The Value in Hoping

Wow, it’s been 2 years since I’ve updated this crazy thing. Honestly, I think I just decided to forget this was here. Chronicling my life seemed stupid – who would really care about this anyway? But then life gets in the way. So I’m coming back to this, for me, because I think I might need it, and soon.

Since I’ve last written life has changed. I got a job, which is great, but it’s a tad on the soul-sucking end of the spectrum. I got into a car accident and wrecked my lamented Jeep. My Mom has had several small strokes, and a couple of not-so-small ones. We’ve lost some family members, gained a couple, and the world keeps on turning.

So I guess this is where the hope comes in. There comes a time where hope, faith, vibes, psychic forces, alien brain waves – whatever your flavor – are what get you through the day. I’m strangling hope with my fingernails trying to hang on, and I’m not letting go.

If you know me at all, you know I’ve been battling a “mystery plague” that made me unable to speak for the past six months. This has also kept me out of work for six months. It’s impossible to do anything when you can’t interact with anyone. The worst part is there’s no real medical reason they can find, my vocal cords just decided they didn’t feel like working any longer. I’ve been in vocal therapy, relearning to speak, and doing well. So well that I thought I might be able to return to work by the end of September. You know the saying “we plan and the gods laugh“. That has never been more true.

My vocal therapist and ENT say it’s too soon, going back now with my voice not strong enough could ruin it permanently and I refuse to risk that. But I had no idea what would be coming next.

Earlier this week I used my right arm to scratch my left shoulder and felt a stabbing pain in my right breast. That was new. So I did a self exam and found a lump a little bigger than a walnut. The placement means it could be in my lymph nodes, but right now I just don’t know. Right now I’m a mess and terrified and jumpy and short tempered with everyone in my orbit and I hate this.

In three days I find out if I have breast cancer, or maybe something else.

THIS is where the hoping really comes in. This is why I have a strangle hold on hope. Hope that I am not going to get the news so many in my family has heard before me, that so many of my friends have had to deal with. Hope that life will return to it’s somewhat normal-ish insanity without added nightmares. Hope that I have the strength to deal with whatever it is that comes next. Hope that I have the strength to pull my family through this with me. Hope that this stupid blog keeps going because it means that I keep going.

Hope that some good vibes, feelings, wishes, pixie dust, prayers, psychic forces and alien brain waves come my way in three days so I don’t shatter.

HOPE.

 

 

 

Sleepless…

I seem to be having the same conversation with so many people lately, but I just can’t figure out why. Like a billion other people on the planet I have had insomnia for years. My brain just won’t shut off. Ever. I constantly have a stream of nonsense/self-hatred/confusion/terror just screaming through my head and, unsurprisingly, that makes it difficult to sleep.

Lately people see the need to give me “advice” on how to “get over it”. The thing I’ve heard the most is “You just have to get yourself on a different schedule, make yourself sleep”. I want to punch every person who says this. If I could just make a wish and fall asleep I would, but it doesn’t work that way.

The next nugget of wisdom I keep getting is “It’s just because you keep your on too late, just shut it off and go to sleep”. First, no it’s not. That device plays the music that overshadows the shit in my head for a little while and sometimes, just sometimes, HELPS me fall asleep.

For some reason I also keep hearing “You just have to close your eyes, take deep breaths, find your calm place”. My response: Fuck you. This nonsense just makes me find my rage place and does no one any good whatsoever.

I’m just going to say this: insomnia is a bitch. It is personal, it hits you in places that are already weak and hurts you in ways you don’t see coming. People who suffer – and I do mean suffer – from this don’t need any “well-meaning” advice from anyone. We know there’s a problem, we do try to fix it, sometimes nothing works. Just give us your love and understanding, that is all we really need, and it will do more for us than anything else ever could.

 

What gives you the right to get all up in my business?

I’ve been thinking about writing this post for a while now, and I just can’t keep it in me any longer.

What the hell is wrong with these Republican assholes who think they can just say whatever they want and people will just follow? Do they really think all of America is that stupid? I mean, sure, some people … blah, blah, blah.

But this is what I think, so read if you want, or don’t because I don’t believe in forcing my opinions on others. *ahem*

As I’ve stated (some would say “bitched”) about before, I was laid off in the real estate/banking meltdown and have been so for three years. Recently I found a part-time job, but this is not really the point. The point is, I lost my insurance when I lost my job and like a lot of women I can’t afford doctor appointments. This really wouldn’t be a problem except for the fact that I have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome.

For anyone who might not know, symptoms of PCOS are fought by taking Birth Control Pills. When I could afford to buy “The Pill” I never once took it to actually prevent pregnancy, I took it to save my life. PCOS can lead to : diabetes, greater risk of heart attacks, sleep apnea and CANCER motherfuckers. CANCER. Since cancer runs fucking rampant through my family I was told I needed to get on the pill immediately and stay on it. To live.

So all you bastards calling women whores for daring to take birth control, or precautionary measures for their own health: BACK THE FUCK UP.

You don’t know their story, you don’t know their reasons, you don’t know THEM. You have no right to get a say in anyone’s life.

 

Adventures in Healthcare

A couple of weeks ago I caught the plague. Ok, I suppose it was more like a sinus infection, but it felt like the plague. I’ve been without insurance for a while, so I put off going to the doctor until the very last-minute. I probably was really very close to mutating into the plague (why no, I’m not going to stop beating the dead horse, why do you ask?).

So I take my two-hour trek to my doctor’s office. Yep, it’s an hour both ways, so that’s the first awesome thing going on here. I then have to make the 20-year-old “billing agent” understand I don’t have insurance and will be paying for the visit myself. I ask her what the charge is. She says “I won’t know until after Doctor codes it.”

Whatever the hell that means. Fine. So I have my appointment, bring my little sheet back to little miss thang and ask again what the charge is. She looks at the paper for about 5 minutes then says “Doctor didn’t code it. We’ll bill you.”

I’m so annoyed at her just calling him “Doctor” and dealing with her that I say fine and just leave.

Two weeks later I get a bill for $65 for the office visit. The very next day I get a bill for $125, for an office visit. I call “Patient Accounting” to ask them which bill is correct. The woman I now call assbasket tells me both of them.

Me: Excuse me? Why am I paying two bills for one office visit?

Assbasket: One is for our facilities department.

Me: Why would I be paying a facilities department?

Assbasket: Because the clinic is attached to the hospital. There is a facilities charge.

Me: So you mean to tell me I’m paying $125 to WALK IN THE DOOR?

Assbasket: *silence*

Me: Really? Because this sounds illegal to me.

Assbasket: It’s our billing practice. Won’t your insurance be paying this bill?

Me: *many many words that are not nice that lead to the effect of I don’t have insurance assbasket*

Assbasket: This is our billing practice.

Me: Ok then.

And that’s how I ended up paying double the cost of actually seeing my doctor to walk into his freaking office. Next time I’m just going to let the plague get me.

 

My Dad, the Wizard

A couple of months ago my parents’ computer just died.  No blue screen of death, no warning, just one day it refused to turn on.  They have an older pc, they’ve probably had it for 5 years or so now, so it was about due for a major malfunction.

Mom knows nothing about computers at all.  Nothing.  Some days I have to help her find her e-mail again because it “disappeared”.  What usually happens is she somehow brings up her welcome screen and can’t see her e-mail box, so it may have well been stolen by the aliens running the big scary machine.

My dad on the other hand, he’s pretty handy with the ‘ol pc.  He was a technician for over 30 years for 3M going all over hell and back fixing all kinds of their machines.  However, he is 70, and not of the computer culture.  He’ll get out manuals and flick switches and change plugs and try what he can.  But this was different.

This was Dad being in his office, lots of swearing, some strategic banging and a shit-ton of sighing.  After day 3 of no internet he finally gave up and said he was going to find a pc repair guy and take it in.  This was a BIG DEAL.  Dad does not give up on anything.  He believes very much in his ability to just fix shit, but this stumped him.  Dad was not happy.

The next day I walked into the kitchen and there was Dad and their computer on the table, with the tower completely dismantled.  But the monitor was on.  On and working. Dad was smiling.

I asked him “What the hell is all this?”

He said “I just wanted to take a look at it, and I got it to work.”

Me “So what did you do?”

Dad “I took out the memory card and blew on it. Then it worked.”

HE BLEW ON IT.

My Dad is a wizard with mad skills.  I am completely in awe.  And the damn thing is still working.

 

Filed Under: Head-scratching PR

I was minding my own business watching the world fall apart on the news while Mom was reading our local paper.  Our daily paper, that comes out 4 days a week and Saturdays when they have stuff to say – that’s the definition of daily, right?  Yeah, I thought so too.  Anyway…

Mom: I’ve read this ad 3 times and it just gets better, listen to this.

Me: Oh boy, ok, hit me.

Mom: (Local Restaurant)’s top 5 reasons to visit.  1. The views from the dining room. 2. Our courteous service. 3. See a photo of (Local Weather Guy).

Me: Did he paint it?

Mom:  Oh no, he did not.  It’s a photo of him, that they have hanging on the wall.

Me:  Are you shitting me?

Mom:  There’s a photo, OF THE PHOTO.

Me: *facepalm*

 

Eureka

If you know me, or have had the misfortune of following me on twitter for the past 18 hours, you know I love the TV show Eureka. You also know I have not been reacting very well to the news of the scuttling of Season 6 and it’s cancellation.

I just have to purge myself of all of it, to get over it and move on, an attack of verbal diarrhea if you will.

My favorite little town in all the TV world

I have been watching Eureka since the pilot, I was immediately drawn into this world of scientists and geniuses and the Marshall-turned-Sheriff trying in vain to rein them all in.  This is a show that didn’t talk to the audience like we were all idiots, it was always assumed we’d be in on the joke!  It’s smart!  It’s side-splittingly funny and in the next scene devastatingly sad.  I have felt part of this little community since the very beginning and I guess that is why this hits me so very hard.

I’ve watched Carter fall for Allison, Allison fall for Nathan (again), Carter fall for Tess then finally Carter and Allison falling for each other.  I’ve watched Jo fall for a robot (again), Jo fall for Zane, Jo lose Zane, then Zane fall for Jo.  I watched Henry have so much love for Kim he would risk the entire world to save her, then find love again with Grace.  I’ve watched Fargo go from a bumbling, walking accident-waiting-to-happen to a fully capable and confident Head of GD.  I’ve watched Zoe grow up.  And so much more.

The fact that I care so much for these characters is a testament to the writing staff of this show.  To create such relatable, likeable characters and KEEP them that way is such a rarity these days, which is tragic.  (Well, except for Larry :), no we love Larry too.)

As I have said, I cannot stress enough how badly SyFy mishandled this news.  When the rumors of cancellation started it was stressed how we still had the 6 episode Season 6 to look forward to, and this was said FOUR DAYS AGO.

So, when they scrapped that and announced the cancellation it was like a blindside.  Would the fan base be as upset if we had not been lied to less than a week ago?  Absolutely not.  We would be very upset, sure, and mourn the upcoming loss of our beloved show, but we would not be so angry.  At the very least I would not be so angry.  Then earlier today when we learned the cast also heard the news via twitter and the Press Release done very late at night instead of from the network itself it just added fuel to the proverbial fire.  This has been mishandled from the get-go, and SyFy really needs to look at its practices to make sure this complete clusterf*ck does not happen again, because if nothing changes it will, and soon.

Does this diminish my love for the show, my love for these characters, this town, the cast, crew, writers, producers & creators of this wonderful escape?  Not in the least.  This “Smartest Little Town” and the people who made it happen occupy a place in my heart that is not going anywhere.

So, I guess in the end I just want to say thank you, to all the cast, crew, writers, producers and everyone who worked on Eureka.  Thank you for bringing such magic into my life, for giving me a wonderful place to escape when I needed it, for making a TV show I can only call amazing.

 

 

There was gambling, annoying hipsters and almost getting killed by KISS fans…

Recently I was back at my happy place, or what used to be my happy place before I was almost killed by a horde of KISS fans. (Is it horde of KISS fans? Perhaps a mullet of KISS fans?)

I was at my beloved casino, and had just had a really awesome dinner – which was almost ruined by hipsters.  (Do you see a pattern here?)  I was with my parents and sister, we had a fun day hitting the slot machines, I was up $15 (YAY) and we decided to go to their nice chinese restaurant for dinner.  I love this place, it’s small, and broken up into even smaller dining compartments that fit 2 tables and the food is fantastic.

We’re seated in a room with an older couple, who soon leave – and that’s when THEY arrive.  The hipsters.  Christ the hipsters.  Now, usually I can tolerate them, and I will most likely hit them with a “bless your heart” about something ridiculous that comes from them, but these people were the most obnoxious people on the planet.  The whole planet, quite possibly the galaxy.

First two come in, man & woman, sit and proceed to try to order some microbrew beer.  This casino JUST got their liquor license after fighting with the state for years about a year ago, so no, they don’t have your precious, ironic beer.  Morons.  Then he reads the ENTIRE menu out loud to her and says he will order sushi. THERE IS NO SUSHI ON THE MENU, WHICH YOU JUST READ IN IT’S ENTIRETY, ASSHOLE.  They finally decide, then, oh wait, there’s another one coming we’d better not order yet.

Now, if I was their waitress I would have spilled the hot tea on them out of fucking spite at this point, but she just smiled and walked away, to spit in his Bud Light I’m sure.

So finally the third one shows up, and he’s a  LOUD TALKER.  We all want to know his business because he announced every thought at the top of his fucking lungs.  I know all about his baby and how she started to walk after holding onto the furniture and their hands and blah blah blah… Then this motherfucker took a phone call and repeated the same story even louder!

Then they decide they better hurry up since they’re going to the KISS concert, you know, to look at how old they are and stuff, you know, ironically.  (How I didn’t kill these people I really don’t know.)

We finished our dinner, but not before my mother, God bless her, had just put her head in her hands and started saying “Tell us about Madeline again, did she walk? Holding your hands?”  I lost it.  I love her, she is my hero.  But of course, it was lost on our intrepid trio.

We got the hell out of there, and since I had my $15 winnings I decided I was done gambling and would head up to the hotel room.  The rest of them headed in the other direction to the slots, and I took off, forgetting I was heading right toward the entrance to the Event Center, which was between me and my room.

I entered a sea of long ratty mullets.  I lost count of how many times I was actually shoved out of the way by people trying to get to the escalator to the Event Center.  I was stepped on my women in tiny denim skirts and hooker pumps who had no business wearing those outfits.  I actually had a hotel security guard body block a couple of young guys so I could get through.

When I made it to the hotel elevator I offhandedly told that security guard “You’re going to have an interesting night”.

He said “Yeah, the concert’s sold out, 5,000 people.  It’s going to be a madhouse around 10:30.”

I said “I think I’ll stay upstairs.”

He held the elevator door open for me and said “That’s probably a really good idea.”

No kidding.  That mullet of KISS fans is freaking vicious.

 

Family, or why I’m doomed

This month I have been spending a lot of time with family.  Extended family.  A lot of time.  I have learned one irrefutable fact from this: I love my family but as God is my witness I do not ever want to turn into them.

 

For my own sanity, and to protect the insane, I’ll number the returning characters.

It all started when Aunt #1 tried to poison me, to my face.  Now I’m sure she wasn’t really trying to kill me, but here’s the facts and you decide:

I innocently enter her kitchen. There is a HUGE bowl of broccoli on the counter, and a jar of homemade salad dressing on the table. I’ve talked briefly about my allergy to garlic before.  Trust me, it’s ugly.  Lying in the fetal position in the dark on the bathroom floor kind of ugly. So, it begins:

Aunt #1: You can eat dehydrated garlic right?

Me: Well, in really small doses, yes.

Aunt #1:  The dressing has dehydrated garlic in it. I won’t put it on the broccoli in case you don’t want to use it.

This is when shit gets real.  She walked over to the counter, grabbed the broccoli and 4 CLOVES of garlic and started chopping.  She minced it so tiny if I hadn’t watched her I wouldn’t have known a thing.  She put HALF that shit in the dressing and the other half in the broccoli.

And she never said another word about any of it.  Tried. To. Poison. Me.

My mother was one of 12 kids, and most of them had kids so our family is one huge clusterfuck ever time we get together.  This can be both fun and extremely annoying.

This was the most recent conversation between my mother and her siblings, which convinced me I am doomed (in complete chronological order, I took notes, I shit you not):

Aunt #1: (Out of completely nowhere) Chuck died.

Lots of tut-tuting

Mom: How old was he?

Aunt #2: Where did he live now?

Aunt #3: Didn’t his wife die too?

Uncle: -silence-

Aunt #1: He used to come out to the old house.

Aunt #2: I don’t remember that house.

Aunt #1: Yes you do.

Aunt #3: I do.

Aunt #2 (to Aunt #3): You can’t remember that house, you didn’t live there.

Aunt #3: YES I DID. And I do remember it. We all walked to grandmas through the field.

Uncle: Across Nash’s

Mom: And Mom always told us not to cut the corner. Remember, oh, who lived there? On the corner?

Uncle: NASH

All the Aunts: Oh yes!

Aunt #2: I don’t even remember growing up with any of you. I just remember walking to the store.

Mom: Maybe you followed the wrong family home one day.

Aunt #1: Liz (my mom) was born in that house, (to Aunt #2) remember?

Aunt #2: NO! I don’t remember. Any of it!

This led to much squabbling. My poor 21-year-old 2nd cousin looked on and I said “Pretty terrifying look into our future, isn’t it?”

Mom: I heard that!

Me: You were supposed to.

 

 

 

As the car turns…

My car is rapidly becoming a black hole of neediness and insanity.  I have a 2002 Jeep Liberty.  I was young and stupid and had to get the one with the special bigger tires and fancier crap. Stupid.

In the past six months I have replaced the battery, brakes, fuel lines and some stupid little ball-things that go in or near the engine.  Now I’m lucky in the fact that I have known my mechanic since I was about 5.  He’s been known to fix things on my car for a case of soda.  But the never-ending shitstorm that has become my car has ended my happy little world.

For the past few weeks the check engine light will come on, but just long enough for me to call and make an appointment to take it in.

Jeep: “Ha! Fooled ya!”

Me: “Fucker!”

So two weeks ago it stayed on.  Apparently a hose had come loose. Whatever, just fix it.

Mechanic: “Hey, did you know you need to get this inspected by the end of the month?”

Me : Outwardly “Oh, no I forgot” Inwardly: “FUUUCCCKKK”

Then I asked him if he would take care of it.

He says : “After a check engine light goes off you have to drive it at least 30 miles before we can inspect it.”

Me “Oh, sure” (Are you fucking KIDDING me?)

So off I go, driving around. Yesterday I get to 29 miles.

The light came back on.