The electricity bill arrived a week ago and has been paid. It was down by almost one hundred dollars. The speakers on the computer were removed and stored, electric radio alarm clock was stored and just the battery clock used. This seemed to be enough with all the other things and it is the first downward motion on the account for years. It is an important change. While it is still too high it is back into the zone where it can be paid without any desperation. It means the lights can be run over the drawings without the stress of knowing I might be sinking my budget every time I draw at night. The worst of the big bills has started to drain out of my bank account and it is easier to plan a budget again. The feeling of not having any control and running beyond the edge of what you can pay for is unsettling and bitter. (As you know)
A letter came from Transport regarding my application for their subsidy. Their letter wanted me to provide a letter from whatever specialist I am seeing describing my situation. This is a really important request because this factor is exactly the one I have been going all over the Central Coast to try and get. After twenty years with everybody who matters supporting me it has become obvious there is no such document and there is nobody able to provide it. The transport subsidy officer has to know that.
What he should also know and what I reminded him in a letter is people who had accidents disabling them forty years ago are very rarely seeing a specialist for that. I offered to provide letters from the other disciplines who are dealing with outcomes spreading from those injuries as well as from age. That would be everyone from the heart surgeon to the podiatrist and the psychologist, forensic psychiatrist, neurologist and a few others. Then I rang the ombudsman for assistance because the time I was given before the account was shut off was only until the end of the month. That is too short a time to get a specialist appointment and who shuts off subsidy requests after asking for more information anyway? So it appeared to be another beat up by the state government. The Ombudsman was moving to assist me but someone in the transport office read my letter and sent me the slips for the taxi. The initial officer sent me a letter that he needed more from me and I could see my doctor but as I have the subsidy in hand I declined to go further into the process. My doctor has seen me four times this month already.
Another NSW Transport office sent me a letter demanding a doctor’s report! The service supplying the photo ID for the use of disability parking now wants a doctors report as that is due for renewal too. I am really sick of providing rotating doctor’s reports to all these services all year long and every year. I am not supposed to be an administrative genius with a full office works by my door. I am a crippled person. My way of saying this is that if my ability to provide paperwork fades because I become even more sick there will be a fat smelly corpse looking a lot like me on the side of the road with no way home. The idea seems to be the carers supplied by NDIS step up to become secretaries as well as nurses and transporters and at great cost to the community it should be said!
The drawing of Mirel is well underway and about to be mounted on foam-core and then some mount-board over it to protect it. I was looking forward to making the fine hairs but the paper used holds the graphite and defeats the little eraser so I will move to another finish before it is damaged. The skin is slowly becoming wrinkled and soft looking and very beautiful.
The 180gm cold press paper turned out to be too soft and the “tooth” too deep for the style of drawing the face is being done with. The deeper texture catches more of the graphite and negates some handling of skin features and fine hairs.
I started a “Psychology of Art” course in a university in California but have stopped. The text was extensive and filled with terminology needing to be understood. I have long thought that psychology was work of witch doctors and the extensive use of multiple complex terms hid the fact they didn’t have answers but would keep charging clients anyway. I thought I had wanted to move towards a PHD in the subject of poverty and the way it doesn’t affect most Australian’s psychology of art but what I am drawn to would be a PHD or similar where the major concept was art, disability, welfare, suburban realities and poverty. I own that one and would like to create a historical marker before the political need to deny all the abuse makes it disappear. It could extend to a “psychology of” if a second writer with a degree in psychology co-wrote the thesis
The psychologist is supposed to be seeing me on Monday and I have a growing anxiety. I cannot imagine someone from these generations and having their mind formed into the reality provided by this place and emphasized by television would actually be able to put themselves mentally into the life experiences I need to talk about. I am imagining much resistance and misunderstanding. Much working around feminist misgivings and myths! It isn’t helping me sleep
A couple of posts back I mentioned how part of my foot and toes went purple and scared me because I was worried about amputation because of diabetes. At that moment my close friend, Kay, was in hospital going through the terrifying reality of having part of her foot amputated. I found out last week after my own scare and the black and purple was all gone from my foot. I wonder if there was some psychic sympathy? There must have been!
The heat is coming. I need to be working over more than one drawing at a time if anything is going to be finished before it is too hot! I spend a lot of time sitting and trying to find energy for simple chores still. It is better than it was but the brutality of the heat in here will soon sap the last of any strength when it comes.
My brother is supposed to be riding his motorbike with his wife up the coast to near here after attending some functions. Last night a guy his age was killed and a woman injured north of here near Cessnock. There cannot be that many 59 y/o guys rumbling around the countryside so I am worried. Fortunately he left me a message saying I didnt even know how old he was!
Some people who see the grim look on my face suggest I listen to Monty Python’s “always look on the bright side of life”. I thank them because they are wonderful to be concerned but until I have things that matter under control I am adrift in a painful place and that song is a Monty Python song. They were comedians!