Wednesday, January 18, 2012
An update...
Well, I may have had the best of intentions, but I couldn't quite reach my goal. I have worked insane hours, and the paychecks will make HR freak, but I couldn't quite reach the brass ring of defect-riddled lunacy needed to meet my goal. What prevented me from attaining cardiac arrest? More than anything, it was guilt.
In October of 2008, I was required to attend anger management by the college. My therapist is in White Plains, so I would grab my mom either before my appointment or after, depending on the time. Her apartment is only 4 miles from the office, so it was an easy way to visit. I stayed in therapy even after the college said I no longer needed to attend, and over the past 3 plus years, I'd take my mom to dinner on a near weekly basis. Sometimes I'd be away, or she would work the polls (my time slot is Tuesday evening), or whatever. These were generally one-off items, and usually lasted a week.
There have been times when the gap was longer than a week, corresponding with registration. I'm not actually used to working Tuesday nights, but I've been scheduled to work late, and even if I hadn't I would have worked anyway. Again, I'm trying to earn as much money as possible, and the need is there. In anticipation of my plan, in December I moved my January appointments to 8pm every week, just so I could work late if I felt like it. I'm almost never this proactive, so I know the spirit was willing, even as the flesh turned out to be weak.
If it was just me ducking my mom, that would be bad enough, but at some point I decided to duck EVERYONE. Aside from a date (!) on Monday, and breakfast with Scott on Thursday, I wasn't talking to anyone, hitting Starbucks, going online, or even playing Elder Scrolls 5. I awoke, went to work, went home, and slept. The next day was the same thing. I even dropped off my laundry at a wash and fold in Peekskill to free time to work over the weekend. It helps that they do a better job than I do, and I wanted to be looking good for my date. Needless to say, this lack of social interaction, fresh air, or sunlight made for a very twisted financial aid counselor. What was worse is that I was starting to enjoy it. I was feeding off the stress, getting off on the rush, and spinning old tapes in my head. I was regressing to the point a trip to Montreal was in the planning, and since it was below zero for the high, one can safely say I wasn't going to tour the Old City. My monastic isolation at work was broken on last Thursday evening. My brain wasn't really working, and we had an emergency that needed immediate attention. I was loopy to the point I wasn't using complete sentences, just fragments lacking structure, grammar, or even cohesion. Nevertheless, I came in somewhat early, left to work at a branch campus 4 miles from my apartment, then drove back to the main campus to work until 10. I was actually angry at myself at meeting Scott for breakfast, as this was one occasion where I needed to be at the office, bagels be damned.
Friday came, and I was shot. Moreover, I felt really bad I haven't even spoken to my family for more than a minute at time. My mom called during my lunch hour, but I couldn't speak. It's not that I was busy, I just couldn't hold a conversation.My brain was not functioning at a high enough level. I actually had plans that evening; I had tickets to the Rocky Horrow Show in White Plains at 8pm, and Karl was going to join me. I planned on working until 7:30 and then meet him at the theater, but the thought of spending another extra minute at work actually sickened me. I wasn't sure what I should do, so I punted by calling my mom. If she was free, I'd pick her up, otherwise I'd be at my desk.
She was free, and happy to hear I'd be coming over. I also sent Karl a text message, and he met us at Cosi with a lady friend. We had a wonderful time, and the show was as great as expected. I yelled callback lines, danced the Time Warp, and chatted with my friend Ashley, who was in the cast. I even had the lead actor break the fourth wall, instructing me to "Shut the fuck up." This made the audience go berserk. As a cherry on top of the sundae I no longer eat, Scott called to let me know he was at the diner with a mutual friend I hadn't seen in weeks. I told them I was down-county, but they would wait anyway.
It was nice to talk to people again, although I knew my social skills had eroded. I was unusually braggadocio, boasting of my ill-fated trip to Prague, and how I injured my knee. If it was just Scott, it wouldn't have been awkward; he's heard all my exploits anyway. Our mutual friend is less familiar with my hedonism, so she was a little more... judgmental. She was happy with my Caesar salad, dressing on the side, however. Whatever her reaction, the die had been cast. Meeting with my mom and Karl, watching Rocky Horror, chatting with cast, and having a late night snack with my friends had the cumulative effect of breaking my carefully constructed isolation. This didn't mean I wouldn't be working like a maniac, but I wouldn't be willing or able to work 15 hours a day Monday through Friday, and an additional 16 hours on Saturday and Sunday. I did try to work the holiday weekend, and actually got quite a bit accomplished, but only for 6 hours total. I even made 2 more Rocky shows, and church, which was nice if inconsistent. MLK day was a lazy morning and an afternoon spent running long-ignored errands.
So where does this leave me? I'm not sure. Although I won't reach my first $7000 paycheck, I'm still working a crazy number of hours, and we're still 3 weeks away from the end. My best guess at this point is that I'll be able to eliminate 2 of the 3 retirement loans by March 2nd (or possibly 19th), and the last one should be gone by May, depending on my tax return. This is still incredibly good; far better than what I though was possible in early December.
In October of 2008, I was required to attend anger management by the college. My therapist is in White Plains, so I would grab my mom either before my appointment or after, depending on the time. Her apartment is only 4 miles from the office, so it was an easy way to visit. I stayed in therapy even after the college said I no longer needed to attend, and over the past 3 plus years, I'd take my mom to dinner on a near weekly basis. Sometimes I'd be away, or she would work the polls (my time slot is Tuesday evening), or whatever. These were generally one-off items, and usually lasted a week.
There have been times when the gap was longer than a week, corresponding with registration. I'm not actually used to working Tuesday nights, but I've been scheduled to work late, and even if I hadn't I would have worked anyway. Again, I'm trying to earn as much money as possible, and the need is there. In anticipation of my plan, in December I moved my January appointments to 8pm every week, just so I could work late if I felt like it. I'm almost never this proactive, so I know the spirit was willing, even as the flesh turned out to be weak.
If it was just me ducking my mom, that would be bad enough, but at some point I decided to duck EVERYONE. Aside from a date (!) on Monday, and breakfast with Scott on Thursday, I wasn't talking to anyone, hitting Starbucks, going online, or even playing Elder Scrolls 5. I awoke, went to work, went home, and slept. The next day was the same thing. I even dropped off my laundry at a wash and fold in Peekskill to free time to work over the weekend. It helps that they do a better job than I do, and I wanted to be looking good for my date. Needless to say, this lack of social interaction, fresh air, or sunlight made for a very twisted financial aid counselor. What was worse is that I was starting to enjoy it. I was feeding off the stress, getting off on the rush, and spinning old tapes in my head. I was regressing to the point a trip to Montreal was in the planning, and since it was below zero for the high, one can safely say I wasn't going to tour the Old City. My monastic isolation at work was broken on last Thursday evening. My brain wasn't really working, and we had an emergency that needed immediate attention. I was loopy to the point I wasn't using complete sentences, just fragments lacking structure, grammar, or even cohesion. Nevertheless, I came in somewhat early, left to work at a branch campus 4 miles from my apartment, then drove back to the main campus to work until 10. I was actually angry at myself at meeting Scott for breakfast, as this was one occasion where I needed to be at the office, bagels be damned.
Friday came, and I was shot. Moreover, I felt really bad I haven't even spoken to my family for more than a minute at time. My mom called during my lunch hour, but I couldn't speak. It's not that I was busy, I just couldn't hold a conversation.My brain was not functioning at a high enough level. I actually had plans that evening; I had tickets to the Rocky Horrow Show in White Plains at 8pm, and Karl was going to join me. I planned on working until 7:30 and then meet him at the theater, but the thought of spending another extra minute at work actually sickened me. I wasn't sure what I should do, so I punted by calling my mom. If she was free, I'd pick her up, otherwise I'd be at my desk.
She was free, and happy to hear I'd be coming over. I also sent Karl a text message, and he met us at Cosi with a lady friend. We had a wonderful time, and the show was as great as expected. I yelled callback lines, danced the Time Warp, and chatted with my friend Ashley, who was in the cast. I even had the lead actor break the fourth wall, instructing me to "Shut the fuck up." This made the audience go berserk. As a cherry on top of the sundae I no longer eat, Scott called to let me know he was at the diner with a mutual friend I hadn't seen in weeks. I told them I was down-county, but they would wait anyway.
It was nice to talk to people again, although I knew my social skills had eroded. I was unusually braggadocio, boasting of my ill-fated trip to Prague, and how I injured my knee. If it was just Scott, it wouldn't have been awkward; he's heard all my exploits anyway. Our mutual friend is less familiar with my hedonism, so she was a little more... judgmental. She was happy with my Caesar salad, dressing on the side, however. Whatever her reaction, the die had been cast. Meeting with my mom and Karl, watching Rocky Horror, chatting with cast, and having a late night snack with my friends had the cumulative effect of breaking my carefully constructed isolation. This didn't mean I wouldn't be working like a maniac, but I wouldn't be willing or able to work 15 hours a day Monday through Friday, and an additional 16 hours on Saturday and Sunday. I did try to work the holiday weekend, and actually got quite a bit accomplished, but only for 6 hours total. I even made 2 more Rocky shows, and church, which was nice if inconsistent. MLK day was a lazy morning and an afternoon spent running long-ignored errands.
So where does this leave me? I'm not sure. Although I won't reach my first $7000 paycheck, I'm still working a crazy number of hours, and we're still 3 weeks away from the end. My best guess at this point is that I'll be able to eliminate 2 of the 3 retirement loans by March 2nd (or possibly 19th), and the last one should be gone by May, depending on my tax return. This is still incredibly good; far better than what I though was possible in early December.
