I must tell you, I am going completely out of my mind while I'm waiting for this disability claim to be approved... I KNOW 12 pages of documentation isn't that difficult to get through - so why has it been almost a year already??
I thought bipolar disorder was a pretty cut and dry disability to have - "Hi, I'm Kim. I have bipolar disorder. Bad. I have had 43 jobs in 15 years. Obviously, I am an incompetent employee. It is due to the fact that I am nuts - can I have my check now?"
Easy, right? That's what I though too, but I guess the federal government has a different idea of what "simple" is, because they are certainly taking their sweet time. So I'm bored stiff, and broke so I pretty much have resorted to living vicariously through other people. I watch them like hawk to try and figure out what the hell they're so happy about.
A good place to do that is the mall - there are people EVERYWHERE!!!
I am, by nature, a fast walker...(quick like a bunny!); the reason why is pretty obvious. But today, I noticed that there are people out there in this fabulously crazy world who move like they've been drinking jet fuel for a completely different reason...
There were a lot of important people walking around the mall!! Walking briskly. That's the way to walk when you're wearing a suit or heels for the benefit of convincing others that you are "someone to know"... Strolling while wearing a suit makes you look like the President. He doesn't have to be brisk; everyone knows he's important. (The US president, that is. The mall president has to walk that way because he's too short to otherwise keep up with people.)
I've also noticed that putting your hands in your pants pockets while wearing a buttoned suit jacket makes you look like a lazy and/or pompus jackass, and makes me think of the word "congressman."
Don't wear a suit unless you're going to be doing something important.
If you zip zip zip down a corrider and look at your watch 3 or 4 times before you get to the end, you must be SUPER DUPER important.
It really is nice to have all these busy, important people rush by while I sit on a bench and just wonder about them... "people watching" is what my mother used to call it.
Makes me feel like a dirty hippy. I wish I had a guitar to play for them.... They probably would have thrown money at me.