Tuesday, March 21, 2023

[1030] A Short Walk To Work

You know, I’ve been perfectly fine all day. I’ve been a bit tired, but had decent groups, am fed, the weather improved, my water is mostly back and I can use my shower and toilet again, and I did a mini construction thing to protect some water lines. Then, I checked my email.

I’ve emailed the probation departments of the state. I sent the first one Friday, the next one today. The second I treated as though I had received a number of responses and wished to answer questions in bulk. I got one response so far. It’s from the director of Rush County asking to be removed from my distribution list.

Rush County is small, rural, and exactly the type of place that a place like Groups tries to account for. Perhaps, in a world I’ve never encountered, everyone on probation is having their needs met in Rush County. Perhaps, relative to any other county in Indiana with the methamphetamine and fentanyl problems, Rush manages to escape the worst. Perhaps, and my suspicion, the attitude of a person in charge of probation in a rural Indiana county is not the kind of person to entertain anything beyond their version of “help,” “service,” or “accountability.”

There’s a certain kind of brazen crazy you need to adopt to maintain yourself in the social work world. There’s another kind you need to be an entrepreneur. There’s another to empathize and emulate the insecure backward “conservative” fear and power games of Hilljackistan. Mind you, it manifests in different ways no matter where you’re from, but your hurdle is never a question of whether you have the credentials, capacity, or good intentions. Your hurdle is an innate suspicion and pretention that anything they’re not familiar with is going to threaten their power, control, or what they can anticipate.

This is why you have to call “everyone,” meet in person, and let things develop in a way that doesn’t suggest you are too thirsty. For whatever reason, say the abject depravity and disregard of your average person, the go-getter or do-gooder or highly capable is default treated with derision until the direct benefit of their presence is felt. After all, until then, I’m just in it for the money, right?

I know, personally, over years, this state is wildly underserved. That any director of anything, ever, would ask to be removed from an email list before they would bother to ask a question reminds me of the “leadership” of DCS. Put that aside, your pithy contention or moral or perspective, and do things like I say. At some level, it’s an impossible barrier. But, the more people you connect with, and the more you’re able to let the work speak for itself, those people rot in their self-righteous holes as you grow around them.

You don’t want to believe the world is as shit as it is. Most people aren’t people. Most are pathological egomaniacs in suicidal races to the bottom barely refraining from turning feral at the full moon. It’s why so many who’ve been resigned to their fate “wish me luck” with everything I’m trying to do. We know it intuitively takes luck or an insane capitalistic resolve because nothing is designed to enable and genuinely help or fix something for more than a moment if the wrong people aren’t watching.

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I hadn’t written in a while because things are “good.” I’m busy with shows. I’m not thinking too hard about my job. Consciously making the decision to stop pitting my desire to quit against the debt I’m amassing to have fun and own cool things helped. Investing in a means of getting people to pay us directly went decently far. Of course, there’s always something lingering. My friend asked me if I would really feel free enough once I was making a certain amount of money. I enthusiastically said yes. I know when I’ve felt more or less free and why. The less things I “have to” think about verses “want to” think about speaks to that immensely. When I’ve got the bills paid 100 years in advance, every insurance possible, and get to play all day, that will be better than the regal debt and choppy car and niceties of maintaining a professional demeanor for never-enough money at a time.

I’m still watching. I’ve still got things to complain about. I still mourn the loss of opportunity in every unanswered call or invitation. My business partner is still perpetually on the verge of a heart attack. Our client base is as reliable across frustrating metrics as they are any other. I still have a dozen “little things” like shows not starting on time, getting charged more than I’m due, unfixed potholes, ill-temperatured buildings, ashyness and itchiness, and technology gripes. But the overall path feels as accessible as it possibly can without an aggressive advertising campaign and visits to various offices.

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I’ve bought the parts to my new computer and have yet to put it together. It’s going to take focus, prep, and several hours for me to not feel like I’m about to break something. My best guess is I’ll make my attempt next Saturday. I’m already psychologically comfortable with spending 2-3K on an acoustic/electric guitar if it plays like I want it to. It really does feel like fate that the giant guitar store is located 7 minutes away from the comedy spot I’m heading to in Fort Wayne. I’m also likely going to get the wood to complete at least the basic shell of my wood shop. I’ll do both of those things before I pay for more rolfing, which is far and away the cheapest option with a high positive emotion payout and impact on overall health, but still so fancy for a basic budget boy like myself.

At 20 clients, I make as much as I do at Groups. That could be 20 hours of individual, or 2 groups a week. At 40 clients, I’m paying off my maxed-out credit card every month and a half. There are 92 counties in Indiana, 1 wholly opposed to even being contacted so far, and 5 people circling us from the surrounding area. We’ve had 1 person pay, 1 say they could tomorrow, 1 on Thursday, and I’ve 2 transferring to our company from the Groups I already hold. This feels doable. In spite of my wretched state, fascist country, and overall painfully violent and tortured perspective regarding the people in my field who profess to care, this feels doable. The math makes sense, because fuck my feelings. Me and Hussain alone could meet the lowest practical bar. Entertaining some state-wide critical mass or legitimacy isn’t the goal. Developing 20 relationships is.

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