live in dangerous times.

 I was going to write a blog entry about the election and about how I volunteered. But I just couldn't be bothered. I started it, but I just couldn't finish it. I get depressed- very depressed- since the election.  I've spent more time lying in bed looking at the ceiling more than anything.   I can't even be bothered writing this- I'm dictating it voice to text. But I figured I'd put out something so my few readers will know I'm still alive.

 I am still unemployed. There's some agency who said they would help me find a job, but the only thing that they've come up with our cashier jobs in the city.  In the end, after transportation and city taxes, I'd be making less than minimum wage.   They said in my interview there's going to be hard time trying to find a job for "someone like me."  Transgender.

I can still fake smile.

 I want to apply to Penn State for my PhD but I haven't done it yet. I haven't even started my essays, or contacting people about letters, or anything. I just don't have the...

I don't have the energy or the drive.  For anything.  I feel fucking worthless.

There was this big class in Philadelphia today for doing transgender activism, and a friend went to it.  It was free, but I didn't go anyway. I didn't go, because I knew that everyone else there had a job, and a career, had a perfect transition, probably already had surgeries, and they were just having these wonderful lives- and here I am just a fat, useless nothing.

Yes, I know that's depression talking.

I don't want to be involved in anything.  Not the play I'm in, not writing... I'm seriously considering leaving Vanity Club.  VC is supposed to mean something, and I'm nothing. 

Early this week, rent was due.  I was very short on it.  I mentioned that online, and both dear friends and total strangers sent me enough money to cover rent.  I really appreciate their generosity- without it Linda and I would be homeless- but I hate taking charity.  I can't even earn my own way in the world.  Linda would be better off without me here.  A different roomie- one with a job.

Still, thank you so very much to those who helped.  Seriously.  I don't want to sound ungrateful, because I'm not.  I...

I'm not worth your friendship.

So here I sit on my couch, dictating.  It's now 12:03 am.  Armistice Day.  The temperature outside is below freezing for the first time this season, and I am inside, thanks to friends.  I'm waiting for the 2 melatonins I took to knock me out.  Been waiting over an hour.

God, I hate my life.

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