is the word 'diary' better than the word 'blog'? probably not.
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Daunted House.
Daunted House.
Gayle has a great expression for that frozen feeling a person gets in a time of potent sadness or disappointment: stuck in the amber of the world.
That�s my week to a large extent. I am broke (as opposed to broken) and daunted. Assailed from eighteen sides. Low. I�ve got financial woes (again) and I�m depressed about love. Depressed about love not in any particular way, as if someone were at fault for my sadness. More in a philosophical way.
It has struck me lately, more often than usual, that ever since my last important/long-lasting relationship I�ve found myself in and out of a series of initially promising but ultimately non-lasting romantic entanglements. Three weeks, two months, six months, tops. Not that I haven�t had good things come of some of these short-term things, or that I devalue things short-term. No. It�s just that if I were a scientist I might begin to think that I had gathered enough empirical evidence to hypothesize that I am no longer someone whom anyone wants to be with, or stay with. It is distressing.
I am not a scientist.
In fact I�ve just spent a week listening to and trying to converse with a philosopher who is trying to use scientific studies to make pronouncements about morality and/or ethical philosophy. I disagree with what he�s doing, even though I see the value of it. He is trying to communicate with some audience of which I am not a part. But I am wary lest neurological science become the new form of moral determinism. I think he agrees? (though, really, I cannot tell for certain). So I am no scientist, especially when it comes to love and human relationships in general.
But it would be silly of me not to wonder whether my years of aloneness stand for something more than bad luck. It�s a thought I have, and there�s no reason to avoid having it. It is not that I have given up hope, but that I have to admit the possibility that this is just how it will be. Endlessly.
And that gets old. Of course, aging is part of what�s going on. I�ve aged, and so have all the people I might consider dating. This means that there are fewer people left single. But there is more to this than a statistical challenge. We�ve all got bags we carry with us. And sometimes other people have no room for bags, or only have room for their own bags, meaning that there�s no room left for what is both risky and inspiring about other people.
In addition (and this is a more concrete worry and impetus for despondency), I�ve been abused by The Man. Apparently, a number of months ago one of my credit card companies (which was transitioning from one bank to another) sent me a letter giving me a choice of closing my account and paying it off at the low rate I had, or keeping the account open and accepting a higher percentage rate for financing. I never got this letter. I know I never got this letter because I do read my mail. I also know I did not get this letter because I would have closed my account. I haven't used the account to make charges for years. But things have been a bit chaotic because I have moved three times in the last year. So I didn�t look closely at the percentage-rate section of my actual credit card bills for a few months because of moving, though I do still have all the bills and correspondence from the company in a folder. And this bill in particular I�ve had and paid in a stable fashion for many years, so it didn�t occur to me that I should be vigilant lest all of a sudden a chunk of my debt went from a 10% to a 30% interest rate. I am not kidding. That is what has happened. And there is no way out.
It's like I went out and made a deal with a loan shark or something.
I called the company and spoke to representatives and managers and pointed out my long history with the company, my on-time payments, my moving history for the past year, and the slowness with which they responded to address change requests, and asked whether some lenience could be given, since I had never received the letter, and it might very well be the fault of their slow address-change system. The answer, every time, was no. So I have a fairly large chunk of money for which I am being charged at a 30% rate every month. It makes me ANGRY. And sad.
The last manager I spoke with said this to me: �I am sorry. There is nothing I can do to help you.� I said, �You should be ashamed of your lie.� Ha.
I thought I might improve my mood by escaping to New York. Then I remembered that I HAVE NO MONEY. A perfect shitstorm.
Add to this that somehow I paid a few bills last month that I magically forgot to enter into my check register (this never happens to me, and it makes me feel CRAZY!), and it all adds up to less than zero. This week is less than zero. The word is: DAUNTING. I am daunted. Stuck in the amber of the world.
1:33 p.m. - November 04, 2005
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