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Where Reality Will Byte, if You Aren't Careful What You Read... My Year's Quest. |
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NEW BLOG: "Mind Minutiae"  Click here to SCROLL down to the journal entries.  The Reason for the Season I Seems like I have to know everyone else's job for them just so I can get my business conducted. Bills, utilities and internet providers and cellular companies and GAWD knows medical institutions, offices, and billing departments. Pre-authorizations, exceptions, policies and terms and conditions. Websites, APPS, Apples and Windows. Modems, Network Extenders, cellular upgrades, iPad upgrades, trade-in value redemptions from hell. What is WRONG with peeps today? Why can't they simply DO their jobs? Why do I have to spend an hour in an online chat just to be told to call them instead? Why is it they are doing the opposite of what they say they will? What ever happened to friendliness AND competence, as a two-pronged necessity of employment, anyway? And when a mistake is made, especially an egregious error like dangerous medication being filled at the wrong milligram amount, is it so awkward they cannot issue an apology, just as a token of respect and shame? Not a lot, mind you, but it is professional. Why are they no longer so professional, businesses and institutions? Well. I'm here to tell you that 'nice' doesn't get you all the way through an encounter with an idiot. Or, more often, with an employee more worried about covering their ass than your well being. This is also not a one-off because I have been noting this trend of gross negligence and incompetence all year long. In fact, since I had my complete pulmonary embolism (blood clots in the lung's artery, at least for me the right) in April, 2018, I have been taking copious notes. That's right. I see you. You imbecile. You clock-puncher, only worried about your paycheck and not caring much about a job well done. Where is your integrity? Your inner fire? Do you save it for your band, your friends, or your schoolwork? It isn't exclusive you know—you can spread it around some. Add a little genuineness to that, "Have a good day, ma'am." I always had a good time while working in customer service, and I was competent, as well. Well, I certainly thought so, right. I'm not expecting you to do anything I cannot do myself except for the fact that you umm kinda get paid to do it! So, since April of 2018, I decided to go forth in search of a better quality of life. Whata does that MEAN? It means I was miserable, really, and not for trying to cheer up either. My medical woes have taken over my life and there isn't too much I can do about it. Or is there? Yeah, so I set out on seeing all the doctors I've been meaning to over the years. Updating some scans and tests, as many as I could. I hate seeing new doctors and the specialists are kinda the worst; having to explain in a 'nutshell' forty-seven-years of medical history is not my idea of fun. In fact, I get depressed thinking about it, let alone speaking about it all. It's complicated. Therefore, I'm complicated, right? Or, perhaps I'm just an interesting 'case' the doctors should look at like the puzzle I truly am. Where's the curiosity gone?  T Doctors and more mainstream staff just treat symptoms; they have to really want to figure out a mystery medically speaking, in order to do me any good. I am not normal, never have been, absolutely never will be. Medically, I do wish I were normal, it'd be so much easier... but no. Now I am not going to let you get away with your shit! I am going to call you on it. If you are deemed incompetent, I will do my best to fire you and find another competent person to replace you on my medical team. And I will not apologize for it. I won't be meek, I won't hold my tongue unless I want to, I will speak plainly and bluntly. If you can't handle this patient, that's okay, but all I am asking is for you to do your job. Competently. Yes, even for me, who is "so complicated." It's like marriage vows, you don't agree to be there for your spouse only when the weather's nice out, right? Right. You have to take the good with the bad. And this all applies to my former 'good weather' friends because you know whata? Sometimes life sucks. Sometimes it really, really sucks. It can also be terrific. And this goes for everyone out there, not just me or someone who has medical issues. Nope. This is where I will mostly talk about the sucky stuff, because I need an outlet for it. I need to complain without reproach. I need to write words I might actually never say, but lately I don't know, I just MIGHT. Perhaps, I already have   Adrie's 2nd Blog (The first one is LINKED BELOW (click on the pic) and also where you might go if you want to get to know me—I don't leave much unsaid, I suppose. Mostly.)  I Reside With:  Faith is to believe what you do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what you believe. ~Saint Augustine Obligatory Mood TRIBUTE Video: Dedication: This live performance from STAIND is stellar, but then he is always so wonderful live. I've gone through the gamut of music this past week, everything from Disturbed to everything TOOL's ever recorded and quite a few of their live performances as well; from Everclear to Coal Chamber; to Incubus through to System of a Down. Yup. I settled on this song because when I think of my old friend Gus, I think of why and how he ever became referred to as 'Crazy Gus' (and rightfully so). Dude was a hard, hard rocker; we're talking about a guy that went to so many concerts, I doubt he could list them all if he had tried. The fact that he dragged me around to System of a Down, Lollapalooza 1997 to see The Prodigy and TOOL, Everclear at the Hard Rock LA, and geez... so many more venues around Hollywood and bands than I ever remembered before... before his death. He died rather suddenly September 19.   Kicking Ass, Taking Names, One Fool at a Time! |
| "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" Day 2076 August 29, 2019 Prompt: "I think that is what film and art and music do, they work as a map of sorts, for your feelings." Bruce Springsteen What are your thoughts about this? If music be the food of love, then play on... Uh NO. Scratch that. I messed that quote up! Well, maybe food is more soulful than anything lol. You should hear me relate a joke—I can't remember the punch lines and totally suck at telling them. Well, at even repeating them, I mean. I dream in music, which oughta tell you something about how much I relate it to my feelings, even subconscious ones. As a teenager I loved music; everyone thought it was pretty normal because what teen doesn't enjoy music, eh? But I would write out the lyrics to my favorite songs over and over until I had memorized them. I slept to music, albeit on a low volume. I didn't attend my first concert until I was sixteen, and then only two as an adult, but I enjoyed them! (The wacky tobaccy contact highs from up in the nosebleed bleachers? Not so much.) I never have liked crowds. Now that I guess I consider myself a fledgling poet, music plays a huge part in my writing process. The reason I write is that oft-annoying, completely misunderstood reason that—at first glance—comes off as incredibly selfish. Yup, that one: I write for me. Which isn't to say that I write on THIS site just for me, as otherwise why would I bother to post it here? No, I write as a cathartic process first and foremost to get my shit out of my head and onto some dead paper where it won't harm me. I believe keeping things bottled up inside causes cancer. Seriously. However, I need to post it somewhere (and I choose WdC exclusively) so I can be accountable Accountable to keep writing about my crapola, which is almost always sad and angst-ridden; I mean my happy poems are the ones in the sludge pile. Slush pile. Yeah, that's it! If I didn't post it somewhere, I would just stop writing, and that is not a good thing for Adrie. Music, however, is just pure enjoyment. When writing something sad or angsty I need a good song that matches my mood. In fact, I need a whole playlist in my Apple Music of songs that match my mood! I connect with the music mentally and emotionally, sure, but also viscerally—I can almost feel it throughout my body. I can at times enter an almost trace-like state, getting a good amount of writing done. Only downside to this method for epic-poem writing is that interruptions ruin the process. How often do you think a dozen cats interrupt 'mama'? Too freaking often  Music is poetry's movies. And don't worry, I have a dozen cats because I like them; they just are so annoying when it comes to mama 'working'. Hey, whata they don't know won't kill 'em  |
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