That Sweet Relief ...

... is here again. No, I don't mean Xanax (unfortunately). It's finals week. :) So happy to have yet another term under my belt.

The only bad thing this presents is that I have no computer classes next term, so I don't really know when I'll be able to post. I shall try, but it will probably be more sporadic than it has been.

I will really try, though, because there's been some stressful shit going on that I really want to write about, but I simply don't have that time right now. Until next time, dearies.

It's that time again ...

We've hit the week before finals again. Ugh, I hate this stress-filled week, but it means I'm one step closer to my goal.

And, of course, the new term can't come without an issue ... See, the term after next is when I start my externship. Now, normally, there's at least one class left to take by that time, and it usually is a Gen Ed class and not a Core Class. However, the way my schedule stands now, I would have to take Pharmacology - a necessary Core Class - during my externship.

-.-

I'm not very happy about this. The person to see about rearranging my schedule is gone for the day, but I shot her off an e-mail asking if there is a way to bump one of the two Gen Ed courses I'm scheduled to take next term so I can take Pharmacology instead. Hopefully it can be worked out, I will be very pissed if I have to take a Core Class during externship; to me, that is just unacceptable.

But, like I said, the person who deals with the schedules is gone for the day today, so nothing can be done about it right now. Just going to take it one day at a time this week until it's over.

BTW - I've hit over 200 hits on this blog! Yay! Like I said, I'm not sure how many of those are actual people, but thank you very much to those of you who do read this blog. :) Love you all!

Ohh Em Gee

Earlier, I felt like I was going to fall asleep standing up. Not good, considering I have a five hour class tonight.

I proceeded to drink 2/3 of a pot of coffee in less than half an hour. Definitely wide awake now.

There will be no real post this week, other than this, because during my breaks tonight (and tomorrow, if I don't get it done tonight) I will be working on a project for Anatomy and Physiology, which is due next week. Oh, joy.

Until next week, then, my friends.

A big thanks ...

... goes out posthumously to Jimi Hendrix, for making music that really soothes me. I got into a pissy-ass mood last night and woke up in the same mood, but after a nice, hot shower and some Hendrix magic, I was feeling much better.

Doesn't always work, but I love it when it does.

"Scuse me while I kiss the sky ..."

Good Labor Day

The weather was pretty back and forth this weekend, so no big outdoor activities for us. Instead it was just us, our roommates, one of our roommate's sister and another one of our friends at the house. We just hung out and played dominos (haven't played in years, no clue why, it's so much fun!) and grilled some chicken and pineapple and had some succatash and my one roommate's famous macaroni salad.

Nice and relaxing for a change. No Dad in sight. Thank God. I'm hoping this keeps up because it'll still be a while yet before the Celexa kicks in.

A Triumph?

I had a follow-up appointment with Dr. G last week to discuss the results of the testing that I had for ADHD. Apparently, according to the neuropsychologist, I don't have ADHD. Bullshit, I say, I know myself better than that, but I wasn't going to fight with Dr. G because it wasn't her tests and she wasn't the one interpreting said tests. She's put me on Celexa to help with the anxiety and the depression. She also referred me to a free-type clinic that I hadn't heard of before, since I'm losing my insurance at the end of September, so hopefully I can get in there soon. She also wanted me to go to some type of therapy that I've never heard of before. I don't remember what it is right now so I can't even look it up; perhaps tomorrow I can, during breaks.

I then had another follow-up appointment this morning with the neuropsychologist that tested me. I was so anxious about it I barely slept; I mean, I really disputed the negative-ADHD results. Granted, it's been a while since I was last tested, but the doctor who last tested me was a specialist in his field for far longer than the current neuropsychologist has even been in his. I wanted to give him a piece of my mind, tell him I thought he was full of shit, but at the same time I didn't want to come off as hostile and generally crazy. So I got up super early this morning after a horrible night's sleep, got myself to the appointment, and was about to give him the ol' what for, when he got into his analysis.

Apparently, the results were actually inconclusive, as my anxiety level was so high that it skewed the results. His recommendations were pretty much the same as Dr. G's, so all I need to do now is try to get into both places.

So, no meds to help with the ADHD. Boo. Whatever. The Celexa takes at least a couple of weeks to kick in, too, so it'll be a while before I even know if it helps. Here's hoping it helps, because I'm getting pretty sick of this bullshit.

A Case Study in Stupidity, part 1

(I say "part 1" because I know there will be more rants in the future)

So pretty much the whole world has at least now seen The Hunger Games and/or read the books. It’s quite a fascinating take on a dystopian future, though I realize that the subject material isn’t everyone’s cup of tea (what with children killing other children and such). Now, when the movie came out, I hadn’t read the books yet (I wouldn’t for a few more months until I received them as a birthday present) but just watching the trailer and from the buzz online I caught the main drift: dystopian future, kids fighting each other to the death, blah blah blah.

I had been following that buzz for a hot second, so I was eager to see what my friends thought of it once they saw it. Pretty much everyone’s take on it was very positive. Everyone but one person.

This friend – whom I shall refer to as M – saw the movie right after it came out. She hadn’t read the books, so she went into it fresh. She didn’t like it. Now, there can be many, many reasons why a person doesn’t like a movie, but her reason? She didn’t like premise (kids killing kids). My reaction to that was something along these lines …

o.O

Um, okay, remember at that point I hadn’t read the books, hadn’t seen the movie, and was only going off of the buzz I’d read on the internet and the trailers for it. Even just watching the trailers alone I got the gist of the whole dystopian future and children fighting each other to the death. So my brain had a little implosion at the apparent stupidity of my friend. Seriously, just watching the trailers alone should give you the idea of the movie so you should be able to tell whether or not you’d like the premise. My question, of course, was, “Why the hell did you waste your money and your time to go watch a movie that you should have known you wouldn’t like in the first place?” Did she even watch a single trailer? Read any of the buzz online? If I’d been a cartoon character, I would have a giant, “WTF” floating over my head along with an exasperated sweat drop ala anime. I’d known her in high school, I swear she wasn’t that stupid back then. Did she have a traumatic brain injury sometime in between the time she graduated and we lost contact until the time I added her as a friend on facebook? Or does she just simply live in a black hole where no information from the outside world can reach her? Or is she just willingly ignorant and will go blow money on a movie when she hasn’t seen the trailer or read any of the buzz?

I don’t know, but I honestly can’t feel sorry for her if she’s that stupid.

Lesson of the day, kids: before you go to the theater to watch a movie, at least watch one goddamn trailer to see if you are interested in the premise. If the answer to that is no, don’t waste your fucking money and then go complain about it on facebook. You’ll look like a complete fucking retarded-ass buttmunch who couldn’t find their ass with a roadmap if their life depended on it, just like M did. And then someone will inevitably vent about it on a blog. She should just be thankful that, in order for me to remain anonymous, I can’t expose her (though she would definitely deserve it).

The sad thing is, I know that she’s probably not the only person that did this.

*headdesk*

Some days you want to just shoot yourself in the head because you don’t want to live in a world with this much stupid, but then you realize you’d just be eliminating another voice of reason. Don’t eliminate that voice of reason, there are far too few of us left.

Failure

I went into the weekend with every intention of doing the blog post I planned, but shit kinda happened. Stressful shit. Not going into details, but basically I was trying to get in sleep whenever I wasn't trying to stop myself from going into a full-blown anxiety attack.

I shall try next week. Hopefully everything will calm down by then.

Update on the hiatus

So the internet at my apartment is definitely done for, at least for now. :( Since my Monday night class is a computer class, however, it will be my default posting time since I will be able do a blog post during a break. I may be able to get up to the school library at other times during the week, but I'm not going to count on that.

Of course, my lazy ass is now thinking, Great, I'm going to have to come up with blog posts well before I intend post them. You see, I'm a bit of a free spirit when it comes to posting ... I come up with an idea, write it out in the editor (usually) and then post it immediately. This whole writing it out and sitting on it until a deadline kinda puts a cramp in my style, but fear not, I shall endevour to post regularly.

Next week, I think my blog topic shall be on the most recent book series that has engulfed me, The Hunger Games, and why stupid people shouldn't go to the movies (trust me on this, it all ties in).

Until then, I bid you all adieu.

*Edit* Also, I almost forgot, I've now hit 100 page views! I don't know how many of those are actual people, but hey, whatever, that number still makes me happy. :)

*Pause*

I am on a hopefully short hiatus as the internet at my house is not working. If it doesn't get resolved, I'll just have to type up a blog beforehand and post it at school during a break.

In other news today: drama, drama, drama at home between the two roomies. I hate it when people fight, but I can't kick them out because they have nowhere else to go. Besides, they rarely get into fights, it's just when they do it's usually of the knock-down, drag-out variety. I actually had to take one of Jason's Ativan today because with all the drama and the stress of going back to school tonight, I just really needed to calm the fuck down.

In the vein of good news, my dad needs to have shoulder surgery, and he wants to have it under his current (good) insurance as opposed to Medicare, so I get to have insurance until the end of September. Which is a good thing, because it means I can keep my August psych appointments and maybe, finally, I can get something to help with this goddamn anxiety. I swear, if I still don't get anything, I'm probably going to flip out and have an anxiety attack right there in the office. I don't like having anxiety attacks, but I don't think I would be able to help it at that point and maybe if they actually see what I go through maybe their hard hearts will soften and fucking give me something useful for it. That last good month is still within my grasp, and though I hate to get my hopes up, I can't help but feel a little relieved at the possibility of relief in the near future as opposed to next year sometime.

Recap: internet's out, drama, but some good news on the insurance front for me. And this is how July ends.

And so it begins ...

It's finals week, y'all. I'm so glad to have this term over and done with. I, personally, think that the week before finals is the worst, when you're trying to make sure all your make-up work is done and you've turned in any projects that needed doing and lining up all you're ducks in a row in preparation for the coming week. Compared to the week before, finals week is a sweet, sweet relief.

For Lennox

This is the final speech I gave on Tuesday night. RIP Lennox.

~~~

This is the story of Lennox.

Lennox was adopted into the Barnes family at birth. He grew up in a loving home, adored by his parents. He and his older sister, Brooke – who was disabled – were especially close. It seemed like an excellent match, and for years it was idyllic bliss. However, one day, officials came knocking at the door. They had deemed Lennox to be “dangerous”, simply by the way he looked. He was taken from his family and locked up in isolation. For two years his family fought for his freedom, but for nothing. Lennox was still deemed to be “dangerous” and was sentenced to death and despite assurances to the contrary, his family was never allowed to see him once. And so it was that after two long years of neglect and suffering and possible abuse at the hands of the system, the sentence was carried out. Yes, this really did happen. No, it didn’t happen hundreds of years ago or in some backwater, third-world country. Lennox was executed last week in Belfast, Northern Ireland. So why did this happen in this day and age? Because Lennox was a dog.

This is the failing of Breed Specific Legislation, or BSL. A certain breed of dog is banned and any dogs of that breed, no matter what their history, are caught and put to sleep based solely on something they can’t even help. If this were to happen to a race or ethnicity of humans, we would call it racism and genocide. But because it’s “just an animal” it’s somehow different. These days, Pit Bulls bear the brunt of BSL, just like Rottweilers, Doberman Pinschers, and German Shepherds before them. Never mind the fact that a study by the American Veterinary Medical Association, the CDC, and the Humane Society of the United States, which analyzed decades of fatal dog-bite statistics, found that there is no breed that is inherently more dangerous. All the study showed was that the most popular large-breed dog at any given time was at the top of the list. Imagine that. Now just listen to these two descriptions of dog breeds a moment:

(1) The X is a strongly built, medium-sized, short coupled dog possessing a sound, athletic, well-balanced conformation that enables it to function … Physical features and mental characteristics should denote a dog bred to perform efficiently … The most distinguishing characteristics of the X are its short, dense, weather resistant coat … a clean-cut head with broad back skull and powerful jaws.

This is opposed to number two …

(2) The Y should give the impression of great strength for his size, a well put-together dog, muscular, but agile and graceful, keenly alive to his surroundings. He should be stocky, not long-legged or racy in outline. Head: Medium length, deep, broad skull, very pronounced cheek muscles, and ears are set high. Muzzle: medium length, rounded on upper side to fall away abruptly below the eyes. Jaws well defined.

So what breeds are being defined here? The real question is, does it matter? Both of these breeds are American Kennel Club recognized and the wording is taken directly from the AKC standards. One of them is a breed often labeled as dangerous and is mentioned in bans. The other is one that is often touted as the perfect pet.

So what’s the point of BSL? What BSL tries to do is to reduce dog attacks, a noble enough cause, right? The problem is the way they go about it because when it comes to dogs biting, what BSL fails to do is to address the root of the problem: the owner. When people want to get a dog simply because it’s a status symbol, or “badass”, or if owners don’t raise and discipline their dogs correctly either because they don’t know how or they don’t care, guess what? That leads to aggressive, ill-behaved dogs. Instead of addressing the root problem, they go after the dog and its breed, labeling them as “inherently vicious and dangerous” despite the previously cited study. It is prejudicial in nature, targeting dogs simply for existing rather than criminals who use them for illegal purposes or irresponsible dog owners.

Going back to dog bite statistics themselves, for a moment, there are several failings even with that. For instance, they list all dog bites, even those dog bites that are truly provoked, such as when a dog is teased, harassed, or abused. They also don’t list non-fatal dog bites, so there is no way of knowing what breed of dog – small or large – is actually biting more. In that same vein of thought, those statistics don’t take into account the estimated number of dogs of a certain breed versus the number of dogs of that breed that actually bit someone, so there’s no way of knowing the overall percentage of Pit Bulls that bite as compared to, say, Golden Retrievers or Poodles. Also, did you know that with those statistics that breeds are listed in groups, not individually? Under “Pit Bulls”, you’ll find no less than three distinct and separate breeds, any dog that appears to be one of those breeds, plus any misidentified dogs.

It’s actually a bit ironic that Pit Bulls are labeled as dangerous now a days considering that just a short century before they were being hailed as the best dogs to have, much as Golden Retrievers are these days. They were owned by famous people such as Mark Twain, Theodore Roosevelt, Laura Ingalls Wilder, Thomas Edison, Woodrow Wilson, John Steinbeck, Helen Keller and Fred Astaire. One in particular, Stubby, was the unofficial mascot for the 102^nd Infantry Division and was credited with saving several of his human companions, which won him medals and the rank of Sergeant. Another popular Pit Bull, and one you may know, is Petey, the lovable dog featured in the old TV show The Little Rascals who worked alongside small children on the set.

I could go on about the average temperament of a Pit Bull, but it wouldn’t say anything about Lennox. You see, the Belfast City Council labeled him as a “Pit Bull type” based on his looks and certain measurements that were taken, even though DNA evidence that came out well before his execution clearly said that he was a Labrador/American Bulldog mix. But hard, indisputable facts obviously didn’t matter to Belfast; Lennox looked enough like a Pit Bull or Pit Bull mix and therefore he was dangerous and should be destroyed. Canine Aggression expert Jim Crosby along with others offered many times to professionally evaluate Lennox, but they were refused access. Famous Dog Trainer Victoria Stillwell, featured on the Animal Planet TV Show “It’s Me or the Dog” even offered to rehome Lennox somewhere in the U.S., but she was turned down. And along with being denied the chance to say goodbye, the Barnes’ daughter, Brooke, was even denied her request of keeping his collar as a memento once he was put down. So why was Lennox really killed, if he wasn’t even a part of the supposed “dangerous” breed? Simply put, he was a victim of a prejudiced and unfair system, a system that needs some serious revamping if it wants to achieve its core goal of reducing dog attacks.

Gandhi once said, “The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.” In this regard, Northern Ireland has utterly failed.

So please, let’s not let Lennox’s death be in vain. Let it instead be a rallying cry against a broken system so that we can change it to protect both humans and dogs alike.

Jason's Out

So after six or seven months of waiting, Jason finally got in to see a psych doctor (he does not have insurance and apparently this free place takes forever and a half to get into). Well, he's been in pretty bad shape lately, to the point where his school was really, really suffering, and when he went in today, the doctor was actually talking about putting him in a hospital for a little bit.


(Uh, well, if you hadn't pussyfooted around for SIX OR SEVEN FUCKING MONTHS maybe he wouldn't have been so bad, ya think??? GOD.)


Well, anyway, they ended up just giving him a shot of Thorazine and sending him home. Aaaaaand he's OUT like a light! Good thing, though, he's been so tired lately because he hasn't been able to sleep well. I'm slightly jealous.

Update

So, for now, Bitty (the 3 month old kitten) is still staying with us. We're trying to find someone to take her, still, but she has helped a little bit with relieving some stress. Not all of it by a long shot, but every little bit helps, I guess.


I haven't posted lately because, since the term is coming to a close soon, it's been very hectic for me. I turned in a research paper on Classic Infantile Tay-Sachs last Monday, and this Tuesday will be my final speech for speech class. It will be on Lennox and how his story shows the dangers and failures of BSL. I'll post it here afterwards, probably, though when afterwards I'm not sure. It depends on how I feel after tomorrow's class, I guess. LOL


So, since I've now established that I'm not dead, I probably won't post much for the next week or two. Finals are next week and then this term is over. THANK GOD. This term has been, so far, the most stressful term I've had. I really need it to be over.

I feel broken

So, Jason and I have two roommates now. Two of our friends, K and L, were kicked out of their apartment by their roommate for some bullshit drama that was going on (they weren’t on the lease, so their roommate could do that) and we offered them our second bedroom until August when they get their school checks and can afford to get into a place on their own. It’s actually been really nice having other people around here.

The issue, though, is their cats. They initially left them there, as their ex-roommate said it would be okay until they could figure out what to do with them as our apartment building doesn’t allow pets. This sucks, because it meant we had to give up our dog as well, which I am still very much heartbroken over, though I know he was adopted and that with the rigorous adoption procedures that the shelter he was in adheres to, I know it was a good home. Still doesn’t change the fact that we had him since he was a puppy and that we loved him very much. We had initially left him with a friend in the same trailer park we had been in as the landlord said it was okay at first, but the landlord then changed his mind and said that the dog needed to go. I called over everywhere, trying to find someone or some rescue to take him in at least temporarily, but with no luck. It got to the point where the landlord said if the dog wasn’t out of the place by the next day, he was going to take him and shoot him.

(Aside: some people have suggested to me that perhaps my friend just didn’t want to take care of him anymore, but to that I have a good rebuttal. I know this friend very well, he is the type of person where if he doesn’t want to do something – or doesn’t want to do something anymore – he’ll straight up tell you. I don’t make a habit of making friends with someone who’s going to lie to me to hide their true feelings; it just creates unnecessary drama. I also know the landlord and I know what a fucked up piece of shit he is and even if Jason hadn’t talked to him and confirmed all of this, I would have still believed that he changed his mind.)

We had no choice but to have him taken to the local shelter, and I called in every week to ask about him until they finally told me that he’d been adopted. I was relieved by that news, but it does nothing to help the pain of knowing that I’ll never see my dog again, never feel his kisses on my face, never feel him flop down next to me on the bed, never feel him put his head on my lap when he wants to be petted. I’m still tore up about all of that; it’s something that I’m just going to have to deal with.

So, back to my new roommates’ cats. Well, their bitch of an ex-roommate called them up on Saturday and told them that if someone – not them, they “aren’t allowed” back at the apartment – didn’t pick up the cats that she would just set them loose in the woods. Nobody wanted that to happen, so Jason and I agreed that a mutual friend could pick up the cats and bring them to our apartment and then take them to a shelter later that day (as they couldn’t find anyone to take them temporarily). So L called around to local shelters, but none of them answered, so we figured they were probably closed for the weekend. We would have to wait until Monday. Alright, so we closed the blinds and figured it would be okay for the weekend. They are very well behaved cats (still kittens, technically, one is 7 months old, the other is 3 months), they don’t get into anything, they don’t destroy anything, they use their litter box extremely well, etc. So we’ve had cats for the weekend! It’s actually been very nice, the kittens are wonderful and so much fun and so entertaining. They both like me, too, the other night they both climbed up on the sofa and laid on top of me as I was lying on the sofa.

So now that Monday is here, it’s time to say goodbye (well, now it’s going to be tomorrow, as K’s father said he wouldn’t come to get them until tomorrow, though he’d said before he’d come to get them today). And I have to say, I am again heartbroken. Though I’ve only spent time with them this weekend, I’ve bonded to them, despite my best attempts not to. I’ve realized that without having an animal around, I’ve felt even emptier. My soul feels like it’s withered, though I hadn’t realized it until now. I can’t live without an animal. But for now, I’m going to have to do without. And just with this reminder, this realization, it’s going to be so much harder to wait until Jason and I graduate and can afford to move into a place that will accept an animal.

I’m already so stressed about all of this, I’m not sure about going to tonight’s class. Again, a big thanks goes out to Dr. G for not caring enough to give me something to help with anxiety.

Feeling lazy ...

I started writing a little fanfic story last week (back when I was bitten by the writing bug) and so far it's been going pretty good. I've actually put a lot of thought into it, working out kinks and the such, so I know exactly where I'm going. The problem? I just don't feel like bothering right now. The funny thing is, I really do want to write this thing out ... but when I sit down in front of the computer I just don't feel like typing anything out. It's not the typing itself, because I type extremely well (I average 100 words per minute), I just don't know. Just can't be bothered, I guess. I'm hoping this will pass soon because it's going to turn into a cute little story. :)

Tragedy

A friend of a couple of my friends was murdered last week. I don't know the victim personally but she was a pretty good friend to my friends. Whatever you believe in, whether it be prayers, good thoughts, good vibes, etc., please send them their way. It would be much appreciated.


Thank you.

I am going to die

Spiders are going to be the death of me. I’ve now had two very close encounters with them in the past two days. It’s like I’ve been marked or something.

First instance: yesterday. I was rushing to get ready for school, as I apparently have no concept of showering ahead of time. I dunno what it is about pajamas but I would be content to live in them for the rest of my life, so I like to spend as much time in them as possible. I suppose I could shower and then change back into them, but I think that’s just silly. Also, I’m a procrastinator and lazy, hence the showering an hour before I have to leave (I can actually get ready for school – shower, dress, makeup, hair – in 30 minutes or less depending on how coordinated I am that day, but I like to leave extra time to pack up my backpack, double and triple check that I have everything, and then just lollygag around). I’m a little later than usual getting in the shower, too, because I forgot that while my class starts at a certain time, my ride’s class starts half an hour earlier than mine. Why I have trouble grasping this in the middle of the term, I don’t know.

So I hurriedly jump in the shower, wet my hair, apply shampoo and am about to start rinsing when I look up and happen to see a HUMUNGOUS FUCKING SPIDER ON THE INSIDE OF THE SHOWER CURTAIN. I am frozen in fear as I scream, “OH MY GAWWWWWD!”

Of course, Jason has run out for a quick errand, so he isn’t available to take care of this problem. I swear, I am never showering without him in the house again.

In case you can’t tell by this point, I HATE spiders. I know they kill insects and stuff and so they are generally good but WHY do they have to LOOK LIKE THAT?!? Why can’t they look like tiny little puppies or kittens? Or a Pygmy Puff, like from Harry Potter? Or like Tribbles, from Star Trek? I would love spiders, then! I’d collect the little buggers and let them all live in my house. But they look like some seriously scary shit and there’s just something about that spider form that scares the ever-living fuck out of me.

So there I am, petrified, staring at this spider, trying to figure out what to do, AND IT STARTS CRAWLING TOWARDS ME.

I squash down my panic and bat at it. Not hard enough to knock it off the curtain, just enough so that it knows to not go any further in the direction that it is currently going. Fortunately, my crude communication attempt was successful, so it started crawling in the other direction. Deep breath, here. I quickly rinse the shampoo out of the my hair and, seeing that the spider is continuing in the opposite direction, I decide it would be safe to condition as well. So I quickly do that while the spider continues onward on the inside of the shower curtain. At that point, it has crawled up as well, so he crawls over the top of the shower curtain and starts crawling down the other side.

At this point, I decide it is no longer safe for me in the shower now that I can’t see where the spider is and whether or not it is coming toward me. I had washed my body the previous day and I hadn’t sweated or gotten dirty or anything, so I decide to forgo that part of my routine. If anyone wants to judge me for not washing my body for one day, you have two options: (1) you can go sodomize yourself repeatedly with a sharp stick, or (2) try and take a shower with one of your biggest fears in the shower with you and tell me how that works out for you. Something tells me you’d omit a step or two in your routine.

Thank God I didn’t have to shave my legs. I might have just ended up a hairy-legged woman shouting at people, “Don’t you judge my leg hair! There was a SPIDER in my shower.” And, I’m sorry, but avoiding certain death from Ebola AIDS* trumps having shaven legs every time.

I shut off the water and carefully pull aside the shower curtain, to avoid knocking the spider off, and quickly step out. Fortunately, the spider is in plain sight, so I fling the shower curtain so that the spider will fall into the tub. Now, my bathtub has some sort of drain problem. It does drain, but very, very, very slowly. So slowly that literally within seconds of entering the shower, you are standing in water. So the spider is now flailing about in the water that is slowly going down the drain and I’m keeping a careful eye on it to make sure it doesn’t cling to something and crawl out (I’ve taken the shower curtain out of the tub so it can’t crawl up it) and I go to dry off my face and my contact decides to come out with the slightest pressure.

FUCK.

So now I’m half-blind, trying to watch for a spider and dry off and get dressed and get ready for school all at the same time.

(It turns out, my contact didn’t fall out, it just decided to go for a little trip elsewhere in my eye. I put in another contact, went on my way to school, took a midterm, and came home, and about 11:30 or so that night it decided to make a reappearance. Let me tell you, having two contacts competing for dominance in one eye is not very comfortable)

Good news: so far, no sign of the bathroom spider.

Fast forward to today. I’m removing the last of the files that I want from my old computer. I’m operating on about three hours of sleep because I got bitten by the writing bug last night and decided to stay up all night writing (hey, no school until Monday, otherwise I would have told my inner muse to STFU, taken a Trazodone, and gone to bed). So there I am, transferring files to my jump drive when I feel a little tickle on my wrist. I look down and OMG THERE IS A FUCKING SPIDER ON MY HAND.

It was one of those white/clear tiny little fuckers, but size does not matter to me; spiders are spiders.

So I guess I might as well say goodbye now, as I will undoubtedly die of Ebola AIDS* because of the direct arachnoid contact.

*I should note that I did not come up with the term “Ebola AIDS”, I read it once or twice on Allie’s blog (I can't remember exactly where, or even if the post it was in was even related to spiders) and thought it had a nice ring to it and was also probably something that spiders would carry and infect you with, so there you go.

Ugh

My College Math midterm is tonight. I am stressing out about this one so hard. Maybe it's because in math, there's no concrete answers to study, it's all up in the air. And with me having Dyscalculia, it just makes it that much harder to do math the right way.


Again, a huge thank you to Dr. G for not giving me anything to help with my stress. /sarcasm

Discrimination

While I find discrimination of any kind to be offensive, I must say I’ve been fortunate to not experience much of it. But recently on Pinterest I was kind of put down because of something that I think is ridiculous and is just the result of someone spouting off at the mouth and not thinking and just being ignorant in general and refusing to listen to reason.

The picture was one of those ecards that said something along the lines of being on food stamps and having an iPhone, the joke obviously being that if you can afford to get an iPhone then you shouldn’t be on food stamps.

Now, I know that there are people that abuse the system; I do not deny that. However, since I’ve had the experience of being very poor I know that there are ways to procure certain things for dirt-cheap that are otherwise expensive. I mean, honestly, who wants to look poor?  The first time I went into the welfare office, I felt embarrassed, even though I had every right to obtain assistance. So you learn things, like the best thrift store to go to that has designer clothing or that sells used electronics.

When I got my iPhone, yes, I was on food stamps. The reason I got it wasn’t just because I wanted an iPhone, I actually did need a new phone. The old phone that I had – one of those crappy free phones – was getting majorly buggy. It would randomly shut off, cut off calls in the middle of the call, and when I would call someone it was about a 50/50 shot that when they answered they would be able to hear me. It was then that I heard that because the iPhone 4S was coming out soon that AT&T was dropping the cost of the iPhone 3GS to free with an upgrade. Hmm, let’s see, another crappy quality free phone, or an iPhone 3GS for the same price? Uh, no brainer there! You bet your ass I snatched that shit up. We didn’t have a home phone so I had to have a way to communicate with people, like my family, my friends, my doctors, my caseworker, etc. And hey, iPhone, right? For free, no less. Several months later when Jason needed a new phone, he got an iPhone 3GS, too, though he did have to pay for his. A whole $1.99.

So, anyway, I pointed this out in so many words. I didn’t mean to sound uppity or rude, I just wanted to try to educate someone on something that they obviously didn’t really put much thought into and was probably just following the crowd. Honestly, when I do this, most people are appreciative, usually because I offer a point of view that they haven’t even considered. But the reply that I got? Something along the lines of I’m on food stamps and have an iPhone but I rationalize it because it was cheap, followed by an “interesting…” Okay, whatever, I haven’t really given up yet, so I replied again and stated my reason for getting it (the fact that I actually needed a new phone and since it was free, I jumped at it). The response to that? Basically this person is glad that they pay their taxes so I can get on food stamps and get an iPhone, it “totally makes sense now.”

At this point I know I’m getting nowhere with this person, they are obviously willingly ignorant, so I simply replied with, “Yeah, because I used money I could have used on food and got an iPhone instead … except it was free. So, yeah.” Needless to say, I don’t expect an intelligent reply.

I know the whole thing about arguing on the internet, that nobody really wins, but I honestly didn’t start out to argue, simply to offer a different point of view that they obviously hadn’t considered. I like to hear other people’s point of view, I find it to be interesting. Sometimes just listening to someone else’s point of view has changed my mind on things. Maybe it’s a little presumptuous of me to assume that other people like to let others educate them – even if it’s just a change in perspective – but it’s something that I can’t really help sometimes.

Anyway, getting to my actual point of discrimination … while I haven’t experienced a lot of discrimination in my life, I have been discriminated against because of poverty. That I shouldn’t wear certain clothes or look so nice or have certain things. Because I’m poor I don’t deserve anything, apparently. That I obviously spent money that I could have used to support myself better to get other, miscellaneous things. What they don’t understand is that I am a very thrifty person. Like I said before, most people don’t like to look poor even if they are poor, and most – like me – have discovered the wonder of thrift stores and garage sales. I have seriously found the best stuff there, designer labels, top-of-the-line stuff, all for dirt-cheap. During my extreme poverty phase, if I needed clothes, I never paid more than $3 for an item. I’ve actually always been pretty thrifty, even when I worked and had a steady income I preferred thrift shops or discount stores. Now, the kind of thinking that I shouldn't have these things because I’m poor, that I obviously paid top dollar for something, just disgusts me. Have they not heard of places like thrift stores? Discount outlets? While not every store has such a great selection, there are certainly places out there to get nice things at for a very low price.

Now, this is just me thinking – or, rather, typing – out loud here, but does it have something to do with social status? That because a person has an iPhone or designer-type clothes that they have to have good money, and that anyone below a certain income level can’t possibly obtain these things because, well, they’re poor? And if a poor person has managed to obtain something like that because of an extremely good deal they found … what then? If someone managed to find such a great deal and take advantage of it – like a free iPhone – why does their income matter? Shouldn’t you be glad that they were able to find such a great deal? Or are they possibly, subconsciously jealous that they didn’t see that deal first?

I don’t know you guys, all I know is I’m sick of being discriminated against because I’m poor. Like I said before, I know that there are people that abuse the system. But the majority of people that I personally know that are on assistance don’t want to be on assistance! If they had their druthers, if they were able to secure a stable job with a steady income, they’d drop their food stamps, cash assistance, Medicaid, and subsidized housing in a heartbeat. I know I would have. And you know what else I know? That I am not unique. There are other people out there that are in the same position I was/am in and they feel the same way I do. And let me tell you, we are sick of being called lazy-ass leeches that just sit on our ass and bleed the system. We know that those people exist and trust me we hate them just as much as the average person. In fact, we hate them more, because they give people like us a bad rap. We get lumped into the same category. And that is frustrating beyond belief.

So next time you want to make fun of someone on assistance, someone that you don’t really know, just stop for a minute and consider the fact that you don’t know everything, you can’t possibly know someone’s situation, and you therefore have no right to judge them as if you do. You know that old saying, sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me? Yeah, whoever said that was a fucking liar.

My New Addiction

Pocket Planes.

That is all.

Not quite what I'd planned, but ...

So I had this other post idea in my head, but when I went to write it yesterday my internet connection started getting buggy so I gave up. But right now I don't feel like talking about what I'd planned to, I want to talk about something else. Namely, how my psych doctor appointment went today.

To be as brief as possible regarding my mental health history, I've been diagnosed with several things. Bipolar disorder, Schizophrenia, ADHD and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I also have some OCD issues as well, one facet of which is particularly amusing and I may address later.

Since I have moved to Ohio I've been to two (now three) different doctors. The first two doctors were awful and, in my opinion, highly unethical. I need a doctor who is going to help me, not one who is going to keep pissing me off and making things worse, so I saw the third doctor today. I'll call her Dr. G. She was very nice throughout the whole process today, asked lots and lots of good questions and near the end I thought this whole thing was going very well.

Now, since my dad is retiring this year, I'm going to be losing my insurance. This will happen next month. I'm not going to be able to afford to keep going to a doctor though I may be able to get into a program of some sort to get my prescriptions. He had initially said he would retire next year, which was going to be good because I will be turning 26 next year, which means I won't be able to stay on his insurance, but I would be finishing school two months before my birthday, so I would have had the time to seek out a job with health benefits before then. We had talked about this and agreed that this would good, I believe he even remarked something about how "God's timing is always good" or something to that effect. However, a few months after I got on his insurance, he suddenly announced that he was retiring this year, which means that he goes on Medicare, which I can't be put on under him because the health care law mandate doesn't apply to Medicare, only private insurance. Now, this pissed me off greatly because he knows I need insurance. I need to see doctors, I need medications, not just because I want them but because I need to function from day-to-day!

So, okay, while I know that he will be retiring in next month, I figured I could at least milk this insurance for all it's worth. So when I went to a family doctor, I brought up every single issue and concern I had so I could get them addressed. I went to a psych doctor to at least continue the medicine I'd been taking from when I was in Pennsylvania (which, I had those issues with those two doctors, like I had mentioned before). I figured that even though I would be going off of insurance and I may or may not be able to keep taking medicine or keep seeing a doctor I could at least have it now and be all good for the time being and just enjoy the hell out of it. Of course, that didn't quite work out.

Which brings me to today. The whole process had been going well until we got to the finish. She wants me to go for ADHD testing. I had last been tested when I was 14 and while I had tried to get in touch with the doctor who had diagnosed me - with no success - I could not confirm that they still had my records after all this time. Okay, no problem, I'm thinking probably next week, right? Nope, the first opening they have is in the beginning of August. Which, if you've been following along, is after I lose my insurance. I thought, well that's okay, I can still probably at least have something for my anxiety for a month, right? Nope, she doesn't want to treat my anxiety or my ADHD until she can confirm that they are actually two separate things that I have or that possibly I have one or the other and the other is misdiagnosed.

FUCK.

So, I've been without any meds at all to help with my anxiety. If anyone out there has moderate anxiety you understand that coping skills will only go so far. So, basically, my dream of having at least a "good month" for my last month of being on insurance has gone bye-bye. Now I have to wait until at least March of next year to get any help with it. Which means that all the worry I deal with on a constant basis, the anxiety attacks that I suffer from, none of that is going to be treated at all until next year. This really does devastate me. I mean, I knew that I was going to probably have to go without from July until at least March, you're probably thinking, "C'mon, Rue, it's only a month" but you don't understand. I want to have a normal month. I had clung to that hope desperately that I could have one last normal month before I had to go back to all the bullshit firestorm that I normally deal with. It's like if your employer told you on Friday that it was a three-day weekend and then they call you on Sunday and tell you that you have to come in on Monday after all.

That's actually an excellent analogy that I just now came up with off the top of my head. My flashes of brilliant may be brief but, damn, they sure are brilliant.

Anyway, that's what I've been dealing with today. I don't think today could get much worse, really. Fuck. I mean, honestly, this is bullshit. I was always told that if I need help to just ask and help will be given. Well, I'm fucking asking for help and I ain't gettin' shit! That makes me think things like, "Why do people not want to help me? I know I'm asking the right people, it's not that. Is there something wrong with me that makes them not want to help me?" And then the feelings of rejection come on and I get super depressed. Which is what I feel now. Yay.

Sorry you guys, I didn't mean to make this so long. There was just a lot that needed to be said to fully explain the situation and where I'm coming from and it kinda got outta hand. I am kinda glad that I do have this blog as kind of an outlet, though, it always feels good to express yourself and your feelings and just kinda get it out of there.

And now it's time for a quick study for tonight's quiz. Bye, y'all.

Oh My Lord!

I didn't know that a sinus infection could take so much out of you. I mean, I have horrible allergies and I usually get at least one sinus infection a year due to that, but this one has really knocked me on my ass. Besides the sneezing and coughing and alternating runny/stuffed up nose, I've been having dizzy spells. One time, coming home from school, the dizziness was so strong I couldn't even look out the window of the car because the sensation was overwhelming. I'm on the tail end of my antibiotics, I'm hoping it works.

So, because of that, I haven't been able to really post. Between spells of having to lay down because I am so dizzy and out-right exhausted, I've also had to worry about school and homework. I really wish I wasn't so anal about having perfect attendance for yet another term sometimes because then I end up sitting in class in a zombie-like state, trying so hard to pay attention to what's going on and to not drool on myself at the same time. It's a lot harder than one would think.

I have been weeding through some ideas for posts, though, and I think I know what the next one will be and I will hopefully have it up by the end of the weekend.

In other news, I got my stipend check from the school yesterday and went out and got myself a "new" macbook for $434. I am so happy with it, you really don't even know what a piece of shit my other computer was. It was eight years old and so fucking slow it was almost impossible to work with. I babied it, too, had it set up to scan every night, manually scanned it a couple of times a week with another scanner, I ran disk cleanup and defragged it several times a month and made sure that I didn't run more than a couple of programs at once. And yet, still, it was so slow it would lose in a race against molasses, a snail and a glacier. The repair shop that I bought the macbook from still said they would be interested in buying it, though, so even though I would barely get anything for it I think I'll still sell it. I was going to smash it with a sledgehammer just to make up for all the times it royally pissed me the fuck off but if I could get a few dollars out of it, I suppose that would be better.

I'm off to lay down again for a little bit before I start transferring files. Look for another post this weekend and have a good one.

Addendum

So, I posted my first post, and I realized that while I am basically anonymous, any readers might be interested in a little demographic information about me.


I am a 25 year-old of the female persuasion. I am engaged to someone who I will refer to as Jason. We've been together for five years now, through thick and thin. Honestly, if we can't make it, I wouldn't hold out hope for anybody. I currently reside in Ohio, where I go to a small college, but I have actually lived in several states. I'm a little hesitant to say what my associate degree is called, as it may pinpoint where I'm going, and therefore me, but let's just say that when I graduate, I'll be able to do anything in a medical office or hospital short of clinical work (like taking vitals, giving injections, etc.). Basically, anything office-related, I can do it. I really want to do medical coding, but since I've had my ass handed to me by the economy and have been completely without a job since late 2008 (which will undoubtedly be the subject of a blog post sometime) I'm a little hesitant to invest time and money into a limited field. I want options, should something not pan out the way I want it to.


I'm a creative person at heart, really. I've been a writer for about 13 years now. My early stuff was horrible, as it usually is when a normal person starts out in writing, and most especially when they start out writing at a young age. There are exceptions, of course, but writing is something you really have to practice and work at to get better at. I started out in fanfiction. I can hear people sighing already, so hear me out: the concept of fanfiction is not bad. Fanfiction can be a wonderful place to start out writing because you don't have to worry about every single little thing a story involves, like creating a believable setting or characters that people will like and are able to identify with. Those things are already there, so writers can flex their writing muscles with other important things like plotting, dialogue, pacing, proper characterization and researching. I know that the majority of fanfiction out there is bad. Trust me, I know. I've been on fanfiction.net. I've seen the horrors. But if you take the time to weed through the junk, you can find the prettiest gems.


I will give a couple of more warnings here, nothing bad just things I think readers will need to be aware of so they can either more fully appreciate this blog or disregard it entirely. While I am hesitant to identify with a political party, I am definitely liberal. I support Gay Rights, or, as I like to call them, Human Rights. I also support Gay Marriage, or, as I like to call it, Marriage Equality or just plain ol' Marriage. I identify as Pansexual and my brother is Gay, and I am very, very proud of him for reasons I may go into later. If you don't agree with any of this, then I suggest you GTFO right now. I realize it's your right to comment and say whatever the hell you want to say, just realize that it's also my right to blog about whatever the hell I want to. It's my blog, not yours, and if this ain't your tune, feel free to leave. If you accidentally stumble onto this blog and you realize you don't like what I'm laying down, just bow out and leave. I realize that there are people who think differently than me, so I promise that there will be no hard feelings.


Oh, another thing ... I swear. Quite proficiently at times. I'm am fluent in both sarcasm and profanity and I use it. I promise I will try to curb it as much as possible on this blog but sometimes I just gotta say "fuck" or "shit" or "motherfucker" and, seeing as this is my blog and all, I reserve the right to go off on a profanity-laden diatribe if I feel like it. If I do choose to off on a profanity-laden diatribe, I will post a warning in the title so you can skip it, but realize again that this is my blog and my main reason of creating this blog is to just get all of this out of me (just to clarify: I consider "profanity-laden" to be practically every other word being a swear word; a few swear words in one post is not "profanity-laden" and I will therefore not mark those posts because they will probably be the majority of them).


If anyone's still reading, thank you for understanding and I hope that you will enjoy the future blog posts that I have planned. :)

Obligatory Introduction Post

Hi all. Let me just start off and say, I'm not here to get famous blogging. If people actually want to read my weird ramblings and thoughts on just about every subject under the sun, that's fine, and it will make me happy. But if you read my blog and don't comment, that's fine, too. I'm a little comment shy myself, sometimes. I have yet to even comment on Hyperbole and a Half despite the fact that I absolutely adore Allie and think she's possibly the funniest, most awesome individual alive.


Anyway, let me sorta introduce myself. I say sorta, because to protect the identities - and dignity - of people I'll be talking about sometimes, I'm choosing to be anonymous and go with a pseudonym. I mean, it's one thing to think these things in my head, but to actually get these things out of me, to publish them on the internet, I'll choose to be a little more discreet with specifics.


So, for all intents and purposes, my name is Rue.


Why Rue? Rue McClanahan is one awesome lady, may she rest in peace. Also, Rue from the Hunger Games is my favorite character from the Suzanne Collins trilogy. Both of those people embody a kind of confidence that I wish I had. I guess it just sort of fit for my purposes, here.


Now, to get one more thing out of the way ... I realize that by being anonymous, some people are going to doubt me. I mean, really, when I look back at some things, I find it kinda out there, too. And with no way to back it up without revealing myself, I fully understand that by not doing so will make some people doubt me and cry foul. What I want to say is while I cannot prove every little thing I say, I want to promise any readers out there this: everything I say, everything I tell you, really did happen, and it happened to me. I will never lie to you. Lying, to me, is a disgraceful, shameful act that I refuse to partake in. If you choose to not believe me, then that's on you. I don't care. Because even if you don't believe me, the truth is the truth, and if you don't choose to believe the truth, then whatever, I can't make you. What's that saying? You can lead a horse to water but you can't force it to drink? Yeah, that one.


Sorry if I sounded a little harsh, but I think it was necessary. So, with all that out of the way, welcome to my blog. :) Sometimes I'll be serious, sometimes I'll be funny (or, at least, my weird definition of funny). But whatever I'll choose to be from blog post to blog post, I can guarantee you it'll be one crazy ride.