Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Anne's LiveJournal:

[ << Previous 20 ]

Thursday, May 31st, 2007
7:29 pm	Should I? Given the unmitigated gall of both Warriors For Innocence and Six Apart, I am seriously considering moving my posts elsewhere and deleting my livejournal. I would do this as a protest as I do not like the idea of a company being so easily swayed by vigilante watchdog groups. It is not like I post often in this journal, which isn't receiving any traffic anyway. I would like to keep what I have written so far but do not have the memory on my hard drive to hold it. This would be a bit of an inconvenience but I think I should, based on principle. I do not want LJ to think they have my undying loyalty. Update: Now LJ belongs to a Russian company and has an advisory board so users can discuss legal, political and religious concerns? I thought the micromanaging was bad at work. Who in their right mind would want to sift through all the new policies that come with creating an online journal here? While my ability to post as I please probably wouldn't be affected, I still refuse to support a system that doesn't adhere to the concept of freedom of speech. No one posting online should have to walk on eggshells because they are afraid of offending someone, whether it be via a drawing of two boys having sex or a statement deemed to be "hate speech." The newly- born advisory board and flagging system is nothing more than cybertattling. There's too much drama in the world as it is, to endorse such a thing. While it may be that laws are being broken when certain content is posted, people should be more concerned about their health, education and economic welfare. Afterall, computers don't have voting rights. They won't be electing the next president. Current Mood: contemplative
Wednesday, May 30th, 2007
5:27 pm	My Two Cents' Worth Lately on LJ, there has been a number of people decrying the actions of a group of people known as Warriors For Innocence. This group of people acts as a sort of "Neighborhood Block Watch" and patrols the internet in hopes of catching pedophiles and other people engaging in illegal activities. When they have come across a site they find objectionable, they report it to Livejournal and to law enforcement. This has resulted in the deletion of hundreds of journals, whether the owners are engaged in illegal activities or not. While this is a worthy cause and I commend the group for being passionate and doing nothing in half measures, I find this policing rather irritating. For me, the question is not whether there has been a crime committed, but where do you draw the line? I acknowledge that crimes have been committed against children and images of this are disturbing and should be removed. I also acknowledge that if possible, the person responsible for the acts against the child should be apprehended and punished. I understand that it is ultimately LJ's parent company, Six Apart, that has deleted the accounts per their newly updated Terms of Service. The problem lies with who gave WFI the right to report their observations to LJ in the first place? Why do they give a shit whether LJ is in violation of the law? If WFI is truly concerned about pedophilia, they should report directly to the police and leave LJ out of it. If law enforcement decides to take action against LJ, so be it. I'm not concerned one way or another. I question as to how far WFI will go in their attempts to stop pedophilia. They have clearly indicated they have no intention of politely requesting the offending material be removed. But then, if you just do this, you're not really resolving the issue in the first place. Are they going to hack into Friends-locked journals? Place cookies on the site to keep track of who goes where? Send a site owner a trojan horse so his hard drive is destroyed? As a matter of fact, have they even read any of the journals they ultimately helped condemn? What's next? Tracking down the home address and breaking down the door? As an American, I value freedom of speech and have no use for cyberpatrolling. You would think that given the hatred the world has for our pre-emptive attack on Iraq, that people would respect the notion of "innocent until proven guilty." I am glad I haven't paid a penny for this journal if it can arbitrarily be taken away. I detest people who take the law into their own hands, regardess of whether they are being supervised. Warriors For Innocence better not send me a sheet of address labels with a request for a donation. You can bet your ass I won't be sending them a check. Current Mood: annoyed
Wednesday, May 16th, 2007
9:16 pm	School has now ended and I received a B+ in probate and an A in tort. Not the grades I was hoping for as I really wanted two A's but really, when you come right down to it, why sweat the small stuff? I am now looking forward to my next two classes, family law and civil procedure in the fall. Hopefully, I can garner two more A's there and keep my expectations high. To be honest, I have a much easier time than a friend of mine, Amanda, who is juggling classes with a baby but she is determined to see things through and I admire her for that. I have also signed up for spring classes next year-research and writing and administrative law. This may come in handy if I ever have to file for unemployment or social security benefits. I still haven't decided what area of law I'm interested in but I am leaning toward international law. The problems with my friend getting her green card and reading about international kidnappings, like that of Betty Mahmoody, seem to fascinate me. I think there is a wide range of issues one can study but we will have to see what prospects there are here in Toledo. Life in general has been pretty good. Work is going relatively well and I have a few days off right now. I am sure I'm not going to be thrilled when I see all the shit that has piled up on my desk when I get back. I am going to Cleveland on Friday to see the Princess Diana exhibit and I went to Cleveland a couple weeks ago to see a Monet exhibit. That was lovely and the trip to the Cheesecake Factory was wonderful as well. The caramel apple dumpling was worth the trip alone. Last week, I saw The local production of The Full Monty and it was hysterical. My aunt and uncle have just left after my first attempt at cooking and as far as I know, they haven't died.
Friday, April 20th, 2007
7:26 pm	Good Riddance! After nearly four years of tyranny, my bitch of a boss is gone. No more days of being ignored, lied to, degraded and unappreciated. When I had started my job in July 2003, I had no idea what I had gotten myself into. I would discover that I had the most antisocial boss imaginable. One who wouldn't greet you when you showed up in the morning and asked how you were doing. One who offered a million things to make life easier then conveniently forgot her promises. One who was condescending and couldn't be bothered with whatever issues you had come across. The look of annoyance on her face whenever you came to her to ask a question, was unmistakable. Her failure to return phone calls was legendary as was her relentless pursuit of paper. Why hold onto reports from five years ago that don't pertain to anything? Because Debbie said so. Why are we now sending patients statements for services they received four years ago? Because Debbie told us to. Why do we exponentially increase the number of clinicians we bill for but don't hire the staff to accomodate the workload? Becuase Debbie says we can handle it. The consummate actress, Debbie has the ability to go from Bitch to Best Buddy in five seconds-but only when *her* boss is around. Over the course of my employment under Debbie, I had thought about walking away from my job at least twice. Then the idea of going back to retail would quickly get me back to my senses and I decided to stick it through, for better or for worse. Afterall, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I am going to school and have a promising career ahead of me. What's a couple more years? Now, the tunnel has shortened considerably with the arrival of a much more sympathetic and personable manager. To make matters even better, I have also received a raise of $2.21 an hour. Granted, this is money I should have been entitled to two years ago but I worked for Debbie. Why does she care that I now have experience behind me and the same capability as billers who receive four dollars more an hour? Debbie's advice for her employees today before she walked out? "Go forth and conquer." My advice to Debbie? Go fuck yourself. Current Mood: hopeful
Wednesday, March 14th, 2007
11:22 pm	Counting the Days In lieu of watching Lost, a show that has gone to shit in the past weeks, I spent tonight at a local hospice where my great-aunt lays dying. Two weeks ago, when I found out she had had a massive stroke, I held on to hope that she would make a reasonable recovery. When it became obvious that she would not, she was transferred to hospice and given two weeks to live. At my first visit to hospice, I met her tearful daughter and her husband and lost my composure. Although I had found my great-aunt’s behavior exceedingly annoying at times, I enjoyed seeing her face light up every time I walked in the room. I had spent quite a bit of time with her over the past several years. Never one to stay in her room at the nursing home, she would invite me to join her for dinner or ask me to play a card game. In the past, we had gone out to dinner or ate at her house where I was reintroduced to Geraldine, the goose that adorned her front porch. My great-aunt would delight in showing me the myriad of outfits that she could dress Geraldine up in. A couple of times, we went to the movies and once we even saw the Nutcracker ballet. Invariably, we would have the same conversation about what her social life entailed. Meetings with the DAR or dinner at the Legacy with other retirees who had worked at the Lion Store. Various field trips she was always excited to go on given that she no longer had a car. Now I was faced with the fact that my social visits and her field trips were over. For the first half of last week, I had trouble coming to terms with her impending death. I hated the fact that this person who was always optimistic, always forgiving and always sociable, would no longer partake of the things she had enjoyed in life. I found myself crying throughout the day and becoming increasingly irritated with those around me. I had never dealt with someone’s death like this before and didn’t know how to handle it. These past few days, however, she appeared to rally and was eating more and verbalizing, albeit total nonsense. I had hoped that over the course of the coming days, I could engage her in some simple diversion but her strength once again appears to be waning. Suffering from brain damage from a massive stroke and heavily medicated, my aunt no longer recognizes me and strangely enough, I am relieved by this. I would rather see her “pleasantly confused” than lying in a fetal position on a hospital bed. Tonight, my aunt slept while I flitted back and forth from her room to the lounge where I thumbed through a book on UFOs. I had brought bubbles (which she hated), a bunny stress ball, which she tried to eat and grapes which she ate and later spit out the skins of. It was an uneventful evening (much like watching Lost) but I wish I could turn back the hands of time and have her sitting among her friends playing Yahtzee or Kings in the Corner. I’d even reunite her with that damn goose. Current Mood: melancholy
Monday, February 19th, 2007
8:37 pm	Here I am, with midterms looming and I am trying (and failing) not to spend an inordinate amount of time on the computer. I have my tort exam on Thursday and have already turned in my paper in a week early. I hope I don't regret that and it turns out to be shit. Oh well, it's over and done. I am hoping that I get an A on the paper and do well on both my exams. Wish me luck. Current Mood: hopeful
Friday, January 12th, 2007
8:32 pm	Mr. Happy/Road to peace? School has started yet again and I am pleased that I have progressed to studying the finer points of tort and probate law. Intro to Law had been a virtual joke and I effortlessly received an A for what had been entertainment more than anything else. After class on Tuesday, I went to the local grocery store adjacent to campus and while strolling the aisles, I saw the familiar face of Mr. Happy. Originally from Iran, Mr. Happy had been a frequent visitor of Home Depot when I had worked there. Short and stocky, he was always impeccably dressed and wore a fedora. A battered blue briefcase was never far from reach. Every morning around 7 AM, Mr. Happy would walk in the door of Home Depot and greet me in his usual effusive manner-“Hello, my pretty, wonderful, gorgeous, sweet, intelligent…-he would go through about forty adjectives before arriving at a noun-how is my beautiful Anne today with her wonderful, sweet smile?” We would briefly chitchat then Mr. Happy would retreat to the men’s room where he would wash for about thirty minutes. I never knew what he did in there but he was well known in Home Depot circles. Some people believed he was homeless as he was forever walking around town with that blue briefcase and he was not known to be employed. Regardless of his circumstances, he was always cheerful and I soon looked forward to seeing him when I struggled to keep awake at the returns desk. One day, Mr. Happy didn’t show up to perform his usual ablutions in the men’s room. Days turned into weeks and his absence fueled gossip. Rumor had it Mr. Happy was found panhandling in the Home Depot parking lot and asked to leave. When Mr. Happy did return, I asked him what had happened to him. He blithely said it was nothing and I didn’t bring it up again. Despite our brief encounters, I always thought it would be interesting to follow him around for a day. Maybe one day I will. In other news, our illustrious president, George W. Dickhead has ordered 21,000 new troops to head to Iraq to help quell the sectarian violence around Baghdad. He is cautiously optimistic about this new plan for the hated war on terror and many people, myself included, aren’t buying into it. It’s been four years and 3,000 dead soldiers since this war began and the situation isn’t getting any better. What makes Bush think this will help? It’s too little, too late. Bush says Iraqis voted for democracy last year and that Americans should help them achieve a comparatively stable life for themselves and for their neighbors. Weary of the war, I am starting to agree with a friend of mine, “Let them shit for themselves. This war is a goddamn dirty shame.” As far as work goes, I have received my yearly evaluation and am surprised at the result. My boss gave me higher scores than I expected and had many compliments about my performance. I gave myself the score of “meets expectations” on virtually every category. I figured I couldn't possibly have exceeded expectations when I never finished anything I started. For all my bitching and moaning about my job, I received a few extra pennies an hour but was told that Corporate was doing a “market review” and that I should be paid at the same scale as others with my experience. This may end up being an extra three dollars an hour which would allow me to save up for school with no problem. I am not holding my breath my I am optimistic I will have a good year. After all, it’s mid-January and a balmy 50 degrees out. How can one complain when there’s no snow to scrape off the car? Current Mood: amused
Saturday, December 23rd, 2006
3:50 pm	Today, I finished my Christmas shopping with a cheap pin purchased at Target. This pin is for my 89-year-old great aunt, just so she could have something to open. When I got home to wrap the pin, an ornate snowflake with glass pieces, I noticed that one of the pieces was more opaque than the rest. This seriously annoyed me so I decided to see if I could somehow clean it so it would sparkle. I got out my nail polish remover and rubbed it over the glass. If anything, it made it worse. I also tried glass cleaner but that didn’t improve matters either. Piece of shit made in China! Resigned, I sat on the floor and stared at the pin for ten minutes. It’s just a piece of costume jewelry, I told myself. It’s not like it was made by Cartier or Tiffany’s. She’ll put it on and won’t even be looking at it. Why make a big deal about it? It’s not perfect but then, life isn’t perfect. As I wrapped the pin, I thought about how I try to be more philosophical when things don’t go according to plan. I have managed to control my temper lately by figuring out alternative ways of doing things. Stubborn to the core, I refuse to give up until I achieve the desired result, even if I have broken a few things in the process. Despite having a magnet that says Sagittarians are happy-go-lucky, I am often moody and pensive. I tend to think too much about the things that don’t really matter, rather than accepting the fact that there are some things I have no control over. One such thing is the marriage between two former friends of mine. I was angry with my friend Jen for not being upfront about her relationship. I resented the fact that she put our friendship on the back burner so she could spend time with her boyfriend. If she had said she didn’t want to be friends anymore, I would have been more gracious to the two of them but I was too busy licking my wounds. After they married, Tim, another former friend, said in a letter that I should have had a long talk with them and come out with a more “meaningful” relationship. At the time, I didn’t know how to articulate what I felt: that I could never have a meaningful relationship with whom I was always the ‘odd man out.’ I didn’t share a desire for a personal relationship-still don’t-and I wanted a friend I could hang out with on a weekly basis and have some fun. I hated the fact that there was no even playing ground between the four of us-that we no longer had anything in common. It was better to sever ties than to stew in resentment for all eternity. Being single and used to getting what I want in life, I am not inclined to see other people’s points of view. I am set in my ways and but hopefully, the older I get, I will be able to see life with a sense of humor and patience. Current Mood: contemplative
Saturday, December 9th, 2006
8:47 pm	Unusual birthday greeting Today, I celebrate my 33rd birthday. If I was a hobbit, this would be a very important day indeed, for it would signify my entrance into adulthood. However, I am a mere human and the day has been like many before. I woke up at 5:30 (much earlier than I normally would on a Saturday) with the intent of racing to work to pick up a cd that I had left there. This cd belongs to a friend and I had left it in my desk drawer all week without listening to it. Now I was scrambling around, worried that she wanted it back and would ask me how I had liked it. While I do like Il Divo, my head has been up my ass all week and I keep forgetting to take it ( the cd, not my head) home. Nobody went to work today so I was unable to retrieve the cd but my friend was so upset that her brother had purchased a baby blue grave blanket for their mother, that she hadn’t mentioned it. We walked around the Manor House at one of the local metro parks and commented on how clever the rooms were decorated. Afterwards, she dropped me off and I asked her to come up to see my sparsely decorated Christmas tree. She refused and said she couldn’t stand another flight of steps. I ran into my apartment and grabbed her gift-another Il Divo CD, an ornament and a stuffed Ohio State Snowman. She had become an ardent Buckeye fan when football season struck. After she left, I took a brief nap and got up to get the mail. I was mystified as I opened a birthday card sent by my great-aunt. The card itself wasn’t unusual but she had enclosed the lyrics to two Christmas songs and several 3 cent stamps. I am not sure if this was the going rate for postage when she was my age or if there is a special significance that only an 89-year-old would understand. I will have to give that some thought over dinner tonight at my favorite Italian restaurant.
Monday, November 13th, 2006
10:39 pm	Attack of the hot dogs? After I came home today, I stuck a beef potpie-ever an important staple in my carbohydrate rich diet-in the oven and as I did, I started singing the words to an old song I learned in Girl Scout camp over twenty years ago: I know a weenie man He owns a weenie stand He sells most anything from hot dogs on down Someday I’ll join his life I’ll be his weenie wife Hot Dog! I love than weenie man. ??????????????? Time to send the first month’s rent to the rubber room. While I am there, I can sing about The Reggabamboo-it’s red and gold and a purple too…that’s why it’s called a reggabamboo….. On an unrelated note-Ohio is finally smoke free! I am so pleased with this year's election results. I am glad I believe in the power of the vote even with the fucked-up electoral college that let Mr. George W. Bush in the door. I know of quite a few people who think that voting is bullshit and not worth doing. Hmpf! Current Mood: ditzy
Sunday, November 5th, 2006
4:51 pm	Trick-or-Treating on Sesame Street Halloween has come and gone and so I sit, munching on sesame candy. Yes, folks, you read that right-sesame candy. My stepmother, ever the health fanatic, typically tosses small boxes of raisins into expectant trick-or-treaters’ proffered pillow cases. This year, however, she decided to try something different. On a recent trip to southern Ohio, my stepmother and father came across a store that sold the above mentioned candies. They were encouraged to sample them, and my stepmother, finding them appealing, inquired as to whether they could be ordered in bulk. Indeed they could, they were told. A website was provided and when they returned home, my dad placed an order for sesame candy-25 pounds of it. When asked why he ordered such a large quantity, he stated that he had an option to buy either a three pound box or a twenty-five pound box. Why he didn’t simply order two three-pound boxes, nobody will ever know. As it was, Halloween produced only half of the trick-or-treaters that came to the door last year. In previous years, my parents gave away Little Debbie Star Crunches which proved to be a hit. Occasionally, taffy or other nonfat candy would also be given in addition to raisins but to me, handing out health food is sacrilegious, not to mention an embarrassment. Little kids didn’t seem to mind but teenagers typically groaned. If left to his own devices, my father, who enjoys Halloween as much as I do, would buy an assortment of candy, calories and fat content be damned. After all, Halloween comes once a year and a consuming a piece of candy isn’t generally fatal. Besides, it should be up to the parents to see that their children eat a balanced diet. Still, I suppose that the ghosts and goblins, Harry Potters and pimps that arrive at the door should consider themselves lucky-they are not getting a slip of paper with Scripture written on it, which one devout resident at a nursing home gave out. I would imagine her recipients rolled their eyes when they finally took stock of their loot. Current Mood: amused
Friday, October 20th, 2006
5:33 pm	Words of Wisdom Never honk your horn at me!! I am finally calming down after a run-in at Target. As I stopped at the light to turn left into the parking lot, someone kept honking their horn at me. I was irritated so I turned on a red. After parking, I heard the horn again and a silver car coming straight at me. The car stopped just short of hitting me and I was not amused to see my friend Norma, smiling at me. "What the fuck are you doing?! I hate it when you do that!" Norma had decided to honk her horn in oder to say "Hi" but this is a serious no-no with me. We chatted briefly but all the while I kept an angry scowl on my face. I hope she doesn't decide to do it again. I've ended friendships for a lot less. Current Mood: aggravated
1:37 am	Tears and smiles It has been a rough week at work for me. I so was frustrated at my supervisor's constant pestering, the endless phone calls from pissed-off patients, my co-workers' incessant chattering and the sheer boredom of my job that I was crying at my desk. How in the hell have I stuck through so long? Why am I even staying? I can't get shit done and am no longer finding my place of employment rewarding. The last two days have been better and today. I found out that that I got an A on my midterm. That definitely made me feel better. Tomorrow, we get to wear jeans at a catered lunch-what bullshit is my boss trying to sell now?-and I will get to see a Filipino dance troupe. I am also looking to see the Hungarian Dance Ensemble in February and the Swan Lake Ballet at the Detroit Opera House in March. I have never been to this venue before but am getting increasingly excited. Unfortunately, my aunt has taken the wind out of my sails by announcing there are nine weeks until Christmas. Current Mood: complacent
Sunday, October 1st, 2006
7:50 pm	Paleface Picture Taker I went to a pow wow today at the Buttonwood/Betty C. Black Recreation Area in Perrysburg, Ohio. Despite having lived in this area my entire life, I have never heard of this small parcel of land right next to Ft. Meigs State Park. After consulting a map, I hopped onto US23 and made my way south across the “scenic” Maumee river. Passing mansions and manicured lawns, I saw signs for the fourth annual They Walked Here Before Us gathering. Turning onto a rutted lane, I saw that I would have to park in an overgrown field and slog through endless mud to get to the festivities. Nevertheless, I was glad that it was warm and sunny as opposed to dark and dismal like the day before. Armed with my camera. I made my way to the arena which was demarcated by bales of hay topped with pumpkins. This is where the procession of dancers and vets would take place. In the middle was a gazebo made by logs and a tarp. Boughs of evergreens were strewn on top. Underneath was various music equipment. Glancing at my watch, I saw I had two hours to kill before the grand entrance started. I wandered aimlessly through the various tents and looked at the merchandise offered. The ubiquitous turquoise jewelry, ivory chokers, dream catchers, hand painted skulls, bow and arrows were sold by nearly everyone. I picked up half a dozen candles for my stepmother in scents like orange cinnamon, maple sugar and pumpkin, There was even a tobacco scented candle but I knew my stepmother wouldn’t be too keen on this. In addition to the vendors, there was a kids’ area, a wilderness tent with injured birds of prey, a horse corral, tomahawk throwing range, and a lacrosse field. The lacrosse game was headed by a man with a painted face in a breechcloth. I spoke to him a few times while I walked around. He had a black pot suspended above a fire. I jokingly asked him what was for dinner, thinking it was an empty prop. He said he had purchased some canned stew at the local grocery store and added vegetables to it. He then lifted the lid. Sure enough, stew was bubbling away. Wandering off, I tried my hand at the tomahawk and while I hit the target a couple of times, I kept flicking my wrist, sending the tomahawk bouncing off the wood. I do the same thing when bowling, resulting in nothing but gutter balls. Giving up the tomahawk, I decided to venture to the concession stand where elk and buffalo burgers were served along with French fries, nachos and corn dogs. Having only five bucks on me, I ordered a fry bread and drizzled butter and cinnamon on it. Having seen Smoke Signals, I knew the virtues of a good fry bread and this warm and sweet concoction lived up to its reputation. As I walked around, I took pictures of Native Americans in full regalia and kept trying to surreptitiously photograph this one man who I would’ve like to have taken a go with inside his teepee. I swear, Native American men are the most gorgeous people on the face of the earth. As it turns out, this man was John LoneEagle, a drummer who had flown in from Los Angeles. Before the procession took place, Douglas Blue Feather, an award winning flutist, performed several melodic songs based on the powers of animals. He made a statement that as humans, we no longer have to hunt for food as we “have Krogers, Super Wal-marts and Piggly Wigglies. We now hunt for dreams.” I smiled at the mention of the Piggly Wiggly chain. Toledo once had a Piggly Wiggly several years ago but it lasted only a few months. After Douglas Blue Feather performed, Arvel Bird and John LoneEagle took the stage. Arvel Bird is a multiple award winning fiddler of Paiute and Scottish descent and he was phenomenal. He danced as he played and I could’ve listened to him all day. The energy he exuded held me in a trance. It’s no wonder he won the 2006 Native American Music Award. While I don’t like to advertise on LJ, I don’t mind directing people to his website at singingwolfrecords.com. One day, when I have a few bucks to spare, I’ll order one of his albums. The Master of Ceremonies then ordered everyone to stand for the procession. Now this man was a very strange looking man indeed. Tall and thin, he wore a headdress topped with feathers with a black flap down the back. He also wore large hoop earrings and had a silver bull ring through the nose-what my aunt calls a “silver booger.” He walked around with microphone in hand introducing the dancers who were entering the arena. We were told we could photograph the procession but nothing afterwards. I snapped several shots of dancers in traditional costumes and Indian vets bearing flags. In front of me, a boy sat holding ice to his cheek after being stung by a bee. When everyone was assembled, a prayer to the Creator was given and drummers sang while they pounded their drums. I could make out the phrases “stars and stripes” and “over the USA” but nothing else. After standing for several minutes, I decided I would skip the dances and head home. The sun was starting to give me a headache and I was getting hungry. I had been there for nearly four hours. While I made my way back to the car, I was dismayed to see that my jeans and the black shoes I wore to work were caked in mud. Shit. I would have to come up with some creative method for cleaning them. On my way back to town, I was passed by a Harley Davidson rally and hundreds of motorcycles zipped past me. The only time I have ever seen an entourage of motorcyclists was at Hooters. While I hadn’t seen the dances, I was glad I had chosen to go to this event. It’s not everyday when a paleface gets to walk among the noble red man. Current Mood: calm
Wednesday, September 27th, 2006
11:32 pm	The Last Goodbye I had a strange dream the other night. I was running a marathon with my father in some state out west. The sun was shining, the sky a brilliant blue and both of us were drenched in sweat. We are on the last leg of the race, headed towards a hill that will lead us home. Before we ascend, my dad stops running and says that he is going no further, that I will have to continue on alone. I am stunned as Dad turns around and heads back. Tears are streaming down my face as I stand there, watching him walk away. The dream ends here but I know this is the first of its kind that I will have in the years to come. As an adult, I am forced to recognize that my father is getting older and will eventually die. This is a fact I cannot change and I find that I am trying to emotionally prepare myself for the inevitable. I hope I do not have to deal with this reality for another twenty years but one never knows what cards one will be dealt. Lately, when I go out to restaurants with family members, I silently plead for someone to start talking about something-anything. It doesn’t matter as long as the evening doesn’t end. Dessert? Yes, please! I don’t want to go home. Please, order yourself an Irish coffee and relax. We’ve got all night. Despite my wistfulness, the meal ends, the plates are collected, and the bill paid. We head out the door trading goodbyes and hopes to see each other again soon. On the verge of tears, I force myself to my car as I wonder, “How many goodbyes do I have left?” Current Mood: morose
Saturday, September 9th, 2006
12:26 am	Service with a Smirk For the past two weeks, I have fielded phone calls from patients upset at the deluge of statements that have come their way. My supervisor, in her infinite wisdom, decided to send out statements, some dating more than three years. Needless to say, the shit has hit the fan and I get to deal with it. Of all the callers I get, a very few don’t care about the bills and regardless of the amount or age of the bill, are happy to pay. One such caller is a friend of the doctor and he works for Microsoft. He isn’t quibbling about $140. On the other end of the spectrum, are those who are absolutely incensed at receiving statements. After all, their family member died years ago. Why the hell are they just getting a bill now? A very good question but one I blithely plead ignorance. The truth is, the boss runs her little universe in her own little time zone and couldn’t care less if people get upset. We as billers, do not have permission to generate statements so our hands are generally tied. The majority of people who call range from reluctant payors to those who simply state that the estate has closed and they do not have the ability to pay. They are not hostile and I do not argue with them. Personally, I don’t give a shit whether they pay. While I fought for every nickel and dime three years ago, I have become apathetic in my job and continually tell myself it isn’t my money anyway. One phone call I got today was from a woman whose secondary insurance didn’t pick up the coinsurance, leaving her with a balance of $19. These claims were from January 2005 and the woman was irate. It wasn’t her fault that we didn’t send her a statement earlier. A valid point I can’t refute. I have heard this so many times before and I usually push the balances back to insurance before the patient’s rant is finished. I told the woman that I would take the charges off her account. She then asked me my name. “Anne,” I said. “Do you have a last name?” she asked. Sure do. I gave her my last name and even spelled it out. She may have expected me to refuse but I see no point in this. I am not worried about some vindictive patient looking to kill me. “What is your position?” she then asked. I told her I was a “Billing Specialist,” to which she demanded to know if I was going to pay for her long distance phone call because she didn’t appreciate this whole thing “one iota.” I told her I couldn’t do that. She wasn’t the only one to complain about long distance but in all seriousness, a five minute phone call from Florida to Ohio probably isn’t going to cost much. My forty minute phone calls to my grandmother are a mere ten dollars. If these retirees are bitching over a buck, then they have more serious issues than money. They are miserable with their lot in life and haven’t accepted the fact that life throws you curve balls and you must deal with them. There are more important things to get upset about than an overdue statement for $20. After I hung up, I smiled to myself. These people may think they are intimidating me but in the end, I am not to blame for their problems. Go ahead and ask me my name. One day, you may be asking for my autograph. Current Mood: hungry
Thursday, August 3rd, 2006
8:49 pm	What would Billy say? Over the course of the past several weeks, I have lurked in two seemingly rival Billy Boyd boards. One is “mainstream” and espouses constructive criticism of all things Billy while the other offers a place where members can pretty much say what they want without recrimination. There is a specific “slant” to this board, but it is of no consequence here. As a member of both boards, I have tried to keep my posts even-keeled and conciliatory. I have done my best not to rock the boat but I can’t help feeling like the line between the two boards has become blurred. As the fandom drama has unfolded, I have sat back quietly while members of the two boards volley comments back and forth like tennis players. Relations between the members have deteriorated to such an extent that I find myself wondering, “What would Billy say to all this?” Without going into details as to how this started or who is to blame, I must confess that I find the actions of both admins equally disconcerting. On the one hand, I don’t condone the public maligning of someone in an unlocked LJ but I do respect freedom of speech. On the other hand, I don’t care for posting retaliatory vents to the board, although I do admire your wish to defend those you love. In addition, the posting of a person’s address in an attempt to discredit her, has sunk Billy’s fandom to an all-new low. I believe it is perfectly acceptable to have boards with differing philosophies but I think we’ve overstepped the bounds a bit. It is an impossible task to keep the beliefs on the controversial issues private since there are members on both boards who report to the other side. There’s no point in pretending it doesn’t happen. I do not know how to resolve our differences but I think it is time we as fans, stop the mud-slinging as this was not what Billy’s fandom was meant to be. A lot of thought, creativity and diligence went into forming these boards. I commend everyone who had a hand in it and I would like to see Billy’s fandom thrive again. I just ask that we keep Billy’s words in mind: “Have a good time. And don’t hurt anybody.”
Tuesday, July 25th, 2006
8:45 pm	“Just fuck ‘em and forget ‘em.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Here I was, in the car of a public servant-a deputy sheriff-and this was the shit I was hearing. I had reluctantly taken the ride when I called my friend and asked her to pick me up from work. It was my third day without a car and I was dependent on people to drive me around, which I hate. My friend willingly brought me to work this morning but once again, I was stranded and in need of a ride home. As soon as I hung up, a sense of foreboding fell on me and I spent the next hour and a half feeling nervous. Two weeks ago, I was at this friend’s house and her husband asked me why I didn’t have a husband. Because I don’t want one, I replied. What about a boyfriend? Don’t want one of those either. I left the room after this exchange, feeling awkward. Today, I stepped into Jackass’s car and we started chatting. At first it was pretty innocuous. My bitching about my car and his offering advice. The conversation then veered to music and then toward the welfare recipients who lived in certain neighborhoods-one of which was mine. During the ride, Jackass kept putting his arm on the back of my chair. All of a sudden, he said, “So, do you want me to find a boyfriend for you or what?” Although not surprised by the turn this conversation had taken, I was not happy to be hearing this. “What would I do with him?” I asked. “What do you normally do with him?” was his response. “I don’t want a long term relationship.” I answered back, to which he replied, “You don’t need to be in a relationship, just fuck ‘em and forget ‘em.” I told him that if he wanted a fuck buddy, he had to find one other than me. If Jackass is unhappy in his marriage and isn’t “getting any,” well, that’s just too damn bad. I swore to myself that this would be the last time I would take a ride with this guy. I also made it a point that in the future, if I wanted to see my friend and her daughter, it would have to be on neutral ground, such as my apartment. Jackass would never be welcome there. He’s lucky I am not about to file a sexual harassment suit. He get his ass in a sling. Then he'd really have a case of blue balls. Current Mood: annoyed
Wednesday, July 19th, 2006
10:42 pm	Devils of Dentistry When I was in high school, I once wrote an essay for English class about how I hated going to the dentist. I mentioned the scraping, the flossing and the dreaded fluoride rinse, which I referred to as the “devil of dentistry.” The teacher found the piece amusing and read it out loud in class. While the paper is long gone, my distaste for the dental arts has never diminished and I am once again musing about a recent visit through Hygiene Hell. For most of my life, I had gone to Dr. Carle, a man who had always reminded me of De Forest Kelley’s Dr. McCoy of Star Trek. He was an older, handsome man and I always appreciated the way he tried to warn me of how an impending procedure would feel. With the exception of an incident when I was eleven, he generally had a pleasant disposition. The incident mentioned involved my squirming and whining during a cleaning. Dr. Carle eventually got impatient and told me, “Then get the hell out of my chair!” Stunned by this command, I quieted down and tried to remain still for the rest of the visit. I would have cleanings periodically in his office for the next twenty years, but I always remembered this when I saw him. As a teenager, I had an appliance attached to my upper jaw for the purpose of widening it. The mechanism would be wound twice a day by my father and although I didn’t care for the idea of my jaw being split, the ordeal wasn’t as painful as I had feared. Shortly afterwards, I got braces which I wore for one year. This was a relatively short period of time followed by a retainer. Dad wasn’t amused when I once left the retainer at a hotel in Boston during a vacation. The hotel staff kindly mailed the retainer back to me but the retainer, which had melted in the heat, ended up being replaced. After one year of wearing the retainer, my dad decided I didn’t have to wear it anymore. The orthodontist had recommended I continue wearing it but my dad commented, “They’d make you wear it for the rest of your life if you let them.” The hated piece of plastic was happily tossed into the trash. When I was seventeen, I was informed that I would have to get all five wisdom teeth extracted. This news scared the shit out of me as I couldn’t fathom being awake while my teeth were being yanked out one by one. Fortunately, I was told I would be under general anesthetic but then, I got nervous by the thought of being stuck by the needle of the IV. I remember telling the tech, “Whatever you do, keep talking…” I awoke, groggy and feeling like there was cotton balls stuffed in my mouth. I was wheeled out the back entrance so the others awaiting their removals wouldn’t see me. For the next three days, I slept on the couch, waking up either for penicillin and Tylenol-3 with codeine or a mint chocolate chip shake which my father prepared at my request. The swelling eventually receded and I was glad to have survived what I thought would be the most arduous dental experience I would ever have. Fast forward several years to the eight cavities I would get by being careless about brushing. Granted, flossing had always been the biggest issue with me and my bleeding gums but now I was faced with the daunting prospect of getting my cavities filled. Here I was, nearly thirty and scared to death about getting holes drilled into my teeth. Surely, there have been many people-kids even-who could share their experiences with the drill and put my fears to rest. I was working at Home Depot as the time so I asked co-workers and customers alike. The stories were the same and I was generally told that I was getting my knickers in a twist over nothing. They would prove to be right, as the procedure was carried out as they predicted. Nothing to it. I had survived dental drilling and felt I could face anything. Until now. Earlier this year, I was sent a letter by Dr. Carle’s office stating that he was merging with another practice and therefore, was no longer accepting my insurance. Damn. Although Dr. Carle was now exclusively doing surgeries, I found his hygienists friendly and efficient. Now, I was faced with the task of locating another dentist who was close to work and offered convenient hours. I was happy to find out that there was one such place that had just opened up. I scheduled a cleaning with the hygienist who was available on Wednesdays only. With the office located a block from work, I could get in and out on my lunch hour. My hygienist turned out to be a 50-year-old black woman whose daughter was studying to be a cardiovascular tech and while she was friendly enough, my God, she was brutal. As she scraped my gums for plaque and tarter, I felt as though I was being bludgeoned with a pick ax. I had the feeling my mouth was filling with blood and every so often, she would take a cotton swab and roughly dab my gums with it, leaving me with a bitter taste in my mouth. The end of the suction tube was smeared with blood. The scraping seemed endless and I secretly wondered if I was undergoing some Nazi medical experiment. When the scraping mercifully ended, I was subjected to equally unpleasant polishing and flossing. I wasn’t sure if what was left of my gums could withstand the treatment but they did, only to be involved in a bizarre fluoride treatment. I had been warned ahead of time, that I would have to pay the twenty five dollars for this treatment, which did not appear to be optional. Fine, I’ll do this once. Brutal Bertha took a mouth guard and squeezed a green gel into it. After she managed to fit it on my teeth, she took the suction tube and stuck it between my clenched jaws. There I sat for three minutes, looking like an idiot and feeling almost humiliated. I was told that I couldn’t eat for a half hour. No problem. If I am going to pay twenty five bucks for a treatment I haven’t had in nearly twenty years, you can bet your incisor I’ll make every minute count. Besides, I discovered, the gel helped take the edge off the pain. The guard was removed, I was wiped off, offered water and promptly dismissed. No free toothbrush the color of my choice. No free dental floss. No sample of Listerine. God, these bastards were cheap. I made my way to the receptionist desk and scheduled another appointment in January. Already, I am dreading the visit like I did with my first (and as yet, only) gynecological exam. Current Mood: blah
Monday, June 5th, 2006
9:07 pm	I'm going back to school! I went to the university today and spoke with the chair of the paralegal program. After a lengthy discussion, I have decided to take the Intro to Law class this fall. I ran into both my parents (albeit deliberately) and told them I had decided to go ahead and apply. They both seem supportive thus far, to my tremendous relief. It will be a bit of a stretch both financially and with the move taking place at the same time but hating my job as I do, I figure this will be the incentive I need to keep going. Current Mood: happy