Trick Questions And Wandering The Interwebz

I'm such a nerd. Got a holiday weekend and I've wasted a bit of it online. I don't even play cool games (never did beat 2048, now that I think about it). No, instead I've lost my mind and decided to take online courses.

ALL THE COURSES.

I'm starting with languages, since I'm eternally fascinated by them but have no real practical knowledge. It may very well be that my fascination is summarily killed by the influx of practical knowledge, but that's a risk I'm willing to take.

I have to. I'm Batman.

Anyhoo, some of the learning sites ask you: What language do you want to learn first?

Ha ha. What a question. My answers, in no particular order and based solely on what is offered, go something like:

Dutch, Russian, Mandarin, Hebrew, Romanian, French, Italian, German and Greek.

But that's just silly. What it should be is:

Spanish, Spanish, Spanish, German, French, and Spanish.

Realistically speaking, Russian and Mandarin are kind of insane goals. They should probably be third/fourth+ language choices, what with the entirely different alphabets and stuff.

German would probably be easiest and has some people I can practice with in real life. However, limited environmental applicability.

Spanish is the solid leader, as a base Romance language as well as something I could easily practice reading, watching, and speaking.

Which leads me to the question: so what the hell am I doing trying to learn Dutch. The hell? I have these other language models queued up, but really I just do those sections so I can go back and do the Dutch part.

As with all my schemes, I imagine this one will drop off after a brief time.

For a look into online free language courses, check out:

http://www.duolingo.com/

http://livemocha.com/

What I Love About Bruce Springsteen Is. . .

. . . How he can write a sharp political protest song and still make me giggle like ze leetle girl.

Bruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuce!

Living In The Future
Magic
Bruce Springsteen, officially
Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band, in reality

Dear Mom: Don't Read This One

There i am, on the phone back home,  just whining away about my sorry life when I hear someone on the other end coughing in the background.

It's a horrible, wet, squelching sound. It rolls on and on and I can hear the cougher struggling for breath, almost sobbing at one point.

It sounds like it hurts.

How can I have the gall to be mad at the world when I have done nothing of substance to help the people that have helped me? How come I haven't been out using this supposedly great brain to figure out some cure, some way to make it better? Why haven't I made a boatload of money so I can pay for the best treatments?

It was such a terrible sound.

When To Call It, What To Call It

Here's one way to tell it: 

• Woke up and my foot is still a problem. The blister has left a crater in my heel. Were I a grosser, more sadistic person, I’d post a photo. Shoes hurt.
• Running behind, can’t stop for breakfast. And by breakfast, I mean my RDA of the Pepsi Colas and the Dr. Peppers. 
• Get to parking garage, lock keys in car.
• Locked out of computer at work. (Noticing a theme here?) Spend 10-20 minutes on hold with IT trying to get back on.
• Get pulled into surprise conference call at work. Literally have a phone to each ear as I try to coordinate getting locksmith.
• Locksmith arrives 30 minutes early. Good thing I finally answered my phone.
•  Locksmith can’t get into parking garage. Clock out from work and walk down to garage. . .
•  . . . Where I proceed to give the locksmith the wrong street entrance. Twice. Good times.
• Somewhere in all of this, traditional period cramps return with a surprising amount of vigor.

  

It’s fair to say that somewhere in all of this I got extremely flustered. But there’s an important point here of which I try to remind anyone who thinks my life is too awful:

In this world, there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so. The story is all in how you tell it. Because: 

• I’m wearing my most comfortable pants and a fairly pretty new shirt today.
• My hair is not perfect, but it looks a bajillion times better than it did Monday. Also the zit on my nose mysteriously disappeared overnight.
• On a hunch and motivated by financial desperation, I called Ye Olde Credit Carde Company. I get AAA-like benefits and can get my car unlocked for free.
• I packed my dorky and inappropriate but very comfortable sandals. I wear them to run down to the garage.
• The sun is out and it’s a beautiful day.
• Even though I totally bollocks the directions, the locksmith is super friendly and nice when I finally do meet up with him.
• I use my clock out time to grab some beverages and jerky. To go.

"I'll take a glazed doughnut. And a bottle of anything. . . to go!"

Upon returning to the office, I decided to invoke a McConaugheDay, modified, of course.

For those of you new to the concept, a McConaugheDay is when, no matter what, everything is just “alright, alright, alright.”

It’s related to No Fucks Given. I’ve only invoked them in the past on a day off. Usually bowling is involved.

But here’s the thing about life: it tends to get easier the more slack you cut other people. There may not even be such a thing as true altruism, from my perspective, since most things are done to indirectly benefit the self, in some way. Rather than focus on the depressingly selfish side of that, I like to think of it as a really great incentive to make the world a better place.

So I’m calling it a McConaugheDay. It’s gonna be a test of my Zen and ability to Give As Few Fucks As Possible. But I think it’s worth a shot.

And no sooner was I looking up that lovely David Lee Roth image above than the Senior Partner comes over to educate me about how the expense report I submitted was wrong* and how I should stop my boss from doing such thing**.

And you know what? I ain’t even mad. Not upset, not victimized. not guilty, not picked on.

Perhaps the McConaugheDay is more powerful than I credited. We shall see.

*he don’t know the half of it. srsly.

** as if! ha!

here's what you need to know about how the healthcare system "works"

i am out the medication that is required for me to stay alive. that's not an exagerration. barring spontaneous organ regeneration, if i don't get this medication i will eventually slip into a coma and have multiple organ failure.

now, when i ordered this medication, the pharmacy didn't tell me that it required info from my doctor to fill it this time.

the mail order pharmacy, chosen for ease of use ha ha ha, didn't tell me jack shit. i found out when i realized that it had been about 10 days since i placed my order and there were no meds.

when i questioned it, they deigned to tell me it required input from my doctor.

why they didn't get this info on their own, as they have done before, is a mystery.

call and email my doc. he rings me two days later at 7:00 pm on a friday. he has never heard from the pharmacy and blah blah complication-cakes, looks like he can't get the authorization through. in keeping with the themes of my life, the phone number i gave him didn't work.

so i contact the pharmacy again and ask, again, for contact info that my doc can use.

pharmacy responds that they have faxed him. "what?" i hear you ask. i don't know either.

(by this time, with all these delays, i am out of my medication? i'm not even gonna talk about how this wouldn't be a problem if there weren't idiotic refill date constraints. god forbid i get all of my mediation sooner than i immediately have to have it--wouldn't want that. )

so i email them both, again, and provide all the info i can and wait for monday.

monday comes. no response from anybody.

so, when you hear me talking about legalizing all drugs and making them available to the average joe, think on this situation before you decide i'm some kind of radical nutjob.

i can't get medicine that i've been ordering for years, medicine required to fucking live, because somebody dropped the ball and my pharmacy and doctor can't communicate.

i'd be furious if it wasn't so typical that i'd gotten used to it.

this is my life. i'm tired of explaining why it's less than inspiring. i try so hard to be aware and thankful. maybe one day the world will give me something to be thankful for, other than disaster aversion. i'm not holding out much hope at this point.

So I Walked Outside And My Car Is Gone

No shit.

Been home sick yesterday and today. Which means I hadn't moved my car since Tuesday morning, when I re-parked it on the correct side of the road for street sweeping that day.

Ventured out to the drugstore on foot today, noticed my car was not around. Uh-oh.

Long story short, looks like I parked in front of a fire hydrant and got towed and impounded. I didn't even realize we had hydrants on that side of the street. Bonus points because I had to move my car to that spot to avoid a ticket for parking on the street cleaning side. If I had not moved the car or if I'd gone to work, no towing would have occurred.

So, it's better than the car getting stolen. So there's that.

Apparently the ticket for the fire hydrant (i should take a picture, it's a zillion years old and was once, maybe, painted a dull yellow) is a separate charge from the $300+ I had to pay for towing and impounding.

Did I mention I've just been basically writhing around in pain, waiting for my period to start, with none of my clothes fitting, ranging from uncomfortable to painful? Because that's still going on.

My life is so stupid.

Marooned On The Couch

This is not good.

Unexpectedly, I have today off. There is an event I want to attend later this evening. It would also be very, very smart to do any of the following: walk over to small shopping center and search for a few items, go to grocery store, shine shoes, trim nails, sort and file, and probably lots of other things I don't even remember right now.

Upcoming TMI warning.

The thing is, I'm hella crampy and bloated. But my period still hasn't started. It's just lingering, painful and foreboding, on the edge of existing. And I'm downing NSAIDS like I own stock in them. Did I mention I'm uncomfortable to the point of pain? (in addition to actual pain).

And there's nobody in the house so I'm sitting on the couch with a heating pad. And even though I really should go to that get together later tonight, it would be good for me, I'm just not feeling like doing anyfuckingthing right now.

*sigh*

i'm my own worst enemey

dear uterus: YUNO act right?

I'm Trying Real Hard To Be The Shepherd

I'm not talking about how I really feel because there's nothing good to say. People aren't interested in how you feel when how you feel is nothing but negativity. They don't need that in their lives.

(if you doubt this, try listing off some of your darker thoughts to somebody and feel them close up like a flower, shrinking away from you)

I have bills I can't pay.

There are aspects of this job that actually will cost me money. Example: I don't get any benefits until I make it through three months. That's around Feb 2015. Meanwhile, having a job invalidates my current Health Care status (not that I've seen ANY benefits from that, but whatever). In order to get intermediary coverage I have to reapply. Last time it only took them around 8 months to process my application. See where this goes?

Added fun: still have a heap of expenses from my supposed "covered" period. Supposedly I can file to have these somewhat reimbursed. How? Well, that's a good question. Let me pull out one of the 10 or so acceptance/rejection letters and try that old contact number again that goes to the voicemail that is full.

Just an example. Just my life.

I take deep breaths and tell myself to just take it easy, that I'm blowing things out of perspective.

I'm exhausted, truly exhausted. I feel old and stupid. I can't tell if I'm making mistakes because I'm tired, because I'm old and slow, or because I'm completely stressed out. Guess it doesn't really matter when the results are the same.

I have new people in my life that are dancing on my last nerve, laughing in my face, and begging for me to tell them to Fuck Right Off. Overreaction? I keep telling myself that.

But what if the truth is that I'm just too old and tired to deal with this kind of bullshit?

But thoughts like that are self indulgent. So I'll suck it up, go somewhere and have somebody put their pansy ass little bad moods on me, try to stay unaffected, and maybe it won't all be so bad soon.

I try so hard to be mindful, to be objective, to see the other side, to be grateful.

But I'm tired, Ringo. I'm real tired.

My God It's Beautiful Outside Right Now

I woke at 4 am with a headache. My stomach is sour. My eyes are killing me. I feel like shite.

But it rained last night through this morning in the city of angels. The sun has risen and golden light is peeking through a smattering of grey clouds and low, lazy, white drifts. It's still soft outside and nothing is brilliant yet.

The air is cool and damp and wonderful. It's the first real chill of the season.

I will always love Autumn. It is the coolth of a gentle cloth on my fevered brow; it is the soothing breath; it is the cleansing balm of my soul.