Bananas

If I told you "we gotta get rid of all these apples. They're driving down the banana sales," well you'd probably think that sounded fishy. If you asked me "And what do you do, exactly?" and I was all "Who, moi? I'm a banana salesman" ... you'd probably not go along with that scheme. Seems a little self-serving, you'd think to yourself. Right?

That's about what I see going on in the world right now now. Yea, that's right! This is a politics blog now. </readership>

On either side of the aisle they say a lot about what they will do and even what they have done. But if you look at what they've ACTUALLY done and who really benefits... it starts to look like they're all banana salesmen.

And they're getting rid of all the apples.

I actually have five insurance companies right now. Does that seem weird? Five different companies insure me in different ways. One of them wants the government to pay so it doesn't have to, and they think it's MY job to fight that fight.

Also one of the overlords at Capital One gave some of my student loan debt to his friend, the overlord at Discover, so I officially owe my ass to them now, too. They don't break my legs, but they do try to ruin my life. Got double-charged in the same month I stopped getting paid. That's not what you want. That's some fucking CAHOOTS.

Oh, my steroid dose is down. I have feelings again and I only bake every other day. Oh! Superbowl idea: cookies and what do you know? They're little footballs. Chocolate frosted with white icing for the laces. God that would take all day.

Nutbars

Distrust writers. I distrust writers. They're all narrating themselves far too much in their heads. It can't be fucking healthy.

The BiCNU damaged my lungs. That's one of the chemo drugs they gave me. The one that was massively recalled in the days just after my transplant. Which my hospital neglected to address with me in any official capacity. And even ignored my request for more information. But anyway.

It's not abnormal for this lung damage to happen. Something like 20% of people, it turns out, are poisoned by poison.

The damage is reparable so long as I take a bunch of steroids for a month or so. Pretty sure Prednisone has been considered an extenuating circumstance in murder trials so if I seem a little off you will have to forgive me.

I'm not totally sure what's behind my manic purposefulness of late. It's easy to assume steroids is the reason why I can't stop DOING something for five fucking minutes and just sit and relax. And maybe it is. I think that's kind of what steroids do.

On the other hand, maybe being trapped in my own sickness for so god damn long has made me absolutely nutbar for being able to LIVE MY FUCKING LIFE FOR HALF A SECOND.

All this energy going towards packing lunches and cleaning and hanging out with fall produce. It's only going to get me so far. Then I'm going to have to start writing again. And that just seems like the craziest outcome of all.