  K, so found a job i want, applied, and now I'm waiting. Waiting. WAITING. Seems to be the tune in which I'm dancing to lately. This one is a literacy co-ordinator about forty minutes' commute away. Sounds like an amazing job, and it is something that I'm qualified for. Then again, that's how I felt about the last zillion or so jobs I've applied for. The devious plan I mentioned before is now out of my hands, so I suppose now I can divulge it - I've applied, with the help of a case worker, to the Disabilities Fund; a project that is designed to help disabled people achieve career goals through funding.
If I got it, I'd be able to finish my university degree, and They would also arrange for a modest sum of money as well to cover living expenses while I'm at school. It's not particularily devious, but I feel like it is; any second now, someone will say "Ha! You're not disabled! You just suck! You lack moral fibre, and you're a very silly person! No help for you! " It's funny how your thoughts, feelings, and occasionally body will try and kill you sometimes. Doesn't make any sense. My brain is trying to undermine me on a regular basis. Sometimes I believe I have a legitimate illness, along the same lines as diabetes; you know, constant maintainence without a cure.
The rest of the time I feel like a lazy waste of space, inept at the most basic of tasks. Both points of view sort of suck. I have to say, though, that the CaseWorker, and her Sidekick have been amazingly helpful, understanding, and nice. A rare find, most people I've come across in these sorts of 'helper' positions are anything but. I think they may even care what happens to me. 
