Help La Gringa Pay Rent!

La Gringa is a hardworking woman in the SF/F publishing industry who's been through a disastrous run of bad luck at various SF/F publishing houses and has been laid off and then laid off again for well over a year. Money's been running out for ages, she also has various medical bills to pay, and she has FINALLY asked the blogsphere for some dough to help make it through this month.

She's in NYC and rent ain't cheap, so please help her out. Ya'll know the extent of my financial situation, and I sent her some $$, people. Every dollar helps.

(c'mon, if ya'll can send Ben Burgis to Clarion and John Scalzi to the Creation Museum, you can help La Gringa pay rent)

Gracias!

SOMEDAY I WILL MARRY THIS MAN OH YES

My gawd. It's serious secret boyfriend status now.

One for the Road

The Best License Plate Ever
Originally uploaded by andycarvin

Be Happy I Am Shittily Insured

It's open enrollment time with the temp agency, and I went ahead and signed up for their shitty temp employee insurance that, of course, doesn't cover "pre-existing conditions."

What it will cover (up to $7500 and only 50% of costs out-of-network ha ha haha ha) is half a broken leg, me getting punched in the face during class, broken fingers, antibotics, and me getting hit by a car on my bike (up to $7500 and only 50% of costs out-of-network ha ha haha ha).

It's the worst insurance in the whole world, almost like not having insurance, but it's better than saying, "I don't have insurance."

So in addition to that $200 a month in meds, I will now pay $100 in medical "insurance" that only insures me against falling off my bike.

Why did I do this again?

Oh, yeah, cause I don't trust my luck anymore.

EDIT: It just occurred to me that medical costs now offically make up nearly a quarter of my monthly income.

I'll Answer to Just About Anything

One of the most entertaining things about starting any new job is how many different names I get called called during the course of any given week.

I've been called "Carmen," "Karsten," "Candice," and "Carmel."

I was identified in today's meeting minutes as "Karen."

And, of course, most days I'm just, "The Writer."

Man, I still get a kick out of that.

Tonight's Number:

317

Yeah. It's time to change out that insulin.

The Cost of Living

I finally broke down yesterday and went to the pharmacy to pick up a couple more bottles of insulin. I've been using the ones I have now since, well, Spain, and a bottle of insulin is only actually "good" for about 30 days after you open it.

Yes, I've been using my insulin two months past the expiration date.

I suspect that my two episodes of "dangerously low sugar after 30 minutes" were probably caused by using "old" insulin. Over time, when exposed to heat and air, the chemical composition of the insulin breaks down, and it starts losing its effectiveness and performing erratically.

I expect to get a lot of shit when I mention this to people. Stephanie was horrified when she realized I'd been using two-months-expired insulin. Then I brought home my two new bottles and two containers of testing strips, set the four small containers on the counter and said, "That's $255 in meds right there."

I make $385 a week.

When the pharmacy tech rang me up, I was a little breathless at the cost, and nearly quipped off something like, "Well, being 15K in credit card debt beats being dead," but kept my mouth shut when I remembered how annoying it was as a customer service rep to get these snapshots of so many people's complicated lives - I had enough on my plate.

So I bit my tongue and paid the piper and yay, whiz, bang! I'll live another few months.

Some diabetes blog I was reading pointed to a blogger who was writing about how we should just let people with chronic illnesses die because they're sucking off the system and using up time and resources. It was a funny thing to read about some random person who wanted me dead because I was "sucking off" society. Kind of hard to do when I'm paying taxes and paying for my own meds, but hey. I'd argue that we're making pharmacuetical companies rich and giving jobs to pharmacists and pharmacy techs and dying thousands of dollars in debt to credit card companies long after we've already paid off the actual balance; all that interest adds up, and I'm sure by the time we kick off, we'll have already been hard into the interests payments, which I'm sure the credit card company will write off anyway (in fact, the only people losing money in the healthcare industry are... the people being treated. But keep blaming all us disease-ridden chronic folk for breathing, if it makes you feel better about being screwed over, too).

It was a such a weird thing to get hit upside the head with this thing right in the middle of... everything. Of life. Of living. It's like you're going along, building this life just the way you planned, doing all the right things, on all the right roads, and then it's like somebody knocked you upside the head witha shovel, pulled the rug out from under you, and you hit the ground hard and realized things - if you want to continue - are going to be a lot harder than you thought they would be.

Life isn't exactly all that easy to begin with. Mine's just a little harder. And more expensive. Living is really expensive.

But I still have this road I want to go down, this life I want to live. And it's funny to have this extra time, as much as I can squeeze out of an insulin bottle, in any case. I keep coming back to it and I keep on squeezing it because I have such a passionate desire to succeed at all of these things, to die old and satiated. I have too many desires. I want too much. But all that desire means I'm willing to do a lot of things to get there, one bottle at a time.

But I Have 15K in Credit Card Debt!

$5700.00The Cadaver Calculator - Find out how much your body is worth

Man, I'm never going to break even!

A Day in Columbus

OK, the rest of Ohio isn't nearly as depressing as Dayton. Maybe Dayton just isn't my kind of town. I'm thinking it's the whole "few to no jobs" and "what jobs there are pay crap" thing.

But honestly, Columbus just has a far better feel. And I'm *sure* it's not just because it's packed with cologne-wearing college boys. Not at all. I mean, they all dress and sound alike, which is pretty much the most unattractive thing in the whole world.

Sure are pretty, tho.

Um, did I say that out loud?

Which probably also says something about my actual problem with Dayton.

We went to The Book Loft in the German Village (I could totally live here!) and tried to get to the only ethiopean restaurant in town, but it was fucking closed.

Like they knew we were coming.

Bastards.

Babylon 5: A Call to Arms

Sweet holy mother of gawd, how does Straczynski write this crap with a straight face?

EDIT: OMG he was a staff writer for Shee-ra Princess of Power! OMG! OMG! I think I have a secret fear that after a decade or two of writing with complete abandon, without being critiqued by friends and fellow writers and ceasing to listen to the sticky Voice of Reason that reminds me all of my kewl Epic Fantasy thoughts are not New and Shiny pots of gold, I will end up writing just like him. "They said Exacalibur would return during man's darkest hour..." oh sweet GAWD.

An Open Letter to Myself

Dear self,

The Nyx books ARE NOT EPIC FANTASY.

This means that you CANNOT WRITE A FUCKING PROLOGUE FOR BLACK DESERT.

That is all, thnx.

EDIT LATER: I've just realized that Black Desert really is THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK of the series. I can't tell you how happy this makes me. I promise, tho - no Ewoks in number 3. I am now going to go and put this not-prologue back into the book.

And I Go Swimming.... In a Swimsuit!

Fat Rant.

(and, just for shits and giggles, she has a funny little nerd-girl timetraveling video, too)

Being a Journalist

Fuck Yeah.

Speaking of Kicking It....

I was so proud of myself last week! Hardly sore at all after class! I mean, after two days of not being able to walk after my first MA class, the fact that I could get around without much soreness after my second class felt great!

And then I had that third class, where we literally spent over an hour on kicking drills and then when we moved to doing combinations, because this is Muay Thai, the combinations involved - you guessed it - punching and more kicking.

Oddly enough, I didn't start to really feel it until last night, when my hips started to hurt and I realized I was having trouble getting up out of chairs. This morning when I got up, I actually physically pulled my left leg out of bed. You know, just to help it a little.

Oh man. The left leg is in the worst shape, of course. Not my calves, mind, just the hips. It was the calves that killed me after the first class (that's what 10 minutes of jumping jacks will do), but nearly two hours of class, with all those damned kicking drills... it's the hips that are killing me.

Boy, I love being back at this.

Today's Song, Stuck on Repeat

Matthew Ryan, "Return to Me." (no, no reason for the melancholy song. It just sounds so pretty. Also, this guy has a really sexy voice)

slowly walking down the street
where the homeless and the lovers meet
i bask in ol' blue
your skin does too
i saw the garland
in the skyline
in the byline

i took a drink
i took the pills
you'll murder me i know you will
some wish that i could change this
that you were hopin'
i keep hopin'
for a cure
for some medicine
just one conversation

*I can't return to you
you must return to me
that's the deal
i'm sorry
did i say i'm sorry (sorry)

in a universe where i was flat
you hunkered down and lived the past
you're leaving soon
it's 10 til noon
i see a black car
i'm movin through time
when will we part

i have been the worst of kinds
a sorrowed heart
a cluttered mind
and i'm thinkin' that i could change this
that i could change this
but i can't change this

*I can't return to you
you must return to me
that's the deal
i'm sorry
did i say i'm sorry
i'm sorry
i'm sorry now

*I can't return to you
you must return to me
that's the deal
i'm sorry
did i say i'm sorry
i'm sorry
i'm sorry now
did i say i'm sorry
did i say i miss you
i'll do what i have to do
(i say i miss you)
(i miss you)
(i'll do what i have to do)

Children of Men

Wow.

What a boring, pointless, terrible movie.

Tired

OK, monthly blood loss + MA class + another bizarre half-hour-after-eating low this morning of 29 = much tiredness.

Tonight it's lying in bed reading books and watching some shows, and tomorrow, it's pancakes and writing.

That's sounds about right.

Sugar Before Bed: 95

After a two hour MA class.

I am a minor god.

Kick It (Redux)

Since there was a big thunderstorm about the time I usually head to MA class and Steph was home early, she went ahead and drove me out to class. I changed into MA clothes while I was there, but since we got out late, jumped outside after class without changing back into my street clothes and hopped into the car.

Stephanie looked over at my shirt. "`When I See Something I Kick It'?" she inquired, as if I had chosen this shirt myself.

"We all wear them!" I enthused. "It's our uniform!"

"Oh you're kidding me."

"IT IS GREAT!!!!!"

"So you want me to take a picture for your blog?"

"Eh, maybe when I'm in better shape."

"It can be a `before' picture."

I thought that over. "We'll see," I said.

Until then:

Kick it.

Dinner at Applebee's with White Supremicists!

One of the best titles ever, for sure. And it gets better.

"This is our music magazine," racist Kevin interrupts, laying on the Applebee's table a publication that would look like any other indie/hipster music magazine, except that the music it's writing about glorifies Germany's Third Reich and denigrates blacks and Jews.

"We also have a record company," Kevin boasts, in a manner that seems to say, "Even though we're white supremacists, that doesn't mean we can't ROCK!" "We have over 750 CD titles."