Locking my previous post with a password makes it even more enticing, doesn’t it? It didn’t feel right to publicize the details of Saturday’s meeting with my landlord. Yet, I’d told so many friends about what was happening and figured creating a post would be easier than updating everybody individually. You may ask for the password if interested, but the tl;dr version is: I officially have four months to find a new home.
The more contacts I have, the better my chances are of finding a place. So, if a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of yours knows of a place I can rent, I need to know.
Onto merrier things: I started my mainland vacation with a winning attitude. As I was the last person to know when the plane was boarding, I was sure I was going to get the worst seat.
I was about to cancel today’s scheduled post until I realized that it was holiday-themed and featured Tammy, whose birthday is today. The only times I’d have fun at staff parties was with her. I’m glad she slid out of the womb all these years ago so that she could be my plus one and more!
I had an annoying start to my morning. I found out that my bank rejected my request to increase my credit limit. They’d sent me a letter last year pre-approving me for this amount; I didn’t take it because, at the time, I didn’t need that much. Well, I will need that much for my crowns in January, so I needed to either increase my credit limit or set up an appointment with the bank so that I can walk out with a briefcase full of fat stacks. Or a duffel pack, but I don’t own that either.
The annoying part was how they rejected my online request and told me to give them a call if I needed answers. 99% of the time, this leads to them making a complicated compromise for my communication needs. A commonly proposed non-solution, for instance, would have them send me forms to sign off to give someone Power of Attorney to call on my behalf. Revenu Québec, Vidéotron, and Sun Life have all proposed this infantilizing shittiness. Fuck that. I’m an adult.
How come we can file our income taxes online, which have a colossal amount of personal information, but I need working ears to communicate with banking personnel? Resistance is imminent, and it fills me with premature rage.
Within my online bank account, I also learn that Best Buy has issued me a refund for the external hard drive I’d ordered from them, for which I’d been waiting two weeks. I have been storing bytes upon bytes of personal information on Yann’s hard drive and need to take back ownership before he moves out.
His move-out date is January 1st. I don’t plan on forfeiting the security and pet deposit, so I’m aiming to be living somewhere less unaffordable by the 1st of February. Besides, midway through the month, there’s not much left but scams and studio suites in Crack Towers. I should keep trying anyway in case something for February pops up this early. Alas, 2020 isn’t the year for good fortunes.
I try to give myself a mental pep-talk every morning, like this:
Although my former domain, lkvy.com, had been killed off by 2009, I switched to LiveJournal for a few years. When I realized that the last of my friends had abandoned their LiveJournal accounts, I started using Flickr as a photo journaling platform, adding titles and descriptions to every photo uploaded. That is until Flickr changed their layout to hide the titles and descriptions. I agree that the current layout is more aesthetically pleasing, but it was hiding all the work I had put into curating my life. Fuck!
Oh, and, despite uploading atrocities like this, my Flickr collection has more than half a million views. It’s baffling. But! I’m finally uploading the rest of my 2019 Patagonia trip photos. I think all the photos from the Valdes Peninsula portion of the trip are up now. So, you can ohh and ahh at them after you read something I wrote on my LiveJournal eight years ago.
We are the Champions has taught me that if you’re a yoyo legend, you could monetize your face by printing it on t-shirts to sell online, and your merch shop would be so popular that things sell out!
I would not want to see my face on someone’s shirt; thus, I won’t be picking up this under-appreciated hobby. For royalties, though, I could accept my face being printed on underwear, assuming I won’t ever have to see it. Do whatever you want with my face as long as it’s out of my face.