Poverty Is Not an Accident

Poverty Is Not an Accident
Nelson Mandela

Thursday, May 20, 2004

I feel like a total loser.

You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com

I read over the email from FSRN at the station today.

I freaked.

I had to just about do everything over, except my interviews, and even those were moved around, shortened, etc.

I had hell to pay, trying to adjust sound levels.

Since that other tooth broke, my voice sounds different. I couldn't splice new voice into old; I had to rerecord my script.

I sent an email, after submitting everything again: new audio, new script, new lead in. The email asked, "should I submit an invoice tomorrow?"

Fridays are the deadline for the week to get stuff into the book keeper. She cuts checks Mondays, and I didn't get the last one 'til the following Friday.

Well, I got back a reply: I can't submit an invoice 'til the story airs. And it's already a week and a half old!

So, I get to sit on pins and needles, worrying whether they'll air it. I won't know; I can't hear them from here. I'll have to check their web site, every day.

IF they air it NEXT week, I won't get paid for two more weeks yet.

My legs are killing me. The office furniture is ruining them. Shoulders, too.

I'm utterly exhausted.

The good news is Renee really did call someone about getting me some help.

The REALLY good news is that, somehow, despite my pilferring and the Bastard Gardener raiding nests, SOMEHOW, a mother duck hatched a batch of chicks! They were all over the pond this morning: nearly ten of them, little mallards, from what appears to be a wild pair.

Life will abide.

I'm glad I watered at three o'clock this morning; it's hot and dry and everything would've died by Monday, the next time I can water with a hose.

I have a forty gallon trash barrel out there, covered and full of water. That's so I can freshen up the seeds I planted. But the big beds would not have made it 4 more days without water.

I'm so sad. I'm so discouraged. I could've made more money, giving b.j.s in the seven/eleven parking lot, and saved myself the damn stress! Probably could have made that in one night, too.

I never resorted to prostitution, or drug dealing. But I've been seriously tempted in the past.

Now, I'm too ugly to whore and too slow to deal.

More limitations to my career options. Just what I needed.

I feel bitter, hollow and wrung out.

I have been giving my absolute best, and I feel it's thrown back in my face as though it were common trash.

I'm sick of being brave, silent, patient, hard working. I want to SCREAM!

Those people think I'm loud now? They should only see how I go off when I'm at my complete limit!

And, with physical exhaustion and being totally broke and stressed out, I'm JUST about ready to blow!

I told Renee that. I told her I needed to leave, right then. Without packing my lunch stuff up or my interview notes/audio...nothing.

I just put on my shoes, grabbed my bag, locked the drawer I swiped without permission, and got the hell OUT of there.

I'm just about ready to lose it.

What ELSE must I do for a hundred sixty dollars???????

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