The State of Things
1. My internship ends Friday but I'll continue working part time once school starts. I'm taking some time off over the next few weeks and will be splitting my time between Illinois and Kentucky.
2. Checking out of Murray Place Friday the 6th. This is an open invitation for anyone interested to come witness the checking out process. While 4 against 1 or even 2 is the intended plan, what's a few more people on team us? Bring signs of support-let's make this an all out rally. Feel free to protest too. Seeing as how I no longer live in Carbondale, I haven't seen a good protest in years.
3. I still haven't suscribed to any sort of trash pickup. I'm still taking my trash to Murray Place and tossing it in the dumpster there. Inconvenient as it may be, I feel entitled to use their dumpster because technically I'm still a resident. Lord knows they still boss me around like I still am.
4. Living alone is nice. Rarely am I ever fully dressed while lounging at home these days. In fact, I'm not wearing a shirt right now. Drool or vomit at that thought as you please.
5. Ames came down to visit this weekend and I exposed her to life in Murray. Good times were had by all.
6. OMGWTFBBQ Friday showed me that I still have much to learn about the art of grilling. Thanks to those that came out and a special thanks to Devhead for helping me man the grill, to Nichole for sodas, and to The Hardy's for making a citronella run.
7. I'm now a doggie aunt to Lilbit, LeeAnn's corgi-beagle mix. That dog rocks.
8. Tonight is the first Taco Tuesday since Nichole left town. Out of confusion/sorrow, I ate McDonald's for dinner instead. I'm now officially endorsing McDonald's now. Sparky says eat french fries!
9. I can tell the seasons are getting ready to change and it's great because I love fall...especially down here. Everything is prettier and everything smells nicer in the fall. This goes for people too. Along with fall comes the start of school. I'm both excited about a new school year and sad that this is my last. Growing up/older can really suck sometimes. I'm not ready to leave school and become a contributing member of society!
10. I've been watching the Democratic National Convention this week.
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
I HATE going to the Doctor More Than Ever Now
Yesterday marked my third visit to Primary care in a three month period. I'm averaging about once a month. April was the whole irregular heartbeat thing. A few weeks ago, I dropped a maglight on my foot. Yesterday I went to have my horribly swollen and disfigured tonsils checked out. As if my hatred of being sick and going to the doctor weren't enough incentive to have a healthier home stretch of 2004, it was my experience with the doctor that makes me want to tough out everything I can or just get in the car and drive home for healthcare. For starters, the doctor was a jackass. He asked me two questions (do you have allergies...actually, he just looked at me and said "Allergies?" and asked me how long my throat has been swollen) and glanced into my throat before curtly announcing "Not strep." He tried to give me ceclor twice, which I'm fatally allergic to and acted like it was some big problem when I told him I couldn't take ceclor. He not so nicely asked me what the big problem with ceclor was and I told him "it'll kill me!" And after I told him that, he asked me if I'd taken it before. So I told him that yes I took it and yes, I had to go to the hospital. Then there's long silence and then he tells me the medicines he's giving me-a decongestent, ceclor for the throat infection...I didn't even hear what the third one was because I interrupted him to once again tell me not to give me ceclor. So, to recap this doctor's visit...in the five minutes or less I was there he didn't answer any of my questions, repeatedly tried to give me a drug that makes me have to get medical attention as to not die, and treated me like I was wasting his time.
And Now That I Think about It, Pharmacies Aren't That Great Either
While I'll never be able to hate the pharmacy as much as the doctor's office, I'm no longer as fond of it as I used to be. Last night was the first time I used CVS instead of Wal-Mart. With Wal-Mart, no matter how early in the day you call in a prescription, once you get there to pick it up, the wait is always an hour. I swear the first half hour is to make you want to buy more stuff and that second is to show you who is boss. I don't like the pharmacist at Wal-Mart either! And once the medicine is ready, I mean the requisite 60 minute wait time has passed, there is never anyone behind the counter to ring up the purchase. So figuring in the 5-10 minutes it takes for someone to acknowledge your presence, followed by the next 5 or so minutes required to find the prescription from the rack of bags, and then the checkout procedure, we're closing in on 90 minutes to get a prescription that was called in 6 hours earlier. So, last night I got a clue and had my stuff sent to CVS, which is a bit sunnier. The rude pharmacist was replaced by a cute, floppy haired rx tech. I didn't leave the store with the usual burning desire to boil my hands (see references to "That Unclean Feeling" from being in Wal-Mart). A lady did, however, break wind in my general direction as she walked by (a major wtf moment).
Between the doctor's office and the pharmacy, I now have even more incentive to never be sick again.
Yesterday marked my third visit to Primary care in a three month period. I'm averaging about once a month. April was the whole irregular heartbeat thing. A few weeks ago, I dropped a maglight on my foot. Yesterday I went to have my horribly swollen and disfigured tonsils checked out. As if my hatred of being sick and going to the doctor weren't enough incentive to have a healthier home stretch of 2004, it was my experience with the doctor that makes me want to tough out everything I can or just get in the car and drive home for healthcare. For starters, the doctor was a jackass. He asked me two questions (do you have allergies...actually, he just looked at me and said "Allergies?" and asked me how long my throat has been swollen) and glanced into my throat before curtly announcing "Not strep." He tried to give me ceclor twice, which I'm fatally allergic to and acted like it was some big problem when I told him I couldn't take ceclor. He not so nicely asked me what the big problem with ceclor was and I told him "it'll kill me!" And after I told him that, he asked me if I'd taken it before. So I told him that yes I took it and yes, I had to go to the hospital. Then there's long silence and then he tells me the medicines he's giving me-a decongestent, ceclor for the throat infection...I didn't even hear what the third one was because I interrupted him to once again tell me not to give me ceclor. So, to recap this doctor's visit...in the five minutes or less I was there he didn't answer any of my questions, repeatedly tried to give me a drug that makes me have to get medical attention as to not die, and treated me like I was wasting his time.
And Now That I Think about It, Pharmacies Aren't That Great Either
While I'll never be able to hate the pharmacy as much as the doctor's office, I'm no longer as fond of it as I used to be. Last night was the first time I used CVS instead of Wal-Mart. With Wal-Mart, no matter how early in the day you call in a prescription, once you get there to pick it up, the wait is always an hour. I swear the first half hour is to make you want to buy more stuff and that second is to show you who is boss. I don't like the pharmacist at Wal-Mart either! And once the medicine is ready, I mean the requisite 60 minute wait time has passed, there is never anyone behind the counter to ring up the purchase. So figuring in the 5-10 minutes it takes for someone to acknowledge your presence, followed by the next 5 or so minutes required to find the prescription from the rack of bags, and then the checkout procedure, we're closing in on 90 minutes to get a prescription that was called in 6 hours earlier. So, last night I got a clue and had my stuff sent to CVS, which is a bit sunnier. The rude pharmacist was replaced by a cute, floppy haired rx tech. I didn't leave the store with the usual burning desire to boil my hands (see references to "That Unclean Feeling" from being in Wal-Mart). A lady did, however, break wind in my general direction as she walked by (a major wtf moment).
Between the doctor's office and the pharmacy, I now have even more incentive to never be sick again.
Sunday, July 11, 2004
New Rules: Drinking
1. No sitting in the front seat when being carted around town.
2. No operating computers or other communication devices.
3. No thinking that you are actually relevant in the big scheme of things in any way, shape, or form. This means no climbinbg on top of things and announcing that you have the key to the universe or know how to cure cancer.
4. No making eye contact with other people in the room. There's something about booze that makes it hard to break a gaze and that just freaks people out.
5. No talking. To anyone. About anything. Period.
1. No sitting in the front seat when being carted around town.
2. No operating computers or other communication devices.
3. No thinking that you are actually relevant in the big scheme of things in any way, shape, or form. This means no climbinbg on top of things and announcing that you have the key to the universe or know how to cure cancer.
4. No making eye contact with other people in the room. There's something about booze that makes it hard to break a gaze and that just freaks people out.
5. No talking. To anyone. About anything. Period.
Thursday, July 08, 2004
Changing Perceptions
So the question of the week is this...can a single action by a person change the way you look at him/her? Or was it actually a single action in a long chain of events/actions that did it-that pushed perception over the edge into thinking a person that was once good as gold...is merely an overrated ass? Can someone do something so rude/mean that it shatters any preperceived notion of good in that person? I think, for me anyway, that it's always the little things that do it. The proverbial straw on the camel's back. Disappointing as it may be, in the end I think it's always better to realize a person's true colors early on than...you get the picture. It's just upsetting to take a closer look at something/someone and realize you don't like what you see, even though you wanted to.
Support
Last night I dropped a maglight on my foot and was momentarily convinced my foot was broken. Fortunately I can now walk on it with minimal burning and my toes don't look quite as deformed/flattened, but it will be many shades of black, blue and green for quite some time. I'm lucky that Devin was here to listen to my cry, curse, and complain and get me ice...I'm lucky that he would actually do something and not just stare at me like I was an idiot for dropping something on my foot. I'm glad he didn't freak out or go home so he wouldn't have to hear me complain.
In a Nutshell...
Summarizing the week in 5 points:
1. Having to be at a plant for noise monitoring at 6 in the morning != fun.
2. Three weeks left in internship. Must remember to turn in all paper work.
3. The new place rocks. Pants are optional.
4. Night at Huddle House > *. I'm f*#$%ing Chris Hodes! No, really...
5. Has anyone seen my dishtowels?
So the question of the week is this...can a single action by a person change the way you look at him/her? Or was it actually a single action in a long chain of events/actions that did it-that pushed perception over the edge into thinking a person that was once good as gold...is merely an overrated ass? Can someone do something so rude/mean that it shatters any preperceived notion of good in that person? I think, for me anyway, that it's always the little things that do it. The proverbial straw on the camel's back. Disappointing as it may be, in the end I think it's always better to realize a person's true colors early on than...you get the picture. It's just upsetting to take a closer look at something/someone and realize you don't like what you see, even though you wanted to.
Support
Last night I dropped a maglight on my foot and was momentarily convinced my foot was broken. Fortunately I can now walk on it with minimal burning and my toes don't look quite as deformed/flattened, but it will be many shades of black, blue and green for quite some time. I'm lucky that Devin was here to listen to my cry, curse, and complain and get me ice...I'm lucky that he would actually do something and not just stare at me like I was an idiot for dropping something on my foot. I'm glad he didn't freak out or go home so he wouldn't have to hear me complain.
In a Nutshell...
Summarizing the week in 5 points:
1. Having to be at a plant for noise monitoring at 6 in the morning != fun.
2. Three weeks left in internship. Must remember to turn in all paper work.
3. The new place rocks. Pants are optional.
4. Night at Huddle House > *. I'm f*#$%ing Chris Hodes! No, really...
5. Has anyone seen my dishtowels?
Saturday, July 03, 2004
Move along, There's Nothing to See Here
As of tomorrow night, I will have lived in four different apartments in the past year. One year. Tonight is my last night in this apartment and I've moved so much that it's not even that big of a deal. Since leaving the first place I've lived in Murray, I've been the happiest here. I can only hope that life in the new (still untitled) place will be just as good. It'll be different, but things will be fine.
As of tomorrow night, I will have lived in four different apartments in the past year. One year. Tonight is my last night in this apartment and I've moved so much that it's not even that big of a deal. Since leaving the first place I've lived in Murray, I've been the happiest here. I can only hope that life in the new (still untitled) place will be just as good. It'll be different, but things will be fine.
Thursday, July 01, 2004
The Saga of the Bronson Juvie Van
Somewhere in Marion County, Illinois is a special place. A place where children who cannot attend regular school go to expand their young and eager minds. A place with a teaching staff sensitive enough to meet the educational needs of these exceptional children. A place with security guards trained to handle a situation when one of them feels they absolutely must throw that chair through that window. That place is Bronson Alternative School. And this weekend, I'm using their utility van to move.
The practice of using this van began in August of 2002 when after 2 years in hell, I mean Carbondale, I decided to pack up and head toward greener pastures...blue-er grass. After taking care to reserve a U-Haul in good time and make sure all the paper work was in order (including retaining that all-important receipt), my parents went to collect said U-Haul when as a final "up-yours" by the black hole that is Carbondale...it had been rented to someone else. Regardless of reservation. Driven off the lot. By someone else. Twenty minutes before my parents got there (likely).
Knowing how my mother was on that day, I'm pretty sure she castrated the guy working at U-Haul over the incident.
So after a horrible evening of packing the contents of my duplex into a few vehicles and driving home, Mom and I set out for Carbondale again the next morning with Dad promising to arrive shortly after with a solution to our lack of a vehicle large enough to accomodate a couch, a bed, and some other things
That solution was the Bronson Alternative School Juvie Van.
Technically, it's a utility van-you know, the kind serial killers drive, but without the torture chamber in the back and doors that actually can be opened from the inside. It's just a big, navy blue van with "Bronson Alternative School" written on the side. I'm quite fond of it, actually, and it's really cool that the school lets us use it. That's pretty much the end of the story of the juvie van, but I think it's neat and just wanted to share.
The end.
Somewhere in Marion County, Illinois is a special place. A place where children who cannot attend regular school go to expand their young and eager minds. A place with a teaching staff sensitive enough to meet the educational needs of these exceptional children. A place with security guards trained to handle a situation when one of them feels they absolutely must throw that chair through that window. That place is Bronson Alternative School. And this weekend, I'm using their utility van to move.
The practice of using this van began in August of 2002 when after 2 years in hell, I mean Carbondale, I decided to pack up and head toward greener pastures...blue-er grass. After taking care to reserve a U-Haul in good time and make sure all the paper work was in order (including retaining that all-important receipt), my parents went to collect said U-Haul when as a final "up-yours" by the black hole that is Carbondale...it had been rented to someone else. Regardless of reservation. Driven off the lot. By someone else. Twenty minutes before my parents got there (likely).
Knowing how my mother was on that day, I'm pretty sure she castrated the guy working at U-Haul over the incident.
So after a horrible evening of packing the contents of my duplex into a few vehicles and driving home, Mom and I set out for Carbondale again the next morning with Dad promising to arrive shortly after with a solution to our lack of a vehicle large enough to accomodate a couch, a bed, and some other things
That solution was the Bronson Alternative School Juvie Van.
Technically, it's a utility van-you know, the kind serial killers drive, but without the torture chamber in the back and doors that actually can be opened from the inside. It's just a big, navy blue van with "Bronson Alternative School" written on the side. I'm quite fond of it, actually, and it's really cool that the school lets us use it. That's pretty much the end of the story of the juvie van, but I think it's neat and just wanted to share.
The end.
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