Patient Readers, good day...
So I spent Monday and Tuesday moving. What a hassle that was. We all know how deeply and fully and voraciously moving SUCKS, right? It was and still is a Comedy of Errors, this Moving Experience, in that there is a sober procession of left hands not knowing what right hands are doing.
I am a student as you all may or may not know. Yes, at 44 years of age I have decided to leave neurosciences and the idiot bureaucrats inherent to the field of medicine, and move on to the more antisocial field of computers.
I only bring this up because it is pertinent to the story, so please Patient Reader, continue extending your patience.
As a full-time student who is not currently employed, I am relying on student loans and grants. And donations... hint hint-HA HA!
This means that I run out of funds quickly. Well, I have been working with a large donation-based corporate entity regarding a loan to move into a new apartment. Said entity, or really, the financial manager, and I had an agreement worked out for an apartment managed through them. Someone along the chain of command was not informed of this, and he moved ahead making plans for an apt not involved with this entity, but another well-known charitable organization.
This individual kept assuring me that things were in the works, until a final, definite date emerged, which was to be the day before yesterday, 09 September, which was a Monday.
The Friday before (in the midst of Shmanielle, Part I) the non-Financial Manager person told me to get ready, that I would indeed be moving after the weekend. Imagine my excitement. Then he asked me how much money I had... Imagine my delation(?) (We'll go with deflation since it is a real word- I like to make up my own words, play with them, like painus, which should be perceived as Pain-In-The-Ass...)
But I digress. "I have no money, Sir "(I paraphrase, slightly), "an agreement has been reached between John (Fin Mgr) and myself." I'll continue to call him John since that is his name.
Not John began flipping the eff out. "What do you mean you have no money? You knew about this move for a few weeks, now."
And this is true. But again, I had an arrangement made with John to catch up in all arrearage when my student $$$ came in, sometime in Oct or Nov. Remember, NOT- John moved on an apt not affiliated under the umbrella of John-ness. Fortunately, the man Above John, we'll call him Spaul (because his real name, though fairly common, is not as common as John is) decided to front me the cash, anyway. Spaul is a mensch, If I may borrow some Yiddish.
The new apartment has no Internet connected yet, as I have yet been able to afford the fees therein, so I have no way of checking email. I am only able to post these posts thanks to free WI-Fi afforded me by the kindness of the City Library.
I checked my email yesterday and Lo and Behold, Shmanielle (yes, I told you I'd eventually get back to the topic at hand, suggested by the Post Title) had emailed me, explaining that the text plan on her phone had expired for the month. So all my defensive posturing on the previous post was for naught. In my defense, however, there is a reason I am jaded and more and more antisocial as society encroaches upon my mellow. You'll see.
She apologized profusely enough and said she hoped to see me at the next meeting. Unfortunately, I missed that meeting due to my moving into the new digs, see? But I managed to reply to her email and things are back on track. (side note: it turns out she can still make and receive calls telephonically, as it is only the text feature on her phone service that has been temporarily disabled. I told her, for future reference, that she should maybe give me a phone call if we ever found ourselves in another, similar situation.)
If you remember my earlier post regarding my feelings, logical opinions perhaps is a better phrase, I have no intentions of taking this relationship too awfully seriously. Remember Love= Giraffe= Infinite Definitions= Shoe= No Definition At All . . . etc.
Do not despair however, Patient Reader. I fully intend to disclose my intentions, or lack thereof, when we finally meet face to face and can have a private and intimate conversation without a bunch of group members sitting about pretending to be Not-Listening. And if it makes, y'all feel better about the whole thing, I believe her intentions are roughly the same as mine.
And to the Saker soaring about somewhere out there in the desert sky, if that crazy lady, pretty lady is reading this, well then . . . I don't ever say, "I told you so," and I don't like people who do, but . . . I told you so . . . (more on the Saker as the blog progresses).
Wish me luck, Patient Reader, for the Face-to-Face with Shmanielle is tentatively set for tonight.
In case you were wondering, the loan given me by the first entity is several times the amount upon which we had initially agreed. They also intend to loan me the rent for October (in addition to the pro-rated rent for Sept. and the security deposit, etc.) since my student $$$ will hit after the rent is already due.
To their credit, and as a testimony to them, this is an unexpected and quite humbling kindness on their part. Of course I intend to repay them in full, in one lump sum upon receipt of my funds, but to do what they did and plan on doing still speaks volumes of John and Spaul, do they not? And all of this on a handshake. Good men, they. Very rarely does one see such a generous display of faith in another, and even more rare, such a kindness is extended to me.
Well, that's all for now . . .
So stay tuned, faithful, Patient Reader, for the next installment of Shmanielle; my recent doctor visits and how someone, via Kismet, made me and said lovely female doctor, a 97% match; keep posted on new songs I have written (I plan to connect this blog with my band's [Feed Your Id] website), new poems, new short stories (there's an interesting, I think, story coming up on my old friend Heidi that I'll share with you in the next posting or so) and the other minutiae of my boring and exciting existence here on planet Earth.
PS: Due to discretion, I texted a fellow group member and asked that he relay a message to Shmanielle, stating I had the "information she wanted regarding that medical question," and if maybe he could lend her his phone so she could call me for it. (this was before I learned she could still make and take calls on her cell.) He said Yes, that he would pass it on. So he goes into the meeting (I am told late last night when Shmanielle finally called) and announces in front of everyone: (Cunning Fennec Fox) wants you to call him when we're all done here . . ." Shmanielle said it sounded like Jr. High School with all their oohs and ohs and ahhs . . . So much for discretion. Thanks Tyler*!
*remember, names have been changed to protect the guilty
So I spent Monday and Tuesday moving. What a hassle that was. We all know how deeply and fully and voraciously moving SUCKS, right? It was and still is a Comedy of Errors, this Moving Experience, in that there is a sober procession of left hands not knowing what right hands are doing.
I am a student as you all may or may not know. Yes, at 44 years of age I have decided to leave neurosciences and the idiot bureaucrats inherent to the field of medicine, and move on to the more antisocial field of computers.
I only bring this up because it is pertinent to the story, so please Patient Reader, continue extending your patience.
As a full-time student who is not currently employed, I am relying on student loans and grants. And donations... hint hint-HA HA!
This means that I run out of funds quickly. Well, I have been working with a large donation-based corporate entity regarding a loan to move into a new apartment. Said entity, or really, the financial manager, and I had an agreement worked out for an apartment managed through them. Someone along the chain of command was not informed of this, and he moved ahead making plans for an apt not involved with this entity, but another well-known charitable organization.
This individual kept assuring me that things were in the works, until a final, definite date emerged, which was to be the day before yesterday, 09 September, which was a Monday.
The Friday before (in the midst of Shmanielle, Part I) the non-Financial Manager person told me to get ready, that I would indeed be moving after the weekend. Imagine my excitement. Then he asked me how much money I had... Imagine my delation(?) (We'll go with deflation since it is a real word- I like to make up my own words, play with them, like painus, which should be perceived as Pain-In-The-Ass...)
But I digress. "I have no money, Sir "(I paraphrase, slightly), "an agreement has been reached between John (Fin Mgr) and myself." I'll continue to call him John since that is his name.
Not John began flipping the eff out. "What do you mean you have no money? You knew about this move for a few weeks, now."
And this is true. But again, I had an arrangement made with John to catch up in all arrearage when my student $$$ came in, sometime in Oct or Nov. Remember, NOT- John moved on an apt not affiliated under the umbrella of John-ness. Fortunately, the man Above John, we'll call him Spaul (because his real name, though fairly common, is not as common as John is) decided to front me the cash, anyway. Spaul is a mensch, If I may borrow some Yiddish.
The new apartment has no Internet connected yet, as I have yet been able to afford the fees therein, so I have no way of checking email. I am only able to post these posts thanks to free WI-Fi afforded me by the kindness of the City Library.
I checked my email yesterday and Lo and Behold, Shmanielle (yes, I told you I'd eventually get back to the topic at hand, suggested by the Post Title) had emailed me, explaining that the text plan on her phone had expired for the month. So all my defensive posturing on the previous post was for naught. In my defense, however, there is a reason I am jaded and more and more antisocial as society encroaches upon my mellow. You'll see.
She apologized profusely enough and said she hoped to see me at the next meeting. Unfortunately, I missed that meeting due to my moving into the new digs, see? But I managed to reply to her email and things are back on track. (side note: it turns out she can still make and receive calls telephonically, as it is only the text feature on her phone service that has been temporarily disabled. I told her, for future reference, that she should maybe give me a phone call if we ever found ourselves in another, similar situation.)
If you remember my earlier post regarding my feelings, logical opinions perhaps is a better phrase, I have no intentions of taking this relationship too awfully seriously. Remember Love= Giraffe= Infinite Definitions= Shoe= No Definition At All . . . etc.
Do not despair however, Patient Reader. I fully intend to disclose my intentions, or lack thereof, when we finally meet face to face and can have a private and intimate conversation without a bunch of group members sitting about pretending to be Not-Listening. And if it makes, y'all feel better about the whole thing, I believe her intentions are roughly the same as mine.
And to the Saker soaring about somewhere out there in the desert sky, if that crazy lady, pretty lady is reading this, well then . . . I don't ever say, "I told you so," and I don't like people who do, but . . . I told you so . . . (more on the Saker as the blog progresses).
Wish me luck, Patient Reader, for the Face-to-Face with Shmanielle is tentatively set for tonight.
In case you were wondering, the loan given me by the first entity is several times the amount upon which we had initially agreed. They also intend to loan me the rent for October (in addition to the pro-rated rent for Sept. and the security deposit, etc.) since my student $$$ will hit after the rent is already due.
To their credit, and as a testimony to them, this is an unexpected and quite humbling kindness on their part. Of course I intend to repay them in full, in one lump sum upon receipt of my funds, but to do what they did and plan on doing still speaks volumes of John and Spaul, do they not? And all of this on a handshake. Good men, they. Very rarely does one see such a generous display of faith in another, and even more rare, such a kindness is extended to me.
Well, that's all for now . . .
So stay tuned, faithful, Patient Reader, for the next installment of Shmanielle; my recent doctor visits and how someone, via Kismet, made me and said lovely female doctor, a 97% match; keep posted on new songs I have written (I plan to connect this blog with my band's [Feed Your Id] website), new poems, new short stories (there's an interesting, I think, story coming up on my old friend Heidi that I'll share with you in the next posting or so) and the other minutiae of my boring and exciting existence here on planet Earth.
PS: Due to discretion, I texted a fellow group member and asked that he relay a message to Shmanielle, stating I had the "information she wanted regarding that medical question," and if maybe he could lend her his phone so she could call me for it. (this was before I learned she could still make and take calls on her cell.) He said Yes, that he would pass it on. So he goes into the meeting (I am told late last night when Shmanielle finally called) and announces in front of everyone: (Cunning Fennec Fox) wants you to call him when we're all done here . . ." Shmanielle said it sounded like Jr. High School with all their oohs and ohs and ahhs . . . So much for discretion. Thanks Tyler*!
*remember, names have been changed to protect the guilty
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