From days of old, women have struggled with broaching the subject of marriage. Until/unless the guy antes up the proposal, the lady has to sit around wondering. Some of us nag. Others drop hints. I know someone who simply began to plan her own wedding and told her boyfriend that he better show up.
My failed marriage taught me something about myself: don't nag. X truly deserved nagging, because he responded to nothing else, and he had no intrinsic motivation to get a job. So I nagged him. It got old. Even our marriage counselor began to nag. We still exchange a "still alive?" text every year or so, and it seems that his current nag and I share the same appreciation of the concept of WORK. Plus, now she's pregnant, so now he will really get what he deserves.
Yes, as he told me just last week, he's "...going to be a daddy!" Well isn't that swell. I guess one of us was bound to reach such a chapter, only I did wish that it could have been me. After all, he never wanted kids. I never REALLY wanted them, but I can't deny that biological drive that results in true sadness when I think about my future and wonder what life would have been like with children. Then I find myself at the store, screaming kids everywhere, parents who look like zombies, conveniently using their status as undead as an excuse for ignoring the little buggers.
So that brings me to this Christmas. Herc and I have a system, so it seems. I get him crappy gifts that he doesn't want because he has everything he wants, and he gets me something I've included on my list to Santa, which I send telepathically of course. How has he known what I want? I don't know! He just does! But this year something has changed. We are living together, and I found a whole bunch of things he could use. I went kind of crazy buying stuff for him this year, and I was impressed with myself when I finally got everything wrapped and set out prominently next to the little red aluminum tree. But Herc has been struggling. He is still struggling! I marvel at his ability to ignore what he KNOWS I would like for Christmas, or just pick a day for Gods sake. Last week, he was really working undercover, dropping hints to see if I would bite. I tried to tell him not to worry, I don't really care to discuss anything related to a gift for myself. He said, "Well, the only thing is, I think you would want to be there to pick which one you want." My heart fluttered. Oh really? Well, then you just pick out whatever you want. I thought I detected some digression when he asked, "Well, just tell me some things you DON'T want. That will really help." I could help him with that. I mean, I didn't want him to think I had figured it out! I said, "Don't get me anything from Best Buy. Don't get me anything to cook with or clean with. Don't get me anything that will cost me money EVER, and of course you know better than to get me one of those stupid ereaders."
He eyed me suspiciously. "Why not an ereader? You have too many books as it is, but you love to read. Are you going to just CONTINUE to collect books?" Um, yeah. That's kind of what I do. I keep books that I like, and since I have the book cases for it, I'll continue to do so. We had already covered this subject some time ago, when my belongings arrived from Down South. "You certainly have a lot of books," I heard every freaking two minutes as we were hauling the stuff off the truck. At first I took it as some sort of complimentary observation, but when I got around to unpacking all of the books, it turned into a bona fide complaint.
So the mystery was solved. Even though he knew for a fact that I would never USE it, he was planning on getting me an ereader. Bleh. I told him not to bother, for the last time, don't bother. I said, "Why in the world would you expect that I would want to participate in choosing WHICH ereader?" He shrugged. "I couldn't tell if you would want color or not."
Monday, December 20, 2010
From days of old, women have struggled with broaching the subject of marriage. Until/unless the guy antes up the proposal, the lady has to sit around wondering. Some of us nag. Others drop hints. I know someone who simply began to plan her own wedding and told her boyfriend that he better show up.
Friday, September 10, 2010
The critics are having a hard time deciding what to make of I'm Still Here. It has been billed as a documentary, but Phoenix and Affleck are clearly mocking the machine that entertainment has become. Inside, sluice characters like Phoenix's ego-maniacal diva of this film, who resembles not only the typical reality show cast member, shunning attention while pandering to the masses of media reps and the general public alike; he also embodies that which the public finds most entertaining of all- a real train wreck.
Sadly, the joke is still on Phoenix. The real Joaquin Phoenix. The one who lacks the maturity to agree that his job is acting-that's how he makes his money. That's how he pays for the drugs and alcohol that fuel his sophomoric but expensive ideas. Phoenix and Affleck made this movie without enough forethought to realize that it was just a stupid idea in the beginning. The kind of idea that comes along when a few Hollywood types get together for a drink at one of their well-publicized watering holes. Before long, they are bitching about everybody else in the world. Hey, wouldn't it be fun to do a movie about me going off the deep end, shunning acting and trying to make a rap album while boozing it up and whining about fame and the paparazzi? The public is so stupid they'll believe it and we'll all make a bunch of money and then EVERYONE will leave me alone! Or I'll be more famous and I'll get more attention! Fuck, I don't want attention, those fuckers! I want to be alone. Where's my camera crew?
Hey I have an idea. Let's do a documentary about a Hollywood actor who decides to stop acting. Oh darn. That's impossible because if there was a successful actor out there who decided was fed up with cameras ( and there isn't ), he would not be in front of the cameras!
Joaquin. Unless you stick to acting in movies billed as movies, you'll be of interest to us only when you pull your suspiciously SpencerPrattlian stunts.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Poor Kitty. She is tired of old MH schlepping her around from one home to the next. She was promised that she would never have to move again, but alas, the torture was continued.
I moved Kitty and Minchie to my cute little apt, and less than a month later, Up North. This required them to endure a drive of one full day.
My abusive instincts notwithstanding, I raced Up North as fast as my POS would go. I started my new job the day after arriving. Since then, there has been nonstop activity. Heracles' house needs work, and we seem to be highly skilled demolishers but not so good at improving the place. We walk on sub-floor right now. If you didn't know us, you would suspect that we share a pretty serious meth habit.
Truth be told, our problems include: long working hours, too much stuff (my stuff), not enough room in the ONE room that is ready to live in, out of the 15 rooms inside. There are mouse/cockroach/whatever droppings in every crevice and corner. Hairy black spiders jumping out from every unseen hiding place. A yard that just keeps on growing weeds. Did I mention long working hours? We work all the time. We come home and spend the two hours before bedtime complaining about the beastly nature of our barn-like existence, do nothing much about it, wake up in the morning to begin a frenzy of looking for lost items and complaining about the house, and forget about it all at work.
Our disagreements are usually associated with plans or pre-plans of improvements. Maybe we would rather fight about flooring than install flooring. Of course, I understand that our "problems" are really of our own making and that really helps me keep my life in perspective.
I have a job that I REALLY like, although I make significantly less money. I enjoy living with Heracles and so does Minch. Kitty finally came around too. She likes having bathroom sinks to demand to be lifted up to.
The elderly neighbors are scandalized by my presence, but what can I do? I can't ask Heracles to marry me, so I will continue to be a dumb bitch for the time being.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
What happens when you lose your home?
You become a renter. I rented a very nice little place. I have lived in the Place for less than a month.
Heracles ( the Mental Man over the past two years ) has thrived, grown, succeeded and generally won each and every one of life's battles.
He is financially comfortable, level-headed, attractive, responsible, and living in YET ANOTHER STATE! He did not move back to this godforsaken place. He moved to a different place, which happens to be my old stomping ground back in my younger, wilder days.
I helped him find a house to buy. It's a nice house. He took up residence and commenced modifying the home to suit his bacheloriffic requirements. I wished him the best. He suggested that it wouldn't hurt me to look for employment there.
Now why in Jesus' beautiful everlasting world would MHU consider looking for employment for no reason at all unless she wants to be a dumb bitch and follow some noncommittal man around the country? No other reason!
Apparently I really wanted to be a dumb bitch. I thought, "couldn't hurt."
It didn't really hurt because I sent my resume out all over and never received a hit until two weeks ago, ONE DAY after I moved into my new apartment which is actually a "gemini" which means it's a duplex with central air, a garage and a dishwasher and a FULL SIZED washer/dryer set and a NICELY sized back yard in a neighborhood with ZERO graffiti.
I have been so happy here, sleeping on my air mattress because my BROTHER hasn't been able to get up here to lend his muscles to help me get all of that SHIT out of the house which is pretty much no longer mine and will never be mine again.
That day, I was invited to participate in a telephonic interview. No sweat. Three days from now? Great. I answered the distinguished panel's asinine questions like, "What does 'professionalism' mean to you?" and chuckled at my plainly bullshit answers. Next day, I was offered a job. I was to start in 10 days if I accepted.
I wasn't sure what to do. I had forgotten, now, WHY did I apply for jobs up North? Oh yeah, because I was being a dumb bitch!
I placed a call to Heracles. I asked him if he REALLY wants to be involved with a REALLY DUMB BITCH who would lower herself to follow some fucking noncommittal juvenile all over the place and jump for joy when she receives a job offer making a good 30% less than she does right now. I asked him if he was ever going to be a man and do something about this ambiguous relationship or if I should just forget about him and MOVE ON. I was pretty much ready to move on.
Somehow Heracles decided that I finally meant business. After all, I AM nearing 40. I can't be wasting my time on men who think they are too good for me. This is some serious shit. If I want to participate in my WOMANLY RIGHT to exercise the highest level of VANITY by getting myself pregnant, I have to get in GEAR right NOW! Even if I don't, I am tired of this crap. I don't want to be an old milked cow, only to be replaced by a svelte young heifer.
He ponied up as much as a Heracles can. I'm out this mess down here in the barrio. I am ready to be with my healthy Heracles who can't love anyone besides himself and his own Great Brain and his neurotic habits.
I love Heracles but I know that men are fickle and I only have a few marketable years left, if I'm lucky. If I'm lucky.
Ha ha that makes me laugh. I'll be so lucky if I find some other pos man who will use me and move on once he gets sick of me, which will be pretty quickly based on my recent rapid weight gain.
Women are nothing but servants.
I put in my resignation at my place of work for over 5 years, and I jumped off Ambiguity Falls. Time to start anew even though I would be okay with Time to chill.
But I want Heracles! He's pathetic and competent, nerdy and sexy, clumsy and direct.
I am moving in two days.
Goodbye, Chez Edward et Jane. Sorry I didn't mow the lawn as much as I should have. Sorry I killed your prize winning iris.
Heracles has roses at his house. >:-)
Posted by mental hygiene at 10:03 PM
Sunday, June 27, 2010
I must be out of this house by a day in the middle of august.
I am done.
Think what you want. I don't care. If you don't live in Phoenix, you have no idea what it's like here. Our property values will not be worth anything until this mess is sorted out. Only way to sort it out is for everyone to walk away!
Because the mortgage companies aren't doing anything to "keep people in their homes."
One thing I know. It's NEVER my home. Even if I don't have a payment, because I still have to pay taxes. I will never REALLY HAVE a HOME that I can always live at for free if I want.
No, I'm not a conspiracy theorist, just trying to make sure I NEVER make the mistake of trusting the professionals in this business ever again. It's not like we have an FDA version of real estate. Nobody watches what kind of GRADE is given to properties. I pay for my mortgage company's appraiser and what do I get? Nothing NEAR the real worth of the property. Whatever. I'm over it.
I'm moving on. I rented a cute little patio home with one bedroom and a yard and a garage and some actual central a/c. Right now, as I type, my wonderful home is rocking a 110 degree temp according to the antique thermometer in the kitchen. I trust mercury on this one because I can FEEL it. The SWAMP cooler took a dump after a neighbor kid decided to take it apart instead of clean it. I bought a portable air unit to get us through until a move could be secured, but it is a piece de merde too. We suffer but we still live.
Heracles is thriving as usual. He moved to yet ANOTHER wonderful place, and has finally bought the house of his dreams. He's busy fixing it up. He sent me an ihome for my birthday, which would make a great gift for someone 15 years my junior.
My power gets turned on in three days. I'm broke too. How did that happen? I can't say. For the first time in my life, I have not kept track. But I can tell you that I have not stepped one foot inside a mall over the past two years. I bought two foolish plane tickets but the rest of my life has been nothing but house payments, selling shit on ebay and amazon, more house payments, fixing ten year old car, house payments, major fix to broken down old car and donuts at the gas station. A girl needs at least one luxury, right? shut up.
So I am trying to pack in this 110 degree house. Eventually, I will move out, and someone else will move in, and thus is this brief chapter in the life of a house built in 1948 by two young people with dreams and vitality.
I am pretty sure this house will become a fast flip. The beautiful little kitchen is history. The asbestos flooring will be covered over. Damn!
Will they cut down the grapefruit tree and the orange trees that are about to expire? Will they xenoscape this shit?
probably. Sad. I never thought I would mistreat such a place, but I have done so by not being able to afford it. It would sell today for $30,000. My mortgage stands at $171,000..... I will never see it worth that much, and I am not alone.
Posted by mental hygiene at 7:31 PM
Friday, May 21, 2010
received a letter informing that my house is in foreclosure.
As I have said before, I thought I would live here forever.
But now I will move very soon.
Heracles is moving again too. He got a job up NW and just plain North of me. I will see him next week and it is quite probable that we will go our separate ways at the end of those few days.
The heat is stifling over here in PHX.
Posted by mental hygiene at 9:12 PM
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Stupid old me, thinking about myself others everywhere suffer and prosper. My inertia is little more than boring.
But I will relate my experiences over the past month or so....
I will never forget DC. Thank God I don't live there. You can't really appreciate a place if you live there.
Here I am in the dry old desert, deluged with reports of atrocities perpetrated by everyone from the illegal border crosser to our Fair President. Nobody knows the real state of life in the desert by the border unless they live here. Without living here, they cannot judge. They can make generalizations, but those never hold water. Have you ever had your fence run over by a drunk illegal immigrant with no license and no registration? What do you think would happen? Well in the desert, you are out of luck. Police find out where the illegal immigrant lives and sends him home. No paperwork involved. Fix your own fucking fence.
I want out of here. But of course there are no jobs. I'm stuck in this shithole.
Minchie is picking at her dinner. We had a scare last week. We were on a walk and while I stopped to talk to a neighbor, Minchie chewed on something unknown and started to gag. It drew my attention back to her, and I asked her to spit that stuff out. She didn't. My conversation continued until Minchie gagged again, as she attempted to eat more of something littering the alley. Perhaps I waited too long, but at that moment, we walked on.
Early the next morning, I awoke to animal gagging. I thought Kitty was hacking up some godforsaken hairball, and made a mental note before falling back asleep to check for hairballs before stepping on the cold concrete of my bedroom floor. But the hacking continued, and I was forced to turn on the lamp. Bile and puke was everywhere. Kitty! WTF???? I grabbed Kitty. Kitty! Why???? I had you shaved! Why are you doing this??? Then Minchie gagged and threw up a big load of yellow gruel on my comforter to match the rest of the yellow-green goo ALL OVER the place. 3 o'clock, that was just what I needed. I grabbed Minchie and loved on her. Please Minchie, what is wrong???
I tried to clean up the goo, but it was everywhere. I found pieces of plastic from some fucking place, three different colors of it. I also found broken glass!
My Minchie! She was so sick.
I took time off work to take her to the vet, who found that all of her troubles had "passed," and that would be $184 please.
Heracles was sympathetic, as usual. He wanted to know what I had done to make her comfortable. Well we all know how irresponsible I am, but I told him the truth. She was comfortable. Sorry to disappoint.
My sister tried to make me feel guilty today. She decided that I am what is wrong with this country, because people like ME are driving down the value of HER house over a thousand miles away. I asked her if she wanted to sell her house any time soon. Well, no, but still! I wanted to tell her to fuck off. I want to sell my house right now and guess what. You can buy one just like it for 100,000 less two houses away from me so I'm thinking the bank who appraised the fucker can have it back.
One positive thing is that all of this makes my sister feel very superior to everyone else, which is what she has been striving for her whole life. She has worked VERY hard to finally feel superior and someday I will give her props.
Heracles. Nevermind. I am too ashamed to even discuss him.
Posted by mental hygiene at 8:28 PM
Friday, March 26, 2010
I can't tell if these announcements about new HAMP guidelines will have any impact on my situation, as someone whose "modification" was a complete disaster and who is now coming up on being 4 months delinquent on the mortgage?
It would be wonderful if I could stay in my house!
But I am not holding my breath. I am just going to wait and see.
In other news, I had a brief vacation.
SOMEBODY had work in Washington DC, so he got a hotel room for a WEEK for free! So I flew out there for a few days because I had a round trip ticket that needed to be used within the next couple of months.
I saw the Smithsonian Museums, the National Archives, the Library of Congress, and whatever else is situated around the National Mall and Capitol Hill. It was very powerful. I was able to watch the following protests: war, health care bill, immigration. By far, my favorite moments were at the war memorials. Arlington Cemetery was also an important place to visit. I am so glad I had a chance to see these things.
Now I am back home, and surprisingly I spent very little money! We bought most of our food at a grocery store and ALL of the museums and memorials that I visited were free. I bought one t-shirt and one coffee mug and four post cards. I wish I would have visited the Newseum, but unfortunately they charge flipping $20 to get in! Screw THAT!
Posted by mental hygiene at 12:17 PM
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
I have a suggestion for the CIA if they want to torture people without getting in trouble for it. This form of torture would also be good for any type of sadistic power assertive type of men who want to inflict pain on all sorts of levels, but would prefer to stay out of jail.
This is WAXING. Specifically waxing in places that have NERVE ENDINGS everywhere!
During typical lunchtime girl-talk, it was suggested to me that a BRAZILIAN would be the answer to my ire of shaving. I have been depressed somewhat over these many months because Heracles is gone, but I have enjoyed a certain vacation from shaving! I love not shaving. I don't care what it looks like down there, I don't look and life is easy!
But as is typical of men these days, Heracles really believes women are pretty much hairless. We can debate all day long about why/how/when they ALL started believing this bullshittery, but it's happened. We women are no better. Such competition for man's favor has caused us to buy in as well.
I asked if getting waxes hurts. All three of my companions chuckled and affirmed that it hurts "at first" but over time it "gets better." Hmmmm. I guess it can't be that bad since everyone does it, riiiiight???? WRONG. Read on.
I arrived at the salon, nervously scoping out the gays on staff. That's a very efficient way to deduce the level of bitchiness present in the atmosphere towards customers. Luckily the gay guy was NOT a bitch. The waxing technician (is that what they are?) was professional, kindly, and I liked her immediately. I thought, oh this will be a breeze. Nice clean salon. Nice people. I'm going to be glad I did this just like everyone says!
So I have no complaints about the technician or the salon.
My complaint is about the torture. Someone might say, well you must have hairs with tree-stump-like roots. That might be true. There is that possibility. Guess what. It's still torture. With all of our wonderful technology today, is it possible that someone would give a crap enough about the pain and indignities women are expected to endure, and invent some INEXPENSIVE, relatively pain-free and long-lasting way to remove that undesirable natural occurrence? Of course not, nobody gives a fuck. Eh, it's only women.
There I was, thinking such thoughts as I displayed my cold naked hairy butt for the procedure. Why??? I asked myself. I couldn't furnish an answer but of course it got worse. The tugging and ripping of the tree stumps around the most sensitive part of my body. And I'm paying for this?!
Just goes to show how stupid we are. We women who engage in this masochism are totally fucked. We can't STOP the hair removal/ripping out/laser, et al because we wouldn't be able to attract or keep a man. So we PAY for torture.
Like I said before. If the CIA wants to engage in torture, nobody can say anything to them about it if they start waxing Taliban balls because American citizens PAY for it. And don't use the hard wax, use the SOFT wax! Yeah! Post it on Youtbe. The evil killers would be there, just like ME, on all fours, humiliated and wondering how fuck they got there?
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Mortgage Company Guy: This is an attempt... please verify... bla bla bla
MH: Yes, Yes etc et al
MCG: Ms. H, and has anything changed since you last spoke with a representative of SunTrust?
MCG: And Ms H, have you considered taking out any personal loans against your investments, assets, 401-K, or asked family or friends for help.
MH: Um, yeah already took out the loan against my 401-K and until that one is paid back, another loan is not an option. I have no other assets.
MCG: And Ms H, do you have any other personal debt that you can defer payment on until you bring your mortgage current.
MH: If you mean my student loans no I cannot get a deferment because I received the maximum when my husband was undergoing surgery and treatment and later physical/occupational/speech therapy for a brain tumor, so unless I just stop paying them, I won't be missing any student loan payments. Or payments for my 401-K loan. I have no other debt.
MCG: Ms H, I see you worked with one of the credit counseling agencies which we recommended to you last year. Were you able to follow any of their advice so you could pay your mortgage on time?
MH: Their advice was nothing more than to spend less money on FOOD. I am not sure how much excess food I consume when I have never weighed above 125 lbs, but I am always open to whatever advice anyone has, like how about asking your mortgage company to reduce the principal of the mortgage since the property is worth $100,000 less than you pay. Actually since I have you on the phone, any chance you guys are going to consider reducing the principal here? You would never get anywhere near what I am truly able to pay for the house, and I would be willing to make a deal.
MCG: Uhhhhh you would have to deal with someone else, I am not in a position to...
MH: Ok well it looks like this conversation is over. Have a nice day.
MCG: Have a nice day.
I feel sorry for these guys. Of course they can't help me, nor is it what they are paid to do. Crappy job!!! I'd really hate to do that for a living. I don't think there is a soul on earth who has a job in which they reduce principals of mortgages for their own employer (mortgage company).
I think I have another month before I get the notice posted on the door. At that point I'll start actively looking for a suitable place. I'm pretty happy with the choices available to me, only I will need to get rid of an awful lot of stuff. That kind of sucks. Man! I know I don't need a Fire King delphite blue milk glass splash and oven proof mixing bowl from the '40s. It serves very little purpose compared to what is available today, not that I mix or bake right now anyway. Fuck! I just love it. I want to keep it. I want to keep my Pyrex Flamingo Pink band milk glass gold trimmed dinner service for 12. I want to keep my Noritake Cook 'n Serve Cielito Lindo and my Franciscan Nut Tree and my Hall's for Westmoreland yellow and turquoise refrigerator dishes. And my sassy mental hygiene public health books for teens and young adults from the industrial revolution until the demise of its popularity around the time of Kennedy's inauguration, when fucking around and getting VD became sassy! And my... oh whatever. I have to get rid of stuff I don't need. I have to laugh at myself because I have had opportunities to do so. Several years ago, I made out like a bandit on an estate sale, but I hardly had enough room to accommodate the treasures I just could not part with. Again, I had a huge garage sale with some friends. Didn't make a dent. I am not a hoarder exactly. I just love beautiful old things that other people have forgotten. I want to have them.
I don't need newspapers or cans or cats or chihuahuas. OKAY, this place is probably messy too often, but it is single girl lives alone crap like clothes and shoes thrown in a corner. Formerly clean laundry piled on the table. Not cat poop or dead birds littering the paths carved out of the refuse! I certainly HOPE I never get like that. But I suspect that it is a problem associated with those who are obliged either through mental health issues or just as debilitating, lack of family and friends. When you live alone, you don't have to put stuff away all the time. Well I don't anyway. And I would imagine that if I knew for a fact that nobody would EVER show up on my doorstep I might not even care at all.
As a renter, I didn't have this mindset. I knew that my landlord could walk in any time he wanted. I was terribly humiliated one day when my landlord at my last apartment saw my cluttered living room. I could have died. I'm rambling. My mental issues may be starting to reveal themselves right this second. Let do a quick status check... hmmmm. do I feel like I would like to take a stack of newspapers and use it is a tv tray?..... Whew! notsomuch. Yes! I'm still hanging on.
Posted by mental hygiene at 7:47 PM
Friday, February 12, 2010
According to friends, I ought to be able to stay in my house for another few months at least. I'm not going anywhere until the house is sold and the new owner comes knocking, because no way am I going to let the lawn get overgrown and the windows knocked out and crack heads smoking it up in here.
I plan on saving as much money as possible. It is only this week that I have been able to catch up on my other bills, however. My car's mechanical problems and then my BANK, deliberately withholding my direct deposit paycheck for an extra day (resulting in over $500 of 'nsf' charges) has caused an avalanche of financial roadblocks. A few weeks ago, I set it up through online billpay for my bills to be taken care of on Friday. I get paid on Thursday. Well, my BANK's software saw an opportunity! How about we hold the check for one extra day before releasing it into the account???? That way we can charge 12 nsf fees PLUS some other charges, the nature of which still confuses me. At $38 each, that really hurt. I called the bank but they were uncooperative, sort of like, "we have you by the balls, and we LIKE it."
But today I am finally back to where I should have been. It is all about saving money from here on out and that makes me feel much better. By the time I need to move, I'll be able to get a nice place. If I don't get laid off, which is always a possibility.
On the Heracles front, we have had some developments. Heracles has no idea that I'm losing my house. First of all, it isn't any of his business. Second of all, and the REAL truth, is that I'm just ashamed and I think he'll dump me as soon as he finds out. Gradually, that fear has faded because we don't seem to have much of a relationship anyhow. We do live a couple thousand miles from each other... so how much is there to lose?
But Heracles had a job interview in another state. He isn't like me. Because of his intelligence, skills, imagination, education, credentials and general BRILLIANCE and PERFECTION, he is one of those rare people who will call the shots even though he is technically the interviewee. He decided that he might take this job, which happens to be in yet a third state.
And that's apparently where I come in. Heracles thinks I ought to move there too. He doesn't understand that I am not in a position to look for jobs anywhere. I would love to move somewhere to be near Heracles, but it's just not possible. It isn't as if he is going to ask me to marry him, which would definitely resolve the situation for me. Of course, since I am the FEMALE, I can't go and ask HIM, now can I?
I wonder what his vision of life in this beautiful third state will be like. It is probably something like this: We have matching apartments in different complexes a couple of miles apart. We see each other four nights a week at Heracles' more comfortable (for him) apt, entertaining ourselves (Heracles) a with stupid slapstick sophomoric thirteen year old boy-humored movie, followed by a half hour of sex matching the objectifying, demeaning, boob jiggling sex in said movie. MH leaves as soon as Heracles' alarm goes off the next morning. Throw in a stress-relieving massage for Heracles every other night or so, and the picture is complete.
Here is what the reality would be: MH moves to Third State, finds a shitty apartment near Heracles' luxury apt, and struggles to find a job. Her money runs out, but Heracles doesn't know it because he would be very disappointed in MH for mishandling her money in such a way. MH finally takes an asst manager job at McDonald's and the acne sets in, rendering her even LESS attractive than before. Heracles feels relieved that he dodged that bullet a couple weeks ago when MH timidly broached the topic of marriage and a family to go with the dog he gave her for Christmas a few years back. He congratulates himself for pretending that he was very busy and didn't have time for this uncomfortable conversation. Things go downhill from there. Third State is full of HOT women! Who knew??? Time to shake off this miserable aging wretch MH, who can't seem to find a decent job and just moved to a STUDIO for fuck's sake.
So I'm thinking I won't be moving to Third State.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
You know, there is no reason to stop trying to live a quality life just because I'm losing my house. I don't mean going to the movies, either. I never do that anyway. I mean enjoying life.
My pets, my friends, my family, the city and the job are still the same. It's important to remember the wonderful other things in my world because a house is just a house. It's a roof. I love the house, but I loved my ex husband too and now it's better that he's in another state.
Life will be EASIER when this chapter is closed. There will be some flexibility in my career, and maybe when the economy recovers I won't be desperate to be the BEST employee for THIS organization and I'll be interested in looking for something more challenging! I'm ready to face my forties. I'm going to be 37 this year and I still don't know what a woman in her THIRTIES acts like! I need to get with the program.
Posted by mental hygiene at 12:54 PM
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Lately I have been preoccupied with my looming adjustment in housing, but along with that comes the presumed end of this relationship I've had with dear old Heracles.
Over the past year, my c.r. e dit s. core has been spoiled as a result of my missed mortgage payments. Even though that's the only aspect of the stupid credit report that drags the number down, it has been devastating to it. I don't even care because I see people survive without "credit" every day. The privileged class sees none of this, and they liken a person's credit record to their criminal record. In fact it seems to replace a criminal record in their estimation of a person's worth. That's because lots of people engage in driving while drunk, beating their wives and kids, and cheating/stealing from others. None of this has a damn thing to do with credit score, so if you have the money to pay your fines and you won't lose your job for a week in jail, you are still able to maintain that status of solid citizenry.
Hercules belongs in the group almost perfectly self-entitled to judge the rest of us. He is honest, law-abiding with sparkling credit and probably had sparkling SAT scores. Me, notsomuch. I am not a genius and obviously I am a crooked debtor. And when Heracles finds out about this situation, he will be disappointed and repulsed.
I have debated with myself about how I ought to handle this problem. Should I dump him first so he CAN'T? Should I beg him to love me despite my felonious credit behavior? Should I be straight up honest with him and tell him taht I expect his FULL emotional support? None of these seem to be realistic options, because the truth is, our relationship will end the day he finds out that I am losing my house. It won't matter what I do.
Posted by mental hygiene at 11:14 AM
Friday, January 8, 2010
Thursday, January 7, 2010
In 2010, the occupants of this house will move. I am in the process of making a list of bottom line requirements for a long-term residence. The ideal place will be quiet, secure and clean. Not such a simple proposition, in this particular town!
In 2010, I will turn 37. This unremarkable milestone may go down as the year I trolled bars looking for sex, not because I like sex, but because I am nearing menopause. I can tell. My body is changing. Okay, I'm not brave enough to have sex with strange men, I'm a nerd of the first sort. So this year will more likely go down as the year I accepted my destiny as a childless woman. This year, I will probably begin to yearn for a yard again, so I can yell at any little kids who manage to steer their bikes off the sidewalk onto my pristine green turf. Ah, what wonders the future holds!
In 2010, Heracles will dump me. He wasn't serious about this relationship anyway, he considers himself much too exquisite to entangle himself in emotional connections with females. Unmarried females try to rob men of their cherished sperm. One must always be on his watch. Heracles is smart, because I would have been guilty of doing just that, except I've always been too scared to have kids without a good man around who I knew wanted them with me. Who wants to go through all that only to have some little bastard blaming YOU for all their problems. No thanks. But if I WEREN'T so scared, Heracles would be right on, I have to admit. Anyway, Heracles is also a paranoid mess and has a grave mistrust of anyone who commits such a felonious act such as ruining their credit. So when Heracles finds out that I have to move because my house is getting foreclosed, he will be forced to distance himself from this sleazy ho.
In 2010, I will learn the true value of independence. I have been independent most of my life, but I never saw the value in it. I have always wanted a good man around. To my disappointment, I never found one. I probably don't know what to look for anyway. So this year, I am going to LEARN how NICE it is to be a WOMAN who does not NEED a man around for anything. I will not have a house with all sorts of maintenance issues that are mysterious and complicated. I will make sure I have a LIFE that I alone can manage by myself!
In 2010, I will simplify my life for the very first time. I will liquidate every tangible item in my possession which I don't USE. I will sell it or donate it or give it all away.
By the end of 2010, I will be able to pay my bills and for once, I will be able to save money.
I will face my forties alone and most importantly, I will face them content.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Here is the situation right now.
I owe over $170,000 on this house, which is worth less than $80,000. A foreclosure on my street with the same floor plan as this house recently sold for $76,000, and THAT property had been updated. My house has never been updated.
Yeah, I'm underwater. But when I started having trouble making the payment, I tried to get the loan modified, and I was willing to honor the whole amount, if they would extend the life of the loan in order for me to be able to afford the payment. That did not work. The mortgage company "approved" a modification in which the principle of the loan was raised (due to late fees and god knows what other charges) by almost $5,000 and my monthly payment actually increased! I spoke with them the other day and I was told that we will need to wait a year in order for them to revisit the subject of modification.
So here I am, savings are gone. Already got a loan on the 401k. Cannot get a roommate. House is starting to fall apart. I feel bad, but I have no options left. A collector called today. He suggested a short sale. "Why?" was my question. Well, he said, it might save your credit, you can put this behind you, bla bla bla. Plus, as it gets closer to foreclosure, they may be able to explore more ways of settling the debt. I reminded him that as far as anybody knew last week, the only way we have is for me to simply pay the mortgage on time every month, and if I can't do that, they will have to "send it to the attorneys." He had no response other than that he was sorry this was happening. I told him that I am too.
So, looks like my dream is starting to become my nightmare. All I wanted was my own home, and I was so happy when I "bought" it. I have learned many things about myself these past couple years, and I'm not proud that I don't know anything about managing too much debt. I am not proud that I bought a house that I simply can't afford.
And nobody else can afford it either. What really kills me is that if I had waited for six months, this house would have been $30,000 less at least, I would have had more money to put down on it too. And the payment would be manageable. But I guess thinking about that isn't going to do me any good.
Thank GOD I live in Arizona right now, along with so many other people who paid too much. Because right now they can't go after me for "deficiency" which is the difference between the amount I owe and the amount they ultimately receive, I think... All I have to do is make sure that the house has not been neglected and all of the appliances it came with are still here when they kick me out. I'll definitely have no problem with all of that, since I won't have a mortgage for the next couple months. I'll be able to afford to fix these things I should have fixed a LONG time ago. And I will. And I know that whoever is lucky enough to get my house will be really happy here if they keep the kitchen tile intact but update EVERYTHING else!