In trying to sort out this mortgage, I have spent painstaking hours on the phone between Equifax, Fico, and my auto finance company trying to convince someone, anyone, to listen and help me to get my payments showing on mine and Tom's credit report so we can get approved for a loan. This is a frustrating process regardless, but the fact that I'm having to deal with calling India, every time I call Equifax just serves to make the process even more difficult. The thing that amazes me is that somehow no matter who I speak to, they have an American name. I never get a Raj, Vijay, or Indira. Instead I get Mary, Joe, and Chris. Even when Chris pronounces his name "Curse", I'm not supposed to question it. I'm not sure what the purpose of assigning these monikers to the call center reps is, it certainly doesn't trick me into thinking I'm talking to someone in West Virginia.
I understand that in order to save money so much has to be outsourced to India where the exchange rate is good and the work is cheap, but it'd be nice if I could speak to someone for which my responses weren't being translated and then a script being read in response. Especially when it comes to my credit report. This is serious stuff yet someone who works for far less than $8 an hour is expected to give me meaningful responses to my queries. I surely pity the poor sap who has his identity stolen, as I can't clear up even the most minor of issues.
It really chaps my ass that my credit report, one of the most instrumental things in helping me to attain life goals, is help in the hands of people who probably don't even understand the way credit works in America. All the time I have spent on the phone and yet I stil know absolutely nothing about the way this reporting system really works. I am starting to think the whole thing is a racket. No one can give a finite answer to anything and while my credit rating goes into the toilet over minor errors, I can hear the sitar playing in background at the call center while Mary and Chris discuss in Farsi how royally screwed I am.
Let me get this straight, I have nothing against Indian people, but when the unemployment rate hovers at 12% in the states, people are starving, and I can't get aynthing better than a preformulated answer from a script, I have to ask myself who really loses?
Now, I must go, the latest bollywood film is on, and my curry is getting cold.
Upon spending the night in angst wondering if I would spend it the way I did last night....up all night, tossing and turning, stressing that my little one was finally in her own, big girl, room. I decided to relax with a Cuba Libre and think about how this journey has been.
Before becoming "mommy" I played many parts. The angsty teen, the independant lady, the hysterical lovestruck dame, the drunken party girl, the wallowing despondant, then finally the baffled and moody pregnant woman. Each of these rles didn't quite fit, but they fit at the time. Finding my identity was a process of epic proportions. Each taught me a bit about people, a bit about life, a bit about myself. Each inched me closer to something. whether that something be eternal despair or exhillarated triumph was anyone's guess. But I find that they all are small, if fragmented, pieces of the whole.
A friend reminded me today of a place I was in my life not long ago. A place where I was loved, but still not fully "me". A place where I was out of place although my situation was bordering on perfect. I found myself back in that place while attempting to console her and I remembered just the depth of my self-disdain. I've come a long road since then. I have achieved more in my interpersonal life than I ever thought I was capable of. I have become a woman I never thought I would be, inside and out. And I realize how far from the depths I started in, I have rised.
I think it is only through our tests and trials. Our moments of giving up. Our moments of fleeting fullment that somehow leave us empty. And then our finally making the attempt to see in ourselves what it is so many others see in us that we gain some sort of steady ground. That we finally say "Life...it ain't so bad", and, perhaps more importantly, "Fuck YoU!" to the haters. And by haters, I refer to anyone that makes us think we can't do it. Even if those haters are pieces of ourselves.
I hurt for my friend, because I was there and I know how real it is, and how despairing. But I also smile for her because I know that she is well on her way to a kind of contentment that I never knew I could feel. And I think the only reason that it is SO real for me as it is, is because the reality of the despair I felt before didn't fade, but only serves to underline the sheer joy that coming out on the other side of it can be.
To get there is to finally see the solace and peace that life was meant to be. But the journey, long and arduous as it is, is perhaps the greatest and most profound that life can offer, as it becomes your measuring stick for how very far you have come, and how good it feels on that other side.
Lots has changed in the D. household in the last few weeks. Namely, the sleep situation. If you remember I was pulling my newly grayed hair out over the sleep, or lack thereof that had been occuring, oh, just since Lyla was a neonate. Since I last wrote it has gotten better and better. Now she usually goes to sleep within seconds to minutes with very little, if any, crying. And I can assure you, there is a lot less crying in our household overall (from me as well!). Also she's now sleeping through the night from 8:30 - 6 then nursing for 10 minutes and sleeping till 8:30...can I get an A-MEN?!? I am suddenly discovering what its like not to be teetering on the brink of meltdown everyday, and I must say, it's quite enjoyable.
The other big news around here is that we put an offer on a house (eek!) It's absolutely gorgeous and as long as the mortgage works out, it looks like we may get it! Unfortunately, the mortgage is a big source of stress around here. Tom is English. Tom doesn't have a credit score. Tom has credit originating from the car we bought in December. The payments STILL aren't showing up. I have called everyone and their mother at Equifax and Toyota and asserted that ignorant people in India and dumbasses in Alabama are both a huge source of disdain for me. We are now PAYING to put these things on our credit report. Thanks a LOT Toyota! Bastards. Lame.
But hopefully we shall find out by Wed if that gives Tom a credit score and if we can get a mortgage. Here's some pics of the house...I will be so bummed if we don't get it because I seriously want to make out with the back yard. Seriously.
And, perhaps most important: I made carrot cake. from scratch. That's right, what started out as a bunch of carrots and flour and sugar, etc, became a moist delicious cake that was nothing if not profoundly spiritual. I decided to make the cake due to three carrots residing in my fridge for far too long... I am concerned that if I continue this line of thought my next cake will be a green pepper/red onion cake. I don't think even Martha Stewart could pull that one off. However this cake was amazeballs! Enjoy the yummy picture below. 
Hungry?
That's all for now. Stay classy San diego.
