Showing posts with label armchair activism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label armchair activism. Show all posts

Monday, September 17

Where my mind is wondering

It was recently pointed out to me that I haven't posted in over a year. I'm not sure why. A lot has happened, and a lot hasn't changed. I have nothing of note to say at the moment, just random offerings, but I think it gives you an idea of where my head is right now.

German theological vocab word of the day: Sitz Im Laben. This is a phrase the German theologians used to shift the focus of reading the bible from a historical reading point of view to that of reading legend. So we aren't looking for the "What is happening in this bible story?" as much as we are looking for the sitz im laben - "Why is this story being told?" An important distinction to make I think. 
-I have just saved you about 100 pages of reading and hours of class lectures... you're welcome.

Random Quote from my music library: "It's not the end of everything it's just the end of everything you know ... head vs heart equals bicycle vs a car."
- Bob Schneider, "Bicycle vs Car" from Lovely Creatures

Alex Quote from Friday: "Are you going to turn that down when we get to school? Cause I'm going to open the door, and I have to live with these people 8 hours a day 5 days a week and I don't want them to think I listen to that stuff... It's YOUR music, not mine."
-We were listening to Nirvana when she said this. Can I just add that it breaks my heart a little that she disowns Nirvana which was my all time favorite band when I was her age. At the same time, that she can't identify with Kurt Cobain's lyrics is probably a very good thing.


Insight from my spiritual director: The most complicated role in life I am tackling at the moment is "mother." That the best thing I can do is to pray for my daughter every day. The best best thing is that I reminder her, tell her, show her that I love her every single day - no matter what. The rest is in God's hands.
- I found this to be really powerful and so I just wanted to pass it on even though I realize you might have theological differences.

On a Political Note: What the hell America? Let's just stop, realize that we are human beings and then start over - this time with dignity and understanding.

Friday, January 20

Forgotten Sickness

So the daily calendar I bought myself for Christmas this year is called Forgotten English. Every day it presents a word or phrase that was once used in English speaking society, but has since died either because other words have replaced them or because the thing it describes no longer exists.
Today's word: Green-sickness is defined by James Stormonth's Dictionary of the English, Language published in 1884, as "A disease in which the person has a sickly paleness, with a green tinge of the complexion, chiefly confined to unmarried females.
According to Zell’s Popular Encyclopedia, published in 1871 “….the cure of this disease are gentle exercise in open air, with nutritious and rather stimulating diet, sea-bathing, and agreeable society."
As much as I identify as a feminist, there are time I wouldn't mind being able to fain "green-sickness".
Of course then I’m reminded that today is the Feast Eve of St. Agnes, a day when unmarried females would fast and pray to the patroness of chastity all day long and then drink a concoction of dried worms and white wine before going to bed in order to induce dreams of the man they would one day marry.

I can’t help but wonder if green-sickness wasn't perhaps induced by that kind of diet and “cure.” I have to say this kind of thing makes me very glad to be an educated woman living in an educated, 21 century society.
All of this, of course has nothing to do with anything. Just thought I would share.

Sunday, January 15

Wednesday, October 26

It's hard for me to watch...

It's hard for me to watch the goings on of the Republican presidential race. And it's not that I begrudge the Republicans their politics or their right to disagree with me. I'm not sure how different their Tea Party is from those who are occupying Wall Street right now.  Underneath bravado we are all just flawed humans beings prone to over simplifying complex issues.

What gets me though is the way they have high jacked my faith. At the prayer breakfast if the Holy Spirit speaks it is always in favor of tax cuts and less government regulation and preemptive military action. The Holy Spirit never comes out in favor of anything without clearing it with the Republican Party.

The Bibilist vow to put God back in the public schools, as if God were a small plaster icon and not the Creator of the universe. Evidently they can attend prayer rallies and sense the Spirit's presence. I don't. The public invocation (Father God, bless us, Father God, we ask you hear us, Father God hear this conference, Father God, of Northeast Iowa caucus voters, father God...) is a piece of sanctimonious boilerplate with the spiritual weight of a postage stamp.  It has no connection to my understanding of prayer, the offering of myself in the presence of the Creator: Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world have mercy upon us. Or in Merton's words: the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. Saying the names of loved ones, putting myself wordlessly under God's wing, this is the prayer I known and understand. Campaign prayer is simply political speech directed at God as if She needed instruction. Why are these candidates and their followers so willing to exploit the Christian faith for  political mileage? I can't answer that.

I just know that for all the prayers, if you try to find the love of God at work in the major political parties of America it may take you awhile.

Sunday, September 11

What I need today...

Today my daughter went to our local water park with the youth group at church. And I thought... that's just what I need today of all days - just something fun.

Monday, August 8

Dream House

Photo by Alex, 2011

I love this house. I love the size, the shape, the red door. I love the way it sits at the end of a long dirt drive way. I love the trees, the monstrous yard. I love that this looks like a cottage in the woods, when really its located in the middle of the city.

This house, my dream house was recently sold. I am now hoping against hope that they owners love this house the way I do. That they will live in this house and make it a home. But I'm afraid that like so many other houses in our city the owners look at this lot and see just that... a lot with land on which to build a McMansion. 

Wednesday, June 1

Tomorrow we are leaving...

Tomorrow we are leaving for Walt Disney World AND tomorrow is also my 29th birthday. Although I think I reached a point several birthdays ago where turning a year older wasn't a socially acceptable thing to celebrate, I've relished in them. However, I have to say that this birthday in particular is the one I haven't been running towards with open arms. There is nothing even remotely redeeming about turning 29; it doesn't come with special privileges, and there isn't even a "turning 29" section in the birthday section at Hallmark. It's totally forgettable, and the only purpose it serves it to remind me that I'm still not even 30.

I guess I'm scared more than anything, not of getting old, but of what could possibly happen to me in this 29th year. I honestly thought my life couldn't get any more hectic than when I was 27, and then I turned 28 and all HELL broke loose: Alex went to middle school, I lost my job and started working for French people, I started hanging out with a guy, I've been accepted into seminary, moved upstairs, AND taught my daughter how to take a shower daily. You could say I'm a bit fatigued.

It's also weird because I've always been the youngest person in any group. I'm the youngest of three children, I was always one of the youngest people in my class at school, I'm always the youngest parent among Alex's friends, and I've always kept much older friends. Now this is all starting to change, and I'm the granny in the group. I find that when I tell a kid in college my age they sort of shudder with this look in their eyes, like, my god, this woman is ANCIENT, she actually remembers what it was like to be alive in the 80s! At church when I mingle with parents my age, their children are potty training. When I talk about my daughter's ipod downloads and ask for opinions on cellphone usage and study habits, all I get are blank stares. Really, it was almost better when people my age had no children.

I've decided that for my birthday I'm going to ask for things I know I can't have so that I won't be disappointed when I actually don't get them. Had I learned this trick at the age of five life would have been a much more enjoyable.

This list includes:

1. A vase of fresh flowers that won't die.

2. A brand new ibook.

3. A two and a half hour 3-D movie that contains nothing more than footage of  Anderson Cooper reporting live from war-torn countries dressed in Prada and looking at the camera with those bright blue eyes.

4. A never ending pan of chocolate chip cookies that will not make me fat.

5. That my daughter will stop grunting and rolling her eyes at me.

6. Fresh, minty clean breath (and farts) for my dog.

7. A promise from God or Allah or whoever is in charge that this trip to Disney World where I spend six nights sharing a hotel room with both my mom AND my dad is not going to totally suck.

8. A functioning national public school system where the curriculum is set by educators and not self-serving political hacks.

9. Three fiery meteors hitting the earth, one on the headquarters of FOX NEWS, one on the headquarters of AT&T Wireless, and one on the head of Texas Governor Rick Perry. (Rick Perry is the devil, which should be obvious from his hair.)

10. Free health care for everyone.

Monday, May 23

I have a nasty habit....

I have a nasty habit of cramming an entire life span of things to do into a short period of time, eventually abandoning everything on my to-do list and crawling up into a ball on my couch underneath my comforter.

I think that is why I picked the last Sunday in May to move. If anyone has a school age child or knows a school aged child - you will understand that in the month of May is especially crammed with activities. For well over a month it seems as though my life has been driving Alex to one MUST attend event after another. However, my old lease official ends on May 31 and just to give myself a bit of breathing space we leave for Walt Disney World on June 2 (happy birthday to me!) so in my defense I don't have much choice.

Aside from packing and playing warden to a still grounded Alex I have been enjoying all those fun things that come with moving like making sure the new apartment has electricity.When I called my energy provider today I simply wanted to transfer my electric account from my soon to be old apartment to my soon to be new apartment. Only "Ultra Green Energy Company" (which was recently purchased by "Corporate Energy Giant") is in the middle of a systems upgrade and their friendly customer service representative (CSR) informed me that while they can disconnect the old apartment electricity on May 29, the earliest they would be able to connect the electricity at my new apartment would be June 2.

This news lead to the following discussion:

Me: Seriously? That sounds dumb. I’m going to be in the same address, I’m just moving to another unit.
CSR: Well, Monday is a holiday.
Me: So? What are Sunday, Tuesday and Wednesday?
CSR: Uh?
Me: Never mind. I don't want to transfer my service anymore. Just disconnect my service on May 29 and I will get a new electric provider.
CSR: Well, let me tell you about our very competitive rates.
Me: I don’t really care about your rates. I can’t live in an apartment without electricity for 4 days.

Now I am all signed up with "Wind Energy Company" who is going to connect my electricity on Friday, May 27 because their technicians don't do connection work on weekends or holidays. Thank God for the deregulation of the energy industry. I'm so impressed by the wonderful costumer service all of these privately owned businesses are forced to provide to consumers so that they can be competitive in the marketplace.

Seriously, I just want to go to Walt Disney World so I can sit in the darkened theater of the O'Canada attraction and sing-a-long to this great song while Alex dies of embarrassment....

Wednesday, March 16

Spring Lunchon in the Park

Daylight Savings Time has come and stolen my chance to arrive at work with the sun and so my walk to work is still in darkness and yet early spring weather has arrived. Along the gulf coast our summer carries oppressive heat and humidity and so in spring we enjoy the outdoors with wildly nervous abandon. Yesterday, under the spell of spring I took my lunch outdoors, and enjoyed my sandwich in front of city hall. On the new benches by the reflection pool and green patches of grass I ate carrot sticks and read a book on my new Color Nook. Two children played tag as I read and a gang of skate boarders rushed by.

I wasn’t the only one taking my lunch in the park, on a bench placed there to honor our former Mayor who, apparently, “loved the city parks.” There were others. Men with knapsacks and trash bags filled with more than just a sandwich, but I suspect, everything they own. No one bothered me. Or talked to me. I don’t think anyone ever even looked at me, and yet I couldn’t help but feel their presence as I sat there and read on my Nook. I felt like a schmuck, sitting there with my Vera Bradley lunch tote and reading the philosophical meanderings of a guy chasing rubber duckys lost at sea by way of a luxury electronic device.

Like most good capitalist I didn’t do anything about this feeling of schmuckiness. I simply read and ate and then walked back to my job in the nearby skyscraper. I sat and ate with people who have nothing and did almost nothing. As I left I offered the man beside me my uneaten apple, which he took with a smile after sniffing it for passions. That made the schmuckiness seem to ooze out of me even more. The act felt wholly inadequate and I felt unwise and unsure and humbled.

I suppose if I were a minister writing a sermon this would be the place where I would insert a story from the bible or a lame antidote about something magical I heard God saying to me that day in the park. If I were a feature story on NPR this would be the opening line to explain the revolutionary way I’ve begun to serve the homeless population. But I’m not a minister and I didn’t receive a divine revelation; this isn’t NPR and I’m certain I won’t be opening a homeless shelter any time soon. I have no bow to tie around yesterday’s lunch. I just offer it, humbly and covered in schmuck to the universe. Maybe God, in time, will tie around this for me, but maybe not.

Wednesday, February 16

Making Up Stories...

On this cool night in Houston I see a little breeze in the trees as I look out my window, dozens of lighted windows of private lives, one of which is mine. I am reminded of this by the fact that 100 yards away a small number of Arab men have gathered. Their voices are just loud enough for me to hear. I don't speak Farsi, so I imagine them discussing recent events of the day.

I leave the blogging world for a few weeks and Egypt over throws her dictator and the Middle East is in an uproar. If I had only realized the impact I have the world I would have stopped blogging a lot sooner. I’ve always been a fan of revolutions, especially when they evolve from the masses and so count me as one who is eager to see what path these freedom fighters decided to take. Now that the good old USA is too weak to exert his influence in every corner of the globe, perhaps these countries will be free to find their own voice, apart from the influence of Western threats and bribes. For once our talking heads are forced to sit on the sidelines while the true players decided their fates. So I will refrain from offering my further opinions.

This is what we do in a big city: we make up stories about each other. I take my brown haired daughter to a crowded restaurant and she gazes into faces as we wait to be seated and because its a local eatery and not the Olive Garden there is an astonishing variety of faces, all shades, all shapes, all hairstyles from punk to post-hair. The entire city of Houston isn't like this. You get far enough away from the center and suddenly everyone looks rather similar — it's like the old joke about the little ant who was confused because all his uncles were ants — but in the center there's plenty to catch your eye. I have to remind her of the five-second rule. You can stare at anybody for five seconds but then you have to look away. Look but don't make a scene.

I have a hard time comprehending why anyone would want to be out of reach of such a rich tapestry of sights, sounds and cultures. I haven't quite wrapped my mind around preferring a McMansion that has been locked away from the world to a comfortable two bedroom surround my lights, noise and the richness of diverse and interesting neighbors.

Tuesday, February 1

Freeze Your Buns Off

I haven't really blogged about Crunchy Chicken's annual Freeze Your Buns Off challenge this year. Its hard to write about your freezing buns when its 60 degrees outside. Oh its dipped into the freeze zone once or twice this year, but mostly late a night and I haven't had to turn my heater on - except a few times in the early early mornings. In short is has been nothing like the insanely cold, insanely long winter we endured last year.

Tonight is different. This morning it was 72 degrees when I walked out my door, 68 degrees when I first sat down at my desk and 39 when I ate my lunch. According to NPR is now 27 degrees with a wind chill of 8. It might snow on Friday.

There are few people on my floor who have recently moved here from Belgium (and yeah I can't fathom having to leave the beauty of Brussels to live in our little arm pit). They can't get over our weather. I had to laugh when one guy explained it to me like this, "I just don't understand how you Americans do things. In Belgium we have winter and cold comes a bit at a time and stays for months. Its not like how you have winter that comes in the middle of the day and then its over."

Yes we Americans are odd in the way we do our weather. I wonder if we could petition our city counsel to out law drastic temperature drops within the city limits, or is that a state or federal issue?

Its annoying when the temperature drops in the middle of the day. It happens her enough that I don't find it shocking, but its not the norm. I think I would much prefer the Belgium way of having the cold come a bit at a time even if I wouldn't want it to stay for months on end.

At any rate I am bundled up in my over sized sweats and fuzzy socks. The heater is turned up to 50 and I'm ready for some hot coco.

Happy Winter Everyone!

Monday, January 31

The Duck in a Chiken Coop

It's the birthday of Thomas Merton, born in Prades, France (1915). Merton was a Trappist monk, but he was also the author of more than 50 books, 2,000 poems and a personal diary that spanned much of his lifetime.

Merton was educated in France and the United States before beginning his university career at Cambridge University. But he left after only one year and returned to America to attend Columbia University and live with his grandparents. Merton decided to write his master's thesis on William Blake, and he found himself deeply influenced by Blake. He converted to Christianity, and in 1941 he entered a Trappist abbey in Kentucky, where he remained for most of his life. In his diary from this time, Merton wrote, "Going to the Trappists is exciting. I return to the idea again and again: 'Give up everything, give up everything!'" Merton had become well-known throughout the world, in part because of his writing, in particular his autobiography The Seven Story Mountain (1948).

He said, "An author in a Trappist monastery is like a duck in a chicken coop. And he would give anything in the world to be a chicken instead of a duck."

Merton was also known for his dialogue with other faiths, and for advocating non-violence during race riots and the Vietnam War. Merton was encouraged to write at the abbey, but he was not allowed to leave. And so a new abbot allowed Merton to leave the abbey in 1968 for a tour of Asia, where he met the Dalai Lama, and where he died accidentally, touching an electric fan as he stepped from his bath.


The Everlasting Gospel (excerpt)
by William Blake

The Vision of Christ that thou dost see
Is my Visions Greatest Enemy
Thine has a great hook nose like thine
Mine has a snub nose like to mine
Thine is the Friend of All Mankind
Mine speaks in parables to the Blind
Thine loves the same world that mine hates

Thy Heaven doors are my Hell Gates
Socrates taught that Melitus
Loathd as a Nations bitterest Curse
And Caiphus was in his own Mind
A benefactor of Mankind
Both read the Bible day & night
But thou readst black where I read white

Saturday, January 29

Art and Histroy of Great Writing Deut


Theater Arts is Alex's elective during her first year of middle school. She has been learning about the art and history of the dramatic arts, from theater to radio and beyond. Alex's favorite actress at the moment is Julie Andrews. She loves the way she sang in movies like Mary Poppins, Sound of Music and Thoroughly Modern Millie. She loves the way she can balance an air of respectability and comedic timing.


But when it came time for the kids in her class to write a report on a well known person in American theater history they simply drew names out of a hat. So while the boy sitting next to Alex drew the name, Julie Andrews, Alex was stuck with some random person named Adolph Green.


The funny thing is that I was raised on classic movies and back in the early days of movies, right through the 1960s actually there was a lot of cross over of talent between Broadway and Hollywood. I was surprised that I was unfamiliar with this choice. Alex was disappointed, but today was took a trip to the library to do some research. What we found there was a treasure trove of information and now I am ashamed to think that I had been ignorant of the great lyricists and writers, Adolph Green and Betty Comden.


Adolph Green was born in the Bronx, New York on December 2, 1915 into a family of Hungarian immigrants. He graduated high school in 1934 and worked at assorted jobs including as a runner on Wall Street. In 1937, at a summer camp, he met the young Leonard Bernstein who was the music counselor, and they became life-long friends. In 1938, another decisive meeting occurred while making the rounds of theatrical agents he met Betty Comden. Together with Judy Holiday, the two formed the act The Revuers, which performed in the legendary Greenwich Village nightclub, The Village Vanguard. They lacked the funds to pay royalties and so began writing and performing their own satirical and musical comedic materials.


They went onto collaborate with Leonard Bernstein and Jerome Robbins on what was the first show for all of them, "On The Town." Also with Mr. Bernstein they did the score for "Wonderful Town." With Jule Styne they wrote the book and/or lyrics for "Bells Are Ringing," "Hallelujah, Baby," "Do Re Mi," "Subways Are For Sleeping," "Peter Pan," and others, wrote the book for "Applause," and book and lyrics for "on The Twentieth Century" and "A Doll's Life." Four of these, "Applause," "Hallelujah, Baby," "Wonderful Town," and "On The Twentieth Century," won them five Tony Awards, and "A Doll's Life," a Tony nomination.


Comden and Green are considered to have the longest running creative partnership in theater history, but some of their best known work was for film. Their film musicals include "Singin' In The Rain," "The Band Wagon," "On The Town," "Bells Are Ringing," "It's Always Fair Weather," "Good News," and "The Barkleys Of Broadway." Two of these, "The Band Wagon" and "It's Always Fair Weather," received Academy Award Nominations, and those two plus "On The Town" won the Screen Writer's Award. "Singin' In The Rain" was recently voted one of the ten best American films ever made and, by a vote of international film critics conducted by the prestigious magazine "Sight and Sound," it was chosen as Number Three of the ten best films of all time.


I think the best source that Alex and I enjoyed reading together was Art of the American Musical: Conversations with the Creators edited by Jackson R. Bryer and Richard N. Davison. This included an interview with the team that was conducted in 1992 and the thing that impressed me most about them was how much fun they seemed to be having, even when they were talking about what seemed to be soar subject, "Singin' In the Rain." That script was written for MGM under the old studio system so while it as their greatest screenplay and lyrics, they don't own any of the rights. When asked how their partnership lasted so long Green gave a simple, yet wonderful answer, "We have basic respect for each other." To me that sums up the greatness of career. They have wonderful sense of timing and a great skill for writing, but what really started and sustained their careers was the relationships they formed both in film and stage industries. People had great respect for not only their work, but who they are/were as people.


Adolph Green passed away in December of 2002. He as honored by a memorial on Broadway that was attended by some of the greatest legends that have had the honor to preform their work over the years. I'm glad Alex pulled his name. I might never have known the story of Comden and Green otherwise.

Monday, January 17

Because my workday begins...

Because my workday begins early, it begins, in winter, in the huge, tense blackness of the world. I slip out of bed before the sun slips into the sky and the house is hard cold so I move purposely in silence. I lack the confidence to move quickly, I fear the skate board that could be waiting in the middle of the hall. I dress in the dark and shuffle to the coffee pot. The sleepy dog walks with me a few strides then he disappears. The coffee maker hisses then gurgles. I listen intently, as though it is a language the coffee grounds are speaking. There are no stars, nor a moon. I can see a little from the street lamps and finally I turn on the light that sits on the side of my desk. I lean on the winged back of my green chair by the amber light and my purple desk. Now the dog comes back, his happy feet finding a new bed by my side. I sit and read, think, write, stare by the light of my desk.
This is the beginning of every day.

Thursday, January 6

Check your ego for the Greater Good

Republicans used their second day in charge of the House to read the Constitution to each other. This is good. Holding the majority of one chamber of Congress will require both political parties to decide who they are. Are Democrats really interested in unemployment, health care, banking regulation and the long-term health of the planet? Are Republicans still just angry that a non-citizen and practicing Muslim got elected president so he could send death panels around to enslave us in the chains of Mexican Marxists?

Nobody looks on the marathon health-care debate and the latest stimulus bill as a noble chapter in political science. No legislator is going to have a hospital or school named for him in honor of his heroic work. (Maybe a parking ramp.) Meanwhile, one-sixth of our population is without health insurance, and over ten percent are unemployed while the wealth gap gross and the middle class disappears.

If our nation is to learn anything from the shooting rampage that took place at a gathering for political dialogue in Arizona this weekend, both parties will have to wake up and realize that running on anger is not such a great idea. For one thing, it's hard to sustain. Government does not change when you yell at it. The world doesn't run on slogans and ideology, it runs on compromise and paperwork. Government can not be run on Blue or Red ideals alone, there being so many purple people occupying flyover country. One has to wonder if our Congressmen realize that our Constitution was written in order to form a more perfect UNION and not simply a cluster of warring ideologues. The remarkable thing about great Statesmen are not their high ideals, that at some point differences and ego are set aside for the greater good.

My heart was gladdened by an official-looking sign in the Bush airport when I went to pick up Alex the other day. Just beyond the TSA checkpoint, hanging over where you put your shoes and coat back on and stuff your laptop back in the case: The sign said, "Recombobulation Area." The English language gains a new word. Recombobulate, America. Pull yourself together, tie your shoelaces, and check your over sized ego before boarding.

Tuesday, January 4

I will know everything when I know nothing

So 1,000 birds simultaneously fall out of the Arkansas sky and the state government's answer to that oddity is "fireworks". True story. I was listening to NPR this morning when the segment turned to the freak dead bird story that has been the "water cooler" news de jur. They interviewed Arkansas State Veterinarian George Badley who is convinced that these birds were just all "discombobulated. Black birds were frightened by fireworks and the entire group of 5,000 simply got confused and began crashing into solid objects, like houses and trees. The idea that they were sick or otherwise affected by some mysterious toxin is "non sense" according to Badley. Look, I don't know what happened to the birds and the 100,000 drum fish that went belly up around the same time just over 100 miles away in the Arkansas river, but if it wasn't a various or some mysterious environmental toxin, as the Arkansas state fish guy seems to believe possible, then I'm going with Aliens or an apocalyptic sign from God.

Back in the day, I attended a Church of Christ elementary school. Such fundamentalists didn't mess with angels, sensing that Catholics owned the angel franchise, part of their dim smoky world of bead-rattling and hocus-pocus and lugubrious statuary, so instead in school we focused on the Holy Spirit who dwelt in all of us true believers and told us what to do and what to say, which is convenient for people with plenty of self-confidence. You read some Scripture and work up a sweat over it and stand up in the sunlit sanctuary, no dinging or chanting, no costumes or choreography, and you open your mouth and out comes Truth, such as the doctrine of Separation from the World, which was appealing to those of us with no social skills - if people didn't like you, it was proof of your righteousness.

The idea that I was right and most other people were wrong stuck with me through my cocksure youth, but then comes the perilous passage of life when a woman lies awake in intensive care thinking about breathing forever with one lung and if you will ever bare another child, and your interest in Truth fades a little compared to your interest in winged beings who might come and rescue people in serious trouble. Nowadays I think more about angels. And sometimes I slip into a silent church to sit and commune with any resident angels and to light a few candles. Because if I know anything, it is that too often this world defies all scientific knowledge and human logic and that more often than not, the best answer to the question is "I don't know."

Update:

After reading the above, I feel compelled to add that I have no idea, nor do I pretend to guess the religious leanings of Mr. George Badley. I just see two sets of people who are completely sure of their answers and I stand in awe struck wonder of their certainty.

Wednesday, December 15

Sick of Being Sick

I am never sick this long. I guess I should say I'm never sick with common illnesses this long, but this cold thing just will not give up and go away and I'm seriously over it. I'm over the hacking cough. I'm over the Kleenex. I'm over bathing myself in anti-bacteria gel in an attempt to convince myself that... really... I'm not spewing germs all over every single service I touch.

This whole experience has been a great reminder of just how craptastic the American health care system really is. Its lucky that I'm sick now, before my insurance expires at the end of the year. Right now, working this new job on a temp to perm basis, I'm heading for two months of no coverage. I'm pretty sure there aren't any health insurance companies that would want to carry a one lunged cancer survivor.

Without insurance:
$130 Doctor visit
$158 Steroid prescription (w/$25 coupon from doctor)
$38 Antibiotic prescription

Total cost of cold = $326

With Insurance:
$25 Doctor visit
$5 Steroid prescription (w/$25 coupon from doctor)
$10 Antibiotic prescription

Total cost of cold = $40

Friday, December 3

Happy Ending of the First Week of Advent

For the last few years I have made a vow not to step foot in a mall during the month of December. I intend to keep that same promise again this year, but I have to admit that I wouldn't mind being in this food court.