Ambien Symphony

Pawn Stars….decent entertainment….plays off that American ideal that I have…to find something odd you think you can make money off of and go for it…it almost always flops. All of my eBay lists of 10 years ago average about +2.00 at best. I never a found a rhythm.

So many people were doing this, trying to make a second-living through eBay. They made tens-of-thousands a month. Selling stuff on eBay could have been a full-time job.

When I was jobless or underemployed, I aspired to find a niche that could bring a few hundred dollars a month. It never happened. Lots of trips to the post offices. Lots of Excel spreadsheets that showed that a purchase and sale yielded a profit of $0.71 or a loss of $1.94. For the month of June 2001, I’ve made $38.19!!!  And twenty different transactions may have contributed to that windfall.

I always hoped to find the item I could buy for $10 and sell for $20. Profit of $7. Sell 600. That’s $4,200 a month! Cash free! I can live on that.  Except after I buy the first two, I see that they’re only selling for $14. The profit becomes $1.82. Maybe I can still make $1,000. But then I see they’re only selling for $12. Profit is a wash. The rest of the selling is just for break-even. I wouldn’t sell 600. I’d sell 50. Make $7 each on 8 of them. Make $4 each on 10 of them. Break-even on 10 of them. Sell the remaining 572 for a $20 shipping loss.  Total profit/loss: $76 profit for 600 transactions. 8 cents per transaction. Totally worth it.

How to make an extra $300 a month…a question that a smart person should be able to figure out. I think major caveat is that the work cannot be for someone else. Not 32 hours a month a Borders. All hours spent on my own project. I’m my own boss. As my own boss, I should be able to figure out something.

But I don’t know howto do anything. Way, way, wav behind the curve on web programming. Remedy programming for a micro-enterprise does not make much sense even though I would like it to.

I don’t want to get something for nothing in the world. I want my brainpower to yield some fortune.

It’s very disappointing. It makes me feel very little of myself.  Very frequently.

Not drunk. It’s ambien. Wonder drug ambien. Ambien. to exhaust yourself by exhausting all thoughts. Dump ’em all out there. You won’t remember most of them in the morning, and that is a little freaky.

I have to censor, such as if I mention looking up the Flickr pics of a girl I liked a few years ago. Apparently, best friend figured out I had been browsing the wedding and honeymoon pics. It was just a mental exercise…no stalking mitochondria were activated. Don’t care so much about what is/was happening with “M” but it does a number to see her blissfully happy just a couple of years after she implied the problem wasn’t me, but her. “M” herself was a minor detail in the story. Just another chance to stare at myself in the mirror and think and think and think what could I possibly have done at point X in time so that history would be altered and maybe, just maybe, I could have made that miraculous connection.

Old friend of “M”s discovers the Flickr picture browsing, and she denounces me as a stalker in some comments. Given my sincere lack of interest in the new life of “M” and limited nature of my searching to easy query on M’s non-standard name, I think the “stalker” label was highly insidious.

In any event, I censored. That post is gone. I hate dong that.

What’s the point of this entry?  I am just adrift. Nothing coming up. No course of action to create anything coming up. Work. Dialysis. Holy shit, my house is a horrible disaster zone. I am hungry and tired. I’d rather commune with the internet than try to figure out what cleaning agent will succeed in getting rid of #*$(*$ from the wall and *#$*9 from the floor. The amount of progress I can make is too minuscule to care.

Any visitor to my home will be disgusted and uncomfortable whether I put in X hours, X^2 hours, or X^3 hours. It will never be enough.

I do not want to go to sleep tonight. I don’t want to give up on today. The odds of success for tomorrow are bleak. I cannot admit defeat for today. What there’s nothing…nothing I can do.


Potpourri for $1200

I fear that the random collection of thoughts aggregated in one post is dead now that everyone Twitters.

I am chockful of angry thoughts tonight. I just need to vent some of them.

The Philadelphia Eagles have signed Michael Vick. WTF? (I’m guessing this is, verbatim, a tweet that appears prolifically across the Twitterverse).

Senator Grasshole of Iowa said that his committee “dropped end-of-life provisions from consideration entirely because of the way they could be misinterpreted and implemented incorrectly.” Thanks to Dumb Palin America, you can pay for your end-of-life palliative care yourself. Wouldn’t want the government involved in end-of-life decisions, unless it’s Terri Schiavo’s life.

My kidneys are at 8% functioning. Today, I missed work, because my body was feeling like it was, as a whole, functioning at about 8%. I don’t have sick days to spare for days like this. It puts me in a bad worse super-shitty mood.

I’ve updated my profile. It says. “Hi, I’m Dave. My kidneys are failing, but I still know how to have a good time. My dog and I sit on the couch and watch Match Game reruns, while I play Mafia Wars on Facebook”.

I’m not sure it was clear last time I referenced my profile. I was kidding last time, and I’m kidding this time, as well. Sort-of.

Anyone ever try to read Shock Doctrine by Naomi Klein? I’ve been trying to get through it for months. It’s all about how American economists wreak havoc in other places. I need to find lighter reading material.

I never bother trying to read fiction. I don’t know why.

But clearly, like I said, I don’t really spend much time trying to read in the first place.

I could write a blog solely about the incredibly stupid commercials that are run on GSN everyday. Senior citizen gets meds home delivered…so she has more time to walk “Daisy”. Because if she had to spend one hour a week going to the Walgreen’s, apparently, there would not be enough time in her very busy schedule to walk Daisy. You have to see it to know why that ad irks me so.

Yes, so many things irk me so. What doesn’t irk Toastie?

Pet pictures…I like pet pictures…here’s a view of Aremid from below…I’m in my sick bed, he’s on top of the bed…

Aremid atop bed

I have been drinking a lot of Kirkland Diet Green Tea with Citrus, even though I don’t like it. And even though nobody makes a diet green tea with citrus that is any good, because everyone who makes this stuff assumes we all want our green tea without sugar to still be sweet, so it has sucralose. But it’s only $9 for a 35-pack of half-liter bottles.

I still have my Curtis & Barnes Biology textbook from college on my bookshelf. Why? Am I planning to go to med school?

I could write a whole series of blog posts entitled, “Why do I still have THIS BOOK on my bookshelf?”

I’m done. Sometimes it’s nice to write without worrying much about the notion that this is stuff that others might be reading. Then again, it’s possible to…well, now I’ve blown it, because now I’m thinking about that, and before long, I’ll be knee-deep in that black hole known as meta-blogging. I’m done for now. Enough.

I really had no idea

According to

toastie – The leftover marijuana in a bag after most is gone, usually the shake that is left.

This probably epitomizes how off in my own wilderness I am, but I really didn’t know this until today, until someone complimented me for being “bold” enough to go around calling myself Toastie.

I really should’ve made up a story a long, long time ago, but the true one about having received the moniker somewhat randomly without any known origin has always been pretty lame.

Intracystic hemorrhage and other ramblings

Had a CT scan last week to shine some light into persistent new discomfort I’ve been having in one of kidneys for the past month…

Redemonstration of markedly enlarged kidneys bilaterally with innumerable
cysts throughout, compatible with clinical history of adult polycystic
kidney disease. Many of these cysts are increased in attenuation,
consistent with intracystic hemorrhage

There is not apparently a whole that can be done about this. If you have a few hundred or thousand bubbles, some of them are gonna pop from time to time. Sometimes they’ll pop quietly and without incident. Other times, they’ll pop and make a mess.

In the meantime, I’ve been coerced into doing a few minutes of public speaking in the morning regarding a software module that I have come to loathe. What’s most appalling is that I get to be identified as the lead developer of the albatross.

Here’s a random thought I’m momentarily not embarrassed to share…I have the lowest hit percentage of any man to have signed up on in the last 7 years. It’s true. They sent me an email telling me I have been awarded three free years of service since my profile has failed to appeal to one woman under forty who is pictured without a beer in hand and reads something other than Glamour. But y’all can just imagine the trainwreck of a profile that I have up there. Actually, wait, don’t people like to stop and watch train wrecks?

What other random directions can I go off on? None that I can think of.

I’ve gone through five therapies sessions in two days. I just mean that I’ve watched all five episodes of this week’s HBO masterpiece In Treatment. We should all be so lucky as to get 30 minutes a week with Dr. Paul Weston. I think the second season is probably almost over. I’m seeing lots of commercials for the return of Entourage. I can’t stand the punks on that show. I hope episode one ends with the whole entourage driving off the Verranzano Bridge and drowning.

Inadvertently landed on the Today show blog on MSNBC today. Bunch of heart-warming stories of kidney donations. No one’s ever going to give a kidney to a guy who would wish the brutal deaths of the lovable Entourage gang.

Inadvertently read about people who were on dialysis so long as to use up all viable access points, and thus they died. And this is why I don’t go to support groups, because I don’t ever want to read about shit like that.

Random thoughts as I struggle with insomnia tonight…

Bandage on right index finger making typing difficult. I piece of nail broke off; it’s probably due to some vitamin deficiency since I don’t eat a balanced diet.

Have been struggling with chest cold for a week, kept awake at night by cough. Can’t take Nyquil as I can’t afford to miss work on account of sleeping until 1PM like I did back on Sunday.

Due to coughing, random sudden naps, who knows, my back is killing me.

I wish my pre-dialysis fatigue would surge right now just so I can get to sleep.

But fatigue is probably trumped by anxiety.

Anxiety at work…there’s always anxiety at work…three distinct reasons for it at the moment.
1. Workload problem now being tackled by micro-management. I have to set weekly goals and track progress against them. This is not the week for me to be starting this. It really doesn’t help me at all. And I don’t think it’s going to help my manager understand why stuff doesn’t get done.
2. Blunt reminder that, even if organization could afford latest versions of software I specialize I, I’d probably be relegated to supporting the legacy system while a contractor set up the new system. Professional development be damned.
3. HR and manager tried to help me figure out my “options” for after I go on dialysis. I did not want to think about this today, and they have no good options to offer, instead insisting that I plan on the “chance” that dialysis will render me incapable of working a close-to-full schedule. I told them that I go to work feeling crap all the time now and plan to continue doing so, and that I have no choice because I have no savings to absorb the income loss of reduced hours. Unless they have a sack of money to give me, they can’t help.

In a little more than 24 hours, I’ll be heading out of North Carolina for a mini-vacation for myself, a pre-dialysis escape from the all-of-the-above (as I expect my physical ailments to magically disappear, too). Undisclosed location, because I’m kinda sick of the Facebook-knows-everything-about-you way of living. If you do happen to know where I’m off to, please don’t post anything to my wall. Yes, I know, no one really cares where I’m going. The point is, it’s a trip by myself planned on short notice with the sole intent of getting away to clear my head for a few days.

When I return, I’ve got nothing planned. No social activities. No goals. No happy, shiny thoughts that will get me out of bed each morning. Surely, it is clear that this isn’t just about going on dialysis. But that doesn’t help. Not at all.

The web is filled with blogs and videos from all sorts of inspiring people who have wonderful attitudes in the face of staggering adversity. This isn’t one of those blogs. I’m not one of those people.

Online Trivia Resource FAIL

I am rummaging through my six-year-old desktop and found this web development effort:


I have no recollection of what I was thinking. Google existed six years ago. Maybe I was playing some online trivia game and was hoping to create a way to cheat. It’s like I was trying to make a World Almanac cheat sheet. Finding answers to basic trivia isn’t always as easy as a Google search…although it usually is.

Oh, well. There’s some insight into my desire to create stuff. If I continue to spend time rummaging through old computer files, I’ll surely find other examples of how I waste my brainpower.