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Listening to: From the Choirgirl Hotel. Not for long, though... it's not really matching my mood quite like I was expecting it too.

Currently Reading: Just barely started Jonathan Lethem's Gun, With Occasional Music. Kind of saving it for the train, as well as a stack of others (both fiction and non). Also, I recently read Laurie Notaro's I Love Everybody (and Other Atrocious Lies): True Tales of a Loudmouth Girl (again) in like two days, and peed myself laughing. Highly recommended. I also devoured The Broke Diaries by Angela Nissel in, like, a mere few days. Laughed until I peed. Also highly recommended.

Wishing: income. Lots of it. Other than that, life's pretty good.

I couldn't be more The current mood of ronkc@diaryland.com at www.imood.com right now.

Buy "Civilised Conversation..." Merchandise! Please? All the cool kids are doing it....

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02 August 2002 | 11:38 PM

The Challenges of Multivocality In A Contemporary American Pluralistic Society

Okay.

This will be short, since I�m completely pooped, and have napped most of the day and am stuck in that mode.

As many of you know, I acquired a cockatiel in February or March, and named her Reverend Dr. Wendyll Kendall-Proctor. We called her Wendy for short. If she has any shred of self-consciousness at all (which is arguable, as far as animal psychology is concerned), she knows herself as Reverend Dr. Wendyll Kendall-Proctor, or Wendy.

When I brought Wendy home to my parents in June (and here she will stay, as she and my mother make one helluva pair), Mom started referring to her as �Birdie� or �Birdie-Girl.� Which is fine. I mean, she is, after all, a girl bird, right? Yeah. Okay.

So whenever Wendy starts to do something she shouldn�t (try to eat ice cream from a family member�s bowl, for instance,) I imitate Eric Cartman from �South Park,� in his famous line, �No, kitty; that�s a bad kitty!� This, in permutation with my mother�s default idea of a pet as a kitty, has led my mother to refer to my bird as �Kitty.�

When my mother leaves the room, and the bird begins to screech in loneliness, my mother will respond, saying, �It�s okay, Kitty, I�m in here!� Or she will scratch Wendy�s head and say, �Good Kitty, who�s the good Kitty?�

Part of me is somewhat confused, part of me is mildly amused, and part of me is deeply, deeply concerned for both Wendy, and my mother.

I�m going to South Dakota on Monday. I can hardly wait, as it will be my first big real on-my-own, outside-of-the-family travel experience. I will be visiting a non-family member outside of the state, and I will be going alone. And this will be completely new to me. This, coupled with the fact that I�ll be visiting Jamie, has me very, very excited. Further, despite my occasional perusing of my free South Dakota Board of Tourism Packet, I have no expectations for this trip besides getting Aunt Rita and Cousin Elaine refrigerator magnets for their collections (which I can do at the airport). My mother hopes I will visit Mount Rushmore, and while that would be memorable, I am completely at Jamie�s disposal. If she would just as soon introduce me to friends and family and take me on a tour of her house and do nothing for a week, I�m completely up for that, too. I have no idea where Mount Rushmore is, in comparison to the Ullrich domicile, and the last thing I would want to do is say something like, �Thank you for welcoming me as a guest into your home. Now, despite what you would like to do for the next few days, I would like you to drive me to a destination up to five hours away from here so I can look at a famous mountain.� That would just be awkward. To be perfectly honest with you all, I�m much more interested in spending time with Jamie and getting a first-hand look at day-to-day life in the American Midwest like I haven�t been able to get before. I am very much looking forward to this trip. Can hardly wait.

I spoke with a couple of doctors today, and here�s what�s up with the stomach surgery. One doctor says that my BMI is 36, and in order to meet eligibility requirements, it has to be a 40. This means I have to shrink an inch, or gain 30 pounds. Does this sound like a difficult task? Not quite so much, but I would prefer to not further endanger my health on purpose if I can help it. Further, gaining the 30 pounds is no guarantee that I will get insurance coverage for the procedure. So where does that leave me? Fat and poor. Well, fatter and poorer than I am now, anyway. I spoke with the shrink later, who then told me that if I were to go directly to a Seattle bariatric surgeon (rather than through a referral or through an insurance company), and ask for a surgical fees for a gastric bypass for an otherwise-healthy student paying in cash, the surgeon, knowing more than anyone what poor is like, will shave a substantial amount off the price. I then should try to get a loan from (a) the doctor, (b) the bank, (c) my grandmother/great-uncle, or (d) all of the above, in order to pay for it. I should also consider going to the University of Washington place where they teach people how to do doctor things and stuff, and ask to have a resident do it. This should also cut the price substantially. Best case scenario, though, would be that gaining 30 pounds would guarantee insurance coverage, and that the insurance would cover someone in Seattle, and that I could have the procedure done in late September, for a nominal deductible, after having stuffed myself to the fucking gills.

After covering this game plan, my shrink tells me that if this whole thing doesn�t work out, I should look into having my jaw wired shut. They still do this, she says, and it�s substantially less expensive. She�s not sure if I would still be able to talk, however.

I wonder if she�s trying to tell me something. Probably not.

Anyway. I�m exhausted, so I�m going to sign off. Drive safely.

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Just Let Her Go. - 12:12 AM , 20 March 2005

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