crysthewolf

There is a certain surreality to the current political banter. Am I the only one who's noticed that? It seems like every blog I see is dehumanizing "the other"... not just the candidates, but "those damned conservatives" or "those hellbound liberals" or "fuck you if you don't vote" or "fuck you if you do".

Every once in a while there's a soft, kindhearted voice that pipes up and says, "Can't we all just get along?" ...and then the mob of bantering footballers bum-rushes them and the voice goes silent again, and we're back to the screaming and shredding and "The end of the world is coming! We are all DOOOOOMED!!!!"

I like people. Individually I mean. I've got likes of folks of all shapes and sizes, all persuasions and opinions. In groups though? In the hordes that get to forgetting that anyone not in their club is not a person? Y'all can freak me the fuck out sometimes.

Love,
Crystal

A few days ago Stephen brought me a statement from my insurance company that had been sent to his house.  It said that my last visit to my doctor's office on July 16th (after Glenn Huelskamp had sent me home because I was having trouble breathing at the office... two days before he fired me) wouldn't be paid for by them because I was not covered by the insurance at that time.  

I called them yesterday, after the orientation meeting from Hell,  I called my insurance company to see what was up.  I was told, that when I was signed up for insurance at Huelskamp & Huelskamp, I was signed up for an individual plan.  What THAT means, is that whether my employer said that they were taking the premiums out of my check and sending them or not, it was MY responsibility to make sure that those payments got in.

And there was never a single payment made on my insurance plan.

The gal that I talked to on the phone was VERY nice and she apologized for what seemed like a royal kick in my ass.  It was, but it wasn't her fault.  

Frankly, it wasn't my fault either.  I didn't know about this.  If I was supposed to be paying the premiums myself, I was never told.  I was under the impression that my part of it would be taken out of my check and that Huelskamp & Huelskamp would be paying part.. considering that when I was hired on I was told "We DO offer insurance coverage", which to me means that I'll be on a group plan and my part of the coverage will be taken out of my check by the company.  Truth is, I don't know much about insurance, because it's usually taken care of by people in HR.  At Huelskamps', Karen is HR.  And Karen didn't tell me dick about my part of my insurance.

Am I shocked by this?  No, not really.  I will be EQUALLY not-shocked when I get my call to Huelskamps' returned with an edge of "Are you stupid, why couldn't you figure this out on your own?" from whoever makes the call because that will be Karen's reaction.  My answer?

No, you bleach-blonde, head-up-your-own-ass, skinny fucking pathetic bitch, I did NOT figure that out on my own, because it's YOU'RE FUCKING JOB TO TELL ME!!!!  Just like it was YOUR FUCKING JOB TO TRAIN ME, you hoity toity fucking jackass!!!!  

I have news for you, you fucking dingbat... YOU are the idiot.  YOU are the stupid bitch who can't figure out how the FUCK to do her job on her own!!!!  And your WORTHLESS, LYING, SEXUALLY HARASSING, PIECE OF SHIT, BASTARD of a HUSBAND, can BITE MY FUCKING ASS!!!!

I called my doctor's office this morning to explain what was going on and to apologize for the fact that they didn't get paid.  Hey, it's not my doctor's fault.  Yes, healthcare is crazy expensive, but it's supposed to have been covered by insurance.  The receptionist who answered the phone was COMPLETELY blown away... and she apologized to ME for having to deal with all of that.  She set me up with a month-to-month payment plan with no minimum payment.  "Whatever you can afford.  And I hope that you're able to get a good job soon... I am so sorry you've had to go through this."  I advised her, "Do yourself a favor and never work for lawyers.  You wouldn't believe the bullshit I've had to go through with this asshole, both while I was there and since I've left."

So, to recap.  I was hired by Glenn from the Clerk's Office, offered $12.10 an hour plus insurance coverage, and told that I would be trained to cover for the current secretary while she was gone (but NOT expected to work up to her standard since she'd taken three years to learn everything she knew), and that I would be kept on board after she came back.  While she was gone, regardless of how hard I worked, there was no pleasing the two of them.  I made phone calls, scheduled appointments, filed motions... whenever Glenn handed me something and said "I need you to create a pleading for this" and I didn't know how the hell to do it (and when I asked questions he wrinkled his nose at me and made a disgusted sound), I managed to figure it out on my own.  I put up with his yelling tantrums and his disgusted looks when he would walk into my office and say "What's X situation about?" and I, having absolutely no way of knowing because Karen or he had handled a good portion of X situation WITHOUT briefing me, would say "Which situation is that?" 

The people who know me, know that I'm not incompetent and that I don't slack.   The people who have worked with me can vouch for that.

Then, three days after his other secretary came back, I started having breathing trouble.  It turned out to be acid reflux, but at the time I didn't know what was going on and was afraid that if I ran my usual errands at the City County Building (where, by the way, Karen and Glenn go just about every day for court, and were going that day) I might pass out in the street.  So, I talked to the other secretary and asked her if there was any way I could cover the office and let her do it; since I'd been covering the office the whole time she was gone, I figured it wouldn't be a HUGE deal as long as she didn't mind doing it.  Her response was, "Of course!  It's no problem!" but, when she let Karen know that she was going to go across the street for me and why, Karen called me into her office.  "If you're sick," she said, "you need to go home."  I explained to her that I was okay to work, I was just concerned about walking across the street in the heat.  She said, "Well, we need Brandy in the office, so if you're sick, you need to go home."

I went home, made an apopintment at my doctor's office, and later received a call from Brandy telling me that Glenn had said not to bother coming in until Friday at around 10am, that he wanted me to feel better and that I should make sure that I went to the doctor.  

When I went in on Friday at 9am, I was directed to wait for Glenn in the conference room.  I waited for about ten minutes for him to come in and, after attempting to accuse me of snooping around the online database at night, tell me that I was fired, and that I "Just wasn't suited for a law office."

THEN, when I filed for unemployment he filed the claim that I was not doing my job.  THEN I find out that the asshole wasn't sending in the insurance premiums for my plan, even though no one had told me that I was the one who was supposed to be PAYING for this plan out of MY OWN pocket.

And my doctor has my back.  She's my only hero in this story.  But I suppose between an asshole ex-boss lawyer and your own doctor, I guess I'd prefer the latter to have my back.

Still, what a piece of bullshit this has all been.

Love,
Crystal

Steven Waldman Tackles Religion, Politics And Palin

Waldman is a former editor for the US News & World and a founder of beliefnet.com.  I though that it was an interesting answer to some of the panic around Palin's religious views (not that I'm saying I'm OKAY with her religious views, but I think that Waldman has an interesting take on it.)

If you're reading this before 3pm ET, make sure to check back after that and listen to the audio.  He had a lot more to say than what the article says.

Love,
Crystal

(I enabled comments on this post but understand that I am probably not going to respond to many if any of them.  I'm posting this for the sake of broadening the discussion and not to start a political debate.)

I am OVER trying to kill myself to lose weight.  I'm also OVER hopping on the scale every day to see if the numbers have gone down.

That said, I really AM working to change my lifestyle and become more healthy.  I started belly-dancing again this morning (it's just a workout DVD, but it's fun as hell!) because I saw some gals at Pagan Pride day dancing, some of them my size, and realized, "Oh! I AM allowed to do that and feel good about myself!"  It was also because I realized after I walked around at Irish-fest, walked the canal, and then walked around at Pagan Pride Day, that I am NOT in the kind of shape I'd like to be in.  When I was younger I walked EVERYWHERE, and now I've gotten to that awful place where if I walk too much I get stiff the next day.  I know that a part of that is all the extra weight I HAVE been carrying around thanks to Seasonique convincing my body that it had to eat like it was pregnant... but, now that I'm off of that, I feel like whether the weight actually comes off or not, I DO want to get to the point where I can carry myself around a park all day and not want to die at the end of it.  I'd also like to be able to rollerblade the Monon again without being afraid that I might have a heart attack.  These are things that I enjoy and WANT to be able to do, not things that I feel like I SHOULD be able to do.  

Because, right now, I am OVER feeling shitty because I'm not skinny.  Maybe I'll lose weight and maybe I won't, but I'm finally getting to that place where as long as I'm healthy, I'm going to let myself feel beautiful no matter how "big" I may be.  Now granted, fitting into some of the clothes that I've still got in my closet would be NICE... but mostly because they're cute and I can't afford to buy them in bigger sizes right now (I bought them when I was actually MAKING money. =P )  Most of the clothes I HAVE been able to buy make me feel frumpy and I'd like to own more than one shirt that I actually feel ATTRACTIVE in.  =P 

So, here's me... getting comfortable in my own skin.  No matter how thick it is.

Some of the rest of you going to jump on my bandwagon with me? =)  It's a party.  And there's CHOCOLATE. ;)

Loving, loved, and lovely,
Crystal

 In the laundry room there is a sign posted on the wall, explaining that soon, we will need $1.75 in quarters instead of $1.25 to do the laundry.  Underneath the declaration, someone in my apartment hall has written, "Will they be a bigger and better washer and dryer?"

Someone else has responded, "Yeah, with dry clothes, the FIRST time???"

and someone ELSE has responded, "What are these dry clothes you speak of???"

I love my neighbors. ;)

Love,

Crystal

I have only recently said goodbye to him

Before that time I think I’d told most everyone about Weslee Brian Condes, the love of my life, the one that got away. By the time Chris and I were together, it had been just over three years since goodbye came into my life in such an awful way that Valentine’s Day weekend. But it had taken that long for me to stop being afraid to tell everyone about him. What had happened dug deep into my soul but I’d never, ever, felt SAFE talking about him. I had never felt like both my loss and the circumstances SURROUNDING my loss wouldn’t be a dark cloud of shame that hovered over. Because, you see, I was a Christian… a part of a very conservative denomination of Christianity, and I wasn’t married at the time.

Weslee was my son.

His father was a fling, and a DUMB fling to boot. Scott was religious and strong and friendly and funny, but he wasn’t kind. He tried at kind a few times, but he didn’t really ever get it down. He knew that I was interested in him, despite the age gap between us (sixteen years). Despite the two children he ALREADY had. Despite the crazy ex-wife. Did I mention that it was a DUMB fling yet? But he wasn’t all that interested in me. He was interested in getting laid. And I was interested in fighting off the sense of hopelessness after my last rejection.

And so it was that one night Scott had followed me home to “work on my resume” (now THERE’S an innuendo you wouldn’t expect) after we’d spent the day at the 2004 Irish-Fest. My doctor had told me that it’d be very difficult, if not impossible, for me to get pregnant, so we hadn’t used any birth control. And then, as the cliché goes, “I’ve never seen anyone get dressed that fast.”

Scott and I went on like that for about four weeks before I decided that not only was this not what I wanted, but it wasn't what he wanted. It was nice to feel desired, but both of us had that miserably conflicted feeling that came from believing you were supposed to behave one way, and actually behaving another. “We have to stop Scott,” I told him. “We can be friends, but neither of us wants this. This isn’t really us.”

Well, it wasn’t really ME, anyway. Over the next few months I’d find out just how HIM it was, but the truth was that neither of us really did want this kind of relationship. I hated sleeping with a guy who never stayed the night and rarely stayed laying down long enough to get his breath back, and he hated himself for being that guy (or just for being… I was never sure.)

It didn't occur to me until later that night how overdue my period was. The next morning I called my best friend Aaron, leaving my ominous news on his voicemail: “There were two lines.”

It was October. We began telling friends, and receiving judgments (not to mention demands and commands), and I moved in with a family I’d known since high school after being kicked out of my apartment. In November, I went with Scott to a Thanksgiving celebration with his kids, and he met my Dad on the way home. In December, he actually TOLD the kids. “Are you pargnent?” asked his son Henri. Kaylee, Henri’s older sister, was pissed at her Dad, but still doted on me (and hoped for a baby sister.) In January a family I’d been close to disowned me because I wouldn’t break up with Scott and put the baby up for adoption. That, to them, was the wisest and “most Godly” thing to do in our situation. According to them, we’d committed a grave sin by having sex before marriage, and for us to stay together was to spit in the face of possible forgiveness. In that state, we couldn’t possibly expect to raise a child in a good Christian environment.

In early February, we found out that he was a boy. Kaylee stomped her feet and threw her fists. Henri asked “Since Weslee’s your son and Weslee’s my brother, can I call you Mom?” I never knew what to say to that… but I never minded, either. I’m pretty sure Henri’s Mom did.

I took off work for Valentine’s Day in 2005 because Scott and I were trying so desperately to have a real relationship and he’d had the idea to go on a road trip together. We drove to French Lick, Indiana which turned out to be a bust, and then stopped off in Nashville, Indiana on the way home, where he bought me an amethyst ring. He intended to marry me and raise our son together like he hadn't his other kids, although he wasn't fond of the marriage part.

And then it was the Thursday after Valentine’s Day, and I was at work with the worst heartburn I’d ever experienced. It was the February 17th and I was planning to stay after work to get more done, but I felt too terrible so I drove home. A few hours later I was sitting at the kitchen table, eating ice-cream and Tums and trying to make the gassy feeling go away. A half-hour after that, one of my roommates suggested I try taking a shower to calm my muscles. As an afterthought she added, “Sometimes contractions feel like gas.” I insisted that I wasn’t having contractions, but my body begged to differ. And, as Michael and Matt, father and son, carried my entire pregnant mass to the family’s van after I got out of the shower, they begged to differ as well.

In the hospital there was little hope, but I clung to it like a line lowered to a child caught in a well. I hadn’t planned on having a baby out of wedlock with an angry self-loathing man who already HAD two children, but I loved my son all the same. I had sung him lullabies and read him stories in the months that he was with me, living in my belly. I had every intention of doing whatever it took to ensure his well-being and happiness once he was born. I loved him more than breath. One day I was planning my life around his, and then, in a few hours, he was kicking me for the last time. A numbness came over me as a nurse told me, “I’m sorry, your baby is dead.”

I don’t remember the next day very well. I vaguely recall friends visiting me in the hospital. I had never felt death touch me that closely before. It was INSIDE of me. But, for a while after that, despite the great black hole in my chest that pulled at everything around it, I thought that I might survive. Instead, as the weeks wore on, I found myself unable to talk about my loss to my ashamed friends who either didn’t understand or, worse, pretended they did.

I did survive, somehow, and eventually left those friends and that religion that had filled us all with such shame. But here I was, three years later, with new friends and a new freedom and still trying to figure out how to say goodbye.

And so the question came up.

I’d considered before the possibility of never having any more children. Not only did the chance remain that the same thing could happen again (I went into premature labor with Wes due to placenta previa and it was entirely possible it would strike my next pregnancy as well), but I was getting to that age that I really didn’t WANT any more children. I loved OTHER people’s kids… but I didn’t really feel like I was the person to provide for a child for eighteen years (at least), and do it well. I wanted to keep being Aunt Crys to my nephews and niece and just Crystal to friends’ children… but I didn’t want to give birth. Sometimes I felt like I SHOULD… because I’d lost Wes, and I’d lost that chance to have a baby in my arms. But had I really? Was it really GONE? Or was it just going to take another form? In the ensuing years I’d found friends, family, and pseudo-family, with children of their own who needed the kind of guidance that a parent just can’t give, but that I could be close enough to offer. I never felt particularly wise or even learned, but I know how to treat people as people, no matter HOW old they are. I think that as a parent one can sometimes forget that. I didn’t want to forget it.

I am never going to get Wes back, whether I get pregnant again or not. I have at times looked back for him, hoping to find him in old hopes and dreams.  At other times I have looked forward for him, wondering if I’d find him in another child.  The undeniable truth, however, is that he is gone. I can’t say WHERE he’s gone.  For a long time I considered him “in the arms of Jesus”, but I haven’t believed in Jesus for over a year-and-a-half, and so the best that I can give myself is that my son will be forever alive in my heart.

What is remembered, lives.

It feels almost scandalous at times that I was, and am, happy. I haven’t heard anything from Scott for a couple of years now. I am happy without more children. I am now, three years later, in a healthy, honest relationship with a man who adores me and WANTS to marry me.

Chris and I recently had a conversation about whether or not we wanted to have children, and I was honest with myself… I didn’t. After years of wondering, wishing, and worrying, I had decided that I didn’t want to get pregnant again. I didn’t want to have any more. And it was in this way, that I was finally able to let go of my son.

I visited his grave shortly after that. We didn’t cry, my little boy and I. We didn’t hug one another. We just, both of us, quietly accepted reality together. I knew and know that anytime I need him, I can quite easily find him. But I let go of the potential, and let him be what he was and always will be. I stopped looking back.

I have one child. He may be all I ever have, and he is gone. And still… he is enough.

Everyone likes to talk about themselves, but no one likes to admit it. ;)

I'm one of those people who not only doesn't like to admit it, but also hates doing it for the risk that the response will confirm that she's terribly uninteresting.  That said... the topic requires it.  So, I'll pretend to be humble, blush, smile, and tell you anyway.  ;)

What sorts of things do you say when you go to introduce yourself?  I tend to say that I'm 26 years old, I'm from Indianapolis, Indiana - which is a city something like the lovechild of Chicago, IL and BFE, Kentucky - and I like to write.  I could mention my job but I'm currently a "temp" which you never really want to mention upon first meeting people. ;) I could say what I look like, but I'm not really tall or short, not particularly fat but not by any stretch of the imagination thin... I have brown eyes and color-changing hair (it's dark-blonde right now.  I think the natural color is some kind of brown, and with a little salt-and-pepper last I checked my roots)... and, otherwise, I'm pretty nondescript.  I tend to get "you look like someone I know..." a lot, because there's nothing particularly spectacular about my appearance (except those fantastic long eyelashes. ;)  Those are terribly fun.)

So, I'll tell you, instead, why I wanted to do this LJ Idol thing.

I've watched my friends beldar and the_dark_snack participate in this a couple of times without jumping on the bandwagon for no other reason than that I just wasn't paying enough attention when the time rolled around.  I LOVE the idea of a writing "contest" like this, because not only do I love to write, but I am a TOTAL COMMENT JUNKIE.  If I HAD access to LJ during the day, you'd see far more posts from me.  As it is, I tend to post by emailing myself a post and then copying and pasting it via my Superphone (a T-Mobile Dash with Windows Mobile 6 installed) onto LJ. I love technology. ;)  And I love reading and commenting on friends' journals as well.

I have always loved the idea of a living journal... someplace where we can put our thoughts and get other people's thoughts ON them.  I love the idea of someplace where we can very, VERY, openly, be ourselves... and almost always find that there's someone else out there who doesn't think that we're a total freak.

And I love to read.  I love to find new friends and read them.  I love to read what THEIR friends have read about them, and what they think of it.  I love, to read, you.

And so I'm here to read you and write to you... and that's pretty much me.

Other random defining Crys characteristics:
I love science fiction and fantasy
I sing (and occasionally play the guitar) and have an ecclectic taste in music
I'm either extremely talkative or incredibly quiet, without any real median
My favorite season is Fall
My favorite color is purple
I'm Pagan
I love animals
I have a "Chasing Amy" view on sexuality... we fall in love with who we fall in love with, we're attracted to who we're attracted to, and I'm not willing to rule someone out on the basis of something as random as gender
I, sometimes, live in my own little world. =)

Tired of partisan politics? Sick of hearing the same campaign slogans over and over again (often the same ones from both sides)??? Sick of waiting until NOVEMBER to make your voice heard and your vote count?

Go vote for Jeff now!!!

He supports free stuff!
He loves babies!
He's AGAINST lipstick on pigs!

"What America needs isn’t another President. America needs an emperor. America needs a leader who will lead with complete autonomy and wear funny hats. America needs Jeff."



Forget republicans who won't let your gay friends get married!! Bollocks to democrats who want to take away your guns!!! You need an emperor!!!!

Vote for Jeff!!!!

I'm looking into going to a psychologist.  I've been on Lexapro for almost a year and it seems to be helping some, but I would like to look into psycho-therapy.  But, I'm at a loss... both about how to find a therapist and about how to deal with the fact that I'm insuranceless at the moment.

So, does anyone have any advice?  Anyone in the Indy area have a reference?  And, do you have any encouragement, since I seem to be having a lot of trouble convincing myself to actually DO this (I've had bad experience with counselors in the past.  They weren't actually licensed psychologists, but still.)

This post is public but comments are screened so let me know if you don't want your comment posted.

And if you're some asshole (related or no) who wants to drop by and talk about how I'm fucking nuts and I NEED a therapist (because I disagree with you and therefore must be crazy), I'll save you the time because your comment isn't going to get posted... and since it isn't going to get posted and thusly I can't respond to it, I'll respond to it now: go fuck yourself.

Anyway, to the rest of you... please to share. =)

Love,
Crystal

 The month you were born:

1(Jan) - I shot
2 (Feb) -I ran naked with
3 (Mar) - I stabbed
4 (Apr) - I killed
5 (May) - I slapped
6 (June)- I ran shirtless with
7 (July) - I kissed
8 (Aug) - I hugged
9 (Sept) - I fucked
10 (Oct) - I smoked with
11 (Nov) - I banged
12 (Dec) - I robbed



The day you were born on:

01 - the trojan man
02 - hobo
03 - the cookie monster
04 - a homeless guy
05 - the one that i love
06 - a rock star
07 - Paris Hilton
08 - a sexy man
09 - a bowl of cereal
10 - a gangsta
11 - a tooth brush
12 - a hobo
13 - barney the dinosaur
14 - a drunk
15 - a crack head
16 - a cat
17 - a dog
18 - the kool-aid man
19 - an Easter egg
20 - yo momma
21 - a hottie
22 - my crush
23 - lil wayne
24 - a whore
25 - a teletubby
26 - my boyfriend
27 - a condom
28 - a bag of weed
29 - my lover
30 - my ex boyfriend
31 -a mop

The color of shirt you are wearing:

White - because im cool like that
Black - because I love weed
Pink - because i have AMAZING Boobs
Red - because im good in bed
brown - because i like to snort cocaine
Polka Dots - because I hate my life
Purple - because I'm gay
blue - because that bum stole my taco
Other - because I'm retarded
Green -because i still love him
Orange - because I smoke crack
Turquoise - because I have a noodle in my nose
grey - because im the sexiest bitch alive
Tye dye- because Im a fucking scuba diver
none- because i have a killer six pack


Now put yours in the comments (or post it on your own blog and link it in the comments. ;) )