Posts tagged relationship
Closing in on tax time, having already “done the deed” and paid what I owe, I’m reminded of how the year really does kind of start in April for me instead of January. I have had a slight anxiety about tax time since a few years back when I made the totally ignorant decision not to file for 2 years. I was getting income without any W-2 or 1099-Misc, so I thought, “what they don’t know helps me.”
It wasn’t very long before that delusion was fixed by the realization that sooner or later, some other shit would get tied into taxes, and if you didn’t file, you couldn’t take advantage of certain opportunities. Just a few short years later, after I had already repaired the financial damage of catching up, Obamacare was announced.
It was rough to catch up, because I had to print out everything from 3 years, because I was filing the 2 skipped years as I filed the 3rd year “on time”. When I saw the difference in how much the year on time cost me versus each year skipped plus penalties, I realized how foolish it was to skip those years to begin with. I considered just filing the current year and not saying anything about the 2 skipped years, but then the whole thing happened with “Wesley Snipes” getting busted for owing millions.
There was a freaky, weird combination of paranoia and intuition causing me to decide to file 2 skipped years as I finally acted like an adult and filed the current year. There was also the fact that “clips 4 sale” uses a system of sending out a 1099-misc whenever someone makes more than $600 in a single year. Success has it’s consequences.
I was lucky to make more than $600 in a year, but shocked to see that 1099-Misc come in the mail in early Feb. At that point, it all hit me, that I was fooling myself, and that you can’t fool a data mining, privacy invading entity like the U. S. Department of Treasury and get away with it. When I filed those 3 years, I did it in person, bringing paper returns in to an IRS office in myself.
I made a comment to the big beautiful agent who I ended up with that “I’m not going down like Wesley Snipes.” She laughed out loud. I also made a comment that there is no point in hiding income because the government knows how much you make already anyway. All my income is “digital” and I’m sure that I am not the only one being made aware of each deposit from each company.
I was so nervous about all that stuff, as most people probably would be. Yet, I chose to put myself right into one of their offices, in person, and hand over tax returns from previous years in an act of surrender. I kept reading that the IRS goes easier on you if you go to them rather than them coming to you. That translates into something else that happened years after I caught up and continued to file on time.
When Candy was gone the second time for 8 months, I got to know a neighbor who started talking to me while I was outside smoking cigarettes that I no longer smoke. His name was Kevin, and he worked as a carpenter, which also means contractor. He was good at what he does. I’ve seen some shitty carpentry, and his work was way superior. He knew what he was doing, and he could get jobs with apartment complexes that were being remodeled easily.
He had made some friends with apartment management people who could provide him with regular work. Even though he didn’t have a typical 9-5 job, he was a hustler who could go out there and find some kind of job just as he needed the cash.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t filed taxes in over a decade. He had been working “under the table” here and there, but a few of those apartment complexes did issue him 1099’s because they were up to date on their taxes, and nobody is going to pass up the chance to write off payments to contractors as a tax deduction. That’s where my buddy Kev got fucked.
He was so confident in his ability to get away without filing taxes, that he had an account at a credit union in his own name, with over $10,000 in it. One day he knocks on my door freaking out because he want to his credit union to get some cash, and they told him that his account had been closed by the IRS.
Another irony. I felt dumb at one point for giving up all the financial info that I did to end up with a tax liability that was pretty close to the $10,000 mark myself. Luckily, I didn’t freak out, and I simply started a “payment plan” with them. After just a few years of paying a bare minimum, there was only a little over $1000 left. At that point, Candy was gone and I was having financial issues, so I called them on the phone, and I was able to request a “penalty abatement” right then and there.
Because of my positive payment history, and the fact that I had continued to file on time every year after, they actually took off $1000 of penalties, so I went from owing over a thousand to owing under just one payment with one phone call to them.
The lawyers on television that advise you not to talk to the IRS are real douche bags. Those greedy, selfish cock suckers would have you pay them thousands of dollars to file an “offer in compromise” which the IRS turns down a vast majority of. That means, you could pay a lawyer to file that one thing for you, and then the IRS turns it down, so now you still have to pay them the full amount plus pay that scum bag lawyer!
I could have tried an offer in compromise myself, but I don’t think it would have been accepted, because the first year that I started paying on those back taxes, I made more cash than I had in any year before or since. I went up to nearly 29K in one year, which for me, is a lot. I know that so many people would feel some kind of pity on me for living my whole life around the 20k per year range, but money doesn’t make me “happy”, life experience and growth does.
The request for penalty abatement is easier to get than an offer in compromise, and not to mention it only took one phone call instead of pages of documentation. I didn’t really owe quite enough for an offer in compromise anyway. That’s for the big hitters who get paid twice what I do every year and go twice as long as I did without filing!
When Kev lost his bank account, I started to suggest a few ways that he could hide his income in the future. He had already considered some of those things, but he was in a panic about what to do “right now” and what to do about rent when it was coming up. I immediately felt compelled to start avoiding him at that point, because a “friend in need” and all. I’m so used to people going into “bum mode” when something like that happens, but I should have considered how Kev really is a hard worker.
Kev did bounce back, he got some job and started making money just in time, just like I did myself when I got 2 job offers just weeks before barely having rent in the bank. The problem with Kev is, even though he started making more money, he already felt such a loss, that his hustling habits started back up.
By the time I left Louisiana, he had managed to beg around $40 off of me, which is a *lot* because I don’t give money out like a charity, usually. He also owed me a little weed, but it didn’t matter by the time I was leaving Louisiana because I didn’t want to be traveling 2000 miles in a uhaul pulling my van holding on to a drug that could literally cause me to lose everything if I was caught with it. At least, that was before getting the medical marijuana card, but then again, while moving, that card would be worthless in the 5 states that I would travel through on the way to Nevada.
Nothing justified the years of paying monthly on my back taxes like watching Kevin lose over $10,000, and not even want to approach the IRS to see if he could get that money back if he agreed to file all returns not previously filed and get on a payment plan to pay any back taxes owed. When I suggested that to him, he looked at me and laughed, saying “I will never make enough money to pay them what I owe them.”
That’s what I may have thought myself at the time when I got hit with the letter from the IRS after they “evaluated” my case and gave me the bottom line figure that I would owe them. It’s ironic that I talk about how adversity creates inspiration and motivation, because the year that I got that bill, I’ve already said I made more money than I had ever made, and more than I have made any year since then.
Now, I would be crazy to jack my income up over $20k, because I have to keep it below %133 of the federal poverty guideline in order to be eligible for medicaid. Why is it so important to be eligible for medicaid? Because, I realize that if I made $20k instead of less than $15.5K, at least according to the federal poverty guideline issued for the year 2014, I would probably not be able to afford insurance payments, prescription cost, plus paying estimated taxes all year so I don’t owe over $800 like I did this fucking year!
I was lucky because I anticipated putting out around $600. I thought I had paid enough to only owe $500 by the time I filed, but the fucking self employment tax calculator I used was off by hundreds of dollars!
Yeah, I thought I would owe $500, and because the first estimated tax payment is due April 15th, and I wait until nearly the last minute to file because I know I have to pay out, I was ready to put out $200 for the first payment along with $500 for what I owed. Unfortunately, I owed $800 and still had to make a payment by the April 15th first estimated payment deadline, so I only paid $100 in estimated…
I am not paying estimated taxes quarterly this year. That shit is too hard, because every time I am prepared to put out over $400, for one quarterly payment, some shit comes along and causes me to delay paying that much, and then I fail to catch up later in the year. This year, I’m going to pay $250 or more per month, so by the end of the year, I will have already put up $2000. That way, if my taxes are higher than that, it can’t be by much, and I will be able to make a full first estimated payment at the same time I pay off whatever I failed to pay for the previous year.
My expenses went down, my income went up for 2014. That would normally be a good thing, but not in my case, because it bumped me up to the next higher tax table and I got hit with about $400 more in taxes owed than the previous year. Just making an extra $2000 cost me more than $400 in taxes… Not spending $500 in expenses this year that I spent in the previous year also raised income by that much too, which fucked me even harder.
The truth is, I am such a cheap bastard that I have been successful in my first month quitting smoking because I can’t bear to pay nearly $200 a month in fucking cigarettes! Fuck nicotine, that shit is too fucking expensive! Paying that money for cigarettes each and every month was throwing away some of the income that I am limiting to be eligible for medicaid!
Drinking beer also contributes to money loss over time, in what adds up to a shocking annual expenditure, but not nearly to the extent that cigarettes were. The sad thing is, our wonderful, allegedly “free enterprise” system came up with this strategy of penalizing smokers with artificially raised cost in order to deter them from smoking. Isn’t it ironic how the poorest of people cling on to such an expensive, self destructive habit?
When I started to seriously add it all up, it was so shocking to me that I was able to be bled so hard by taxes and then waste so much money on top of that! I, like most people, would choose for years to be so lazy that I would have every ability and intention of adding up those little costs over time, but I would conveniently prioritize it so low that I would never get around to it.
It wasn’t until I started to add stuff up in my mind, using approximations about frequency that are probably remarkably accurate without going back to the receipts that I have organized into categories. I could have simply started using a more thorough method of organization to put cigarette receipts in one envelope, and then pull it out after 3 months of accumulation to come up with a monthy, and yearly average cost. That would have probably shocked me into quitting smoking right then and there.
I didn’t need a “new years resolution” to quit smoking, or to make my accounting method more purposeful and serious. I have finally dumped my out of state checking account, so I can have all my income reflected in all deposits in just one account. Lucky for me, the local account that I have now allows me to search for specific transactions over a defined period of time and actually provide a total at the bottom of the spreadsheet.
I won’t mention names of banks here, but the old bank had the capability of searching a date range for deposits, but they didn’t give a total at the bottom. I would have to take a screen shot of that spreadsheet and then manually add up the numbers over a whole year with ‘calculator’.
The new account does it for me, so it’s one stop shop to see income total at any give time in the year. This allows me to create a very distinct trajectory over time and give a pretty good estimate of annual income based on the first few months.
This is internet publishing, so amount of income can fluctuate based on effort put into the work itself. The second one stops updating things, the money stops soon after. The work basically goes “inactive” and people start copying it and putting it everywhere. I like to say that all models quit, and when they do, the dating sites start using their images as spam, because nobody that attractive joins those dating sites.
So, instead of quitting smoking cigarettes as a new year resolution, I made a fiscal year resolution. It’s not exactly the same time as a corporate fiscal year, it’s an idea that pops into my head when I consider my use of the title “the year starts here.”
Now, I have had the idea to not only stash business expense receipts into one envelope, why not use the 3 categories that I use the most? Supplies, Repairs and maintenance, and Legal and professional services are the 3 categories that I have used consistently for certain things, and I maintain all receipts and notes on why those receipts are relevant.
I get so specific that because food is something used as a “prop”, I can’t put it into the Deductible meals and entertainment (see instructions) category. It’s bad enough that I use “supplies” when it’s followed by ” (not included in Part III).” The “meal” is being used as a prop in a mini documentary, so it is actually more of a supply, assuming props for production would go there. It’s an item being used but destroyed in the process of creating a documentary which generates nearly all income being taxed to begin with. It’s a full circle that somehow combines taxes with food. Weird.
Because I would not want to appear to be abusing food as an expense, I keep all food receipts that are not used as props in another envelope. If I were ever confronted about the use of a dozen or so food receipts as expenses, I would pull out the huge envelope of food receipts for the same year that were *not used*. While the receipts for the food that was not used are irrelevant to taxes, being in possession of those receipts validates the relatively few receipts that are being deducted as expenses.
This strategy is what I call the “avalanche of paperwork theory”. It cost me an ink cartridge when I was ready to verify my income to the department of welfare to keep my medicaid, and all they wanted was the 2 pages of the tax return that showed income and expenses. Like they had to go compare it to the database they have stashed somewhere that shows what the government already knows I am making.
I’m not taking all of the assistance I could, because I don’t want to be dependent on any system that one political party wants to destroy so badly. Oh, guess who? I don’t have to bash conservatives here, I rarely get deep into politics unless I’m talking about drugs.
I really do need the help though. Even if I made more, I would be paying even more taxes. I am legitimately making under %133 federal poverty guidelines, but I still had to pay $2397 in “self employment tax”. Yeah, I would pay less taxes if I made more money working at a fast food place… That makes so much sense to me.
In a way, Obamacare is not free. I am paying for my medicaid, because my income after expenses is below $15,000 a year, but I am paying $2400 in income tax. I was prepared for just over $2000 because of that shitty online estimated tax calculator. I was doing the whole year income after expenses, so it wasn’t like I was depending on it for the quarterly payments. Now, I don’t want to make quarterly payments because a monthly bill of $250 or more is more manageable than coming up with $750 a quarter… I have no fucking idea why they don’t *encourage* that.
They know that they are taking a big chunk out of a very low income, and they don’t care. I pay it, because I would rather be honest and pay it now than be caught and pay even more later. I know about data mining and data collection. I know that there are databases that I have no way of knowing about, but if it’s possible, and smarter people than me are working on it, I can rest assured that they are reading what I type as I read it. It’s not paranoia, I’m not angry about it, I just live my life in gratitude that I have what I have, and I have the talent and ability to create what I create.
I’m not bitter because I don’t make a lot of money. I don’t make a lot of money because I don’t try. I don’t try because I have very real physical and emotional issues that are waiting to be completely resolved. I have quit smoking, and I am not the slightest bit tempted to go back. I didn’t get drunk on ice beer last night, and I wasn’t trying “not” to drink. I don’t have to drink every day, I could go days or weeks without it and just shift over to another hobby, maybe writing in some blog that nobody will ever read.
I can’t drink when I want to do something, because I know, while sober, that while I’m drunk I don’t want to do anything, except for drink, and maybe rant weird shit on twitter and facebook for some reason. Actually, I kind of suspect the reason already, being a coping mechanism that I picked up when I was emotionally devastated by Candy’s 2 previous departures, and then the constant threat of leaving a 3rd time after we moved to Vegas. Thankfully, that has been resolved, and therefore, Candy has given me a break from being depressed so I can work on my fucking issues for once.
It’s ironic, that Candy wanted the version of me that she met to “come back”. She kept leaving and coming back hoping that every time she left, I would get better instead of getting worse. In a way, I got a lot better after she came back the second time, because I managed to keep working that shitty job that was ripping me off by not paying my payroll taxes, and I saved up enough to move to Las Vegas a 2nd time in my life.
This time I had the big 16′ truck, towing the big shitty van, that I still have and it still actually works. I never drove a truck that big, I never towed a 6 wheel trailer with a shitty van on it, and I was lucky to only have to back up one time, to leave the parking lot I was moving from, and I almost fucked up the trailer hitch right then. Luckily, I had enough space after getting into that weird angle to go forward, clearing a big brick fence, but going right over a bunch of grass.
The irony of Candy leaving and coming back hoping to find a better version of me is that her leaving created a catastrophic deep level depression that would take time for me to resolve. There is no immediate reaction in this complex brain, and habits ingrained over time have to be removed over time.
When Candy threatened to leave the 3rd time, while we were in Vegas, it didn’t help me to get better. It caused me to descend into the emotional state I felt either time she left before, but only on occasion. There were stretches of productivity and drive interrupted by intense episodes of inner depression. Candy would not see them as an obvious manifestation of anything being “wrong”, she would just notice that I got a little more drunk than usual, or listened to sad music instead of high energy electronic music.
There wasn’t much room for sympathy in Candy’s heart for what I was going through, because she started to feel like she already “had enough”. I started to recognize a familiar pattern where Candy comes back, I am working on myself, but I’m not fast enough, she loses patience, and she runs away again.
I quit drinking vodka because she came back, but she knew that I had to step down with beer until a certain “point”. That point was for me to choose, not her, and she recognized that while she was gone, she wanted to work with me to get through it because she was not with me for months before.
I would make promises, but still know and share my limitations based on my ability to just “snap back” after what really was a complete nervous breakdown. Most people who got down to the level I did would have had to go through a lot more bullshit before pulling themselves out of it. The fact that I managed to get a job while Candy was gone showed her that I could stay sober long enough to at least pull that off.
When Candy came back, I didn’t think I was overdoing it, but I kind of was. I was setting limits on myself and then breaking them repeatedly. We were staying in different rooms, and by the time we would decide to “hang out”, I was drunk already. I didn’t stay drunk all day, but our timing was such that we would tend to “do our own thing” all day and then maybe hang out in the evening. If I started drinking too early, or Candy hadn’t announced she wanted to hang out early enough, I would start with the beer, and it didn’t take much.
When I was doing vodka, I had a high tolerance. When i started doing beer, I used the 12 pack limit over 2 days to try to control myself. That started to break down, and not long ago I was picking up the 30 pack because it’s “cheaper”.
It’s not really cheaper if a 30 pack is consumed in even less time than 2 12 packs. It wasn’t until I started to see myself descend into a higher and higher tolerance that I realized what I was doing to myself. I was slowly letting it get worse instead of better.
Candy had an epiphany that involved a lot of shit I don’t want to get back into now, but she realized that she couldn’t control me, and the time line for me to get back to “normal” was not decided by her, or even all parts of myself. It wasn’t until I decided to finally stop smoking that I realized how much control I could grasp again over all other addictions disguised as “needs”.
Candy is related to my desire to quit smoking as well, because when I watched her breathing getting worse and worse before treatment, I realized that she didn’t even smoke and she could barely keep enough oxygen coming in. She’s huge, so just standing up for her is like me picking up 300lbs. I can only imagine what it would be like to be on a level of gravity that few humans ever experience, without weight lifting.
I started to notice that as I was pushing her around on this bariatric transport chair that I would get winded way too quickly. I would notice it during sex, and also realize that it effected my energy level too. Once I started to realize how much i was paying to destroy my sex life, quitting smoking wasn’t a priority, it was a necessity.
Because I can actually use having sex to create content, which creates income, I also have another incentive to stop spending so much of that precious little income on something that is destroying my physical ability.
Now that I have quit smoking, there is less of a desire to consume too much alcohol, because there is a renewed awareness of my ability and how it is compromised by the use of both nicotine and alcohol.
If I think I am a relatively smart person, I should not have figured this out so slowly. On the other hand, it’s hard to want to improve yourself when you secretly want to die. I had to have many varied experiences involving other people besides Candy to finally realize that I was limiting my own potential and also the time I have to do everything that I fantasize about doing in my short and half over life.
In just the very first month that I have quit smoking, I have tested myself in a variety of ways, and I already see a marked improvement of oxygen intake. I realize that I have smoked for 2 decades on and off, more on than off, and it will take much more time to do serious healing. I realize that I may never be granted with the full capacity I might have if I had never started smoking that shit to begin with.
One interesting fact, after getting the medical marijuana card, I made the simple observation that nicotine doesn’t get you “high”, it just takes you down from an anxiety that is created by the addiction to it in the first place.
That shit is fucked up. I get so mad at myself when I realize that quitting smoking right now, and paying taxes monthly instead of quarterly, is going to cause no change in my budget whatsoever. I don’t have to set aside money for taxes if I’m paying monthly, and because I’m saving almost that amount by not spending it on something else, the taxes become more “invisible” unless they go even higher.
When I bring the drinking down to half of what it has become, I will be saving even more money. The beer doesn’t cost as much as cigarettes though. If I spend $8 on beer as often as every 2 days, that’s still $120. That is the maximum allowed amount that I let myself get though, with my strategy of attempting to control alcoholism through intake restriction rather than abstinence.
I was spending that much on crap that I don’t need, and I am way too poor to think I need that shit! I am not bitter about being “poor” because I enjoy living with such a strategic outlook and not giving away money on crap that I am being made to believe I want, when i don’t really want it.
I have been putting off changing my cable bill for days because I didn’t prioritize doing it, but I got a digital antenna that picks up more channels than what I paid cox cable for 13 of them. $27 for 13 channels, that I would say are “shitty” but I do appreciate local news. The irony is that there is a free digital channel just for local weather, that shitty cox cable doesn’t include in the minimum package.
I’m glad I write here now, because I’m going to bring my cable bill down under $100 a month, and still have the highest speed internet below business level, plus the shitty phone with no long distance as a local incoming phone that doesn’t use up “minutes” on the “pay per minute” plan I still use! While some people spend over $100 a month on a fucking phone, I pay about $20 every 2 months for a cell I only use when I have to.
I can make so little and be so content because I own my shitty vehicle, and just have to bust my knuckles up a little when it fucks up. I have an old shitty phone with no internet, that I don’t have to pay on monthly. I build my own computer systems about every 2 years, so I haven’t purchased a company branded computer system since the late 90’s. I don’t watch much television, so I have one, but it’s an old CRT probably less than 40″. Now I have a digital antennae hanging from the ceiling in an artistic way that picks up more channels than the bare minimum shit package from cox cable.
I can live off of less than $1000 a month, but I make a little more than that, no matter how much I try to keep it at a certain point. It’s like a natural habit for me to do things online that happen to promote my business and end up causing a little bit of a ‘surplus’ here and there over the year.
That’s why my next investment is going to be to accept mastercard as well as visa. I’m saying this as ccbill takes around $85 out of every payment until they hit $500 for the annual visa renewal required for them to process visa for my website.
Another irony. The clips4sale store sent me a 1099 for over $11,000. When subtracted from total deposits, that means the web sites made just over $5000. That is before expenses, which is why my income is still under $15,000. My expenses were still under $2000, which fucked me, which is why I want to pay the additional $500 this year to start with mastercard.
I didn’t do it originally because mastercard was such a smaller market. When I could not take visa, my membership went into the toilet. I only started clip stores because I could not afford the $750 way back to take visa when they started to require it. I should have, because by now, I would have made more, and the renewal would have been less painful when it is taken out of income rather than spent on it’s own.
I will have to spend the $500 for mastercard just to keep expenses up to what they were this year, because my cheap ass doesn’t like to spend money, even on the business. That’s why I have had to quit smoking and now I want to quit drinking because of how much money I could save, meaning how much less I have to make, meaning being even more fucking lazy!
I am such a hippy now. This flower child wants to do the least work possible, but I have issues when some of my “fun” is in promoting and creating the work. If you love what you do, you never work a day in your life. I guess that’s why I am addicted to creating super fat content.
With this new year, new energy, and new motivation, I have also finally created some video that I have wanted to create for a long time. I have been going back to doing the hardcore stuff. It’s not as easy with a fucked up hip, but I still manage it, and now that I have better oxygen intake and more energy, I am getting back to where I was in the Florida days. I know I’m not even close to being back there yet, and at my age, I’ll be lucky to get to %80 of what I was capable of when I started in the early 30’s.
I impressed myself with my last clip though. I haven’t released it yet, but instead of being 14 minutes long, I accidentally got up to nearly 25 minutes. I was just having so much fun fucking the piss out of Candy in front of a camera again that I got carried away, and it shows. That’s the whole point though.
I am finally getting back to who I was so long ago. It’s ironic that Candy always wanted this guy back, but it took even more than getting her back to bring him back. I have to give some credit to another woman that I had to hurt so badly, and I feel badly about it. If it weren’t for her though, Candy may never have realized what she was about to lose forever.
I guess one can take it for granted that Candy rarely, if ever, reads this blog. When I talk ‘about her’ in the way that I do, it’s not spiteful or with any need for vindication. I point it out because it is the truth. There is another woman who helped me greatly, and it did hurt me deeply to have to disappoint her.
Candy wants this version of me to come back, but that version existed with different rules, agendas, and inspirations. I am still trying to resolve how I can fully return to the mindset of wanting to be fully monogamous to Candy, after the change from that status seemed to start a chain reaction that almost destroyed the relationship on multiple occasions.
I am not saying that I need an open relationship to return to being the guy I was when Candy met me, but I can’t help but notice the connection from the patterns created in the past. Candy left the first time just months after I said I only wanted to be with her. That did something to me that hasn’t been “fixed”, and as I clear my head of the nicotine and alcohol, I am starting to see it more clearly.
I worry that the need for alcohol arose to begin with because I could never be happy with myself if I never got to the bottom of what I think I want or need out of life and relationships with women. I’m already kind of a “special case” because I am a “pornographer” and I tend to enroll whoever I am with into my work.
I say “whoever I am with” because there was the super sized woman I have already posted photos of here who I worked with when Candy was gone the last time.
The woman I met and had an affair with while Candy threatened to leave a 3rd time had a remarkably similar look to this woman, and she was actually available, and ready to go all out into a live in relationship when Candy was ready to eject.
One can imagine what this has created within my brain, and how I am still resolving this, even as I continue to try to better myself by quitting smoking and finally controlling drinking. All the things Candy really wanted, and I had to fuck her over in order to give those things to her. The irony is never ending in my life.
I wanted to write, the last post being created from a perspective that had not yet completed a specific objective which required multiple prerequisites. The stress of that upcoming change, decision, or action caused ripples in the time before it, extending months. The planning that had gone into it was set into motion years before that.
I signed in, signed up, and shopped for my plan. The plan would be free, but I didn’t quite know it at the moment before taking the actions. I had employed some type of psychic accounting in order to prevent liability, but I had taken it to such an extreme and I probably did not need to.
A moment here or there, sober or intoxicated, taking a peek at subsidy calculators and the current table of poverty guidelines issued by the same people that think one can live on 700 a month. I could have worked it out much more skillfully, but some frantic, manic, procrastinating, lazy fool chose to take over for a bit instead.
I still haven’t done the research, but a part of me even chose a specific number as an income target. It wasn’t very well thought out, except some simple math showed that I would have to make one amount in order to maintain bills, maybe save a little, and still have the reserve capacity to make big payments in order to sustain a business model that even I believe is unsustainable.
It takes money to make money. Even if I had a crazy plan to make as little as possible and still keep everything going as if nothing was wrong, there would still be times when I know I would have to come up with 500, 750, maybe even a cool grand at different points in the future. As it stands, there are only two main expenses to my entire business model. Hosting and payment processing.
Without having to file a thousand little receipts I can just pop out those two and the rest is small change. I just don’t spend money. On very much at all. Ever. Sure, a few bad habits have somehow slipped through the cracks. Cheap cigarettes in the hopes I’ll quit, cheap beer because I don’t drink it for the taste. A 22 year old vehicle that I somehow prevent from completely disintegrating before my eyes, and a body that insists on working without intervention from a cruel and malevolent medical complex.
I don’t spend money with some ignorant assumption that I’ll just “write it off”, because when the predicted income level is below a certain point, there is not going to be very much cash to throw around in the hopes of “writing it off”. In other words, if you know you aren’t going to make a specific amount by purchasing any product from the use of that product, the purchase isn’t a write off, it’s a loss.
Maybe my past experience of getting burned in Orlando by that mystical creature Alexis did more help than harm in the long count calendar after all. I mistakenly trusted her to access my credit, thus destroying my credit for that 7 year waiting period for everything to just disappear from the credit report. During those 7 years, one can become quite disciplined in not depending on other people’s money to maintain regular expenses or splurge on what I like to call “stupid shit”.
All those years of avoiding collection efforts, waiting for time to pass, and finding rental accommodations that did not depend on excellent credit really taught me some valuable lessons. To this day, I couldn’t get unsecured credit if I tried, and I have made it that way on purpose. I didn’t use any identity protection “service”, I simply made sure that while my score is actually considered “good”, I do not meet at least one of the criteria for being easily granted credit. I also monitor it myself with an alternate service that is free, except of course for all the ads that are actually paying for it.
There was a built in incentive to be super cheap when you know that the money you have stashed is all you can depend on, and there will be no “safety net” because the credit done run dry and the parents are dead, well, one of them. It provides quite an incentive to view money as “time” instead of seeing it as all the shit you have been told you need on television.
When I went through my last severe depression, I was prepared to release all possessions and live on the street for a while, just as an experiment. I was impressed and disappointed with myself at the same time as I got the job that prevented homelessness at the last minute. I was impressed because I didn’t think I could really pull it off, but I was disappointed because by getting that job, I was abandoning my “plan B”. I didn’t have the balls to be homeless.
I was too selfish to let go of everything I had created and maintained online, even though, being homeless didn’t mean being “host-less”. I could still have existed comfortably on the digital plane even as I was sleeping in a 20 year old van. Hosting is just over $50 a month, rent was $450. I was ready to trade down and allow my physical self to exist in limbo in order to maintain my digital presence for as long as possible. I didn’t have the balls to go through with it. Getting a job, making some cash the old fashioned way, was actually easier for me than just being a lazy fuck and panhandling until I got disability.
It didn’t help that shortly after Candy’s first departure, I made a friend in a guy named Mark. He was 59, and he had been homeless for about a year after coming to Baton Rouge from Chicago. I met him the day after he moved in to an apartment upstairs, just after getting his back payment from social security. This was probably in the second week after Candy left. I would need to review the video footage to make sure, but I don’t think I started making little videos with him until after a month.
He was very abrasive, demanding, insulting, intolerant, somewhat racist, homophobic, unpredictable, unstable, alcoholic, and addicted to Tramadol. He was a real Archie Bunker type, but add the severe alcoholism and drug abuse. I was at a very low point, and I don’t think he saw me for more than an hour of any day sober. The times he would see me sober were when he nagged at me to drive him somewhere after waking me up by phone or knock on the door to wake me up before I could start pounding vodka. Even then, I had to constantly resist the urge to down beers with him that I told him not to open before we would even return “home”.
He shared quite a bit of information about exactly how to “be homeless”, survive, even thrive. The information was geographically specific because he had spent the prior year learning these things right in my own backyard. If I saw him on the street at some point before really meeting him, which I very well could have, I would have refused to acknowledge him, while being aware of his presence just in case he pulled some shit on me. I have a sneaky suspicion that I had seen him too, because he was familiar, and I would have faded memories of those times when I ran some errand and had to avoid “those people”.
Even with his encouragement, and offer of limited support in this venture, I couldn’t go through with it. The alternative was to cut my hair, shave, bathe for once, and wait to start drinking until AFTER I went to at least 3 places in person to drop off a resume and fill out an application, if they even fucking let me. Instead of basing my search at the time on typical want ads, I created ever widening spheres of physical distance I would have to travel for each “zone” where I applied. The closest places weren’t interested at all, but things started looking up when I hit about 3 miles out…
That decision changed a whole lot of future shit. It changed where I live right now, how much cash I have, what computer I’m using, if I still owned that van, and in a way, it has changed who I actually am, “right now”. This changes over time, I know, but that was one of those pivotal moments when I had a distinct choice about how to proceed, and the choice I made led to a future that I am more than satisfied with.
My decision to occasionally rant and rave about this and that over the course of the last six months may have been an indirect effect of the pressure and stress brought about by my fear of missing another mark. Doing it all wrong. My occasional visit with my sometimes evil, insensitive, alcohol induced alter ego hasn’t helped very much. I was in such a panic over having to pay some crazy new monthly bill, that I somehow created a plan that I don’t think I allowed myself to be fully aware of at the time.
I picked a number, and I was so very amazed to see that it was less than $100 off from what I was “hoping for”. I know that the number itself would not inspire very much celebration to a lot of people, because it is a very low number. I am astounded that I am able to maintain the reserve that I have while working at such a low margin for almost an entire year. I know I was sabotaging myself here and there when it came to making money. I could have encouraged someone to get off their *ss and help me out a little more often. I could have taken the massive reserve of unused content and add it to two websites that have not been updated in over two years now.
I didn’t do any of that though. I got lazy. I wonder even now just how much of it was intentional, and how much of it was following along with a plan that I created when I was too intoxicated to even remember it on a conscious level. I never even bothered to do more research to find a much more exact number, or even a slightly higher number that would have still created the same result. Full subsidized healthcare.
I may have created all of this knowing that as a regular earner of one amount, I will be penalized by a lack of subsidies in such a way that would probably not seem fair or proportionate to whatever financial pain I may perceive as an individual who has lived, saved, and been very comfortable with an income level considered “%100 poverty”. I haven’t really worked out the math, but a part of me glanced over at the federal table of poverty level income at one point and I realized that I might not have gotten much of a subsidy at all if I had made as little as 5K more that same year. In fact, my worry was that making one dollar more than some cut off amount would lead to me making one higher amount, and then being forced to pay out so much over the course of a year that I still end up at poverty level income anyway.
If I have to just give it all to them, why even try to make more than a certain amount? It was difficult to even try writing that out without using specific numbers in an example, because I didn’t do the fucking math myself. I just kind of guessed that there would be some kind of steep cut off for subsidies way too low to be realistic or reasonable. So, I went for a target income, when considering expenses, would end up at a point where I do not exceed the federal standard for %100 poverty level by more than 1K.
That was a crazy sounding plan, I know, it seems crazy as I type it. It was convenient that I worked that one full time job the year before last, and I noticed, that without the W-2 from that job, the desired target income was not that much more. It seems even more crazy to me that I would have a serious anxiety about making “too much” money. I should have been adding it up with each statement all through the year, but I was just making general estimations based on quick glances at deposits.
Now, I’m “here”. I enrolled by the deadline. I almost didn’t, because the state exchange that I used was going bat shit crazy on sunday night, and I just kind of gave up because I knew monday was the deadline. I am talking about a state exchange, not the feds. The feds site is such a piece of shit that they keep extending the deadline for them… Nope, my state has an exchange, and the site almost fucked me over because I had to do this big complex application, but the site shit out before I could put my “free” medicaid plan into some arbitrary fucking shopping cart. That shopping cart shit almost fucked me out of enrolling in time, which would have cost me an additional $95 as a “mandate tax”.
I was lucky that I felt compelled to “double check” and go back to the site on the day of the actual deadline, because while the site did say I had “enrolled”, it still forced me to do the shopping cart step, threatening me with potential non enrollment, even though I “digitally signed” this big ass document that took at least 20 minutes to fucking fill out. I came up with the term “entrolled”, because I thought I was enrolled but because that shit is already more fucking complex than taxes, it is almost impossible sometimes to know for sure.
I shouldn’t complain, but it was stressful. It fucked up this whole tax season procrastination thing I had going. I would have made estimated payments through the year based on estimations, but I never knew just how close my fucking estimation would be to what I ended up with. I didn’t know until I was forced to do all the fucking work of filing my taxes without actually filling out the fucking web form…
I would have procrastinated to do all that shit until at least march, but now I have already been forced to do it, I have all the numbers, and as long as I don’t have a deposit or buy any business related shit, I was ready to do fucking taxes before fucking christmas. That is fucking bogus. Oh well, it’s done. I was also super thorough and honest in giving my future psychic prediction of exactly to the penny what I will be making in 2014 too.
I have always thought it was amazing that psychic accounting will soon become a regular term in our vocabulary, because according to the form I filled out at the state exchange I used, I have to honestly predict my income for next year under threat of fraud and perjury. It’s bad enough I had to do my fucking taxes before christmas, now the assholes are going to threaten me to psychically call to the dead and ask exactly how much my fat porn is going to make next fucking year.
Wow, mood change there! I can bitch and complain about having to figure out taxes to the penny months early, but it is a genuine “first world problem” isn’t it? I mean, the alternate me, on a timeline where I never got that job, would probably not be too worried about being hit up for a mandate tax that he would not have to pay because he would not have an income to pay taxes on. Although, I am curious about the details of that potential alternate reality, like, would I still be liable for a mandate tax even though I did not meet the minimum filing threshold of income. Maybe I didn’t do more research on that detail because I didn’t really want to know, or I just don’t give a fuck because it is so detached from the future that ended up taking place.
Either way, here we are. I am not homeless, and I somehow tricked Candy into coming back willingly. 🙂 I have endured the year 2013 with a local move, and the first year payment to process visa on the websites. That was a lump payment of 750 right there. It does take money to make money indeed. All the while, I was making less than $1000 over what my government declares %100 poverty level. I keep typing that phrase out, because after enduring the alleged hardship of making that income, I still have money in the bank. Am I “poor” because of my income alone when I am still “comfortable” and actually have “savings”?
In fact, I seem to have everything I want and need, and the only pressing things I still really want are not going to cost any money. If one of my final goals is to get a specific certification, it is up to me to make it happen. Money is not an obstacle to education because I would find a cheap way to have someone else pay for it without going into debt. If I want to gain yet another type of certification that I don’t want to get into, there are very defined steps for me to obtain that “license”, and because of the very thing I have been complaining about, I may now start a process that will not even cost anything. I will finally have a “doctor”. That could be scary, because Mark taught me some stuff about handling medicaid doctors too… 🙂
This latest experiment in living just over poverty level has been educational, not only in showing me that I could do it, but also in changing my perception of poverty in general. It is ironic that I chose to sit down and write on christmas day itself, a day which represents a loop of disappointment, resulting charity, disappointment, repeat. As a I phase out and watch local news, a part of me would be involuntarily touched for a moment by the generous act of a charity group handing out toys to poor children.
After a moment, I would realize, that I was just afflicted on a subconscious level by a phenomenon that has been created as a direct result of corporate capitalism and blind consumerism. In other words, if christmas did not exist to begin with, poor children would not be denied that specific positive event, created to raise the bottom line of retailers across the board. There is a desire, as a human, to allow myself to just flow with this feeling of charitable propaganda, because I want to feel for the children, to see them happy. The logical side of my reasoning has to ruin the party though, because I am quickly reminded that this entire system has been created out of a new type of greed and sophisticated marketing and propaganda.
I don’t need all the shit on television, I don’t need this or that specific thing, I have not created a ritual involving this or that over priced “treat”. I have a very short list of very specific things that I would choose to have in my life, but I would let go of those things with little bitterness if my hand was forced and shit got out of control. For example, there does exist a price point where I would say “fuck this, I quit smoking!” While it seems like beer is going up and up, I am fortunate that my prior experimentation has not left me physically dependent, so even if I still enjoy psychological exploration of my intoxicated alter ego, it is not a daily habit, and a habit that can be scaled back to such infrequency that I would begin to miss it altogether, if all the assholes that sold beer passed some price point that I am not quite sure about this second.
The only thing I can’t do without is a person, and I lost her before, over and over. There is no amount of money that could keep her, or lose her. There is only my bad choices that could lose her. I am lucky that one of the only bad choices I have even been tempted by was alcohol, and I am very fortunate that she was able to make a compromise to allow occasional use of a lesser source of this chemical. Trade down from vodka to beer, and attempt to restrict intake to a point that leaves me much less intoxicated than I used to get on vodka. Every once in a while, there is a breach in my own security, and a part of my own self attempt so live dangerously and push my limits. Both with myself, and with her.
I know it is wrong, I know I don’t need it. I know I would always choose her over it. I guess that is where the term “guilty pleasure” comes from. There is a part of me that argues “I’m a grown man, if I want to get really fucked up on some ice beer now and then just cut me some slack!”. It is not that simple though, not nearly. It never is. Compromise is a very delicate and complex thing. Both sides have to give. I am grateful she has bent to the degree that she has, and while there has been one dented wall incident from a thrown mug (not at me thank god), she has shown remarkable restraint when I have chosen to take my ice beer intake one can over the line.
I can’t make excuses, I can’t even really talk to her about it, because it makes her too uncomfortable. I have to assume that I am “alcoholic”, even if I don’t feel like I am. Even if I don’t crave alcohol intoxication every day, or every other day, or I let it slip for 3 or 4 days so my resistance is super low, I still seem to thoroughly enjoy the initial intoxication, and once afflicted, I am driven to push further and further. I think that is called “binge drinking”, but it is nowhere near as severe as my little relationship with vodka was.
I still “use and abuse” alcohol, like some kind of explicit street drug. I deny myself for days, sometimes really just “forgetting to drink”, sometimes getting it while out, knowing that I won’t be running errands for nearly a week and I want to take a little trip to fuzzy reality land just once before I have to go out again. I can’t purchase a “30 pack” because at some point I might allow myself to consume more than 12. If I get a 12 pack, I have to put 6 in the cooler and give Candy the other 6, or I will most probably get up to 10, maybe opening number 11 but not being able to finish it, leaving a sorry sight of 1.5 beer total the day after I got a fucking 12 pack. I could have gotten loaded twice, but instead, 5 beer me said “fuck that shit I want to get fucked up!”
It is hard to figure all this shit out at times, if it’s not one thing it’s another. I felt like writing for a bit, and I came up with the title complexity before I knew for sure i wanted to write about. I didn’t even get into some stuff I was thinking about when I first started, like trying harder to apologize for all my ranting and raving about weight loss surgery. I thought that subject was limited to drunk me being stupid, but it appears that frustrated sober me before mandate compliance was using distraction and misdirection yet again.
If I seem so skilled at tricking myself into this or that behavior, I have come to another theory, about how I may be able to re-align my thinking and goal orientation in such a way where I actually “forget to drink”, or even better, procrastinate from drinking. That’s a thought. I was using alcohol while I was committing the act of procrastination, but maybe, I can turn some shit around so that I am literally too busy with some other shit I would rather be doing to be tempted to take a trip to that place where I hang out with a part of myself that I hate but am fascinated with at the same time.
I wondered myself why I would feel compelled to hyper post all over facebook when intoxicated on alcohol. I would ask myself “who am I talking to?” I think I might kind of be talking to myself there. I have reached some point where I only get loaded about twice a week, the second time is not as severe as the first because I am still dreading the last time. This last time I did it, I noticed something about it that was already turning into a habit, a game that I was playing with myself that I wasn’t fully aware of as I was doing it.
Within 2 days after one of these binges and facebook rants, I would slowly begin to remember things that I would have typed, as well as music and news articles I may have posted. If I posted photos, those will come back to me later too. One of the reasons I avoid facebook after a drunken rant session could be related to this fuzzy memory game I have been playing that I didn’t “remember”. When I use terms like distraction, misdirection, and even regression I might be minimizing the actual phenomenon.
What started out as using alcohol for escapism and avoiding reality has definitely evolved into something else. It is still not habit, it’s not every day, I don’t consume alternate substances not meant for consumption that contain alcohol, and if there was just one beer in the fridge it would not be appealing to me in the least unless I went out and picked up a sufficient amount to “peak”.
It is kind of ironic, that I will take on the responsibility of having a problem with alcohol, but at the same time, I am forced to reconcile with the fact that occasional alcohol intoxication would be acceptable, if it was mild and I didn’t have to push it to the point where I am starting to have trouble walking and typing. Even worse, it would not be so bad if there were not a part of myself that has a limit, but it is a very very high limit. I noticed that I stopped taking diphenhydramine to enhance alcohol altogether, because I literally can’t type at a much lower level of alcohol consumption.
I realize that this problem would not even be as “bad” or unacceptable if it wasn’t compounded by the past trauma and experience of my partner, who resents that fact that she can’t keep multiple forms of alcohol to make cocktails with because I might raid it. She is ok with alcohol consumption, but not alcohol binging. That is very ironic, because she occasionally enjoys a food binge. We have had to fight against co-enabling by making very distinct compromises. The complexity of love… 🙂
I am running out of steam, I don’t know how or why I got over 4500 words, but hey, I won’t be drinking. Not tonight. 🙂
This ‘character’ obesiverse had manifested itself within the minds of a few people, to the extent of being called upon to hopefully provide some degree of entertainment and information in recent social interaction. I think it’s ‘cool’ in a way, but at the same time, I face an irony in the way that I made some small attempt to partially destroy the character by removing so much ‘stuff’ from this thing recently.
There has been yet another shift in my thinking, major only to me, and the change to this blog was only a small surreal gesture in a much larger attempt to be more positive, a little more social, more aware and respectful of other people’s feelings, more aware of ‘self’, and of course, much more aware of the emotional state of the one person on this planet that has inspired what I believe is ‘growth’ in me.
I am not always able to observe things that are obvious to some people, and at the same time, I can sometimes see things that others will purposely block out in order to enjoy the moment, or maintain a status quo. I know that in the past I would rant and rave about the right to exist at any size, and how society should chill out about the obesity issue, because it is internal and personal, and there is no way to shame or bully anyone into making positive change in their life.
Before moving to Vegas, maybe around the time that I started writing this thing, I believe I was having some real issues myself. This would be obvious to anyone who witnessed my bad behavior in the time that Candy and I were separated and it could be even more obvious in the way that Candy and I get along so good now, even though we did spend nearly a year apart over a two year period.
When Candy came back the last time, my decision to drop hard alcohol was a major factor. While it would be easy to assume alcohol was the main problem in the relationship, it actually wasn’t. It was a mere symptom, which was being used on my side improperly, and interpreted from her side with an extreme bias based on her past. Alcohol appeared to be a ‘central issue’, but in reality, it wasn’t. The main issue was the mere realization on both sides of how it would contribute to the much larger relationship areas of communication and mutual understanding. I would be forced to compromise ‘the ego’ at times in order to retain balance and try to reinforce a positive atmosphere. If I didn’t have that ability, I didn’t have the right to assume I could change myself, or participate in another human’s efforts to change themselves. I needed to take responsibility, and it’s weird the way it works out in time itself.
I was being immature, disrespectful, and blind to Candy’s feelings about alcohol, and I used it more regularly than I had to because of some stubborn need to ‘get what I want’ at the cost of causing her emotional discomfort. As I write it out, it seems almost too simple to me, and I wish I could have reached this current frame of mind a lot sooner than I did. If I had the ability to explore Candy’s emotional landscape with more efficiency and consideration, I could have gone the past two years without seeing Candy leave at all, much less twice.
Even as I bring that up, I’m forced to reconcile my own temporary emotional downturn in trying to be more ‘acceptable’ and remove all legal liability by switching over from regular use of weed to alcohol… Addiction transfer was all too easy for me, but the worst mistake I ever attempted in my life. That one even outweighs the entire Florida thing, by far, because I have long tried to take responsibility in all of that too.
Way back, when I walked away and left all of it behind, I didn’t realize that it would be a way for me to stop fighting and stop denying the ways in which I was wrong, or misrepresented myself, or agreed to things that I was in no way ready to handle. I’ll even go further and mention that all of my prior ranting about Alexis fails to take into account my own inability to recognize her specific needs at the time. By leaving it behind, I think I was giving it all to her because as hard as it was, and as angry as I was at her, I was the one fucking up because of the way I behaved. I was in those crazy early 30’s… Oh time is cruel.
As I hung out at a small gathering that I was privileged to be a part of, Candy would get to enjoy several small yet incredibly meaningful exchanges, and I did as well. It was uplifting and inspirational to hear one woman’s story, and I can appreciate the amazing parallels that were brought up. I am also grateful for the opportunity to see who ever would have happened to drop by the room ‘brother B’ was hanging out in for several hours on that afternoon and evening.
The fact that such special circumstances had to occur to get Candy out of the apartment was amazing. Considering how it has been difficult for her to maintain an aggressive pursuit of mere residency and medical requirements, I was glad to see her finally get out of the house to see a different group of people besides myself! While I would easily get greedy for some kind of regular interaction on that level, it’s still more than Candy can handle currently, and I am feeling the pressure of not taking care of business and pushing harder myself for her to get paperwork straightened out and doctors already lined up.
It’s not like ‘super morbid obesity’ on it’s own is destroying Candy physically as much as a few very specific conditions, and it’s a kick to the ass to imagine that one hormone condition actually contributes in some way to her size as well. Such a fucked up, misunderstood thing, even by me, or especially by me. I could have pushed harder, and should have, as much as Candy might have objected or pushed back when it came to getting her back at that freaking DMV to get the ID. Since before even moving here, Candy has been my first priority, and it was her choices and decisions that brought us both to where we are right now. Sometimes I need to recognize when she is not making choices that are good for her and I need to step in, even as I try to have respect, understanding, and support for her limitations and boundaries.
Getting the ID was such a small first step. Finding the right primary physician, even if she might decide to move to another state yet again eventually, is vital at this point. The ID was just a small part of a bigger process that has gone months undone, and it’s horrible for me to remember how I complained about someone else not encouraging Candy harder in the past.
My awkward attempts to get Candy out of the house in some social context was almost an exercise in denial myself. If it was so difficult for her to get to one government office, it was not going to be physically easy to do something as simple as ‘go to a bar’. It was difficult for me to put it into context, because so many other people do it, but I am made aware of a new urgency to take care of business and get simple paperwork issues under control. I always told Candy from ten year ago that letting shit slide will bust your balls later. That’s why I’m eager to do my full audit, and I’m amazed at this very procrastination of thought organization as I let Candy sleep off a physical soreness that I know I can’t fully understand or appreciate.
I want to be diurnal! Not really. Oh, it’s unacceptable, I have let myself go and could be huge myself. But, the drive isn’t there, the ‘hunger’ isn’t there. I can selfishly over-indulge in a wide assortment of different legitimately prescribed pharma based products, over the counter antihistamines, cannabinoid receptor agonist analogs otherwise known as ‘spice’, and then say ‘ok a little alcohol’. Probably ten years ago and then several years after that, I obtained and maintained a prescription for viagra, and I laugh at the irony that I never would have to use it with Candy. 🙂 I had recreational interests that involved being lucky enough to repeatedly end up in situations where I was filming myself with people who knew full well I was doing it and even signed a release! 🙂 Oh the time does fly… 🙂
I haven’t gone to the effort, but I found a small shop next to the post office that even has the whipped cream dispensers with nitrous oxide canisters that can make home made whipped cream and also make you really high for about 30 seconds. It’s fun, been there done that, really a nice trip occasionally, but still very limited. All of that fond talk about my own draw towards intoxication are related to it being the last great frontier of personal growth and development. By not spending as much time ‘experimenting’, I can actually be more productive in this reality, where people have to do things like renew their ID, go to doctors, and make sure that the essentials are maintained by actually being productive. 🙂
A little thing like my effort to draw Candy out, and then the get together at a hotel where a bbw party was going on, were extremely educational to me in terms of recognizing Candy’s limitations, and the urgency in taking care of business so that I can further hope to inspire a greater degree of seriousness when it comes to getting her weight under control first, and then going downward without great effort or psychological turmoil. The last few issues I have with self control can be put into context better by watching how it could be effecting her. I could fear for a moment that the last break up was even a subconscious attempt to drive her away because I felt that I was a bad influence because of enabling or whatever.
I ended up hanging out with a real ball buster for a while when Candy was gone last time, and I thought about it, how one lazy or crazy person needs another highly responsible, stable person right there to pick up the slack. I know that Candy would not be offended if I refer to her as the ‘crazy one’ now and I have to be the one who is stable, in control, and able to not only handle assisting Candy in taking care of her business, but pushing and encouraging it. Again, within certain limitations.
All this thought coming from the fact that I realized Candy was ok in a hotel room hanging out with people, but even that had it’s limitations. The realization that I had to help Candy out in the bathroom with just getting undressed because of what she was wearing was a big wake up for me. The fact that she was nervous about even going and wanted to get up early to make sure she would not be late because of how long it would take her to ‘get her ass in gear’ should be another wake up.
I can’t let my own selfish desires to maintain a physical social connection to the real world overshadow the importance of helping Candy to finish urgent paperwork. I don’t have the same motivations and inspirations that some might, because I am still so amazed to have Candy back that I can’t begin to imagine what it would even feel like to be tempted physically by another female. 🙂 At the same time, it’s amazing and intriguing to have opportunities to talk with people besides Candy, and I’m sure she feels even more strongly about having opportunities to talk to people besides me! 🙂
I am almost compelled to write a note to one woman who suggested coming out to one bar party, because I wanted to make her aware that I wasn’t thinking of Candy’s limitations before I suggested going or asked her about going to that get together. It’s like, I made a small comment somewhere buried in the party page, and the mere potential created a whole new perspective for me.
It would end up being somewhat ‘creepy’ and not make any sense to her for me to thank her for the suggestion, because it brought about further thought in myself, and prepared me for supporting Candy in a much more neutral and ‘smaller’ environment. In turn, that smaller get together made me even further aware of why Candy is having a difficult time and I need to help her get back on track to regular doctor visits to maybe finally help those few specific things that make her already difficult physical size even harder on her, especially in social environments.
It’s going to take some work to get Candy’s health better sorted out before I imagine or think of doing things like that. It might be of interest to us, and it might even be good for her, but right now, I have to listen to her when she occasionally breaks down because she remembers what it was like to be able to physically participate more and she really wants to go, but feels self conscious now because of those limitations.
Maybe there are times I miss being ‘out there’ as I was so regularly in the past. Being in Vegas provides constant temptation out there, always something going on in each and every single sub culture you can possibly imagine. I didn’t come here for all of that though, I came here for her, so now I have to buckle down and make shit happen like I used to do so easily and effortlessly.
I have not only been too lazy when it came to the apartment, but I was being too lazy with Candy’s very health and well being. It’s not like I was refusing to take her, she just didn’t want to go, and I would bring it up and she would push it off. It happened last week, but again, this outing better showed both of us the urgency now. Maybe that’s what I was trying to make happen with the bar thing. If I talked her into going, even if just for 2 hours or so, she would be reminded of her current limitations to the degree and extent that she would want to overcome any anxiety for the sake of getting that ID.
There were 2 efforts made, after all, getting the ID should be simple when your going in with a current ID from another state and an old, expired ID from the very state you are getting a new ID in right then and there. No, that’s not going to happen this time in Vegas. 🙂 Last time we were here, the DMV was a one time quick stop, transferred Candy, the car, and I over to being new residents of the ‘silver state’. Not this fucking time. No way buddy. 🙂
Hey, I should be grateful in a way, leaving the DMV on the second attempt there was a minor accident where some guy hit my back bumper and I felt gracious because there was no light damage and let him go. It also happened to help me finally fix an electrical problem that I should have corrected previously, but didn’t try before the tap to the back finally shook it loose enough to require being physically ‘touched’, or pulled loose totally and re-seated.
Nothing bad has happened without something equally good or even a little better. There has been nothing to complain about, everything has been so perfect, but it has all been in this tiny little world inside of the one bedroom apartment. It’s been almost too comfortable, too easy, and putting off the DMV errand was too easy… “Normal” people would be like “what the fuck?”, but I have to remind those fortunate ones that some of us have to work hard at coming close to what most would consider ‘normal’. 🙂
I have broken the 2000 word barrier! lol I’m going to actually post this one instead of deleting it. It turns out, if I think I got too negative, too personal, or too dumb in the post I would just delete it entirely. I guess I can still have fun with this, it’s got to come in handy sooner or later. 🙂 It’s ‘obesiverse’ after all, so maybe my stories and observations actually could help other people who are stuck in the same time traps of convenience and status quo that I’ve been letting myself get caught in for, what, eight freaking months…
Maybe I can make new observations that help eventually lead to use of MRI to find a common neurological thread among those of us who are ‘super morbidly obese’, giving us a new tool in trying to figure out this magical, mystical, undeniably magnetic phenomenon of obesity. It is a powerful thing, it is almost a force all on it’s own. It is a human adaptation to store energy for use at a later time when energy sources may not be available. I did have a lot of crazy theories and ideas before this new version of obesiverse, but my issue was ‘delivery’. 🙂
Oh, and I do need to give myself a kick in the ass for doing more updates to the website and clip store! So, I have even been lazy in the one area that is financially beneficial and positive in the way that it provides entertainment through observation of the force ‘obesity’ that I let myself get all stuck on for a moment there. 🙂
While the text is gone, I have to sift through the images and adjust descriptions. I nearly want to delete half of them, but for whatever reason, they were in the images section, and I didn’t want to remove them. They’ll run out eventually. 🙂