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Reviewing Google Wave negatively during the preview phase reads to me thusly:
"So, I heard all about this really fancy five star Italian restaurant opening up down the street, and it seemed like it would be really awesome. They were allowing people to come in and look, so, like, I went in there, thinking how cool it would be to be one of the first people in there.
But, like, there were only a couple of tables, no silverware or glasses or anything, the place wasn't decorated very well, and it had a really bad ambiance. Like, you could hear construction going on and a lot of people talking really loudly in the back, and the lights were really bright and stuff.
Then, when I went into the kitchen and took some food off the counter? It was gross! Totally underdone, not a very wide variety and totally not enough of it. Like, these were the most underdone pasta noodles I've ever had. I think I might have chipped a tooth. I can't believe a place like that would have such terrible lasagna. They really should maybe stick to the basics, like pizza or something. Everyone likes pizza.
How do they expect anyone to ever want to eat there? I won't ever go back. They're totally going to go out of business. What a bad idea. They really should go back to the drawing board and start over, before the Olive Garden takes over or something. Man, what a bunch of posers. Anyone who likes this place is just a mindless fanboy."
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It has come to my attention, even though I am under this rock of mine, that Sarah Palin is still getting a lot of media coverage and for some reason still considered a candidate for the presidency in 2012. Ok, I really, really, really REALLY need to know: HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE? I thought that when she resigned as governor of Alaska she had shot herself in the foot and conceded her political defeat. You can't claim you will be a good president of an entire country if you can't even complete your promised service as a governor of a state. How is anyone even remotely taking anything about a run for presidency seriously? I want to believe that Christian conservatives and other people who might have supported her during her vice presidential run are not complete idiots and she just spoke a language they could understand better or something, but I am hard-pressed to find something charitable to say about people who honestly believe that someone who couldn't hack it as governor could do a good job as president. What the eff? I need to go back to sleep. I am cranky and in pain. P.S. Why do people refer to her book as "a future best-seller" instead of just...um, I dunno, whatever it is? Using the phrase "best-seller" indicates, uh, the book was...a best-seller. I had assumed that by some magic the book was an actual best-seller until I caught the word "future" and went...buh? Current Mood:  confused
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Soon begins my sleep experiment. Which I am kind of looking forward to since the outlet for my creative and intellectual thing has recently become somewhat stressful and vexing, and it gives me a break from that piece of angst. It is hard to see a good thing die and know I can't do anything about it, and know that I have to let go of it soon. I know by now that hanging on when it's become a caustic, negative thing for me is the wrong thing to do for my psyche and health. I don't have the energy to waste. Even if it was once awesome, and I will be sad to let all of the accomplishments and relationships and all that go. I just don't know how to let go yet. I guess I will figure it out. ...It makes me feel kind of bad for the players of my game, though. Watching this has made me realize what I let happen to my own place. I wonder if it's worth it for me to try to go back and fix things on Sneezy. I mean, it's not exactly the same. In fact, not much is the same at all. The atmosphere and culture are very different. I would love to bring the good things that drew me into this other place with me back to Sneezy and try to build something fun again, but I'm not sure that the culture of Sneezy is changeable from the top down. I accepted a while ago that it would require the players to want to make change, and I gave a lot of opportunities and I offered a lot of help, but in the end most of the players would rather hang on to old bitterness. Granted, I now have the tools to completely, literally ignore the players that bring nothing but negativity to the MUD, but they still influence the culture. The game is nearly dead; do we really NEED to keep around the total assholes that bring nothing? But I'm kind of jumping the gun here. What I would really like is to have fun again where I am and stop feeling... what's the right word? Afraid, kind of. Nervous is a better word. Nervous, self-conscious, but right now it's mostly demoralized. The wind is gone from my sails. Woe. I am loathe to try to find another place of some sort that will offer me creative/intellectual stimulation on demand on my terms. It's not so easy! In the meantime, though, I'm going to embark on this crazy two-week-sleep thing. I'm not sure if I talked about what a disaster my appointment with my PCP was, but wow. It was. Upside is she told me I had nothing to worry about trying to sleep my way through the majority of two weeks. And my psych today was all for it, too. There is something appealing about trying to figure out some advocacy stuff for fibro/CFS but god damn, that's not in any way fun. It's depressing. I want to play a game, I want to have a social outlet. I want to live a fantasy life away from this one, because this one I just can't handle sometimes. There's far more pain here than most normal healthy people would ever imagine. I mean, it's hilarious what I consider normal. And I mention in passing a something-something and a healthy person says, "Oh my god, have you seen a doctor about that?" And I'm all, lol, that's the least of my worries. Shit that happens to me would send normal people to a fucking ER. So, really, I need to have an available fantasy life where I can get out of this one and pretend I'm not me and I don't live here and I don't have this body. MAN, I am so resistant to change and letting go. I just wish certain things could always be the same so I could enjoy them forever. I know everything changes, people move on, other people move in, things become different, and I have to choose whether I can handle it or not. But I am Taurus, hear me roar. I don't like change. I want to hang on to what was. But oh, dear me, it is another one of life's lessons that says to me, "You cannot hang on to what was. It may never come again. Find something else, and appreciate it while you have it. On a note of not letting go of things past, this is a song I learned and performed in college and it haunts my heart to this day:  It makes me want to sing again. I am greatly dissatisfied with life. Things are difficult to explain. But it's a time when I could really use a low-stress safe space to have fun and challenge myself. So. Gotta figure that out, stat. Tomorrow is purpling. Then, sleeping, sleeping, sleeping and forever sleeping. Hopefully nothing goes wrong. M will be out of town the first two days. Waiting to fall asleep kinda sucks. Hate lying down to wait for it. Current Mood:  Random
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you thought by now you'd be so much better than you are you thought by now they'd see that you have come so far hold on one more time with feeling try it again, breathing's just a rhythm say it in your mind until you know that the words are right this is why we fight Current Mood:  crushed
Current Music: One More Time With Feeling-Regina Spektor-Far (Bonus Track Version)
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So, I was reading this (PDF), and realizing... I'm not getting better. I'm getting worse. For a while, before reading the (very long but worthwhile) article I linked to up there, I kept thinking to myself, "Every time I get sick, I don't recover. I have still not recovered from getting the flu in...in...in..." And then I am reminded how much my cognitive abilities have degraded. I used to have an exceptional memory. Exceptional. It is what allowed me to be the best at nearly everything I did. I have recently had to admit...that's gone. It's gone. I can't remember things well anymore. I can't remember yesterday, last week, last month, last year. My aphasia has returned, even when I am not having a migraine. I desperately cling to participating in an online text-based storytelling game because it keeps me thinking and writing. I try hard to understand what I am reading and I try just as hard to write good sentences with proper grammatical structure and style. It is, in a way, the perfect mental challenge for me at this point, because each "round" of this storytelling game is short. As in, someone writes a few lines of text, I read it and then write my own couple of lines of text in character. I play this game a lot because a) it is fantasy and I need the escape b) it's the only thing I have left that I can do that challenges my mind but doesn't demand things from me on a particular schedule or timeline. I can say, "I don't feel well, I need to go" and leave anytime I need to. But even then, I've noticed lately that I can't remember my words. This isn't because I'm not using them often enough to remember them. It's just because...I can't. I sometimes spend two or three minutes struggling with a simple word. It would be a lot more embarrassing if it weren't an online game where no one can see me struggling with it. I can go out twice a week. TOPS. I went out on Tuesday and Wednesday this week. Today I was supposed to attend Matthew's mom's birthday party, but in spite of loading up on caffeine, provigil and alprazolam (the latter is to even out the shakes from caffeine and to reduce the pain in my hips and stuff), I couldn't quite make it past taking a shower. I was so exhausted that... well, to be honest, I'm not really sure what happened. I'm going to guess that I was just too tired to stand anymore and couldn't walk, so I just laid down on the floor between the bathroom and bedroom. I can't really remember doing it, but I remember Matthew coming upstairs and almost stepping on me and then having to haul me up off the floor and put me into bed. And even though I had just had a bunch of stimulants, I fell asleep within minutes. I go to my doctor every month. She's great and I love her, but she doesn't know what to do with me. She sees me every month to monitor my medications and talk to me. To make sure I'm not about to commit suicide. She's basically acting as another talk therapist. But no amount of antidepressants and talk therapy are going to make my body any better. I was at one point feeling incredibly better, emotionally. I was really coming to a point of acceptance and hope. I'm not sure what happened. But my body never got better. My depression can get all the better it wants to, but my body is not getting better. And exercise is not going to make me better. That's all the national health/disease organizations can come up with. Treat with antidepressants, psychotherapy and exercise. That might help if you only have depression. But I have a real physical illness in addition to depression that can't be explained by depression or treated with the same remedies for depression. I just don't know what it is. And no one else truly does either. So I can't be fixed. And I'm getting worse. It doesn't matter how many times people want to tell me that fibromyalgia is not degenerative; I am getting worse. I used to be able to drive to Kirkland to get my electromuscular therapy. I can't do that anymore. I stopped being able to after that bout with the flu that knocked me out for a while. I never recovered. I have to do an elaborate song and dance with medication and planning just to take a fucking shower, people. There is something. wrong. with. me. Why do I keep saying that? Because even I don't believe me. Because medicine doesn't believe me. Sure, right now, I am willing to accept that my psychological conditions (hypervigilance, anxiety, depression, past trauma) can exacerbate my existing health issues. But they aren't causing them. The entire medical community seems to want me to believe they are. They're not. I promise you, they're not. I have so much...so much more to say, but I've run out of energy to say it. My mind has gone blank, I'm as mentally exhausted as I am physically exhausted, for no apparent reason and with no solution in sight. I'm so frustrated and so scared. I remembered something I wanted to say. I am considering doing something odd. I am thinking that from November 19-December 1, I will do "sleep therapy" wherein every night early in the evening I will take an entire muscle relaxant (note that even a quarter or half of one will knock me out for like 12 hours) and zolpidem and sleep for as long as humanly possible. When I wake up, I will do the absolute minimum self care - I will perform basic hygiene, drink water, eat food, interact with birds and possibly Matthew (if he is not at work by then), and then perhaps attempt to do some reading or the game playing mentioned above (or maybe I'll get rid of my computer for that entire time and play Brain Age on my DS instead), see if I'm sleepy, and if so, I will lay down and go back to sleep. Basically, I will try to remain sleeping for 13 days. Thirteen is not a magic number, it's just the number of days during that time that I do not have any appointments. The only exception is Thanksgiving. Where did I come up with this nutter idea? I am remembering that one experimental therapy for chronic pain is an induced coma. It's extremely dangerous and can have terrible side effects. But the idea is a major change to the system, something that allows the body to do its regenerative stuff. I don't know if 13 days excluding Thanksgiving will be long enough, or if I should start again from Dec 3-15. Or maybe more, I don't know; the appointments I have then are psychotherapy ones; if I've been sleeping the entire time, maybe I won't need them. Who knows. All I really know is that I want to be present for Christmas somehow. I want to have a happy Christmas eve, Christmas morning, Christmas dinner and the annual Boxing Day shopping with my aunts. And I want to have anything, anything, anything that might make me feel better and I am feeling like I'm just at the end of the line and I have no idea what can be done. I'm not being treated, there's no treatment. There's just no treatment. How can I ever possibly expect to get better? I mean, what's left, here? If what I have is a virus, can I get antivirals? Who would even help me with that? Would my doctor? I'm seeing her soon enough. Electroshock therapy? Seriously, I'm not even joking. I need something. The migraines are getting worse again lately and I can't stand this life anymore. Do you know how awesome I used to be? Once upon a time I went to school full time and I was a budding artist. Once upon a time, I walked around a large campus, to and fro and fro and to without a second thought and I felt fantastic when I wasn't being stricken by migraines. Once upon a time, I danced the Lindy Hop six out of seven days of the week. Once upon a time, I worked full time...and then I started to unravel. Once upon a time, I had acupuncture and started to regain some functionality and went on to work full time somewhere else. Even the headaches decreased. But then I started getting flus and colds all the time. I got tons of infections. I passed out at work. My grandfather died of cancer rather suddenly. I couldn't reliably see my acupuncturist anymore because my work schedule was so erratic and I rarely got schedules in advance enough to make appointments. And then I was too tired to go anywhere after work. Work, sleep. Work, sleep. Work, sleep. And then I was in too much pain and distress to keep working there so I got a different job. And I was still awesome, I still knew everything and was sharp mentally and I was working. But the migraines got worse, the hip pain got worse, walking became more and more difficult. Simply getting out of bed in the morning became difficult. I started becoming quietly suicidal because of the increased migraines and fear over my declining medical condition. I lost my job. I became so depressed I was dead inside. But once upon a time, I was an incredibly bright, energetic, bubbly, happy, driven and ambitious person. Even with the migraines. Even with the past trauma. Even with the latent depression and anxiety. I was highly paid, I loved my work, I loved my clients, I loved my co workers, I loved the freaking world, man. I loved art once, I loved ... I loved. Now I'm even afraid to love. I'm afraid of everything and I am mourning, mourning, mourning the me that died several years ago. The state tells me I am fine! There's nothing wrong with me! That I must just be too lazy to work or not want to work. I WANT TO WORK SO BAD I COULD KILL. But I can't! I WANT TO. I want nothing more than to be the bright and energetic person I was once. I want my life back, I want me back. I'm trying to get disability so I can pay for stuff like a housekeeper to help keep the house clean because I can no longer do it. For cab fare to get me to doctor's appointments or maybe back to electromuscular therapy. For some kind of no-impact, compact exercise equipment that I can use for...thirty seconds a day. Then a minute, then five. I can't get dressed and go to a gym. I can't get dressed and drive to a pool. I can barely make it downstairs every day. I want disability so it can pay for my psychotherapy that isn't covered by insurance. I want disability so I can see a psychiatrist (not therapist/counselor) so I can be prescribed provigil because my doctor won't. I want disability so I can pay for the experimental things for which I can work up the courage to try that will inevitably not be covered by insurance. I want disability because I paid into it for ten years and I deserve it now. I want disability because I hate being so entirely dependent on Matthew. I want disability so I can stop being so humiliated by my utter lack of contribution to the household. I don't want it so I can laze about the house and do fun things on the government's dime. I wish I could laze about the house and do fun things. Instead, I spend all day uncomfortably shifting in my bed trying to prevent my hips from seizing up, struggling to keep my mind active, struggling to participate in mentally challenging activities, struggling to find things to distract me from my pain and suicidal ideations. I spend my day planning meticulously for the days I must go out to see my doctor and my psychotherapist. I spend my days working up the energy to go downstairs and care for pets I really don't have the energy to care for anymore. I spend my days trying to ignore all the things I wish I could be doing and carefully calculating what I can do without making myself sicker. I spend my days scared of the future and wishing there was a way to magically erase myself from existence so no one would be upset if I killed myself. Yeah, state of Washington, I'm really trying to pull one on you here, with this super fun invalid life I'm leading after once leading a very active and fulfilling life. Jerks. This post rambled but at least I feel...a little bit lighter. Current Mood:  distressed
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So, one day some jackass makes an EA.com account using my gmail email address. I go take control of the account because duh, that's my email address, not yours - and the "forgot your password?" link sends ME an email, not you, jackass. Once that's done, I go looking for where I can delete the account. Lots of places where you can make accounts let you delete your account. I see nothing. But I do see some customer service thing. I fill out the form. It requires I select a platform and a game. I randomly choose something, and for my request, I write: Customer 09/25/2009 06:10 PM
Someone has used my email address ((my email address)) to create an account on the EA site. I would like to delete this account. I don't know where to go to do this. Please assist?( No one in support is actually READING anything I write. At all. )I guess we'll see. This is kind of insane. Edited to add: Holy shit, they finally understood! Greetings,
Thank you for writing to EA Games Support.
I have made the necessary changes and delete your EA account name "joolie@gmail.com". Now you will no longer be able to access/use this EA account and any game or features associated with this EA account.
If you have any further questions or concerns, you may reply to this email or visit our extensive online knowledge base found on the following web site: http://support.ea.com.
Thank you,
Rafael
Customer Support EA.And guys, this stuff doesn't seem like canned responses. If they were canned, they would have correct spelling and grammar and stuff, but they don't. "We like to inform you" and "I have ... delete your EA account" or the nonsensical added "you can access this account," at the end of one missive. Just...weird. Current Mood:  frustrated
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Sen. Debbie Stabenow (D-MI) says insurance policies should all include basic maternity care. Response: "I don't need maternity care, so requiring that on my insurance policy is something that I don't need and will make the policy more expensive."
Sen. Jon Kyl (R-AZ)Stabenow replied, "I think your mom probably did." Kyl, dismissively, "Over 60 years ago, my mom did." I have so much to say, but I'm so filled with anger it will come out jumbled. Idiots like him are why illnesses that affect mostly women are still misunderstood and often left untreated. Why so many of those illnesses are seen as mythical diseases that are simply attempts for attention or a free ride. Idiots like him are why 'pro life' arguments are bankrupt. People like him do not want to teach proper sex education in schools, do not want to cover contraceptives, want to outlaw emergency contraceptives, want to outlaw abortion, but DO NOT WANT TO COVER MATERNITY CARE, do not want to provide health insurance and do not want to pay for social services that would improve the life of the INEVITABLE SINGLE MOTHERS his policies create. People like him, stupid idiot old white men in power, with potential power over my life, do not give a fucking shit about women unless it currently directly benefits him. HE doesn't need maternity care, so it shouldn't be provided. Fuck you. You know what? I am not going to need maternity care, either. But I still think it's necessary. Asshole. ASSHOLE!! Current Mood: angry
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crankygirlie's journal
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