On Bad Days...

...Fuck me...

Woke up.

Got evicted because I'm subletting and my landlady has decided not to renew her lease after the rent was increased.

Had wheeties.

Got rejected for a minimum wage job at SEGA which I was screened for on the basis, if you can believe it, 'the calibre of applicants has been very high during this process'.

Played some Hearthstone to relax a bit from these two blows before trying to find somewhere new to live, apply for another job, and do my college work which I paid for using yet another Student Loan.

Lost every one of the ten matches I played.

...OK...bad day...

My student loan is currently on hold because they require some more information from me. This information I've given to them twice already; once over the phone, once in writing. Currently dealing with their complaints department about it.

Said complaints department, for fun, decided yesterday afternoon to ring me up as a curtsy call to tell me that they were aware of my complaint.

Not that they had or were going to do anything about it. Not that they needed me to do anything about it. Just that were aware of it.

This would've been fine, except for the fact that at the time I was dead asleep because my sleep pattern is currently fucked and I'm sleeping during the day, and then couldn't get back to sleep afterwards.

Bastards.

That phone call was yesterday.

So right now it's around 6pm.

• In a month I'll have no where to live and to find new accommodation I need to find one of the few leasers who will rent to someone on housing benefit.
• In a week I'll have next to no food budget as I use what little money I have to pay for a deposit on new accommodation [I never did actually have one where I'm currently living].

Meanwhile my brain is trying to pretend reality doesn't exist. It's a defensive mechanism of my psychological makeup. When reality get's too much to deal with, it tries to pretend it's not there. That playing games and having fun is more important that getting on with things.

I was struggling to deal yesterday with the prospect of doing my college work. Now...

---

I did have one crazy idea on how to resolve this; rent a storage container.

They cost, on a weekly basis, for the same size room, about half what I pay in rent.

Gain 24 hour access, somewhere close a gym for the shower and toilet, do my college work at the college where I'm studying, buy a cooler and few bags of ice each week that cost a pound each for food storage, and construct a nest inside the container.

I've seen pictures of people who've built actual honest to gods mansions out of storage containers, water proofed, wired with electrics and piped with plumbing. After all, a storage container is just a metal box and a house is just a concrete box.

The issue is with this is twofold.

• Firstly, most places don't have 24 hour access to the compounds they're built on. The best place I found does [and is sammitched between a 24 hour gym and an Iceland store], but would need me to be a customer for eight weeks before they'd give it to me. Doable maybe, but still...
• Secondly, my housing benefits are paid for a property. My job seekers isn't, so one hundred and forty every two weeks, forty on rent every week, works out at sixty every two weeks which is slightly less than what I have now with free access to amenities [bathroom, water, kitchen, etc.].
• Plus there's the obvious issue of what you're allowed to store there and the owners might take issue with a person living in one of their boxes.

Having a full time job, buying boxes and land and so forth, then doing them up works because I've seen it. But this impromptu set up only has the singular advantage of being accessible in the short term.

I've tried living in a hostel [instant access, pay by the day accommodation] and it's not something I ever want to repeat, which is why I was looking into this to begin with.

Finding another room to rent might be easier.

---

A few days ago my biggest issue was taking care of my college work before the weekend, with a side of chasing up results from interviews and my student loan.

Now I'm virtually homeless and starving is the only way to fix it.

Fucking hate my life, but hating it isn't going to fix anything, so I had best go get on with it.

First!

Because I believe in cliches. :P

HAI! As is traditional when I start a new blog I always say something along the lines of 'I never continue with these things', blah, blah, but I keep spamming my own Twitter account with verbose rants on various subjects and have needed a blog for quite some time, so here we are.

Also when I start a new blog I take quite some time going over the horrors of my past in an attempt to explain who I am and how I came to be. Perhaps this is why I never continue with them beyond the first post. Rehashing what is becoming comparatively ancient history for me is beyond pointless.

Everything you need to know, dear reader, can be summed up by two notions:

The first is that I'm not what you'd call a human being.

Oh sure, I look human, and any doctor would confirm that genetically speaking I'm just like any other homo sapiens. However, one of the fundamentals of how an individual biological organism is classified is it's behavior and function. My brain isn't human.

A lot of people would expect me to now declare that I'm homo superior and better than others. Not really. Homo alternus is more apt. I'm smart, strong, and a good man, but I think differently, act differently, understand differently to everyone.

People say this to be individual and unique, I know, but I wish I wasn't. I wish I was just like everyone else, because to be truly divided from everyone else is to never understand their anyone else and never be understood. I don't feel lonely though, I just wish the actions of others made some sort of sense occasionally.

And the second is that the universe takes a delight in presenting me with only the very best in batshit insane situations which no human should ever need to encounter, much less resolve. The 'horrors of my past' mentioned above include:

• A family who entirely suffered from 'intellectophobia', or the fear of intellect, treating those deemed more intelligent than themselves with disdain and casual cruelty. Less of an issue since I disowned them all however. My parents are dead apparently. I feel literally nothing about that. I never loved them, or hated them. My justice was to disown them, and I got it.
• I was gifted, if that's the word, with a genius level intellect, memory and imagination. Which was then damaged by bullies, sandblasted by public education, and finally broken in half by a University course which was mis-sold as educative instead of a timesink. I've since taught myself how to do what this course did not however.
• And a first love, a love at first sight and later infatuation with who and what they were. They turned out to be a transgender [I'm male, they were male, now female] with social-anxiety issues so acute and an mentality so unstable that she, to this day, is still posting on Craigslist anomalously about lost soulmates and alike, the only form of communication she could manage, in the hopes that one day I will email her again. I want to, oh stars do I want to, because I do feel love for her, for the first time in my life for someone, but I won't. I won't because it was unhealthy, and s/he's insane, and if I want a real life then I need to avoid her, but a part of me still wants her in my arms...

The old adage goes that 'Life isn't fair'. And it's not. You don't decide to live. You don't decide to die. You can't pick your parents. You can't know without experience. And you don't control all of your own body, only the outermost bits. Life's a bitch, and then you die.

...that being said, you can always learn...

Once I removed myself from the orbit of my abusive family*, found a way to gain education which could help me gain employment, and stopped contacting her** I started to get my head straight.

*Though I'm unsure the term 'Abusive' really applies. They never struck me, but the mental damage they inflicted made me see them as monsters. Is there a ruler for abuse, a measurement of cruelty? Or is it determined by the perspective of the individual? They fed me, clothed me, and kept me alive whilst flaying my brain daily. Was I just in abandoning them, or was I as cruel as they to inflict my absence on them? Is justice the same as right?

**One of my primary issues at the moment is my utterly hatred of 'How people are' and my desire to have sex and to give my love to someone. Is there someone out there whom I would feel the same or better about like 'She Who Will Not Be Contacted'...probably, but I expect I'll never meet her.

And that's where I am at the moment.

There's two factors of my existence; I'm not normal, and my personal university is, or has been up till now, a harsh and unpleasant one.

I know, I said I wouldn't rehash the past, but you've got to have at least a bit of that really, but this is where it ends. I'm done with back, I'm going forward.

As it stands I've got two things currently going on; I'm applying to my local police service for constable, a process which takes months to go through with aptitude, personality, and physical testing; and I'm doing a college course for basic police training.

I'm writing this, in fact, because I'm trying to avoid doing things. I get like that sometimes. I don't see the point in acting, so I don't act, and I can't afford that right now, but it's not like I can just flip a switch or something.

I need to get some exercise after a long down time with and after a bad case of bronchitis generated a large blob of mucus which I couldn't cough up from my lungs for several weeks.

I need to catch up on my college work before Saturday. It's a part time course, and I'm unemployed, and a genius with an excellent memory, so it's not like it'll take me long to do, it's just that I keep not doing it and eventually it'll need to be done and I won't have the time to do it. I've got no reason for not doing it, it's just that I'm not.

And I want to write a book on games design documentation, and program a game in DirectX and C++. And instead, when I'm not watching the TV series 24, I'm playing the games on which I'm writing my thesis, mostly League of Legends [LoL by Riot Games].

I should really be productive, but sometimes I just don't see the point. Working for no reward other than the job itself eventually loses it's appeal when doing nothing at all has the same effect.

Gotten hungry whilst writing. Going to go make cheese salad and then force myself to hit my weights.

Tomorrow will be a busy day as I get my job seekers allowance and can go food shopping and rent paying and things. Maybe that will spur me on to be more productive and get my college work done. Do more than I have in the last four days where I've mostly just played LoL.

I'll write another post tomorrow. Shorter with a singular point, and see if I can't spruce it up a little with some background art, links to webcomics and things. I did have a website where I wrote things but my finances are so tight I can't even afford new tees, so it was silly to keep paying for it every month.

...Maybe I'll write about what I'm learning for the police. Get interested in it so getting college work done will be easy.

It's a thought.