How Odd...

A lot of people are currently reading this blog. Not sure why, but the visitor count has gone up to over 30 for today... *shrug*

OK... *pauses Elementary TV show and puts on Papa Roach music*

Went to doctors offices last Monday and spoke to the receptionist. She then phoned Pa...Pa...Pai Mei...Padmé...Parrot-I don't know, the admin officer for my GP. She said that the minimum for reception for the medical forms from a company called SBS, which is some medical records storage company in London, is 6 weeks and that there was nothing she could do about it. So I asked the receptionist and she said it had been 5 weeks since the request was put in so it was out of their hands, but that I could have the number to phone SBS and ask them for it.

Right.

Got the phone number and went about doing my usual tasks for a Monday like paying rent, buying food for the week, hitting the gym, etc.

Tuesday I was feeling too battered from the gym to do very much of anything and went about trying to reset my sleep pattern from nocturnal to something a little more human. Fucking Christmas period always screws it up.

Wednesday I went to the job center to sign, which was fine, except for some manager or something who questioned me, perfectly politely, on learning to become a police officer. Eventually I got bored and called a law the 'Asshole Law', which is perfectly accurate description of the one I was talking about but was mildly offensive enough to get her to end the conversation, tee hee.

Went to check my bank account for my housing benefit which is paid on Wednesdays. Not there. Around 3 in the afternoon I went to the housing office to check what the issue was [I don't like to leave these things very long because if there is an issue it generally is firstly defined on their system and secondly takes WEEKS to resolve] but they didn't know.

I specifically checked to see if the issue was caused by the job center not transferring my claim from one borough to another when I moved back in November. BUT OF COURSE, their system was down and they couldn't check the claim live, only from it's last update. Fortunately this seemed to be around the same time I was told by the borough where I used to live that they had been paying me in error and requesting [See: Ordering] me to pay the money back. The update they had basically said that the job center authorized them to continue paying me, fine. Thing is that was Wednesday, it's now Sunday, and as far as I can tell, and I'm going to check on Monday with my bank, I've not received it.

First the job center has me sign on at the new job center for 2 months without paying me and generates a bill of more than £500 in overpaid housing benefit from where I used to live whilst literally starving me for more than half a week as I tried to get it sorted out.

Second the housing benefit office that should be paying me, has been told to pay me by the job center, and was paying me up till the end of last year has now stopped without having anything on their system as to why.

I think it's got something to do with their payment center as it all seems centralized. This is to say that although the job center was signing me, the payment center wasn't processing it, and although the housing office has been told to pay me, the payment center isn't processing it.

Or that the payment center is staffed by morons who aren't processing me as one claimant, so although the front offices know what's going on and are cool it with it, the back office is confused and every front office needs to contact the back office to sort out the different payments.

Fortunately there are only two different offices, and I wasn't stupid enough to hand over the back payment I received from the job center for the two months they didn't pay me to my old housing benefits office in refund for two months overpayment all in one go. I kept it. Now I can pay rent whilst the new issue is sorted out, which is fall out from the first cock up in relation to my job seekers allowance.

I know my life; there's never just one mistake made in regards to my paperwork, there's multiple mistakes with fallout which lasts longer than the original issue and repair.

Fuck.

So anyway, it comes to Thursday and Friday. Over those two days I grab me some new phone, more gym, more food, and play an obscene amount of Hearthstone.

First the phone; I buy this £5 toy phone on Wednesday and leave it in my pocket until Friday despite needing to call SBS. Why? Because I hate phones.

*I needed to buy a new one when my old one was stolen from the hostel I live in. It was an 8 year old iPhone worth less than a fucking burner but hey, that's life right?

I'm one of this freaky geeks who, whilst being the type who would beg, borrow and steal for a £10,000 Alienware 4.2ghz 16gig beast he'd call his baby which he'd use to program computer games on, also thinks phones are devil magic made for magicians and will eventually steal the users soul. I think the latter is mostly because I'm misanthropic. I don't want phone calls. I don't want people to be able to contact me and talk to me just anywhere. I like to either read what the hell they're telling me and have a minuet to think [better defense] or have them close enough so I can read their body language [better offense]. Plus, phones are just freaking weird, especially the whole pay package business. Email is free. VOIP is free. Phone calls work on bizarre minuets packages you need to buy and credit to your phone and EUGH.

I got one though because there are just some things which you have to do using a phone because there isn't a live human being and the back office you need to deal with doesn't understand this new fangled 'Electronic Mailing' business.

I open the box. I plug in the charger, itself this odd compact thing with an extendable earthing rod. I leave it for 2 hours Friday afternoon to charge and play some Hearthstone. Go to check it. Won't turn on. Check manual. Says to check battery. Check battery. No battery. Check box. Find battery. Insert battery. Insert charger. Leave to charge. Phone's charged. Pick up phone and try to call gym first to get my account switched from bus distance Puregym to walking distance Puregym. Number doesn't work...OK, and get a text saying that I've got £0.00 credit...but I've only used the phone once. Curse a bit because it's 4:05pm and there's no way I'm getting to the phone store to ask what the hell happened to my £10.00's worth of credit. On a whim I check the number on the website on my laptop, find I got it wrong, and try the new number...it rings...so I have credit then...OK, whatever. Recorded voice goes through "Press 1 if you're a member, press 2 if you're looking to join Puregym" blah, blah blah. Get through to member code which I've finally memorized [only after 2 months...I'M A GENIUS LEVEL INTELLECT...also I'm part goldfish, HAHAHA...]. Get to actual human...so I thought before a recorded message tells me that the customer support line is open till 4:00pm on Fridays...FUCK...

So I go for the number for SBS instead. Back pocket where I keep the important shit in my trousers - debit card, house keys, change, and important things like numbers for organizations I need to phone - and the piece of paper I had in the job center two days ago...*remembers where he thinks the number might be and goes to check*...HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, found it. It was in my coat all along, hahahaha, anyway...couldn't find the number in my pocket because the number was in my coat. Checked all my other pockets and couldn't find it, it was 4:30 by this point on a Friday so I just gave up. No way I could get to the doctors and get another copy of the number, I need to check the doctors on Monday for the forms [you never know] and can make the call from there to talk to the receptionist if need be.

SO, the fact of it is that the medical questionnaire, the last component of my application to the Met Police London for the position of Constable, could be at my doctors from next week onwards. I'm going to call SBS on Monday and see if they'll just fucking give it to me. If they aren't helpful then I'm going for the lawyer. I need to exhaust all avenues of inquiry before going to teh law because the first thing any decent suit will ask me is 'Did you try asking', and saying no is the wrong answer. By their own fucked up rules they've done nothing wrong so far, it's just how this fucked up society works. The fact that it's me on the ass end of it is just a coincidence...of course... *narrows eyes*

GYM. Gym is going great. As I knew it would. My physical strength has gone up markedly, and my muscle tone is excellent. Doing arm and leg days - one day you do you're upper body, and another day you come in and do you lower body - whilst scaling from the lowest weight setting, doing ten reps, and then increasing by one setting. This enables you to get practice at proper form from the low weight whilst warming you up for the higher settings.

Last session, last night, my upper back strength has increased, as have my biceps, though my overhead lift is still pretty shit. Seems like my left shoulder joint got fucked up from an accident I had whilst at University. Taxi driver didn't look before opening his fucking door, and I went over it. Shattered left wrist, shredded upper arm, and apparently did the joint in too. Right arm is scaling to 14kgs and up on the free weights, but the left arm is still at 10kgs. It's just the upper lift though, and anything which works my chest. The shoulder joint itself, not the biceps.

Last leg session I got to 1.5x my own weight on the leg press, and did a full workout from upper thigh down to calves. And even though that was more than a week ago my left calf is still fucked and hurts like the blazes when flexed. Apparently the way I run - the exceptionally bloody fast way - works the top of the leg, which is like steel, whilst the back muscle of the leg is barely touched. So calf muscle machine workout caused the type of damage and pain people experience when they first start working out. When it's recovered I'll be able to start building muscle and making it strong, but over the last week I've been half crippled...not on the right though, but maybe I just put more pressure on the left foot than the right. I've kinda noticed that actually, when I go to jump on something or off I aim with my left foot. Might just be a habit I've developed, but that explains why one got fucked up and the other didn't.

GYM.

Food is actually tied into women because of what happened on Thursday evening. I was eating salad after munching through all of my microwaved goodies - I love microwaved egg with this pot rices with sauce - and I've not shaved since before last weekend, so sporting an apparently highly sexy beard [and no you can't see as this is anonymous and will remain that way].

I was eating in the hostel common room which has a kitchen built into it, and AT LEAST 4 women openly stared at the well muscled salad munching sexy hairy man ate his dinner and laughed at House M.D.

My life might be all kinds of fucked up - parents, education, work, mind, absolutely everything - but I KNOW I'm a sexy fucking beast man. Not that it means anything to me.

I'm a 30 year old [at the end of this month] virgin who can attractive most women without even trying because of his looks. Why? Because firstly my looks are a fairly recent development. Fat and bullied and intelligent teen, grows into adult who keeps getting fucked over by the world, combined with how no one ever treats me like a person.

People usually ask me what I mean by 'Teats me like a person'. Well, what I mean is that I've had more than a few women just get naked and try to sexually flirt with me, who got turned down because I don't want my first time to be with just an animated blow up doll. What I mean is that girls stare and feel like I'm in a Children of the Corn movie [the one with the creepy kids who kill adults]. What I mean is that the last girl to show interest in me didn't try to ask me how my day was, or what I was doing, or anything about me personally, she instead played silly little games and hinted that she was single and interested and tried to get me to talk to her.

I don't go to the fucking gym because I enjoy hurting myself. I like power. Mental. Physical. Being better, being right, being strong, using that power, wielding it, not for a purpose but because the world is RIGHT when I'm flying along payment faster than someone can cycle a bicycle, or raising weight into the air.

And what do I get from women? I get stares. I get silly games. Or I get trying too hard and skipping the bit that actually matters to me; personality and knowing someone else so the physical contact can be felt, trusted, understood and enjoyed.

Sex isn't important to me, in itself. What is important is a connection, a feeling, something that ties me to someone else, someone who cares. I've never had that in my life. I've never had someone who was interested in me as a person. I've had parents who treated me like property. I've had organizations treat me as a money tree and a number. And now I've got women treating me like I'm a pretty face instead of a human being with thoughts and feelings.

And I've got a choice.

When I was fat and bullied they wouldn't have done shit to help me. Now I've strong and independent and they want me to talk to them, to help them, to be with them for their own sake.

Fuck em.

I want sex, I want a girl friend, and love, and to have a happy life. But I will not accept some mockery of the bullshit I up and left when I disowned my fucking family.

Those 4 women didn't say a word to me, they just stared. The girl around here I call Sexy Receptionist doesn't try to talk to me, she just flirts sometimes and wears sexy clothes. When I went into the gym the other day there was a women who was teaching a workout class who I needed to ask a question about moving my gym membership. In my usual ability to practically read minds, my own brain was telling me what she was thinking. She was flustered, she offered to get me the number of customer services despite it being online and she knew it was on there by what she said, and she seemed disappointed and stuttered when I left. Attracted, interested, but unable to damn well say anything because she was thinking about herself and not about me.

If you don't have the ability to project the kind of predator authority and force I strength I walk around with every day like a mantle about my shoulders than I couldn't possibly love you. I'm not weak, I'm a walking cauldron of RARR. I'm not going to be anyone's White Knight. Sparing partner, sure, clash swords for funzies, but I'm no one's Knight.

It's like 10 past 1am right now and going into depths of the bullshit clusterfuck that is fucking Hearthstone by Blizzard Entertainment doesn't seem like fun, so I'm signing off now.

Going to grab some bananas, watch the rest of Elementary, snooze and then do some writing tomorrow on my computer games thesis I think.

The last point I want to make includes my Cyberstalker called Brooke from Leigh from PressHeartToContinue. She posts on the following Craigslist forum [most of the posts there are from her addressed to me] for some really insane reasons involving social anxiety.

http://losangeles.craigslist.org/search/mis

She haunts my Twitter account right. Totally insane, won't go away even after I ignored her for an entire year with a locked Twitter account. Apparently thinks that I value her opinion though because when I posted that I thought Sexy Receptionist sans overcoat/jumper thing she wears in the cold hostel [I'm sitting over a heater right now] was drop dead hot [and she is, but she smokes, I would never date a smoker, and all the above bullshit] said Cyberstalker got pissed and started posting like she was angry with violence in the post subjects.

This is what I get out of life; one girl I think is uber hot, but smokes and is weak, whilst another girl is 9 kinds of fucking nuts. That's my life for you.

OK, two last points; I seem to be in an odd good mood lately. I seriously was laughing at this whole phone nonsense. Being able to laugh at yourself is important, I hear. Better than feeling suicidal over fucked up existence, eh?

MONDAY: Doctors, rent, food, phone SBS, sort gym membership, keep pushing boulder up that fucking hill.

GG.

The Neverending Fuckup

SO.

That was Christmas and New Years 2014. I found for some reason that during these two holidays I get really damn angry. Not sure why really. By the first, like literally by breakfast time, I stopped feeling this undefinable rage against the world.

Maybe it's the hypocrisy of the season, that just because it's the 25th of the final month of the year, or the last date of the year, a number on a calender measured from an event which is more than probably insane religious bullshit, that people should be nicer to each other, or something, like pisses me off.

I mean, around 1am New Years Day some girl who was entirely sober btw, went around hugging people in the common room, except for me who raised an arm to block her with a scowl. Some idiot in the corner gave this chuckle with a tone that I recognized that indicated something like 'what a socially awkward retard', which was fine really, I already loath human beings, and that laugh only reinforced my opinion.

The point is that this kind of shit just enrages me. The rest of year people don't give a shit. The rest of the year I don't exist. And because I was angry for these very good reasons other people don't understand, don't ask, don't care, in their minds this time of year is for celebration and partying and either you exist to provide it and respond correctly or you're a freak,

This time of year doesn't solve the issues chronic in my life. It doesn't get me the medical form I've been waiting on for going on two months. This year isn't something to celebrate and be thankful for. It's been hellish trying to simply complete somewhat basic and rudimentary tasks which should've earned me my first job in six years, but I still don't have.

I hate people for being blind, ignorant, self-obsessed little fucking shits. Even that girl I nicknamed Sexy Receptionist, she didn't give a flying fuck about me as a person, she just wanted the pretty guy who lives in the building where I work to be romantic and charming towards me so I can have a boyfriend, a lover and have enjoyable sex and feel good about myself.

That girl wanted to hug people because she wanted to feel special and friendly and happy. Never mind that I was angry, never mind what someone else might be feeling, the important thing to her was how she felt.

Anyway, I went to the fucking doctors the day after New Years and asked them where my medical form was. This medical form, a questionnaire, is the final thing I need to get a start date for paid practical police training with the London Met Police Service.

The receptionist said that her computer has no record of me apart from my name and address. No log of what the admin officer has done to get my medical records, no inquiries, no requests, nothing. So what it looks like to me is that I've been waiting about 2 months for nothing. Not processing, not waiting in line for someone to eventually to me, nothing.

So I made an appointment to see the admin officer on Monday which is going to start with "What the fuck have you been doing for 2 months to get me a 4 page medical questionnaire which I need to get my first job in 6 years" and then "Right, so we've established you're a fucking moron, now give me that in writing so I firstly I can tell the job center who's fault this is, and secondly so I can show that to a lawyer".

And I'm not even kidding, that isn't hyperbole or anything, that is what I'm actually going to do on Monday afternoon. I'm going to take a letter from this admin officer at my local doctors GP, stating who has this signed medical questionnaire and my medical records, to a fucking lawyer and a judge and get a fucking COURT ORDER to MAKE THEM give me this information within a week or two.

I shouldn't have to. Any other human being would've registered, and requested, and gotten.

Not me though. No.

I'm the guy who get's a chest infection, sick for the first time in 5 years, when he has a fitness test, and then get's bullied by the examiner, and then has to stay awake for 28 hours on no food to do the fitness test because of community college policing exams and lack of money.

I'm the guy who takes a college course, his PC breaks and instead of being given access to a computer to do the work which is entirely online, the college says they're closed and they can't help me, so he ends up doing 75% of the course on an 8 year old iPhone.

I'm the guy who get's placed on an employability skills course by the job center, which has him making bridges out of paper and going over the basics of the human rights act that he covered extensively during his policing college course, instead of permitting him to revise for his final resit exams which get rescheduled 3 times.

I'm the guy who [I recently found out this load of bullshit btw] rearranges his job seekers allowance and housing benefit claims to a different borough to get out of the above employability skills course, only to find out two months later than the transfer never happened and he now owes £550 quid to his old housing benefits office because he was being paid from them instead of the job center, after they starved him for 4 days, 2 of which he basically camped out in their offices trying to work out what the hell happened.

And I'm the guy who puts in a request for a 4 page medical questionnaire from his medical records and then founds out after 2 months that the admin officer responsible for this hasn't tried to get hold of the document and doesn't know who he is, despite the fact that he's been coming in weekly to inquire about it.

...just reading the summery of my recent history...I always said, in humor I thought, that I was cursed because shit keeps going wrong around me, but that isn't actually a joke is it?

Inverted King Midas syndrome; everything I touch turns to shit.

I can't do anything, can't accomplish anything in this world, no matter how hard a try, without it crashing, blowing up in my face, and burning for at least 2 months.

So what can I do about it?

File complaints? File civil suits against these organisations who've done me wrong? That wouldn't work. At best nothing would happen. At worst people would review my personal history, find any and all mistakes I might have made, tell me what I should've done and didn't even know was an option, and then take away from me time, energy, money or what little stability I currently have. They wouldn't help.

The job centre said, before putting me on that employability skills course that they were there to help me, and instead they crippled my ability to finish my college course. The college admin tutor for my course said his only interest was to help me finish my course, and yet he did nothing to get me a computer during the summer.

There's nothing I can do that would work, and trying to fight this shit would only make it worse.

The one option I have is this; accountability - get shit in writing so when people start to shout at me for other people's bullshit I have something to prove it's not my fault - and do the job that's in front of me - see the admin officer at the doctors, get names and addresses, make requests, see her every day until I get the form, and go find a lawyer, give him the names and addresses and get court orders to force them to do their job.

As a matter of interest, I can foresee where the next fuck up is going to happen; when I take this signed medical questionnaire [after the civil court case I expect] to the police recruitment offices [in person in exchange for a receipt because if I filed it any other way it's just asking for trouble] they're going to tell me that my application for police constable has been cancelled [they've not mailed or emailed me about it, but when does anyone tell me shit] and that I need to reapply, setting me back 6 months or more.

I know this is going to happen because that's how the world works. See above for how I know this.

Haven't eaten since I woke up so going to get some food and then...either write some or go to Meltdown London, though it's cold tonight and I don't feel like being around people, even if it's only so I can use powerful computers to play some League of Legends.

Next post will probably be on Monday after I've seen this admin officer.

Call it testament to the human survival instinct. Despite this kind of treatment I have no desire to take a knife to my wrists...guess I really am that insane...