I'm not going to talk about Australian immigration laws (although I do have some strong feelings about it, such as how, despite being abolished decades ago, the White Australia policy is still going strong). No, that's for another time. Today, I'm going to talk about the welfare office, Centrelink.
So I'm sitting at the stormy beach, watching the grey waves roll in, because I am so angry that not even eating would make me feel better (and that's saying something). I recieved two letters today. One was a form for my mother's tax information. I live 1000km away from my mother, and that form is for a dependant child. I have little to nothing to do with my mother. We just don't generally get along.
The other was a letter from my case worker, saying that because the afforementioned form had not been handed in, my case decision (that is, the one that had been denied and I contested) was not to be re-decided. I am apparently getting support for my mother. Their evidence? I've spoken to her.
That's it. Apparently, speaking to my mother counts as financial support. So I don't get anything.
Hey, but it's not like my sister has rent to pay, or two kids to feed. It's not like our landlady is fucking crazy and wants to raise our rent until we can't afford it.
My poor sister. She has to look after me, and I'm hard fucking work. I really am. She does her best to do what's right, and I can't even help her. We're drowning in bills and rent and food costs. She simply can't afford to work, and I am too mentally deficiant to. She doesn't show it but she's so terrified of losing the house, and therefore the kids, she's just...not her anymore.
Thanks, Centrelink. Because of your ''welfare crackdown'', people like she and I, who are in desperate need of help are shunned, but other people who let their kids go hungry so they can by drugs still get their weekly pay. We aren't dole bludgers. We're a family who is about to lose their home. We're at a loss of how to deal with this or what we're supposed to do. My sister just can't afford to have me there, although she won't admit it.
So tell me, Australia - how am I supposed to live on less than minimum wage a week, which is what I earn for performing? I'm sure I can buy bread with conversations with my mother. Love will pay the bills.
Dear Julia Gillard,
Thankyou for your welfare crackdown. I can't express how happy I am to possibly have to live in a car.
Sincerely, a very distraught and angry cat.
PS: don't forget to enter my contest. Having something to do with myself would thrill me right about now.