Today was all about getting fucked over. New York totally made me its bitch.
First, I went down to the local HSBC to open up an account, only to discover that they require a utility bill with my name on it as proof-of-address. Since we don't have any bills yet because we haven't lived in the apt for long enough, I need to wait until we get a ConEd bill, then get my roommate to sign a form saying that I live with her (since my name isn't on the account), then get a fucking NOTARY to stamp the form.
Next, I went to Hunter College in the hopes of filling out my hiring papers. Nope--I need a SSN, which I thought I'd be able to avoid. So, after wandering around trying to find the Media Studies Dept for about 30 minutes--nobody seems to know where anything is on campus, including the bookstore employees and the security guards--I finally got to speak with the dept secretary, and was sent on my way to the local Social Security office in Midtown.
Nope. Wrong again. After waiting at the SS office for another 30 minutes, I was told that, because I live in Brooklyn, I have to go to the "new" Brooklyn office on Fulton St--which, by that time, had just closed. Awesome. So I run over to the Grad Center on 5th Ave in the hopes of meeting with the Graduate Director, only to discover that 1) he'd already left, 2) the security office--where I had to get my id and computing account--was closed, and 3) the cafeteria had closed at 3pm, so my dream of having a square meal that day was pretty much shattered.
Then I got an email from my agent telling me that my first advance cheque won't be ready for at least a month. And even if it was, I couldn't deposit it in my temporary bank account because I don't have an international tax number yet. So I have a bank account that only partially works, no money to put in it, no tax number to allow me to legally deposit the advance for the novel that was supposed to make me money, and I'm officially down to $100 in my Canadian bank account. Seriously, my royalty cheque from McFarland--however paltry--is the only thing that keeps me going, I dream about getting that $200 cheque in the mail any day now. ANY DAY NOW.
I dragged my tired ass home on the obligatory 3-subway-line transfer (the N to the 7 to the G and finally home), and after lying down on the couch with a very irritated Guinevere (where the fuck were you all day, she kept meowing), I was so exhausted that I passed out for an hour. I woke up all groggy, not even knowing where I was and thinking that it was the next morning. Oddly enough, this was the first time that I walked through my neighborhood on autopilot, not even paying attention to the street signs but simply knowing where I was going.
Now, after this post, I'm off to return to the couch and watch Firefly. And tomorrow, we start all over again!