Ramblings of a total Zack girl

Realising that the Courage Campaign has sent me an e-mail announcing yet another terrible thing being proposed by Congress, and it is being proposed specifically by one of the men who technically is supposed to be representing me.

It doesn't stop me from sending e-mails, but every time I get a form letter back that says something along the lines of, "I respectfully disagree with you, and am going to do the exact opposite. Thank you for sharing your opinion."

Okay, so I've just--rather abruptly--been informed that my parents are in dire financial straits--like, a zillion times worse than the impression I had been under--but in the next two weeks there is a chance that a grant the company has applied for will go through and everything will be all right.

We will have three kids in college next year; we have a weird insurance setup and a lot of people with expensive medical problems; we are a family of seven semi-dependents, which is a lot to feed and clothe. I try not ask often, but, for the next couple of weeks:

If you believe in prayer, please pray for us.

If you believe in the power of good thoughts, please think some for us.

If you believe in fairy godmothers, loan yours.

If you believe in luck, send some our way.



Please, y'all. I never feel more loved than when in contact with you, and I am asking as somebody you love: use all your influence with the universe. Please.

Kim Manners, you did amazing work, and were an amazing person.

Rest In Peace.

I can't focus tonight.

Well, okay, properly, I can't focus on anything except my SAD CASSIE STORY. And that is mostly because it is sad, and when I am stressed I write sad things. Which is not helpful to the whole last-week-of-school thing. I have several papers to write. But. ARGH.

See, the thing is, this week, at some point, I get my evaluation from my education advisers. And they are--awesome, awesome people. Who I really respect. And there are some parts of this semester which I have irrevocably screwed up, and I have to hear about it, and it makes me unhappy. And I'm nervous, which is stupid, because hey, guess what, it's too late to fix...any of that. At all. In ANY WAY. So I should just shut up and stop fussing and write my damn papers to make things work. BUT I CAN'T FOCUS.

I have just private-locked a long and whiny entry, sorry for any confusion.

I figured I'd better not wear out anybody's patience with my whining too soon...I have a feeling I'm going to need to do a lot of it. ^_^

Tonight I'm supposed to be writing my letters of leaving for my preschool job: requests for recommendations from a few select parents, my official resignation for my director, my thank-you letter to the general population of parents and kids...

but I'm sad. I'm sad and I'm tired and I love those children dearly and I. Don't. Wanna.

As much as I've whined and ranted and resented this job, as much as my coworkers have been incompetent or my management frustrating or the curriculum horrendously laughably bad, this is the end of a period of my life that will always be important to me. It's the time when I figured out what I want to do with my life; the time when I figured out the cause of my depression; the time when I learned about my flaws and my strengths. I've done a lot of living and a lot of loving in that building, with all those kids around me, and just--I'm going to miss them so, so much.

One little girl I've been caring for almost four years--she was six months old when I started. I've seen her learn to walk and talk, coached and coaxed her through her divorce tantrums, taught her to write her name and help others climb the ladder to the slide. She's bright and quick and lovely, and I'm a part of that--I helped to build the person she is, the person she's going to be. And she won't remember me at all--she's only four years old! Right now she runs to hug me and it's me she cries for when she falls and it's me they send her to when she can't be handled--but in another six months I'll pass her in the street and she won't even know me.

Her mother is one of the parents who've agreed to write me a formal recommendation, and I just...I can't make myself talk about how much I love that kid and how much I'm going to miss her. Not in the formal, bullshitting way I write my official letters.

All I really want to do is hold her close and cry.

It's sad, y'all, and I need time to wallow before I go all bright and cheery to say goodbye.

Oh my god, Anj

I...I barely knew her, really, you know? We were at the Leaky together and we met at TWH--and oh my god, she was one of those amazing people that I'm still looking back and going "they were so nice, even though they hardly knew me at all"--and like, you know, right-thinking people the world over, I was a huge fan of her writing and followed her Leaky storylines like a very respectful stalker...

God, what am I even saying?

She was an amazing person, is what it comes down to. She was beautiful and bright and so, so talented, and I am so sorry to hear that she has left us. I send my love to those of you she called friends.

You and she are in my thoughts.

So the thing with the insomnia is that in order to avoid KILLING SMALL ALMOST-INNOCENT CHILDREN at work, I drink caffeine (not normally a part of my diet, but desperate times...) Then I have caffeine in my system and it won't let me sleep until, oh, four in the morning.

This is the kind of cycle that makes people take lead bats to their washing machines.

ETA: I just remembered the errands I have to run tomorrow. I think I may cry.

Okay, y'all--

I'm scared.

Everybody will go different places and I'll have to check four flists (which I will never, ever remember to do) and I'll lose people. And communities. And--holy hannah, have you any idea how anally my memories are organised, and all that fic and beautiful, beautiful commentary will just disappear.

*sends hate, hate, hate, hate, hate in the direction of the senders of the apocalypse*

THERE IS A WAY TO DO THIS WITHOUT BEING ASSHATS, YOU KNOW.

Tell us, specifically, what you have a problem with, and ask us to take it down. We will. We're eager to comply, LJ. This is our home. This place contains our family. We are trying so, so, so hard not to leave our home and scatter to the four winds and forget to keep in touch like my Aunt Nancy who moved to California and never got her invitation to the grandparents' golden wedding anniversary. I grew up here. I like it here. I love the people here. The only site I am reliably on, every single day, is LJ. And I am very, very far from the only one. But if your home is having its foundation washed out from under you, and you aren't allowed to try to fix it, you gotta move. Into a cruddy apartment when two-thirds of your family are going to Asia without you.

Let us fix it. We want to stay where we are.



I'll go back and re-check the flist for who I need to add, y'all. Fortunately, everybody I've seen point has referenced GJ, where I already have an account.

You can find me there under elucreh. Damn it all.