Suddenly I See.

I didn't leave this morning. I'm still home. Typing on my blog. Waiting for the Delta representative to put me on a same day confirmed ticket which will cost me $25. I've talked to three Delta people today. Half of them sound like they're in India. Or the same country where all the Dell people are. I know because when I worked for Samantha (publicist) I had to call every day for two months trying to get her reimbursed for some computer she returned before I started working for her. Well, I finally got the refund and she promised me a bonus if I did... but she promised me a lot of things I never got. Which is probably the perfect segue for why I'm still home. It's because of my paycheck. I was waiting for it. And my expense reimbursement. Which together totals approximately $3,000. Which was promised to me today. I have a little over $100 to my name in my bank account. Which does not fly with Alamo Car Rentals. They want the whole $270+ plus $250 in case I drive the car off a cliff -- which given the way I'm feeling, just might happen. Have I mentioned lately that bankruptcy blows? And so does poverty. Well, I'm still poor. At 8:01 at night. The check never came. And Ken, the man who lied about sending my paycheck before -- I know he lied because it never showed up and people who know him say he's done this before. Charming, right? -- well, he never called me back when I called him asking where it was and if I could pick it up again. No, instead he called the corporate office and said that I asked for an advance and they don't do advances. And kill me now. Long and short of it. I got in trouble. Enough with getting in trouble. I figure what could they possibly do to me that hasn't already been done?

I'm only going on this trip because I have to. I need the money. The job ends November 18th. The trips end November 18th. I was offered a position today in the Orange County territory-- which is an hour away from here-- which we all know is where I grew up and am not so fond of-- for $45,000 a year. Which I can't live on. I've tried. And what with gas prices-- driving an hour away... up and back... I don't think so. And there would be no benefits. Just quarterly bonuses. And Orange County. My mother even got it when I told her I couldn't do it. She said it was a sign. That so many people tell her how beautiful I am-- which is so unlike my mother-- but quite sweet. Her version of, "so if the rest of your life is shit, at least you're pretty." Sigh. That and a rental car has gotten me... not so far. No, it has gotten me places. Lots of places. Not the pretty thing. Well, I don't know. Maybe it has. I'm not going there. Pretty is relative. Relative to where you live, who you are and what you place value on. How you value yourself and others. I'm completely off on a tangent here. Anyway...

Given my panic attack and panic driven alkie tendencies, I had a glass of wine at 1:30 in the afternoon, called Kelly and asked if she'd cover the rental car (while sobbing out of shame which is messed up given I should have $1300 of my own money in the bank) and then walked to her store and got a check and walked to the bank. And then drove to Beverly Hills where I tried on a pair of boots at my favorite shoe store. Where the woman remembered me and said she hadn't seen me in a long time... a few years... four to be precies. I told her it's because I used to shop before my shrink appointment. Now I don't have a shrink (although I could probably use one). Because you can't work in Hollywood without a shrink and good shoes... which is partially true. Just the shrink part. She thought it was hysterical. And is holding a pair of boots for me that I can't afford and can't buy. But having her hold them for me for the hour until she closed made me feel a little closer to something. Did I mention my father forgot my sister's birthday and he was over at her house? Yes. Bigger fish.

This all being said, I keep hearing my friend Michael in my head-- saying to me this week-- that I just need time-- a little time to write-- and how he wants that for me-- room to breathe-- and write and be all that I can be-- and I want that for me, too. Just like the man. A man. To love and be loved by. Okay, just typing that made me cry. I need to be a better liar.

I know I can write. Although this blog alternately reflects that and not. I don't know if I can get a man or not. Only the writing thing has been proven. The writing thing. Yeah. So long ago. Proven. So what has been proven may not really count any more... still. After this trip, after New York, I will come home and give my notice on this apartment. And be okay about it. Scared but okay. Because Detroit is one of the poorest major cities in the United States. I've lived on Detroit for over 14 years. Maybe I should pick another street. Maybe one associated with love and prosperity... like Park Place or New York Street. Or even just a good storage space. I worry about the kitties. I love them. I am not giving them up. But I may have to have them watched by someone else for awhile. Live with someone else. Which will probably hurt me more than it hurts them. But. When I come home, they are all over me. Sleep with me. Talk to me. And now, they're both at my feet, Skunk with her spay scar. And you know-- love. Kitty love even...? It can turn a day around.

And Suddenly I See? Well, that's just a KT Tunstall song that seemed appropriate for tonight. Not that I've actually seen a darn thing I didn't see before. Made you think so, though, didn't it...? Although, I do hate red-eyes... time to call. Wish me luck.