Back to complaining about how haaaaaaaard writing is. Seriously, it all makes sense in my head, but somewhere between my brain and my fingers the information gets all tangled up and I am convinced I do not make sense. At all. Ever. And it is hopeless. Chester will be stillborn. Woe.
Then I talked to my thesis buddy and she said she had the same problem, so I felt a little better. We bemoaned the fact that working for 8 hours results in mere paragraphs. It's a fairly incredible thing.
And of course, in addition to that, trying to figure out what I will do when my lease is up is ... well. Not fun. It's a situation where my desired action would be to hide somewhere and close my eyes and pretend that it will all go away if I pretend it's not there. Sadly, I can't do that.
I was rejected by an insurance program called "The Golden Rule" yesterday for having a pre-existing condition. (That is manageable and under control.) I was simultaneously angered and amused by this irony. I'm fairly sure, going by those times I read the Bible, that Jesus healed the people with pre-existing conditions. And said that doctors heal the sick, not the healthy. (Something like that, anyway.) Basically, exactly the opposite of how the American health-care industry works. Effing pisses me off. I just feel, if you are going to spout platitudes about loving your neighbor, your services should not operate on a business model geared solely towards maximizing profits. Sanctimonious a-holes. I should probably stop now or I will be so angry I won't be able to write.
On the other hand, Harry Potter comes out tonight!!!
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