How The Unemployed Pass The Time

At 22 I was diagnosed with a degenerative spinal condition. Yes, there are times when the pain is so terrible, I cannot lifet myself out pf ed or tie my shoes. But far worse is having the knowledge that the level of damage to my spinal cord could have been stopped had I received adequate health care.

Yes, I had insurance. But who was there to make them pay???

14 years later, I finally received surgical intervention, and can feel my hands again-- and as a writer, that has been a miraculous gift.

Through the toughest times in my life, no one told me I was wasting my time and money on an education I would never be able to use.

After all I just wanted a diversion.

Even more disturbing than the damage to my spinal cord, is the realization that I missed mosre than 14 years of my life. So not only did I waste my time and money on an education I will never be able to use, I wasted a window of opportunity. A moment in time when I almost had a world the world at my fingertips.

Without any real place to go after college, I felt I had no other choice than to become a professional student of sorts—you know, the ones who stay in school forever to take advantage of cheap housing, health insurance, and student loans.

Unfortunately, I wandered aimlessly through the system acquiring useless knowledge and letters after my name that do not mean jack in the real world. But it distracted mye from the fact that my spinal cord continued to worsen my physical and emotional health.

So with no prosepects on the horizon-- and so thrilled thto feel my hands today, that the one thing I can do is write. So for now, I write, maybe tomorrow I'll read, but if there is any justice left in this world, maybe someday I will actually live.

http://thepowersthatbeat.blogspot.com/

http://my.barackobama.com/page/community/post/elyssadurant/gGxh4R/commentary

Business Cards for the Unemployed?

 

We Regret? I REGRET!

My Own Dirty Little Secret

Harry and Louise: Adding Insult to Injury?


(Draft—because I have a welfare appointment I need to prepare for)

My first spring back in New York, we used to joke about J-School: Were they trying to tweak our skills turning us into experts in public journalism or public relations.
I took my first graduate level class in public journalism on the 4th floor at the infamous J-School located inside the cool steel gates separating surrounding Morningside Heights. 116th street from the homeless and the winos’ asking everyone all the passer by's for money just before we walked through the iron gates leading to the Ivory Tower.

The blocks surrounding 116th-120th where only the young and the talented get ready to take their place in society.

We would pass the men living on the streets each day, enter through the solid stone doors that were 12 ft tall, and write about them. With such eloquence you would hardly know they were homeless at all. We exploited them.

Just like Tuskegee exploited the Blacks, and the Army exploits the young and the rudderless, we exploited the sick irony of paying more per credit than they earned in one year on Veterans benefits or disability. We disgust me.

But Karma is a bitch, because less than 2 years later there I was, sleeping in the law school stacks; showering in the indoor pool... gym because I “looked good enough to pass through the gates.” I had that Ivy League pedigree. The would-have-been Harvard Law student—maybe even have had it paid in full had I been a boy or born to a different mother.

What the fuck did they know? That cute little Jewish Girl from Long Island, the one from a "good" family... the Harvard Legacy with the beautiful mother always dripping in jewels and fur from her latest boyfriend or husband—that little girl was me.

I should have been the perfect example of how a power player in the making the benefits from good breeding. No one ever needed to know that beneath it all I worked my ass off to get into College and ultimately get a scholarship into the top ranked program in Sociology and Social Policy to effect change. The fact that I dropped out of high school at 16 could remain my dirty little secret.


And to this day, no one has ever come forward to expose that little truth. Probably because so few people know—Maybe three or four So would I reveal such an embarrassing little detail of my life and risk my reputation on something I should have left behind me over twenty years ago?

Because it matters.

No one needed to know. I can get by well enough on my looks, I speak quite eloquently, and usually appear normal to most, but it is an important little factoid because people constantly judge ME based upon who they think I am – either the girl with the wealthy parents, or a lazy too stupid too get off welfare.


It matters because what appears to be and what is are often two very different things. I am in fact, an Ivy League Alumnus. I did in fact get a full scholarship into the PhD program in Public Policy at a leading University.

I am in fact unable to find employment and live on SSI (Supplemental Security Income) the lowest of the low. I am so far beneath the poverty level (already ridiculous) that I often wonder how I manage to live at all.

So that "legacy," the access I once had to the Ivory tower on the 4th floor we wrote is now gone. Not because they didn't like my work-- they loved it! Solid A in Public Journalism.

Well if I were in New York today, I would most likely be one of the people o the streets. Actually, I would probably be sitting across the street at the Bookstore just so I could stay close to the vast amounts of wisdom and philosophy within the hollowed halls as classes break for the summer. I would be watching people go in and out and be envious that they had the one thing that I don't: access.


So I made it through the very Same J-School where Pat Buchanan refused to speak to his Alma-mater because he once punched someone in the face on the 5th floor. I made it through despite the fact that I often times slept in my car in the middle of winter because I could not afford gas for the commute and eventually lost my apartment. I made it through having no electricity and frozen water pipes.

The question is: can I make it through this? I paid my dues. I deserve a chance. Dammit, I deserve a do-over. I deserve a job. I deserve a little credit.

Will our policy decision be based upon our need for reform or the ability to perform?

We used to joke about all the sell-out Journalist who gave yup on reporting the news and became speech writers for politicians. How their idealism was tarnished and they decided to go into PR.

I am not one of those people. I care enough about the issues to take the time to examine them from all angles-- and I fell that the massive amount of money being spent by agencies that I hold in deep respect launching a counter-attack on the insurance companies and their ad execs will have serve to damage their reputation. I chose to volunteer with these agencies because I believe they are well informed and do a great job to involve the everyday average Americans like myself in the political process.

By spending $750,000 on advertising, these groups now seem to be on the same level as the Insurance Industry and others who exploit the poor and infirm at the mercy of the Healthcare marketplace.

So I take issue with this campaign. Let Rick Scott be heard. Using such tactics will make the good guys no better than the Insurance Companies that exploit us all.

Are these ads showing us: how to reform or how to perform?

The large amount of funds being thrown (public or private) being spent on media fluff, and emotional being spent on media propaganda and 'skittles' on both sides of the healthcare debate.

I am offended by the huge amounts of money being spent on propaganda and skittles by both sides of the healthcare debate. Excessive, exorbitant monies being spent to manipulate the public through misleading ads, expert analyses, media alerts~ this is insulting at best.

Real dollars being used to manipulate the public about real issues: the sick; the poor; the ignorant... We are selling bad data and information to those who need it the most.


Talk about adding insult to injury? I do hope HCAN, HealthJustice and others will reconsider this campaign. I am one foot soldier who is unwilling to participate in this one.


Bottom line is this: we need to stop manipulating images and perceptions about the reality of healthcare, education, and social welfare in the United States. All is not well in America. Not well at all. And I am here to prove it!


Elyssa Durant, Ed.M.
Social Security Recipient
Anytown, United States of America

Another Letter to Congress: NOT

well.. it started out well enough.. but I don't this I'll twit this shit to Congress... went just a LITTLE off track... oh well, such is life and the mind of Elyssa...



Dear Senators:

I am writing to you from TN District 51, and US House District 5 from Nashville, Tennessee. I am writing in support of the Employee Free Choice Act. I urge you as my Senator and Representative to vote yes on the final passage of the bill.

I am a recipient of Social Security disability and have tried unsuccessfully for several years to find a job that will allow me to earn a decent living wage and provide benefits so I can get off the state's welfare roles.

I never dreamed that it could be so difficult to (1) go through the initial application process and disability evaluation; and (2) to maintain my benefits and each August I must go through re certification process all over again.

I have not been successful in my endless search for a decent paying job, and even while in the employ of the State of Tennessee, I was not offered health benefits and was ineligible for unemployment or other benefits that would help me transition into a more permanent position.

I have an advanced degrees from Columbia University, and completed 63 of the 72 credit hours necessary to complete my PhD in public policy at Vanderbilt University.

To be clear, the longer I stay out of work, the more our taxpayers must pay to keep me in this perpetual state of poverty. There are many more out there like me...

People who just need a little support, a little guidance and a lot of encouragement. I live trapped within four walls in a prison of poverty.

There are a lot of things in the financial world that do not make sense. Such as having my tax return rejected from the IRS because someone had filed a tax return using my social security number.

Countless calls to the IRS, and although they were able to identify the person who had used my number fraudulently, they would not release that information to me so I could file a police report for identity theft (as I was instructed to do by regulatory authorities.) It took the IRS 9 months to send my refund, something that most people receive in less than 2 weeks.

So, after about a decade of this situation, and going through the motions year after year, to provide alternative forms of Income verification, I think I am well within my rights to be a little agitated.

This year I will be fling for an extension, as other related issues are currently under investigation.

Now I don't have much money, in fact I don't have any, but I find white collar crime despicable and repulsive.

When taken into account the substantial cost to society, not to mention the havoc it wreaked on my life, I respectfully think that maybe you should not assume that someone is making false claims just because you don't think it sounds "right."

Lots of things don't "sound right" however that doesn't mean they aren't true. Gotta go now, I have a date with eBay too auction my social security card to the highest bidder. Clearly, it is not worth anything to me so long as the authorities fail to do their part in ENFORCING the laws associated with Identity theft. Sure, it is easy to blame the victim as being irresponsible or somehow negligent in these situations, however I will refer you to some fascinating research that has been done on the emotional consequences of Identity theft.

The cost is far more than just an issue of financial discomfort, it is something that can ultimately leave you questioning your own identity.

It should be noted that Identity theft is a criminal matter, so whatever costs associated with such events, the victim is not reimbursed for any of the costs associated with having their life disrupted by something that is ultimately completely beyond their control.

It happens more often than you think, and it is a complicated, intricate, and time intensive to resolve such crimes. It is like trying to unravel multiple sets Christmas lights only to find that after you have put the time in, the damn things don't even work; and 2. Having to test each and every mini bulb in the chain to find the weakest link.

Now I don't fuck with Christmas lights, one I'm a jew, 2. I think they're tacky as hell, and 3. I have OCD OCD OCD- with fear of fire at the top of the list!

I once waited two years after moving in to
along the 1. They don't work the details only to find yourself in more complicated... To be continued...

I urge you as my Senator and Representative to vote yes on the final passage of the bill.

Thank you for your service,

Elyssa Durant, Ed.M.
615.424.8810
ed70@columbia.edu
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

You Just Don't Understand: I Can't Be Perfect

We live in a society where no one accepts responsibility for their mistakes, no one is held accountable for their actions, and no one, EVER says they are sorry.

Let me you a small glimpse inside the day in the of un/underemployed where I spend day after day after may doing the same thing without any result: I can only offer you a glimpse into day in the life because there is no room left sit in my car, and I believe my apartment may actually be a fire hazard... This was my daily update posted at 7:30am:


I have done everything humanly possible to clean up the slack; however, I feel I have no other choice than to file a formal complaint so that my entire case is reviewed. The number of mistakes is so overwhelming that I simply don't have enough time to documents each and every one within their respective agencies.

I will try to be more specific later without going into too much detail, but unfortunately, that level of detail is required to file the necessary appeals. Ironic huh? This apartment is like my own little cage, and I am just pathetic enough to run around in circles, hoping to find the much like a hamster wheel, rodent chasing in circles hoping to found my way out my way out before I run out air. If only I had finished my damn PhD, I would do my own case study or reality show on how far we'll go to have nothing at all...

I have taken care of the subrogation claim, however, that does not minimize my level of frustration because I am DROWNING in paperwork. I have contacted several agencies for assistance such as the Disability Law and Advocacy Center; however, I do not have the resources necessary to provide them with a timely response and additional documentation they would lead to do a thorough investigation. There is a very small window of time permitted to file a Request Reconsideration, or file administrative appeal.

This is not new information to anyone who has been reading this message-- and if it is, then the agency involved is in much worse shape than I believed. I WANT A RESPONSE~ I WANT AN EXPLANATION- and oddly enough, I WANT AN APOLOGY!

The simple fact that the only time I received a response from MH was when the "fraud" was entered into the conversation. Yet I was not the one who introduced it into the dialogue. It is very unfortunate that my advocate from the DLAC retired just days before we were scheduled to review my case. That was three years ago, and not a single person who sat in on that meeting has acknowledged that it even took place. So here we are, three years later, and I am asking for the exact same things: assistance filing a social security appeal, vocational rehabilitation, and to be treated with a shred of common courtesy. I cannot believe I have to spell that out for you. For anyone. Professional or otherwise. Has no one read my file? Because anyone who has would understand why I find it to be beyond comprehension that trained mental health professionals would do this to any human being, obsessive compulsive or not. Since I first moved to Nashville, I worked very hard to improve community services and de-stigmatize mental illness, yet here I am having to say this AGAIN, OUTLOUD.

I guess none of remember that I same almost the same person I was when I first moved down here. Actually, that not true. I am FAR WORSE, and feel as though I have been stripped of my dignity, professionalism, and any hope I once had to go back to work and be integrated into the world of the living.

I do not even feel comfortable in attending the very came community activities that I used to helps plan. I am so completely baffled and just plain horrified that I actually have to say these things outloud.

There is local attorney I have known or many years. He recently made some very serious, very public and very embarrassing mistakes. Prior to that event, he worked on legislation capping damages in medical malpractice claims. He had an expression that he would use quite often and that was, "Sorry Works!" He was right. "Sorry" does work, yet still haven't heard it being said. Ultimately, those two little words became the driving force behind his political legacy and the force at the core of his being when he went in to recovery. The last interview he did on TV, he told the reporter that he does not wish to be remembered for the mistakes, but how went about correcting them. People, listen up, "SORRY WORKS!"

I also want to be clear that every time I have to call Social Security or DHS, it only compounds my cost of living expenses (40 cents per minute on the telephone -- a bill which is not even considered to be a justifiable expense) Most agencies do not include self-addressed stamped envelopes, and I cannot afford the postage required to mail out all of the requested documentation (e.g., utility bills, medical bills, pay stubs, etc.) So when one your employees tells me that he has removed himself from my case, I should not have to spend 29 minutes on old with the Social Security Administration just to learn that he was trying to intimidate me by threatening to have my funds frozen immediately. I think I should be reimbursed for that phone call. I think he should have to pay out out of his own pocket.

That statement was made not only to me, but also in front if other employees at your agency. It is not only irresponsible and unprofessional, but it also probably illegal, and justifies the complaint I will be filing against him in order to re-cap dome the damages. It is called breach of fiduciary duty, although I expect you probably already know that, but if you don't, you should look it up along with subrogation, since I'm pretty sure that one falls should the scope of services you were contracted to provide for at that time.

Fortunately, a number of agencies will take online complaints. Unfortunately, my internet was interrupted for non-payment for several weeks and there is no funding resource or community agency that provides subsidized Internet access or free printer ink. Transportation costs are ridiculous so going to the library is not an option. Neither is returning to work right now, since it would cost too much to get to the interview or provide official (expensive) copies of my graduate school transcripts necessary to update my teaching credentials, were oh, such a good investment!

Set aside, I am not the most user friendly person right about now, so I have found it difficult to put on a happy face so I can work at McDonald's which pays more than Metro anyway.

The subrogation claim has been resolved but I just learned that my breast biopsy was not pre-authorized and I was told by my INSURANCE CSR (the person who answers the phone!) that I should not have the surgery that has already been scheduled at the Women's Hospital for 8/21/2008. AmeriChoice (United HealthCare) did they did not authorize the biopsy last month, and have not, as of yet, received a request prior authorization for the surgery next week...

This was a lovely 54 minute conversation because he would not mail me copies of my EOBs or confirm that what, if any, requests have been submitted for payment since my last inquiry and change of address. He finally told me to call the state (Tennessee) which I have already done several times, and they told me to call Social Security but it was already past business hours and I am not authorized to make changes to my file anyway.

I'll be in touch when I can. Unfortunately, each agency has different deadlines, and it takes a lot of energy and time to scan in, copy, or respond to each inquiry in writing, so I find myself running out of time since I can't seem to get anything done unless I just do nothing at all.

And even though my life is a living hell, I have almost learned how to enjoy the sheer irony of it all... for someone with OCD and posttraumatic stress, this is truly a ridiculous little experiment.

I am becoming increasingly inspired to just burn every last document I own, throw away my keys and my cell phone and take Spotty some place where we can live off the land and ignore the fact that society has me chained to a computer screen that screen that does provide the basic necessities I need to live in this .

I have come this far, and I am becoming rather skilled and at expressing myself without needing an audience or the obsessive need to check every fact, throw, and typo for capitalization and perfection.

So for now... I write.

Maybe later, I'll read, but if there is any justice left in this world, someday, I'll actually live.

Good-bye for now. I need a break.

With love,

Elyssa Lies

I am so glad that there are at least a few people out there who remember me from when I was a kid people, and a few people who can identify my body without three DNA blood tests to determine what medical facility would accept me as a transfer. Ever heard of EMTALA people? Ever heard of HIPPA? Ever heard of Patient Dumping? Ask Jim Blumstein, Professor of Law at Vanderbilt Law School or take his course Law 734: Health Law & Policy.

Yes, I ASKED to be committed. I called for help. I said it every single way I knew how, without asking people who were most able to give it.
I never forget a slight, and I am extremely grateful to people who didn't ask questions or doubt my intentions. I will hold them in my thoughts, and can safely promise that I will never again call upon you for help.

There is something to be said for paying it forward. So to people who actually took the time to physically see if I was okay, and to two very special ladies who brought me clothing after everything I had in my possession was taken away from me... and to the photographer who actually observed my injuries, thank you. I can honestly say that I took one for the team. For the tweeters and twackers who let me know I was alone in my journey... you're right I wasn't. You can tweet for peeps without being certifiably nuts. That's not to say I am not certifiably nuts, but I thinks it rather pretentious for y'all to think that you know my mind better than I do after 36 years. I want to believe that this feel connected to a world filled with hatred, bigotry and violence.... I made it through. And I already paid it forward.

It is pretty clear what I need, and I so tired of people asking why I can't find one. Have you seen the news? What I need is hot water. What I need is a safe place to go. What I need is the idiot who fucked up my computer to fix the damn thing. I wouldn't mind having a safe place for Spotty, and a little bit of acceptance. So out of respect for people that I once held in high regard, I chose to take the proper channels. I fed them information without claiming ownership... I sold a news story for $1.00. Kool... I made a dollar last year. That will pay the bills.

There were people I respected and admired, and now see as shallow and insincere. People who are afraid to be associated with someone "like" me? What exactly does that mean anyway? Aren't you impressed that I'm a Harvard Legacy? Am I not one of the "Chosen People?"

Do you think I am living on a total income of $615.00/month because it is fun?
If you can do better, pleeeeeze let me know...

If I can see somebody else doing it, then maybe I could figure out how to do it myself. I am willing to learn from anyone. Just think of all the valuable lessons Hitler taught us??? Yes, people are sheep.

I learned even your mistakes, so is there nothing of value that I can bring to this community???

Would you like to try going on welfare for three months or so? I think you would enjoy the application process. After all there is nothing quite like it in the world.

So, I was "ordered" not to volunteer, not to call the police if I hear gun shots, because only crazy people call 911 several times in one day. Only thing is, "crazy" people exaggerate the situation, so clearly if I have lived for three years, then I can certainly wait another few months. Really?

I am only allowed to use than 100 words or less in my written correspondence. Thank God for Twitter, it is good training.

BTW (by the way ;-) The Gettysburg Address was only 267 words. Less than two tweets. Granted, I am no Lincoln, but every once in a while, I do say something important.
There is something to be said for brevity, but there is also something to be said about honesty, isolation, and the value of technology for people with disabilities. So let this be my project for "Save The Internet" because Legal Aid thought it was kinda funny when I told them that my Internet was scheduled to be disconnected.
Who needs the internet anyway? Who needs information, access, a forum, a voice??? And even if some tweets make me laugh, is that so bad?? Maybe even a small diversion from reality? Am I not worthy?

I foolishly believed that by volunteering in the community, I would come across a real job with real wages and real benefits. Yeah, that was a great idea.
Don't worry... I learned my lesson. I will volunteer no more. After all, why buy the cow if you can get the milk for free?

Let it be known I'm a pretty quick study. I am cursed with an exceptionally vivid memory. My cortisol levels have been running low since '95. You figure it out. (Robert Sapolsky: Why Zebra's Don't Get Ulcers)

I am truly offended by the events that led people to call my family half way around the world and the country, when all they really needed to do was ask me. Not all "kids" are lost... some don't want to be found.



Yes, I am reckless, I am loud, I am always right, and I am "out of my mind fucking nuts" also known as "OTWFN: Off The Wall Fucking Nuts" and that is the presumption. Don't forget, I am very much father's daughter, and am very much my mother's alibi. So thanks. Points!

All the better for them because the crazier I am, the less embarrassed they feel. How about some extra credit for their excellent parenting skills.

Crazy? Loud? Different?

Guilty, as charged. I am sooo embarrassed... how dare I post crazy shit like this online? Don't I know how bazaar that seems? Don't you? Because let's face it... there are two possibilities:

(1) I'm telling the truth, and it's serious,

~or~

(2) I'm NOT telling the truth, and it's serious.

So for everyone who told me to go home... did you actually think my parents would rush in to rescue me? Sorry, but no. Not my family. Now I'm stuck here, and you are stuck with me.

And for the record, even suggesting that there is "home" to go to... well than YOU haven't been paying attention.

Don't you realize I am home?

I find it so hard to believe that after all this time people find it easier to speak around me and actually think that is in my best interests? Sorry, but no.

And, you need not worry-- I don't need to be told twice where I'm not welcome.

I am less than 20 miles from several people who called Philadelphia, only to find that they don't want me either. Why would they possibly want to have me in their pristine, well-decorated homes when you paint such a lovely picture?

Guess what-- I' have never even seen my father's home... nor do I expect an invitation to Thanksgiving or Christmas.

So to all the people who "phoned home" to complain about e.d., job well done, you're stuck with me now.

And since I can't get a get a job, and I can't really afford the gas to go anywhere, I don’t think you need to call in a crisis team. I am perfectly happy sitting here by myself listening to my favorite YouTube videos and thinking about everyone else tucked safe and snug in their Ethan Allen beds. Good night to you all... you don't need to read this, and of course, you can ALWAYS hit delete.

That makes me sick. I never was really was a child, and it is really odd that people would start treating like one now. That is such bullshit, because child support was terminated on August 15, 1988. No other provisions were made, and I earned more money at 14 than I did in the last 10 years out together.

I miss the Barge. I think it is ridiculous that people would complain that I am "embarrassing myself.” At least I'm willing to take ownership of that one... was it less embarrassing to find out my mother contacted my professors and withdrew from classes because I was "too ill" to go to school.

Is any less embarrassing then being left at the airport on Thanksgiving Day? Or told that you do not deserve to go the dentist; that you can't sleep in the guest room if you have nightmares because you I might ruin the furniture think I actually give a shit about embarrassing myself? Do you think for a second they are counting on it? Did you think for one moment that there might, just, may be a reason I do not want to go home.



Is it less embarrassing than having your mother finds you "housing" at a long-term state psychiatric hospital, or being told that you might not have a fill on your soda because it cost $1.00? Is it any less embarrassing than finding out you have a new two months after he was born?

Yeah, I am embarrassed. Send me to Canada PLEEEZE!!!

Yes, I can act crazy. Yes, I may be crazy, and I sure a shit wish I was because there might be a possibility that created all of this "in my head.” It is not normal to have 43 addresses on file. It is not normal to care more about a cat than any single human alive. So, no, I am not normal, but does that make me bad? Does it make me dangerous? Does it want being told to "leave town" or take my own my own life so that society is not burdened by caring for me financially? Well, guess what-- I do not really care anymore, and there been many times in my life where I would rather not be alive, I refuse to let "them" Not like that.

So for so many people who have silenced me before, keep in mind I am NOT psychotic. And I am definitely mot "normal"

I am done. I so "over it" by now that if your embarrassed by my actions then you are giving me way too much power. I can own my behavior, and I can accept my feelings. And I think you need to do the same.

But I will not live in fear for the rest the of my life. And if I do get evicted tomorrow, so be it. It won't be the first time. And if you’re really lucky, there will some great new books donated to the public library. Yes, I AM ANGRY. Anger is a very strong emotion that is key to motivational theory. So yes, I am angry AND I am motivated.

According at my mother, the lovely little creature that she is for blameing for all her her failed marriages, and uses me as an excuse trying to get sympathy from others. She also was evicted from childhood homes in Cherry Hill, Lawrence, Great Neck (North and South) and yes, of course, that was somebody else’s fault too.

Apparently it was all my stepmother's fault. Nice. At least their mother would not allow them to be thrown away with each new boyfriend, tummy tuck, Jaguar or diamond ring.

So aren’t you guys glad you called my parents because now you’re stuck with me, my medical bills, and student debt. Isn't that special? I came here to WORK. I came here to be a part of something. I came here to leave the past behind me. I filled my long nights volunteering at the Family Shelter. I spent my days sleeping in four-hour shifts, and hoping that my oh-so-vivid dreams might actually be pleasant for just one night.

But I've been keeping notes. I'm paying attention to the rules and I'm paying attention to the news. It is not so random, and it not so crazy.

Yes I have filed appeals, but that'd getting old since no one bothers to follow up. What the ~ is wrong with THAT picture?????

All I can say is this, I tried. I tried damn hard. But ya know, crazy is, crazy does.

Aren't you guys lucky to have me? This is my home. This WAS my home. Thanks for making me feel so welcome.

e.d. over and out.