I opened up my blog page today, and it yelled at me. It said, "I am neglected! I long for your bullshit!" It feels like it's been a while since I've posted anything beyond a picture or two, and while the main reason for this is that I tend to avoid the internet whenever I'm going through a period of major stress (yes, I do care about your well-being and don't want to bring you down; also I want to protect the innocent), it adds up to a big fat goose egg in terms of posting. My apologies for the lack of content.
Celebrating...
My bankruptcy is one step closer to being filed. I normally wouldn't divulge this information in such a public forum - not because I'm embarassed, but because it's simply no one's business but my own - but I post this hoping it may help someone else out there who is filing or thinking of filing (I would recommend Bruce Lanser as an attorney if you are in Milwaukee - good man). Bankruptcy, thanks to our Congress, is as of last week much harder to file if you're an Average Joe like myself. I don't know what the new laws are exactly, but I've been told that the bottom line is that Chapter Seven bankruptcy (which I'm filing) will be only for extreme cases, and that in most cases, people will be forced to pay off a minimum of $5,000 of their debt in a Chapter 13 (11?) bankruptcy. Here's where I insert a HUGE THANK YOU to my mom and to Greg for helping me get the retainer in so quickly - I mailed it in the same day that Congress took their vote (wiping sweat from brow...). Thanks also to Chris for being so helpful in providing information and recommending Bruce. Kudos to you, buddy. If I remember correctly, Chris's specialty in law is wrongful termination of employment. Insert enthusiastic recommendation here (that's Christopher J. Johnson).
While sparing you of all of the excruciating details of dollar amounts, etc., I do want to say that filing has so far been surprisingly easy. I met with an attorney, got the basic info, made my decision, and mailed him a check for the retainer fee and court costs. Last week, I got a detailed letter in the mail requesting my financial information (income, expenses, assets, accounts, etc.), and once I mail that back to him, I will be given a court date. Then I simply show up and cross my fingers, hoping that whatever judge my case is assigned to will look upon me favorably ("Have you seen my daughter, Your Honor? Look at that face! Maddiesweetie, quick, say something cute.") and grant me the right to move on with my life, lesson learned.
Truth be told, my overall debt is not much compared to most people who file - under $15,000, not counting student loans, which aren't eligible to be cleared in a bankruptcy. But when you take into consideration that my minimum monthly payment on the credit card portion of that debt is probably (I haven't done the math yet) about 25% of my income, plus the fact that I haven't even been able to pay anything on the rest of the debt (day care), plus cost of living, child care expenses, etc... Well, you get the point. I've been robbing Judas to pay Peter to request a deference fom Paul for over two years, and needless to say, I am PRAYING, literally, PRAYING that this bankruptcy will be honored. The light at the end of the tunnel has finally been sighted, and I'm beginning to feel the first faint little glimmer of hope that my days of financial... well, drowning, are coming to an end. There's a little bubbly air pocket around here somewhere, and I'm gonna find it. Amen.
All that said, if anyone reading this has questions regarding bankruptcy, please do not hesitate to contact me. Not because I'm an expert - I'm not at all - but because I'm actually doing it and may be able to answer some questions in a non-judgmental way, with no stick up the ass whatsoever. Just wanted to put that out there.
In other news... Because I am not a heroin-addicted rock star, I have been allowed to see my 27th birthday come and go without any subsequent gunshots to the head or overdoses, whether accidental or intentional. I was talking to Greg the other day about a woman I used to babysit for, and at that time, I remember thinking she was so... not old, but definitely a capital-A Adult. I was 12. She was a 27-year-old mother of a 2-year-old at the time. And now here I am, only my daughter is two years older than hers was. Weird.
I do feel a little different. For whatever reason, I have always equated the age of 27 with Official Adulthood, much in the same way many people view 30. There is Officially No More Fucking Around when you're 27. Get Your Shit Together, 'Cause You're Not Going to Get Any Younger. When I bought nicotine patches at Walgreen's last night, the register automatically prompted the clerk, "ID if under age 27." THAT'S NOT ME ANYMORE! She took one look at me and went straight to the cash drawer. "Don't need to card this one. She's 27."
People often ask me at work how old I am. "26." And they get this sort of, "Oh, you're borderline," look on their faces: Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman. Uh-uh. No more of that shit. 27, bitch. I know who I am and I know what I want. And you ain't it.
There is no longer any justification for my not owning and carrying a purse. What if my daughter had an accident? I'd need her medical card! What if I get raped in an alley?! I need my "In Case of Emergency, Notify..." card! What if I decide to stop by Target on the way home from the HiFi?! I NEED MY TARGET GIFT CARD! What if I decide to stop by Greg's house, drunk on a Wednesday night, on my way home from work?! I NEED MY KEY CARD!
Which brings up another topic: There is Officially No More Getting Drunk on Wednesdays. On occasion, fine. Generally speaking, no. I must say I've been really good about this these last few months. Correct me if I'm wrong, (ahem, Greg), but I'm getting pretty tame in my old age (cough). Rarely do I order a pint simply because I know the taps are there and functioning. I actually think about it. And you know what? Sometimes, I really don't want a pint! Sometimes I want wine. Most of the time, however, I just want a glass of water. With a lemon. And maybe a hot toddie before bed. THAT'S RIGHT. I WANT LEMON WITH MY WATER. No longer do I roll my eyes at the patrons who request this. Now, when a woman says to me, "...with a lemon. And I'd like my dressing on the side," I simply think, "Fair play. You know what you want. Good for you, sista." And I walk off to fetch her lemon.
Oh, and I might be going to Ireland again this year. And this time? I'm actually going to read whatever book I bring. And take lots of walks. And not drink any of that crazy French shit that got me all fucked up and proclaiming to Greg (and the entire Midland region), "YOU HAVE TO MARRY ME!" on the front steps of Castledaly Manor.
Fetching a lemon, humility intact...
Posted by stephanie at March 23, 2005 11:55 AM