Breathing Easy

For those of you who have asked and who read this — we haven’t had any more issues with Scary Larry the Fraud Victim. The Detective on the case is going to let us know if they catch their man. I don’t know how they could, unless he actually lives in my complex and the Fed Ex guy gave an amazing sketch artist a photo-likeness of the crook.

In other news, I flew to Florida last week for my grandmother’s funeral. It was nice.

Flying back was rough, however. I’m pretty positive I have a low-grade anxiety disorder mixed in with my bipolarity, and while the Prozac does wonders to keep me from being depressed, I think an anti-anxiety med might be in order in the future.

I’m not afraid of flying or crashing or anything like that — although I do wonder every time I get on a plane if we’ll crash and die, and I brace myself to remain calm should something happen that results in an unexpected change of altitude. The anxiety stems from no “fear” that I can name — just a huge discomfort in being trapped in those seats for so long. It kills me! Can’t explain it much better than that.

Except, perhaps, that it’s like when you’re stuck in class, or church, or something, and you feel the NEED to get up and leave. Not too much of a problem, generally, except that when you’re in a plane there’s no where to go.

Don’t really want to add another drug to my daily regimen, but it might be nice to be able to sit still in class. Even now my legs are pumping up and down, ready, presumably, to run me away to someplace less cramped than my memories of that airplane. Calm down, body. We’re not cramped here. I was just REMEMBERING the cramped feeling.

I’m not claustrophobic, either — I love spelunking and tight spaces and squeezing through holes and stuff — but maybe there’s a phobia of sitting still. If I had to sit in a chair in the middle of an open field, I could feel this way. But, again, it doesn’t feel like fear. It feels like anxiety. Tense, nervous, anxiousness.

When we last left our hero, he was being harrassed by Lawrence Andrus, a moron who had mailed a $20,000 watch to our hero’s home. The FedEx guy said that someone had answered the door and signed for it.

Well, Lawrence has now called LTB a few times, trying to track down more dirt on me, and yesterday we went to see about filing a restraining order against him. DID YOU KNOW: The cost to file a restraining order in Ventura County in cases where the restrainee is not a family member, or where no threats of physical violence have actually been made, is $300? Yeah, and you need to give the restrainee 24 hour notice, blah blah blah.

We didn’t file the order.

THANKFULLY, however, the detective on the case interviewed the FedEx guy, who is now saying that the guy was waiting outside our apartment to pick up the package, and that he’s even done it a couple times. Well, we got our locks changed for nothing, but hopefully Lawrence will leave us alone.

Does it end there? No, faithful reader! For even just this morning, FED EX TRIED TO DELIVER ANOTHER PACKAGE TO DAVID MAYER AT OUR ADDRESS!

“Uh, don’t sign for it,” I told my wife when she called, unsure what to do. She had them send whatever expensive thing it was BACK to the idiotic sender.

Not 15 minutes later, the POST OFFICE tried to deliver a priority package to David Mayer at our address. What could be inside? Another $20,000 watch? A $100,000 ring? A million in unlaundered Canadian currency?

We don’t know. We sent that package back, too. Can’t wait for the phone calls to start, though.

I’m at the point now where I’d skewer Santa with a poker if he tried to give me something on Christmas Eve. “I don’t THINK so, NICK!” [skewer sound effect]

Raising the Bars

Ever get the feeling that the raise you received was a monetary form of imprisonment? You hear that CHA-CHING sound at same time as the KER-CHUNG sound of the bars locking in place, and wonder…

I expressed interest in a sales position here at my company, and even got some of the training tapes. Then the company decided on a new policy: you can’t apply for a new opening until you’ve been in your old one for one year.

Eeeeenteresting. Okay, so, they tried to soften the blow with an 8% raise. And it was nice to get, but the sales position might’ve meant as much as a 100% raise.

“Might’ve.” Here we have a bird in the hand worth two in the sales-quota sorta thing. I’m not complaining, I’m just saying they ain’t paying me what I’m worth yet. But then, I haven’t yet shown them what I’m worth, so I’m getting what I deserve.

Just not what I think I’m WORTH.

Live from Westlake Village

Move went.

(In contrast to “move went well.”)

Well, that’s ungrateful of me. Truth be told, the move DID go well, thanks in part to Lauren Woodhouse, who babysat while Rebecca and I moved, and who also helped move stuff while I took the truck back to Santa Clarita. Rebecca and I had to kneel in prayer when all was said and done, because we were so grateful the move was completed in one day, within a variety of constraints, and despite our lack of better preparation.

Rebecca’s back in Santa Clarita today, while I’m trying to listen to conference via webcast here at the office. I mean the ACTUAL office, not some nice home office. I can’t sit still and listen while I’m sitting at my desk, though. I feel like I need to be using this keyboard. Hence this entry, I suppose.

Might have some more income incoming. More later.

Yen Ying Yang: Yet Another Prozac User Starts a Blog

They say when it rains, it pours. In my experience, it rains, then the rain dries up.

I got a $750 bonus from work, which was exciting, but then I saw how much taxes took out of it. THEN I saw that there was a previously unmentioned $850 “security deposit” required at our new apartments on move-in day.

No problem! I’m getting paid $1500 up front for the development of Singlesaints Japan!

Oh, but wait. The county of Los Angeles has decided that they were kidding when they said they’d pay for my meds for the past 9 months, and now I owe them $3300.

(Of course, they don’t CALL or anything. No no, they wait til I’m at the pharmacy, and have the poor PHARMACIST try to tell me why he won’t give me my refill for my DONTGOCRAZY-pills.)

(I didn’t kill anybody. despite the fact that I was running late to pick up the moving truck for tomorrow, and had left work at 3:15, and it was now 5:15, and the truck-place across town was closing at 6:00.)

(Oh, WHY did no one die? Because I had my medication today. Fortunately for the citizens of Los Angeles, I also have enough medication to last me into next week, by which time I hope to get this stuff resolved. From my new apartment in Ventura County. With the last of my precious, precious Prozac coursing through my veins.)

I think this was originally about how money comes and goes. Anyway, I don’t think we’ll have to pay the $3300, and I’m grateful that they didn’t just place a collection on me or something and screw up my credit right before I was trying to get approved for this apartment.

Also, I hit my all-time high weight of 186 lbs yesterday. I’d weigh myself right now after a big meal, but getting up from the chair makes my heart hurt.

Wish us luck on the move!