Friday, March 18, 2005

I respect your opinion, but I'm not good at rejection. Sadly, you'll have to die!

I want to run away to a secret island.

One where sexy men bring me cocktails and everything is already paid for, and I don't feel like I have to fight everything every step of the way, and everything ends with happily ever after.
I feel rotten. I feel cynical and jaded and heavy and depressed. I just want to run away.

I still haven't received a letter of rejection from that job that I applied for, which I think is pretty damn rude! Especially seeing as my interview was a month ago this Wednesday and I was told that I would receive a phone call or letter by the end of the following week. Why are people so rude? Anywho, the decision has been made to leave that job within the next few weeks and then I'll apply for youth allowance and hopefully my application will be approved and i'll be able to collect enough to tide me over from week to week with the help of a few shifts at the nursing home.

So yesterday I stood in the queue at Centrelink for an hour (which I have been told is a sign that Centrelink was experiencing a quiet period!) just to get the 36 page form that I need to fill out in order to apply for youth allowance. In order to apply for government assistance I am required to inform them of the estimated worth of my assets (which are pretty much my crapped out computer and my stereo), I need to describe my accomodation (a cream coloured brick and sandstone house with a white fence and green guttering and decking), I need to provide statements of my income over the last 8 weeks (where the hell are those payslips again?), I need to inform them of how much cash I have, not including cash for "day to day living expenses and outstanding bills" (a whole mattress full of course, because the bank would be a stupid place to put money) and I need to inform them of how much money is in my bank account on the day that I lodge my form. And that's just the easy stuff! All I have done is read the form and already I'm feeling like it's too much trouble. I have paid my taxes since I got my first job when I was 15 and now that I need some help they make it damn near impossible to get the assistance that I'm entitled to. I hate to think what it's like for people worse off than me.

When my Mum went to get the carers allowance for looking after my Nanna after Pa died, they gave her a total run around about it all and she had to fill out 23 billion forms (OK slight exaggeration) and in the end all she got was $40 a week to go towards the care of her dying mother. And there are cases like this all over Australia, parents looking after sick kids, kids looking after dying parents. Students studying full time and working 2 or 3 jobs to try and pay for their text books and uni fees. Parents being unable to get necessary assistance for their children because they earn a handful of dollars over the threshold. Something isn't right when people who NEED assistance and are entitled to it aren't getting it yet there's enough money going around to pay for koala's to get the pill. Seriously! Last year the Victorian State government put aside $500,000 to pay for a contraceptive program to control its koala population. Bullets are a damn side cheaper!

And on another note, I found out the other day that yet another friend of mine is engaged to be married. This will make 3 friends engaged, 3 married and 2 babies in the last 12 months!! I know I've got plenty of time in me and all, and my biological clock is hardly ticking, but it's somewhat disconcerting when everyone else is doing it and you've not had so much as a nibble in the big wide world of romance. In fact it pretty well sucks arse. After fixing the freaking welfare system we need to fix this whole dating and getting married business. As far as I'm concerned i think we should do thing "The Giver" style. (For those of you who don't get the reference, go to the local library and borrow a book called The Giver. It should be in the young adults section.) In the book the whole community is set up. Husbands and wives are arranged. In fact the whole family unit is arranged. Husbands, wives and kids are government issue. That could really solve my problems. Just drop a government issue man (I'm thinking kinda GI Joe-ish) off on every single woman's doorstep and that'd be it. Maybe you could get a trade in if you don't like the first one... but after that you're stuck with whatcha got baby. And it'd mean that everyone gets a partner, even the unattractive people.

The only other option would be to do dating "Yum Cha Style". They bring a cart around with little men on it you can have a little taste of each one before you decide which one to take home. (Dirty minds out of the gutter right now!) It's all just too difficult the way it is at the moment. You go out and complete fuckwits call you a minga or a dog right within earshot. And as much as you pretend that it doesn't matter what fucktards like that say, you can't help but wonder if there isn't a little bit of truth in it. Sometimes I feel like I'm going out wearing "Desperation", the latest fragrance by Calvin Klein. And it totally sucks dogs balls goddamn it!!!

I feel like I'm becoming hard. It's like when you get callouses, after a certain amount of pressure, discomfort and pain it all just starts to toughen up. I feel like I'm getting callouses on the inside. I don't want to be tough. Tough meat doesn't sell well.

Anyway, I'll be sending this all off into the ether in a minute, to be read by those that give a shit and those who are just unlucky enough to stumble upon this page.

I miss my Nanna and Pa.

I want to toss in the towel.

Does anyone want to run away to a secret island with me?


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