Indignity

Indignity #1

I was let go and I lost my job. Bleah.

Indignity #2

Last night I was walking up Haight street when I passed a young guy who was holding a cardboard sign that said "I bet you a dollar you will read this sign." Though I sometimes give a dollar to a young woman who sings, I didn't hand the man my money. I passed him, and when I passed something sharp struck me in the middle of my back. It was the sign. The dude had chucked his sign at me with all his might. I stopped and turned around. He eventually said he was sorry. As if throwing something at me was a complete accident. I told him that he should be sorry, but I didn't feel any better afterwards.

Indignity #3

It wasn't like I wanted to stick my feet in stirrups and have someone poke around at my cervix, which is its own special kind of indignity, though necessary, sure. Nor was I looking forward to having my boobs smashed flat between two metal plates. But I figured I should get this shit taken care of while I have time off.

And OF COURSE when I showed up for my doctor's appointment, I got the usual message that Kaiser Permanente's records still did not show that I am covered. So I spent several hours there in the hospital being told to call various people who would, in turn, tell me a number of conflicting stories about what they did and did not recieve from me, from my ex-employer, from Kaiser, from COBRA. After a certain point I wound up being told to call people I'd already spoken to, the very people who'd already said they couldn't help me.

COBRA has confirmed that they recieved my payment for October 1-31, and the substantial check I wrote them has been cashed. My formet HR person has confirmed that she faxed (& received confirmation that she faxed) proof that I'd made that necessary payment. And Kaiser finally confirmed that they had received all of the necessary paperwork.

Still, though, their computer continues to say that I am not covered, and that is a problem.

During the course of these phone calls I knew I was getting testy, but it's so frustrating to be given the runaround. One of the customer service reps at the COBRA office actually hung up on me (after telling me that I had to get back in line at the Kaiser help desk and, once I made it to the front of the line, ask them once again for help because the Kaiser employee who'd originally "helped" me by giving me COBRA's number? well, she was misinformed).

This is the second time this month that I've had to cancel and reschedule my appointment. I couldn't get another appointment until mid-November. Maybe by then, Kaiser will have updated its computer to say that I have made the October payment that I did indeed make, approximately three weeks ago, a payment that took more than one week's unemployment check to cover. By that time, of course, I will have made my payment for November, and who knows, perhaps I'll be right where I started, having once again paid more than 35% of my current monthly income for coverage that I will not be allowed to use.

Conclusion

Today I feel tapped out. I honestly don't think I have anything in me to give to any other person. I understand that many of us are going through hard times, that many of us are hurting right now, that many of us could use a little help. I wish I could do more, but I simply can't. Not right now. If anyone crosses me today, I will kick her or his ass. I am angry. I am so angry, I can't even express it.

P.S.

But you can still join my commune.

Scary Rabbits

Well, sweetses, this has been one hectic month.

I’ve been thinking about this city I live in. Maybe you’ve heard about San Francisco's Mayor Gavin Newsom, with his velveteen hair? Scandalous!

And I have moved into a straightish neighborhood swarming with young Caucasian men who are fifteen years younger than I. My 'hood is chock full of junkies and astoundingly stupid (judging from theif cell phone conversations) college kids who like to drink booze in sports bars disguised as Irish bars, and prefect healthy couples walking perfect healthy dogs with silken hair. I have no idea what to make of all this, but I hope the little businesses in the neighborhood are thriving.

There are places I’d go just because of the incredible window displays. Such as the window at Grin And Wear It on 735 Haight. They have a ten-foot tall window with the most amazing Easter display featuring three life-size mannequins in costume.



The mannequin to the far left stands by himself, for he’s the silent type you’ve seen in old Westerns, a philosopher with a creed. His torso is encased in orange felt. From the orange felt body emerge the legs, arms, and face of the wearer, a painted model wearing fishnets and a rubber half-mask that has one large, yellow eye embedded in the forehead. At first I thought he was supposed to look like a habanero pepper – but that would be illogical, given the context. No, this, my friends, is not a pepper, but a carrot.



To the right of the carrot man are two mannequins in furry rabbit outfits. As you may or may not know, I’m a fan of scary rabbits, which have been underutilized (my New Future Husband, David Lynch, uses them in Inland Empire, and you’ve seen Donny Darko and Sexy Beat, yes?). One of the rabbits in the window I’m describing wears a pink costume, and the most terrifying thing about him is his stance: his hands rest on his coquettishly cocked hips while he grins down at the viewer with an expression both cruel and joyous. Really, he’s posing much too realistically, and it’s the juxtaposition of the real and the fake that frightens me. I’d rather not know what's making him so happy, as I’m sure it’s heinous.



The other rabbit has wide eyes, long lashes, and buck teeth. This rabbit’s head is something you might have seen when you were a young child, watching a parade. Psychologically damaging, a source of phobias and recurring nightmares, each of us has an image we'll never shake. The rabbit in the display holds one of the crepe paper flowers that graces the land of this window, enormous things with rubber Dick Cheney masks at their centers.



Suspended above the rabbits is a lacy parasol, and you might have noticed the wires? You can't see this in the pictures I took, but flashes of light shoot through the wires, creating a lightning storm effect.

I only wish that from my own window I could watch this display change and evolve. But I guess it's good for me to get out on the street and photograph things at night while angry homeless men brush up against me, mumbling veiled threats. At times like these, I start to think that these beautiful windows were decorated just for me, and then I feel less alone in the city, and more priveleged. Because it's nice to know that someone out there shares my nightmares.