Monthly Archives: September 2010

Ashley’s Wild Ride

Planning I’m good at. Waiting I’m not. My plans have fallen through and I’m still waiting for phone calls, results and packages. Thus, I’m not terribly pleased with how things are progressing this morning.

Commuting with my father is nice: he drives and I can either talk or sleep, most days I sleep. Though it also starts my morning with negative vibes headed in my direction. They’re mostly directed at my father and his driving, but I happen to be in the vehicle with him.

Most highways in California are 65mph. There is a section of the freeway that used to be 65mph and a couple years ago transitioned to 55mph. Unlike most Californians who drive at ungodly speeds when given the opportunity, my father drives the speed limit. Not 15 over, not 10 over and if you’re really lucky, MAYBE 5 over.

When we drive in together we get to drive in the HOV lane, which goes faster than the other lanes, because there’s less traffic. They have now begun to charge other, non-carpooling, drivers to drive in the HOV lane IF they pay. It is similar to that in Southern CA. There are clear entrances and exits to the HOV lane and once you’re in, you’re in: no exiting if you’re slower than those in your lane. (Not that my father ever used to exit to let faster traffic pass, but at least the drivers didn’t need to break the law to pass him)

This morning there were three, yes THREE, vehicles that illegally passed my father on the highway this morning…consecutively. As they passed they blared their horns and gave pissed off glares. I’ve learned to not look in their direction anymore, as I don’t know how to respond. My father then flashed his high beams at them…the obvious correct response, right?

Finally, the fourth car that wanted to pass him, didn’t…but instead started flashing HIS highbeams in my father’s rear mirror. My father’s response to that: start holding his hands up with “5s” because the speed limit is 55mph. And THEN, he points at each of the 55mph signs along the highway.

I can’t say I love the glares or honks, but I do love the ability to get an extra hour of sleep in before work. And, you can’t say my drive to work is boring…when I’m awake for it.


Mother Says…

My mother and I had a spat today. Or a discussion. Or an argument. It really depends on who you ask. But call it what you want.

One of the things that came up was my life. Yes, broad, I know. But she seems to feel I live two lives. My “real” life and my “blogging” life. She made no direct mention of who I am in “real” life, but told me my “blogging” life is my “wild side”.

I cannot say I agree with this. The last several months have been downright depressing on my blog! It’s been a struggle to write ANYTHING remotely resembling my typical upbeat, sarcastic and jovial personality. I have only a small idea of what could be really going on with my body, my bloodsugars have gone batshit crazy, I had to move….Am I wrong? Is that wild? By ANY means?

I call it sad. A little pathetic. And most unfortunate. I’d like to be on a fun, maybe a little wild adventure, not a medical war zone with a faint light of answers through the current dark ominous muddle of clouds. I have three tattoos and a few piercings, I’ve had many different hair colors and I like change. But I’m at peace in the outdoors, in a book, wrapped in a blanket in front of a window and love taking time to myself. Tattoos, piercings and hair color don’t make a person wild. In today’s world, I’d venture to say they’re normal.

Or maybe my blog is wild in other ways. Frankly, I’m too tired and trying too hard to grasp tightly onto the smallest piece of togetherness still in me to really care and to put in the effort to figure out what she means. In my mind this blog could use a little wildness and a little less sadness. But, that’s just me. Maybe I’m wrong.

*Thank you everyone in the DOC for sticking with me. For listening to my sad rambling. For listening. For being friends. For being honest. For everything. I have no idea what I’d do without you.*

Dear Mike Huckabee

Dear Mike Huckabee,

I hate you. You’re a moron. An ignorant asshole. A selfish, arrogant prick. And you picked the wrong damn day to announce it to the world.

I absolutely despise how I’ve allowed you to make me feel like damaged goods. Other days I may have just seen your stupidity and sloughed it off as such. But today, today is different. It’s the day after I’ve been told I have Crohn’s Disease. It’s six years and nearly two months since I was told I have Type 1 Diabetes. So, honestly one MORE chronic condition isn’t a major deal. I’ve mentally grasped the idea of having a chronic condition. I have to admit I’m not handling it as well as I thought I would, but it’s been a day so I’ll work through it. And you certainly have not been a help.

How dare you compare me to a damn burned down house! How dare you belittle my worth. I’m a person too! A person, mind you, who did nothing to deserve either damn disease! I didn’t fail to “insure” myself before I became “ruined.” I DID take care of myself, I was healthy. What was I supposed to do? Have someone knock me off because suddenly my cost of living was too expensive and my body doesn’t work perfectly?! Why the hell do we even have medical advances if the public shouldn’t be granted access? Really, shouldn’t you thank the burned down houses of the world for helping develop scientific medical advances? I mean, without people like me we’d probably have fewer jobs here in the States.

I honestly don’t want any damn credit for medical technology. What I want is to have value! Damn you for making me feel less worthy than Joe Schmo. And screw you for making me cry. And double damn you for making my acceptance of answers to the mystery of my illness so damn hard to accept! Who the hell do you think you are?!?

You make me even more ashamed than I was prior to admit to being a Republican.

Screw You and get a brain,


In case you have NO idea what I’m talking about:

Oh Dear

Thus far I’ve really enjoyed the Dexcom. It’s my second full day today.

And I was going to blog about Dexcom and Symlin. BUT I’m dealing with a climbing #bgnow and feel like crap.

I actually have something relevant to say and I lack the effort.

In the mean time, check out:

Balance and Patience

There’s always a balance to fight for as a diabetic. And, as a human, I suspect. But, what I know is the balance of diabetes and life as an adult. I know nothing of being a kid with diabetes as I was diagnosed 5 short months following my 18th birthday.

I seem to be facing a struggle. How do I go to school when I’ve got bills to pay? Not just any bill, but medical bills exceeding $5000 AND monthly prescriptions to purchase. It would be irresponsible for me to ignore my financial obligations. Yet, how can I get my education, with which I can get a successful job, AND pay my bills. Oh, AND have a job with benefits. A part time position may be advantageous for a student with no medical bills. But that just won’t work for me.

My school has directed me to the Department of Rehabilitation. I am scheduling an orientation appointment with them for the upcoming weeks. BUT, I don’t know how I feel about living off the government while I try to complete my education. It’s looking like I have about 3 years left to meet all the prerequisites, I can’t justify that length of time. Wouldn’t it be irresponsible?

Should I just be patient? Wouldn’t it be better for me to work, take care of my financial obligations and be patient with my schooling? I want to go to school, but not in place of responsibility. I so badly want my degree before I turn 30. I want to feel less like a failure. A degree will help with that feeling, but wouldn’t taking care of my bills also help? Sometimes you can’t have the best of both, bake your cake and eat it too, etc. Right?

Perhaps My Worst Photo Ever

*disclaimer: I don’t need you to agree OR disagree with me, I promise. I merely find it humorous.*

Wednesday was my first day of school. I’m still figuring out the whole financial aid issue, so I have no books and have yet to pay my tuition/fees. But, if it all works out, I will continue to stay in school. Initially I planned to take one “on” campus class and keep the rest online…for work and medical purposes. My “on” campus class is not really ON campus. It is located at a local high school, during their first period of instruction. I can’t believe they start school at 7:35A! Anyhow, it was quite an experience…

Day 1:
6:55A – Leave for coffee!
7:30A – Arrive in general vicinity of school and opt to follow the multitude of vehicles turning down a side street
7:32A – Arrive on campus with 2000+ other people (I asked the secretary the enrollment number)
7:33A – Find students with big “?” on their shirts and ask where building 5 is located
7:34A – Walk into HUGE center with lines and LINES of students in front of offices. Find an office with no line and pop my head in to ask what I need to do as a college student
7:35A – (Start of class) Am told the class is NOT in building 5, but in room 312; which pleases me greatly as that is one of my favorite number combinations. Am directed to the classroom and told to fill out an emergency form “at some point”
7:37A – Arrive in class with my cup of iced coffee. It is CLEAR I am much older than the 15 and 16 year olds in my class. The interpreter is speaking, the deaf instructor does not notice my arrival; she is passing out paperwork. I choose a seat next to who I am certain is the “smelly/nerdy kid” at school.
7:37-8:30A – Role call – find I’m not on the list. Discuss syllabus. Key Points: NO tardiness, if you are tardy you must have a signed note from the main office. NO drinks in class
8:30A – Sit at my desk utterly confused. Class is supposed to end at 9:22A on Wednesdays. The teacher says we’re finished. The bell rings. I go with it
8:32A – Talk/sign with instructor regarding my name lacking presence on the attendance sheet. She said she didn’t know. But it was fine
8:35A – Barely survive my trek down the hallway. A “couple” making out stops to make out right in front of me…I nearly ran into them. I tower a good head or two above 99% of the students. Find the open office I found before class
8:40A – Arrive at the main office. The secretary, Lorna, welcomes me and has me fill out a form. She informs me she will be placing my emergency card in with the Senior advisor and will have people check on me in class to make sure my diabetes isn’t killing me. (Okay, not those words exactly…but close) She asks a man if I can take a Staff ID picture, so I have some form of idea. Unidentified man, who turns out to be the principal, says that’s a great idea and to take me over.
8:45A – Lorna walks me to the ID/School photos in the cafeteria. On our way we discuss school population, having a service dog and my random placement in a high school at the age of 24.
8:48A – I am handed off to a parent volunteer. She stands in line with me to get my order form. She is also fascinated by my attendance in high school at 24.
8:52-9:00A – Stand in line. Talk to a teacher about a pretty fascinating program the school offers for students. One I wish I had enrolled in when I actually was a high school student. I ponder the idea of becoming a teacher and what would have happened had I listened to all of my teachers.
9:00A – Complete picture. It’s terrible. The woman offers to take another, I pass. I doubt the next will be any better. Now, this isn’t because I find myself to be particularly ugly. I slept approximately 3 hours. I rolled out of bed, pinned my hair back, threw on some clothes…one of which was Tuesday’s shirt.

Without further ado:

If you look closely in person my eyes are not headed the same direction and are different sizes!

The best part of having a Staff ID card is now I can get discounts at Michael’s on Wednesdays…and apparently at some other stores I don’t shop at, like NY & Co. I won’t be participating in my discount abilities until I actually have a regular income though.

A note on my teacher pondering…I had to go to Ohlone to attempt to figure out my financial aid situation once again. It turns out I may be able to get $600 worth of aid if I enroll in this seminar for teaching math and science. I go to the class for the first time tomorrow. I’m not sure I’ll stay in it, but looking at the program is worth a shot. PLUS, I could REALLY use $600 for school. Being that my current budget is $0.

A second note on teacher pondering…I stumbled upon a brochure for a school in Montana (where I’d like to move) that has discounted tuition for CA residents and has an education program. AND an outdoor education center too!

I’m certainly not committing to anything, because I can’t at this point. But I’m excited at the potential of possibly having a path.

The Belly Button Fiasco

Saturday night.

I figure I can share the not-so-terrible and portion of the weekend that only implicates myself.

Saturday was a challenge and put me in a pretty rotten mood. But I had plans to meet up with some old co-workers from Aveda at The Saddle Rack in Fremont. It was great to see Laura and Tricia. We had a lot of fun catching up, telling stories and enjoying some much needed laughter.

Sunday morning I woke up and had to pee. (Everyone has to pee when they wake up, so I don’t feel bad about sharing) I look down, as I’m peeing, at my belly button. I like my purple belly button ring, it’s lovely. It was not so lovely Sunday morning. The ball (top portion) was inside the piercing. It was gross! It looked like an alien trying to escape! If I hadn’t remedied the situation immediately…and wasn’t peeing and lacked a camera at hand…I would have taken a picture to share. (Yes, I’m that gross)

Here are a few recent pictures…

Now you can just see the nasty crustiness. If I pop up the ball and push the bar through the top you can see all kinds of nasty white pussy skin that’s trying to heal. Each day it looks a little better as I am soaking and cleaning it. But MAN, major disgustingness!

Disclaimer: I would not usually post such graphic and unimportant stories, but the majority of my blog searches are related to piercings. I may as well share the spotlight with them from time to time.

…okay maybe I do like sharing pointless stories, but only if I find them remotely amusing…like this one!