Ted Leo would sing: oh, woe (woe woe)

Perhaps I should rename this blog "the Complaint Department." It's certainly become a vehicle for me to vent about the injustices that I (think I) encounter. Well, here's another one (actually, several) for the books. If you're already thinking, "whiny bitch..." then you should probably stop reading right about...

... now: Having no money sucks. And, when I say I have no money, I really mean it. My food budget for this week is $15. If I have to eat one more box of organic macaroni and cheese (I may be broke, but I will spend the extra 20 cents per box in hopes of saving the environment), I am going to hurl myself off the Verrazano Bridge. With my $15 for the week, I purchased two boxes of my organic mac and cheese, a box of Morningstar Farms faux-chicken sandwiches, a half-gallon of skim milk (not organic, because that would have been another $2.50!), the cheapest box of generic (non-organic, again, dammit) cereal that I could find, and some fudge bars (because, well, I can't face my situation without some kind of reduced-fat chocolate product). I have a few odds and ends left in my cabinets, too, from the shopping trip two weeks ago, where I had triple the budget (for $45 I was able to score the organic milk! Woo!), but its so frustrating to only spend money on rent, debts, (some) food and transportation, and have $5 left to show for my 10+ hour days at the office, with another five days left until payday. I can do it. I can do it. I can do it. Right?

Tomorrow at work, while I'm savoring my turkey sandwich and sucking down office-provided popcorn, I will have to make a budget so that I can figure out how to afford these two upcoming weddings with next to nothing. I adore both of the people getting married, so I wish I had the dough (or credit) to splurge and get them something really fabulous for their newlywed lives. It just means I need to get creative!

Annnnd on to rant #2: bugs. My apartment building has a small bug situation. It's been the case since I moved in (which, obviously, I was not privy to before I moved in), but since I'm incredibly clean, I can usually keep them at bay. Well, now that it's summer, that's been a lot more difficult. Don't get me wrong, its manageable and entirely normal in a large, older building, but it's still, um, gross. Just a year ago, I would have freaked and called in a strapping man to kill a bug, if I saw one. Now, well, without the luxury of a man (let alone strapping), I kill them myself. And. I. Am. So. Tired. Of. Killing. Freaking. Bugs. In. My. Freaking. Kitchen. Need to debate the pros and cons of moving again. And that, it seems, is going to (mostly) come down to dollars and cents as well.

My writing: One way to make more money to deal with said issues would be to write something and sell it. Definitely not easy, of course. But even harder when I can't write. I'm just blocked. My brain is mush. All of my ideas -- when I have one -- suck or are giant lame rip-offs of something someone more talented has already done. I want to write. I sit down in hopes of doing so. And then... I'm watching a rerun of How I Met Your Mother or checking my email or, sadly, just sitting, waiting for divine intervention. It's pathetic.

And, what's looming over me, when these situations (and work and weight loss and family and...) are stressing me out, I keep thinking, "where's my partner?" I thought I had one to help me through this ridiculousness. I want an escape, albeit temporary.

I feel dangerously close to saying, "all right, New York, you won. You've beaten me. Fuck you for taking away my hopes and my dreams."