196 Books: Central African Republic

Daba's Travels from Ouadda to Bangui by Bamboté

I bet you can guess where this one is!

Description:
Daba was born in Ouadda, in what is now the Central African Republic. His mother often told him about the terrible dry season that year, when elephants, buffaloes and antelopes stampeded through the countryside in a frenzied search for water. Even panthers stalked the bush around the village, often carrying innocent sheep. Safe near his parents' hut, Daba listened to the story time and time again. And as he grew, loved and protected, there grew in him a strength of spirit and a deep love for his native village. But Daba was not destined to live his live in Ouadda. When he was still a young boy, he left his beloved home on the first of a series of journeys that would lead him farther and farther away--even to France. For Daba's parents wanted him to be educated, a rare and special privilege not often enjoyed by poor village children.... The life, history and tradition of the people of the Central African Republic are described with great feeling by Bambote, for Daba's Travels is a recollection of his own childhood and youth.

Reading back on the description, it doesn't seem entirely correct. Half of it is devoted to the stories his mother told him, but in the book those only cover the first couple of chapters. When he first goes off on his journeys, he thinks he's just going on a small errand. So he's going to get ready to go home and he gets a letter from his mom going "Oh, by the way, you're not coming home. You gotta go to school. Byeeee." I actually felt bad for him that it was just kind of thrown on him. But he has all these wonderful adventures and travels and works very hard at his studies. 
It's two freaking years before he sees his parents again, and then only for like a couple hours. But it was really cool that, wherever he went, he became part of that village family. All of the villagers that he met took great pride in having visitors and treating them well. I liked that close community. 

This was really just a quick, easy little book. Just small stories from this boy's life. I liked it well enough. To be completely honest I had really wanted to read a book about the former president/emperor Jean-Bedel Bokassa, but it was kind of expensive so this was my second choice. (I mean, buying almost 200 books I kind of need to try and get cheap stuff). But it was the first used book I've gotten in a while, and I forgot how much I really like them. There's a strange sense of not reading it alone when you know someone else has touched those pages, which was neat with the overarching camaraderie in the book. Plus there's such a good smell to them. That's not weird. 

My next book is also really short, so I'm going to try and knock it out in a couple of days. We're headed off on a cruise later this week (my first) and I'm not planning on taking any of these books, so I felt like I needed to get a few out before that. (Um, why? Why do I feel pressure? It's not like any of you are beating down my door for this stuff.Oh well.) So hopefully I'll have another "review" out this week and then I'm sure I'll have cruise adventures to regale you with!

196 Books: Cape Verde

The Last Will & Testament of Senhor da Silva Araújo by Germano Almeida

Cape Verde is a little cluster of islands off the west coast of Africa:

Here's the summary:
Everyone in Cape Verde knows Senor da Silva. Successful entrepreneur, owner of the island's first automobile, a most serious, upright, and self-made businessman, Senor da Silva is the local success story. Born an orphan, he never married, he never splurged--one good suit was good enough for him--and he never wandered from the straight and narrow. Or so everyone thought. But when Senor da Silva's 387-page Last Will and Testament is read aloud--a marathon task on a hot afternoon which exhausts reader after reader--there's eye-opening news, and not just for the smug nephew so certain of inheriting all Senor da Silva's property. With his will, Senor da Silva leaves a memoir that is a touching web of elaborate self-deceptions. He desired so ardently to prosper, to be taken seriously, to join (perhaps, if they'll have him) the exclusive Gremio country club, and, most of all, to be a good man. And yet, shady deals, twists of fate, an illegitimate child: such is the lot of poor, self-critical Senor da Silva. A bit like Calvino's Mr. Palomar in his attention to protocol and in his terror of life's passions; a bit like Calvino's Mr. Palomar in his attention to protocol and in his terror of life's passions; a bit like Svevo's Zeno (a little pompous, a little old-fashioned, and often hapless), Senor da Silva moves along a deliciously blurry line between farce and tragedy: a self-important buffoon becomes a fully human, even tragic, figure in the arc of this hilarious and touching novel - translated into Spanish, German, French, Italian, Dutch, Norwegian, Swedish, and now, at last, English.

So this one was...eh. It was fine. One thing that kept getting me was I kept picturing this setting as South America. Because I keep picturing Portugal as mostly having colonized South America...instead of Africa which is a lot closer? I don't know. I also had no idea how to pronounce the name in my head so that distracted me a bit. 

I did have some thoughts on this one---SPOILERS AHEAD. 

So this illegitimate kid? He straight up raped his maid. Because she had on a green skirt and he was "powerless." OMFG. Shut the fuck up. But it gets worse because the second time he rapes her, he's nicer. So then they just start banging on the regular. Because WTF. And the maid-mom is just like, yeah, after that we wanted to bone, so we did. And I'm not going to say that something like that would never happen in real life, but I would think it wouldn't happen that often and it seems gross. 
And I fucking hate how so many of these (mostly men) write about women in a lot of these books. If a woman has any interest in sex she's a disgusting whore, but of course the men can have sex with as many women as they want and it's cool. Women are just seen as these bothersome things that tempt men into doing bad things...heaven forbid men take responsibility for their actions and will power or lack there of. Why do men keep writing women this way? (Sorry, of course not all of them.) So, um, there's my little rant that lots of men need to stop being vile pigs. 

Less tiradey, have you noticed that we really only use the word "eccentric" for rich people? Poor people are just weird or crazy. But this guy used 4 different toothbrushes a day (okay that's the only one I can remember but there were a lot of other odd things), and he was just *eccentric.* 

Lastly, I don't want to get old. That sounds bad, but you just deteriorate as you get older. Your mind goes, your body goes (and I'm not doing so great in that department already), and there are all these things you can't do for yourself anymore. It's a depressing prospect. 

That's also a depressing ending. Although I guess most of this has been depressing. I really hope I get back to books that I really enjoy, that don't just see women as disposable, one dimensional objects. Umm. Yes. 

Yet Another Pity Party

Or, just a continuation?

During the past few months, I've started this post several times. The words would float in my head, or I'd start typing, and then I stopped, or deleted. I told myself, "Come on. They don't need or care about yet another whiny post because you don't feel good." But today things got worse. And I figure, if there's anybody reading that has health problems that maybe wants to hear someone else's story, or commiserate from afar, it's worth it. So if you're not interested in my frustrated-scared-sad-resilient-defiant-angry post about my health, read no further. 


A week or two before Christmas, I developed what looked like some tiny blisters on my palms. I thought maybe there was something irritated on my tablet or gaming controller. Because I'm compulsive, I popped the sacs and picked at the thicker skin. I guess that's not really relevant, but it shows the mental state. Soldier has repeatedly yelled at me to not pick at it, but I can't help it. I've literally been picking, saying in my head "just fucking stop" and I couldn't. 
I hoped it would go away on its own (my standard practice) but we saw Dr. Dad in Law at Christmas, so I asked him. He said it was just some eczema and I just needed some cream. Well, time passed, and he tried to prescribe the cream...but because healthcare is SO GREAT here, I couldn't get it. 

Finally about a month ago I went to see a doctor, who prescribed some less good cream. I went through two tubes and it didn't really help. I should mention that by this time, it has spread ALL OVER. It's on my arms, my legs, my feet, my back, my stomach, my scalp. Thankfully (and maybe oddly) not on my face. I keep saying my body looks like a meth addict took over. 
So finally I went to see a dermatologist. Actually today I saw both the rheumatologist and dermatologist. I figured I might as well get it over all at once and it was tough. The plus side is the rheumatologist gave me steroids to knock out the swelling before this cruise we're about to take. The minus(?) side is that my medication may or may not be working and we might have to try again. I also have to decrease the dosage of my other meds so they don't ruin my eyes, so I'm nervous about that. 

Then came the dermatologist. My expectation had been that it would be a quick, painless appointment where she'd just give me a stronger cream. Instead I ended up with a chunk being taken out of my back because she's concerned it might be lupus caused by Humira. Let me tell you, I'm gonna be real fucking pissed if this medication for one autoimmune disease gave me another autoimmune disease! I also just really didn't like the appointment...I felt like she was judging me a lot. 
So I now have to wait a couple of weeks to find out if I have lupus. And at the end of the day I ended up with a chunk out of my back with a single stitch and both elbows bandaged up from blood draws. Yes, I had to get blood drawn from both arms from both doctors. Maybe that's not super uncommon, but it made me feel bad. Also one of them has apparently bruised way up my arm which is inconvenient. 

I absolutely hate doctor days. It's so frustrating, and infuriating, that all this shit just keeps happening. Like my immune system goes crazy, so it needs to be shut down, which opens me up to everything else. Okay, which I'm still banking on it not being lupus...because I don't want that. And then it's so exhausting because I worry about whatever is going to happen and then have to process all the new information and worry about that. 

It's now night time and I've cried, drank some wine, taken a bath, and talked to Dr. Dad in Law (who I wanted to just tell me that the dermatologist was dumb but kind of didn't). I'm so tired. My body is tired, my mind is tired, and all of the pokes and cuts and bruises are making themselves known. The worst part is that the stress and worry makes it all worse, but (at least for me) there's no way to not worry and stress. 

So, again, this post was very whiny and woe is me. But if anyone else has any similar issues, I hope there's some sense of camaraderie or...something. This shit sucks. And...well I don't really have a good ending for this. I'm very tired and sore and I'm hoping this won't keep me from getting some sleep tonight. And I'm really hoping I don't have lupus. That's just an inconvenience that I don't want to handle.  

196 Books: Canada

Green Grass, Running Water by Thomas King

I assume most people know where Canada is...you know, the big country above the US, but just in case:

Here's the Wikipedia summary:

Green Grass, Running Water opens with an unknown narrator explaining "the beginning", in which the trickster-god Coyote is present as well as the unknown narrator. Coyote has a dream which takes form and wakes Coyote up from his sleep. The dream thinks that it is very smart; indeed, the dream thinks that it is god, but Coyote is only amused, labelling the dream as Dog, who gets everything backwards. Dog asks why there is water everywhere, surrounding the unknown narrator, Coyote, and him. At this, the unknown narrator begins to explain the escape of four Native American elders from a mental institution who are named Lone Ranger, Ishmael, Robinson Crusoe, and Hawkeye. The elders are each connected with a female character from native tradition: First Woman and the Lone Ranger, Changing Woman and Ishmael, Thought Woman and Robinson Crusoe, and Old Woman and Hawkeye. The book then divides into four main sections: each of these sections is narrated by one of the four elders.

In addition to these four explaining the "ordinary" events, they each tell a creation story that accounts for why there is so much water. In each creation story, the four encounter a figure from the Bible of Judeo-Christian tradition, as well as the western literary figures from whom each derives his name.

The book has four major plot lines. One follows the escape and travels of the elders and Coyote, who are out to fix the world. Dr Joseph Hovaugh and Babo, his assistant, try to track down the elders. Dr. Hovaugh keeps track of every time the elders have gone missing; he attributes major events, such as the volcanic eruption of Mount St Helens, to their disappearances. The second plot line follows Lionel Red Dog, Charlie Looking Bear and Alberta. The third plot line follows Eli Stands Alone, Lionel's uncle, who lives in his mother's house in the spillway of the Balene Dam. The fourth plot line involves characters from Christian and Native American creation myths and traditions, as well as literary and historical figures including Ahdamn, First Woman, the Young Man Who Walks on Water, Robinson Crusoe, Nasty Bumpo and so on.

The climax of the novel approaches at the time of the traditional Blackfoot annual ceremony of the Sun Dance. Ultimately, the dam breaks due to an earthquake caused by Coyote's singing and dancing. A flood destroys Eli's house, but also returns the waterway to its natural course.

The novel concludes much as it began. The trickster-god Coyote and the unknown narrator are in an argument about what existed in the beginning. Coyote says nothing, but the unknown narrator says that there was water. Once again Coyote asks why there is water everywhere, and the unknown narrator says he will explain how it happened.

But I also wanted to add the summary from the back of the book:

Strong, sassy women and hard-luck, hardheaded men, all searching for the middle ground between Native American tradition and the modern world, perform an elaborate dance of approach and avoidance in this magical, rollicking tale by Cherokee author Thomas King. Alberta is a university professor who would like to trade her two boyfriends for a baby but no husband; Lionel is forty and still sells televisions for a patronizing boss; Eli and his log cabin stand in the way of a profitable dam project. These three-and others-are coming to the Blackfoot reservation for the Sun Dance and there they will encounter four Indian elders and their companion, the trickster Coyote-and nothing in the small town of Blossom will be the same again... 

So, sorry, the summaries took up a lot of space, but I really wanted you to know about the plot. Because this book was so fun. 

When I was looking for Canada books, I felt like I was cheating a little bit by picking this one; the author is Canadian American instead of solely Canadian. But I loved the sound of the book so much I went with it anyway. I also really like the Native American culture, so that kind of hooked me. When I was in college I dated a guy who was half Native American and he took me to the reservation his dad lived on. I'm sure I wrote about him in here about 10 years ago but I don't remember the name I gave him. Anyway I found it to be such a peaceful, beautiful culture. Oh God, I sound super white right now don't I? 

Regardless, I was excited to read a Native story. And it was super interesting. I mean, I've most enjoyed the books that are true stories, but I breezed through this one pretty quickly. Each section of the story was quick and it jumped around kind of a lot so it was easy. It also left me wanting more, even though it was close to 500 pages long. I enjoyed the characters and want to know what happens to them. They were real and raw and bold. Also the author is very witty. 

Well fine, I know I'm not actually saying much about the book. But it was really good. It was witty and funny and endearing. I loved it and I might have to search out more books written by this author. You know, if I ever finish this around the world in books challenge. 

196 Books: Cameroon

The Poor Christ of Bombaby Mongo Beti

Cameroon is slightly under the horn of Africa:

Here's the description:
A novel of considerable power and complexity from the pen of one of Cameroon's greatest modern writers, Mongo Beti (1932-2001), The Poor Christ of Bomba is a biting critique of colonial life and the destructive influence of French Catholic missionary activities in Cameroon.

Written as a journal of a young priest's assistant, the satirical novel tells the story of a missionary in the 1930s. In Bomba, the girls who are being prepared for Christian marriage live together in the women's camp. It is not clear whether the girls have to stay in the women's camp for such long periods for the good of their souls or for the good of the mission-building program. Only gradually does it become apparent that the local churchmen have also been using the local girls for their own purpose. The priest realizes the futility and pointlessness of attempting to convert Africans who, as he concludes, already worshipped God in their own way. 

The  Moore translation is a must read for all who wish to come to terms with colonialism and the peculiar role of the Church in the projection of White Power. 

I also want to add a small passage the author added before the actual book starts:
"I don't wish to deceive the reader. There has never been a Reverend Father Superior Drumont in African experience. probably there never will be one--not if I know my Africa. That would be too much luck for us.
The Africans who swarm in these pages have been taken straight from life. And there is no incident here which is not strictly and demonstrably authentic." M.B. (I'll get back to this later)

Well, I knew from the get-go that this book would be unpleasant. You've got a white priest going on a tour through the bush, acting all high and mighty and basically just telling everyone they're godless and terrible. But the scandal begins to break and he changes; starting to listen to the villagers and asking their opinions on why they're not more interested in the religion. Finally he decides that he's wasting his time; the fact is they're not interested and he realizes that the missionaries basically came in and just told them all to change their lives. So he decides he's a failure and should go back to France, because he's pretty exacting and doesn't leave much room for people to have faults.  
I did start to feel sorry for him though. He did care about his flock and did his best, though he seemed to be quite naive. 

So, le scandale. (It's referenced in the description so I won't be providing any big spoilers). There's this women's camp that engaged girls have to go to before they can have a Christian wedding, which they call the sixa. (I tried to look this up but couldn't find any information; I'm not sure if it's a local or historical thing or what). The guy running the sixa was not a good guy and was basically forcing the girls into sex work for most of the guys in the missionary. This is bad enough, but the uninvolved parties kept blaming the women. 
In fact, this was a running theme in the book. This was so fucking infuriating! The women were basically blamed for everything, including things that the men did. One example is a guy who gets caught cheating. His wife finds out and beats the crap out of the mistress. The husband then feels that the wife should be beaten for her actions, and gets some agreement. Because the wife had recently had a baby so he should be allowed to cheat...? 
That's basically when they start hearing about the scandal. So they get back to the mission and Father Drumont wants to interrogate the girls about what's going on. How does he conduct this interrogation, you ask? By beating them of course. And telling them how wicked they are. All while they're explaining that if they hadn't slept with these men their lives would have been made hell. Not that any of them are having a great time; the conditions they're living in are deplorable, they have very little food, and most end up getting STDs. 

Of course, I couldn't help but make the connection with all of the church scandals that are now coming out from the 60s and 70s in the US. The difference is that in reality the scandals were just covered up, and in the book the entire mission was disbanded. Oh, also the priest in the book didn't take part and at least wanted people to be punished. 


I went back to read the author's added pre-message a few times throughout the story. At first it made no sense. I thought the priest was a huge ass who didn't give any room for real life circumstances. But by the end I got it and it made me sad. What first struck me was the second section--the one that said the people and situations were pulled straight from everyday life. Then I went back to Beti saying that Africa wouldn't be lucky enough to have a Father Drumont. My interpretation was he wished there had been someone who understood that missionaries firstly came into Africa, a place where the people already had their own customs and beliefs, and tried to push the Christian religion on them. (Which essentially is the whole point of a missionary, I guess). Further, that the Father realized shoving it down their throats wouldn't work, and maybe didn't need to. Lastly, that these terrible events were happening right under his nose and took steps to end it, and take some steps of correction. 

This one got to me more than I expected it to. With the current Me Too climate, I think there are a lot of historical (and not so historical) problems that we need to at least be made aware of; to understand some of how they were allowed to happen. It all makes my brain hurt. 

196 Books: Cambodia

Crossing Three Wildernesses by U Sam Oeur

This is Cambodia:

And here's a little summary:

In a harrowing but ultimately triumphant affirmation of the human spirit, celebrated Cambodian poet U Sam Oeur narrates his incredible life story, testifies to the horrors of genocide and shares his fervent prayers for peace and freedom through the process of democracy.

Born in 1936 to a large and moderately prosperous farming family, Oeur spent his childhood herding water buffalo and tending rice paddies in the lush Cambodian countryside. He was educated under the French colonial system and selected to attend California State University in Los Angeles. While in the United States, he awakened to the possibilities of the democratic ideal and went on to receive his MFA from the Iowa Writers' Workshop.

Upon returning to Cambodia in 1968, Oeur married, became a captain in Lon Nol's army, served in the National Assembly and was part of the Cambodian delegation to the United Nations. When Pol Pot assumed power in 1975, Oeur, having vowed to help establish democracy in Cambodia and unaware of the events ahead, elected to stay. Driven out of Phnom Phen with millions of the city's residents, Oeur, along with his wife and son, miraculously survived the killing fields, feigning illiteracy and relying upon the skills he had learned as a child to endure six forced-labor camps over the next four years. Millions, however, died during the Khmer Rouge regime, including Oeur's twin daughters.

Crossing Three Wildernesses is a personal account of survival, an astute political analysis and a beautiful illustration of the Cambodian culture--its people, myths and traditions. In a world still plagued by genocide and terror, this remarkable memoir is a moving call to freedom and a passionate plea for peace.

Ugh. Guys. This was yet another book that left me sick to my stomach about the way we treat each other. Whyyyy does the human race continue to decimate itself? I've been saying for the past couple of years that I feel like there's less empathy in the world today, but then I read yet another book like this and remember that people are just historically awful. But, with as many terrible things as it described, this book was written so beautifully. I know I've said it before; this was the kind of book that reads like a friend telling you a story. And because it was so good, I have some notes like I used to do. 

• With the title, I had assumed that the "three wildernesses" were different landscapes, but here's the actual description: "The three wildernesses represented death by execution, by starvation, or by disease, which almost all Cambodians faced during Pol Pot's regime..." Holy crap. Every time I read one of these war stories it reaffirms that I would not survive. 
• Here's a quote that got me fired up: "I should explain that my older sisters were not educated because my father, like other farmers, felt that if they learned to read, they might write love letters to their boyfriends." Harumph. Why is it always the women who get screwed over? Why was there no concern over boys writing letters to their girlfriends? Rude.
• U Sam Oeur first learns French in school, and later on learns English. He says he found English easier to learn because there aren't as many tenses. THANK YOU. People keep saying English is such a hard language to learn but at least we don't make inanimate objects masculine or feminine! People who speak languages that have that...if you have any tips to make any sort of sense out of which sex an inanimate object is, please share it. 
• The author notes at one point that 17,000 people were imprisoned at Tuol Sleng and only 7 survived. (I looked up Tuol Sleng and it was a school turned prison turned museum. Wikipedia says that an estimated 20,000 people were imprisoned but that the actual number isn't known.) I keep reading these stories of genocides and wonder why we don't hear more about them. I understand that the breadth of the killing under Hitler was astronomical, but that doesn't mean we don't need to know about other genocides. I think there are cases where we need to hear about these horrific things; we need to be uncomfortable so that maybe we won't keep doing this shit. 
• When Oeur first takes a job in the government, the president wanted to build protective fences around the Presidential Palace, and submitted a ludicrously high bid. It's argued against and experts say that the actual cost would be a fraction of the amount proposed. He goes on to say, "But I didn't know about the power of the presidency--that you could do anything you wanted once you got in." Which is to say, the president got the amount he wanted. Umm...sound familiar? For all the checks and balances we're supposed to have, I'm afraid this is what we'll end up with if the government ever reopens. 
• Even though the years of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge seem to have been the scariest, the time before and after their reign wasn't very safe either. And U Sam Oeur is really freaking lucky that he didn't get killed a few times over. He says as much in the book, but he relays many, many stories of him speaking up on his disagreement with whatever the government was doing at the time. There were even a couple of instances that he was supposed to have been executed and he somehow scraped out of it. 
• Apparently there's a thing called Chbap Srei, which is the Buddhist code of ethics for women and, excuse me? I couldn't actually find any information about it, except that some women recently tried to rewrite it. AGAIN, why is it always women being screwed over?! Full disclosure, I didn't actually look up to see if there was one for men, so my anger may be unfounded. I'm okay with it. 
• Throughout the book, Oeur talks a lot about significant dreams, visions, and spirits. I found it really interesting, because the things that the spirits spoke of, or the significance of the dreams, led to real events. I mean Christians have saints and angels, but it's not a widespread thing to say that one of them talked to you or came to you through a medium. It was kind of fascinating. 

One thing that I thought would be fun to start doing is trying food from the country I'm reading about. There happens to be a Cambodian restaurant near the apartment, so Soldier and I went to check it out this past weekend. I had taprom, which is a dish with veggies (even one I hadn't tried/heard of before: napa) with a lemon grass and tamarind sauce, and Soldier had bayon (which of course I tried). Bayon was a Cambodian curry. They were both quite good, and really not out of the ordinary. I do kind of wish I'd tried a few different things, so maybe we'll find a time to do it again. I did get a little nervous to try any of the dishes made with coconut...I really am not a fan. Maybe I'll be more brave next time. I also plan on trying to find the movie The Killing Fields to get a little more information and another perspective on this era. So...the learning continues. 

A State of Things

And I said heyyy, what's going on?

Disclaimer: I've started drinking and Soldier is gone for the weekend. 

So. Where to start? Not that there's that much. I think we close on our house this week! YAY!!! I can't wait to have our own space, not have to smell the neighbors'...smells, and having all of my kitchen stuff back! And to renovate things and get a puppy. 
And that means I'll have to get serious about getting a job, which I'm a tiny bit conflicted about. 
First, the negative. To be completely honest, I LIKE BEING LAZY. I'm certain most people would do this given the option. BUT it would feel good to be contributing again, and having more money because WHAT THE FUCK GOVERNMENT SHUTDOWN. Oooh, lots of yelly caps lock in this post! I mean, Soldier almost had me believing in Libertarianism (because both Republicans and Democrats suck all around), until people started cutting down trees in Joshua Tree park and just ruining the national parks. Just about a year ago, when we were in Hawaii, they shut down Volcano National Park because of the shutdown...probably the best bet. Because people can't be trusted to just do good things. 
Soldier likes to play devil's advocate and told me that Obama's shutdown was very similar; he wasn't backing down and said he'd keep the government shut until his healthcare plan went through. But at least (in my opinion), Obama was fighting for something helpful and good. Trump is...*sigh*...fuck...he's just awful. He's either too self absorbed or too fucking stupid to think about the big picture. Will a wall actually do anything? I'm gonna be honest, I haven't actually looked into it, but people on my FB say that the research says walls don't fucking work and most of the drugs are coming in by plane. 
Okay, sorry, I don't want to get super political. It's just a tiny bit terrifying that we're on one income, about to close on our house, and OH WAIT ACTUALLY HAVE NO INCOME. What's even worse overall is, out of the hundreds of thousands of people not getting paid, Soldier and I are doing great in the grand scheme. We have plenty of money in savings and very supportive parents if we need help. I can't imagine how awful it is for people who are living paycheck to paycheck or don't have savings to tide them over. It's all fucking bullshit. Alright. Bottom line of all this is I should get a job. 
Other bad part? It's still scary. I have faith that things will work out the way they're supposed to, I think the area is big enough that I'll be able to find something I'll really find fulfillment in. But...AHHHHHH. For some reason I can't shake the feeling that I'm begging when I'm looking for a job. And I lose ALL confidence. I know deep down that I have good skills and experience. So what the fuck?! Stop it, Laura! 

Alright alright, that's enough of that. What else? Have I told you all that I'm in physical therapy? I'm still not sold on my new rheumatologist (which google still says isn't a word), but she did thankfully start me on this. I honestly thought I would just have to deal with my legs being swollen every day, or have to be on chemo drugs, but this is actually working! Turns out my sluggish life in Juneau took a toll and my knees just need some muscle around them. Once I get all that back...maybe I can run regularly again, and maybe, eventually, I'll be able to stop stabbing myself with drugs. 

Becaaauuuse, now I have eczema. Is it permanent? Is it a consequence of this abominable apartment? Is it a side effect of medication that wipes out my immune system? WHO FUCKING KNOWS. I've searched everything I could think of, and all I've come up with is "oh it's this skin thing that sometime happens...and it might continue or it might not byeee."  Father in law said he could call in a prescription for me and I haven't taken him up on it...because I feel bad bothering him? What is wrong with me?! 
But this issue has gotten me back on thinking: when you have a chronic illness you don't really own your body anymore. Which almost means you don't own your self. Because you have to give your body up to tests, and medications, and side effects, and whatever the illness makes of all that or feels like doing that day. And all of that shit takes a toll on your mind. And when your body and mind are consumed by the illness, what else do you have? OH. AND. Today I got a bill for over $400 for blood work and X-rays ordered by the rheumatologist. THANK YOU, HEALTHCARE. Especially when we're furloughed. I've gotten used to cooperating with whatever test is needed for my care, but my insurance is still like "OH, OH GOSH. WHAT'S HAPPENING?! DO WE NEED THIS? IS THIS NECESSARY? Either way, can we make someone else pay for it?" 
BUT LET'S NOT CHANGE ANYTHING. THIS IS GREAT. 

Okay, okay. I'm sorry. There are many things I've been keeping in. Clearly I need to find a job so I have a purpose and I stop just getting angry at...stuff. For those of you who are more into the book stuff, I'm working on it. I've been feeling self-induced pressure to step up my game. So I will. Maaaybe. 

Time to wrap it up! It's still a bit of a struggle here; it's not small enough for the closeness of Juneau or near enough to be with our actual family and friends. There are definitely more good points than bad, I'm just feeling a little down. But I know it will all work out. 

I'm hoping to have my next book "review" out soonish, and I've ordered the new ones. You know I'll keep you updated on what else is happening. 
Umm...I can't really think of a good way to end this one. Soo...okay byeeee!