Had a physical today for work rehab. Billing problems, yay. Weight went up as well – I see a diet in my immediate future, I’ve got a bunch of clothes I refuse to give up. As in, change of eating starting tomorrow. Really could stand to eat better anyway. On the upside I won’t have to cut junk food, since I don’t eat much of it in the first place. I also don’t seem to have any shot records to my name – which, well. I should have at least – one -, I remember when dad took my brother and I for shots once, when we moved in with him. Anything before, however, is probably imaginary, especially as Ma thinks it’s apparently amusing.. Yes, so funny that you never took me in for medical upkeep. (the rest of them had insurance through chip and work, but did they bother to appeal their “We don’t want Worm” decision, noooooo, ‘course not.). Assholes. So, missing shot records. Joy. And also, need to lose weight. Again, joy. I loath physicals. And the doc. made a ’suggestion’ for a pap smear. Bah. On the other hand, she was very, very good at her job, comes highly recommended. Much nicer than some of the other people I’ve had to see.

-Edited to add – to be fair, Ma did say she thinks I probably have most of my shots. Unfortunately, she can’t remember which ones I’m missing.. Asking Dad is pretty damn useless, he can’t remember anything since he fell off that scaffal. I figure I got the earliest ones done, but anything after four or so, probably not, considering one of my aunts had to pay for m’surgery and we moved. I’m trying to work in a health field, I’m pretty sure they’re going to want some sort of record, depending on placement. Which, well – shit. Exactly how important are they, anyway? I mean, if everyone – else – has them, what’s the chance of contracting, say, Rubella in this day and age? (to pull an example out of my ass).

We won! Well, sort’ve. After hunting for God knows how long,, we’ve managed to change the font on all the websites.

Here you go, white text on black backround. Links are in yellow. Now we just need a way to not lose font and buttons/images when we blow up the text size. But seriously, the font color change works wonders, very, very useful if anyone wants to give it a go.

Edit: oops, forgot the link.

Link located Here

I know, been horrible blogging the past….year or so. Been busy, and seem to be going slowly. Better pick up pretty soon. But, guess what I found for – three dollars – at a mini flea market down the block?

Go on guess.

A robot!

A dinosaur robot!

Light grey robot dinosaur, a raptor, with darker grey and black stripes, blue eyes. Leaning forward, facing to the right with jaws bared.

We talked to the couple, who were there selling stuff they’d cleaned out of their garage. Apparently they bought the dinosaur (and another robot, sapient-something-or-other, my mother bought it for five and gave it to my grandmother to give for kids’ Christmas donations) for their two sons and they played with ‘em like, twice, and then into the garage it went. Unfortunately, the remote for the dinosaur was misplaced (Ma’s robot has the remote with it) so I need to order one from ebay or something.

Also rather sad is Dino fell outta the bag right after I got out of the truck bounced on the pavement, so now his back ridge is missing an inch long piece. I couldn’t find the piece, I think it blew away in the wind. I didn’t notice it was gone till hours later, and when I went back out to look, ….yeah. Anyway, s’fixable, so Dino’s going on my list of things to Get Done Within The Year. I’d like to repaint the stripes, too, cuz I can’t miss tinkering with a paintjob. Also on that list is a bike from the nineteen fourties that really needs to be redone (lazy and broke with that, though mostly broke) and, oddly enough, a teapot clock I’ve been hauling around that my mother was supposed to give my aunt years ago. The clock fell out of it, need to put it back in so she can finally cart it over. Blah. On the upside, the bathroom leak is fixed, Dad got to handle that one.

Edited – nevermind, what I took to be a gouge turned out to be a screw hole wayyy down deep. That’s what I get for not examining minutely at every angle before rushing off in panic. I’m generally better than that, but eh.

Presentation – can’t avoid it anymore, at least in job interviews. Not gendered presentation,but disabled presentation. Gendered presentation is iffy for me, no matter which direction someone’s reading me from. But with the applications and interviews, it’s difficult. When I was doing the hours for serve, after a few minutes (sometimes up to an hour) there comes the inevitable – “Why’re you wearing those? (ie, the sunglasses over my regular pair). Which was a bit odd, considering I was introduced every time as being there for voc rehab – any obvious anamolies should’ve been chalked up to me using voc rehab, I would’ve thought, especially as the places I was taken to were on the list of buildings that accepted it regularly. But apparently not, people are nosy. Unless it’s a specific item like a cane, I’m willing to bet money they’d ask everyone, and even then if they saw someone walking without it for a bit, you can bet they’d toddle on over and inquire once there was a spare minute. Anyway, without stereotyped, – visual – cues, people seem to assume competent, quick ability in every aspect of job performance , – no matter what they were informed of previously. On my last day working, I was helping one guy with his addition skills, the next worksheet was combining said skills with pictured money-coins. And down the table (which was about ten feet long all together) the other two aids were having a conversation. About me. Along the lines of “D’you think Worm can do this?” I dunno, might have problems…”

It’s like, well gee, thanks for caring, (really, don’t see that much in life, truly, thank you) but as I – was -a mere few feet away, you could always ask instead of trying to guess. Really – asking does not offend me.

Which illustrates, in a round about way, the problem. In a job interview, whats-her-name from voc rehab insisted I tell them about the eyesight. Now, everyone else on this planet knows that if I do that, there goes what chance I have of getting hired. Not telling them, however, isn’t really an option anymore. I’ve enjoyed living without an ocular migraine and a perpetual squint, among other things, and m’not giving it up just to get ‘layed off’ two weeks into wherever hires me. Leaving ‘em home in the hopes that ‘no one will notice’ said vision, I’ll end up getting ‘laid off’ again, but if I wear them to the interview, the interviewer will undoubtibly either ask -why- I’m wearing them (like the people did as I completed the hours), in which case = screwed, or they won’t ask at all (as they didn’t have proper time to get up nerve (since I’m in a precarious spot wrt transition, and binding is, bluntly, not an option wrt work I’m generally read as female, though funnily enough not ‘woman’ – half the time still he’d. Although I’ve doubts the people who actually read me as male think I’m particularly butch, but that’s another matter. Grew hair a bit longer, hoping that helps secure me a job since people loath androgyny, we’ll see, the great irony is you can’t do a damn thing transition and health care wise in any direction without money, and there’ll prolly be enough unpleasantness at work the second I get Dr’s approval). Seriously, by my calculations, three months of work’ll give me enough funds for an apartment and switching bills, et cetera, then hopefully off I go to a dr. office with whatever healthcare the state sticks me on, and good lord please lemmie find a doc. that’ll help slither it through the system – but anyway, leave glasses on, in which case they’ll think I’m rude and unprofessional, wearing sunglasses to an interview and there goes my job application, dismissed out of hand. I’m a bit lost, what the hell do you tell someone in job interviews? I’d say skip wearing them to an interview and then wear ‘em to work, but I’d rather not be accused of misrepresentation.

God, there’s mushrooms growing out of my living room ceiling. Large ones, they just fell downwards earlier today. Have to call the handiman again, he was supposed to be over to fix the damn leak from the tub ages ago, kept putting us off cuz his list was so big (the shrooms / leaking area is over the living room), it’s split half the panel apart lengthwise and I’ve been finding the screws that held it up the past week, they’ve fallen out. Found the cats batting it around…..yeah, dangling mushrooms. And the guy has to get to the tub through my closet, and the room isn’t big enough for my crap so dunno quite where to put the closet-things when he’s fixing it. God. Mushrooms of all things, that’s a new one. Ceilings falling in are old, but…mushrooms. I want a smoke.

My tooth hurts. We had a hailstorm today for a good half hour. Hail and pouring rain, the wind managed to rock Ma’s vehicle. Least the weather cooled a bit, was horribly hot earlier.

Ha, I do my last five hours with Serve t’morrow. Done and over with! Barring the review and coaching and…stuff.

Hm, didn’t do badly at helping in the kitchen, D. said initiative (asking questions about where utensils are in the kitchen, say) counts for much. Which while an admirable sentiment, it doesn’t make as large a dent as she seemed to state, least. in the long run. I pointed out that while initiative may acquire you a job, initiative will not let you keep it. So she attempted to explain the Serve 25 hour (in my case) observation process and I’m still confused. She said the various difficulties didn’t matter – so if they’re not there to figure out how to work with and around those in my case, then what’s their use? I understand at the end of the process they help with interviews, et all, but if they’re just here to look for ‘initiative’ then they could save 25 hours and get to the damned point.

Also a bit irritated with myself, or rather, drinking glasses. They’re identical, save for apparently an inch or so and there’s damned perception problems with moving objects. Of which glasses are, as they’re not stationary in a kitchen. People move objects too fast and they’re all…jumbled, can’t get a good visual size comparison going. without taking a few seconds you really don’t have to scrutanize the object. That’s the problem, I think, those extra few seconds add up, and they need to be done for every object. Which is probably why I can draw. Having to actually – look – at everything makes you notice how far apart colors and shadow and lines are in relation to its surroundings. Unfortunately if you, say, move something, the relationship changes radically. It’s how I turn one rather decimated tulip into a bouquet of flowers on paper. It’s also why I loath drawing from life, everyone – moves -, even when they don’t mean to. Well, ‘cept for me, but drawing my hand or foot, got that down to a matter of moments and it doesn’t really count. I suppose it’s good I’ve no plans to work in industrialized kitchen (why they scheduled me for kitchen duty was because I suggested working with pwd, daycares and/or adults. Apparently spending hours in a kitchen was part of their version of ‘working with’.’ Going to need to have a talk with the woman the next time she calls back, it was not what I had in mind when I suggested working with adults.

-Edited to remind myself I also need to talk to her about warnings. I dunno if she’s new, but she forgot to tell me I needed nonslip shoes for the kitchen. Incredibly fucking lucky I had a pair, whoever her next client is will get a hurting when they fall and she failed to make sure they had proper equipment.

…Forgot to add the songs, hunted up some real beauties.

Gone (Going) by Jack Johnson

(very mellow)

Daydream in Blue by I Monster

(also very mellow)

Garbage by Chairlift

(particularly liked it due to my thrifty, save that bottle! nature)

Books from Boxes by Maximo Park

(reminds me a bit of The Decemberists, due to actual lyrics. Love descriptive lyrics)

Yes, well. Read a Mercedes Lackey book. Not a bad writer, but could really stand to further some issues work. Broke a chunk of my back tooth 2 days before m’birthday, still sensitive. We’ll be celebrating it at the end of June, I think, if all goes well. Trying to figure out that damned welfare application along with Mawd. ugh.

Talked to Serve today to tell ‘em some job issues and what I’d like to try. Consequently now I’m all jitters, as she called back earlier today to ask if I’m free at nine tomorrow to walk across two towns for a stint at Ma’s place o’employment, which I won’t be any good at since it’s in a kitchen.

My only wondering is that she asked – she’s familiar with the area and that I don’t drive, so god only knows why she called for a place that never hires when she’s aware it takes an hour an a half to walk there from here. Hitching a ride with ma at five am tomorrow, live in the truck till the time comes to meet her out front, I suppose, since I very well couldn’t say ‘no’. I’m good in a kitchen, but not an industrial one, where measuring cups an stove dials that I can’t see and haven’t memorized abound, let alone food recipes, since I’m used to working from memory. The stoves there do make me uneasy, as do the hot plates. I get enough accidents around one stove, but most of their kitchen is full of hot metal (I’ve been there before, visiting ma on break and dropping ff keys or pop when we lived two doors down). Ma said Serve uses her work as a ‘trial run’ for getting used to the program, and that I’d likely just be filling juice cups and serving cake on individual plates (it being a nursing home).

I did manage to tell the woman who came to see me ’bout the slight back problem though, and that I enjoyed working with mhmr, so hoping for a job at F. Eh, come what may, though I woudn’t survive at Ma’s work if it came down to it. Her job moves too fast, among other things. I’m a bit of a plodder, I s’pose, only have two speeds and the fastest one many people consider just a – smidge – too slow. Always just a smidge, as if they think I could hike it up any faster. Some of it’s my vision, takes an extra minute or two to focus and read, while some of it’s prolly my height, believe it or not it’s been a problem in two jobs already, dishwashing where I couldn’t reach to hang up the pans and couldn’t see the nails they were supposed to go on, and the animal care sanctuary, where they gave me a stool that I was supposed to step on and off every two minutes for seven or so hours to reach in back of cages cuz I was too damn short. Nobody else had to use a stool and not sure where they managed to dig it up as it was plastic. Kept waiting for it to crumple or slide out from under me, the legs weren’t the steadiest. My back died, I only lasted the day. It actually died at eleven or so, got through the rest of it on sheer force of will, it was worse than the pre pt for the military. Which, yes, is saying something.. Spending 7 or 8 hours (I misremember exact time) running, doing drills, situps, pushups, odd leg exercises…. t’was all quiet a bit easier than that cage and a stool. And the owners of the place wondered why they were always four people short.

Anyway, I ain’t tall, tall being about 5′5 and over. Don’t think I’m slow, really, since things get done in time, always. I like to think strength makes up for it most of the time (my calves leave many in awe, rather proud of ‘em), but Ma said prolly no hauling things. Wouldn’t mind working for a moving company, but the height difference with everyone else means two people of wildly disparaging height (Most movers I’ve seen are about six foot, unfortunately) make it harder to carry a sofa, least for me. Their steps are longer and their end is jacked up an extra 7 or 8 inches, it sucks. Eh, nervous for tomorrow. Have to find shoes, the black ones are two sizes too big, but the other sneakers give me blisters. Choices, choices.