I hate that anyone out there in the enlightened U.S.A. might be think, “Ooh, a mommy who’s outdoorsy…sounds great to me!” and cast a vote for McCain based on such scant information. Americans like these women might. So here’s the moose-meat on Sarah Palin, as dictated by my liberal parrot points:

(Seriously, I believe all of the below. I won’t parrot something that I think is bunch of exaggerated moose shit. Ok, calling Sarah Palin a Punky Brewster is a bit of an exaggeration. The more amusing part of that joke, to me, is that McCain is like the befuddled Henry character poignantly portrayed by George Gaynes–the very-much-alive-George Gaynes–also known as the commandant in the Police Academy masterpieces).

Sarah Palin is or was

>> a religious conservative
>> a foreign policy neophyte
>> the mayor of a town of less than 9,000 people–half the size of Holly Springs!
>> a creationist who believes creationism deserves an equal place with evolution in school science cirriculum
>> a supporter of Jewish-fan-favorite Pat Buchanan in the 2000 presidential elections (did you hear that, Fort Lauderdale?)
>> a non-believer of the idea that humans are a cause of global climate change
>> someone whom John McCain had only met one time ever prior to last weekend
>> under investigation by the Alaska State Legislature for improper hiring and firing of state officials
>> staunchly anti-choice
>> firmly against state employees receiving benefits for same-sex partners

(inspired by a post on DailyKos)

I’m just writing to pass the time and make this not such the solitary experience that it is. I don’t like disease “support groups”. There tends to be a lot of preaching, i.e. “you should be trying this and this and stop doing that”. And there tends to be a lot of graphic description of experiences worse than what you’ve had, which, for me, just adds anxiety about how worse things could conceivably get.

But since I don’t talk to anyone who has PKD regularly, I don’t ever know if what I’m experiencing and how I’m handling it is “normal” or not. Today, I’ve basically spent the day in bed, because my right side aches a good deal. I either have had a cyst burst, in which case this will feel better soon, or I have a kidney stone, in which case the stone will either pass or I’ll continue to feel worse and worse. What I wonder about is, does this warrant me acting like a slug and skipping work? If I can lay here and type this, can I be sitting at work working? I feel like I can’t be, that I’m so distracted by this discomfort, but I don’t know if I’m just being lazy. Work is chaotic already; when I take an unscheduled day off, it throws things off even more, and then there’s more to try to clean up when I return.

I hate this.

I was listening to Joe Biden’s speech last night and felt inspired to listen to Chumbawamba’s Tubthumping. (Biden was taught that if you get knocked down, you get up again; you’re never gonna keep him down). The problem is, when I get knocked down, I tend to stay down.

[6:00pm Wednesday] Too fatigued to write from laptop. writing in bed from phone. not a fancy iphone like most tweeple seem to have. got to use t9 no i cannot do this. i am even too exhausted for this. can’T even hold phone without dropping it which is an apt metaphor for life right now.

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There are times when my perception is that everything is going downhill, and others would say I am just focusing on the negatives, and then there are times when, try as I might to make some sort of upward climb, something I have zero control over knocks me back down. Silly as it may sound, it was a major effort for me just to get out the garbage and recycling tonight. Simple rhetoric about getting back up after being knocked down by new favorite American Joe Biden actually helped there.

I have a new theory about why I don’t do a better job of taking those small steps to do small things in spite of the evidence that that’s the only way to make progress towards big things. I’m afraid that no one will realize just how difficult it was for me to make those small steps. Whether that means I’ve cleaned off the coffee table, done a load of laundry, done a few dishes, or spent 10 minutes doing something mildly strenuous with the Wii Fit (or perhaps once-upon-a-time 10 minutes on a stairmaster at the gym), I fear that such activities are so common-place, so automatic for so many, that I am quite pathetic to consider them to be accomplishments. Basically, there’s almost no difference between the little I wind up doing and doing nothing.

If I knew someone was coming over to my house, it would be hard to motivate myself to do an hour or two or cleaning, because, almost certainly in the guest’s opinion, and certainly in my own, things would look so terrible that it would be not be evident that I had done anything at all.

So, I think, in all aspects of my life, I feel like I am in desperate need for bold action, and I’d rather wait for that bold idea to come to me rather than do something on a small scale that will not feel rewarding. Honestly, no, I do not feel anything rewarding from cleaning up some small mess.

What am I getting at here, because I know I’m rambling…

Well, just supposing I had pulled together a string of slight accomplishments…it would all be wiped away in an instant by whatever the next health crisis turns out to be. I am not in a definite crisis at the moment, but I might be. I’ve got a bunch of symptoms of a kidney episode. While I do not have acute pain, I feel this heaviness in my side that seems to suck the life out of me. I feel utterly wiped out. And there are other unmentionable, unpleasant symptoms. There isn’t a whole lot I can do besides wait it out and hope it goes away…and hope that this isn’t a kidney stone and turn into February all over again, when life for basically stopped, and the only thing I accomplished was watching all three seasons of Arrested Development.

My next major health crisis is not “scheduled” until late October. I’m going to have that arm surgery again. I was advised to have it as soon as possible a couple of months ago, but I wanted to a breather in between surgical procedures–a really long breather. The hope would be, as it always is, that I’d somehow, someway figure “everything” out (or at least a couple of key important things) before then. That’s unlikely to happen.

Anyway…I got nothing else to say at the moment…

I’m trying to appreciate these photos more by going through a few at a time, rather than having dumped the album all at once on Flickr.

Or, I realize I don’t have much in the way of positive posts, so I’m just trying to spread these out…

These are all from an afternoon around Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco. I think I’m almost done…

Police: Durham Woman Duct-Tapes Dog, Tries To Kidnap ‘Second Life’ Ex-Beau – Durham – MyNC.com

Police said the two met online in “Second Life.” According to police, the victim, whose character was a lion, engaged in a virtual relationship with Jernigan, whose character was a virtual woman.

I have no punchline.

But I will say that I’d never have known about this danger in our community were not for durham.MyNC.com. I think this warrants the displaying of my DUR car magnet.

There was a tremendous turnout at the Durham Board of County Commisioners meeting last night, due to a hearing on a proposed ordinance that would ban most tethering of animals and give animal control more tools to prevent abuses. Those who spoke in favor of the ordinance probably outnumbered the opponents by roughly 5-1. I was proud of Durham for the first time in my adult life! (Just kidding. On a related note, that was a nice speech tonight in Denver by Michelle Obama). The movement to bring Durham County in line with other progressive jurisdictions around the country has been almost single-handedly spearheaded by Amanda Arrington and the Coalition to Unchain Dogs, which has now built over 100 fences for area dogs who had previously lived their lives at the end of chains.

They are having their second annual benefit concert at Durham’s Central Park on Saturday, September 6…

(For the record, this is not an authorized promotional video for the concert. Check out their website for some truly terrific videos of dogs whose lives they’ve turned around.).

“It’s a rigid, inverted forefoot deformity,” said the podiatrist. Or something like that. I’ve been Googling for what it is exactly, and I can’t find it. The point is, I’ve apparently had deformed feet my whole life. I just learned this on Thursday, a mere 32 years and 8 months after a doctor presumably pronounced I had all my toes but didn’t seem to notice a rigid, inverted forefoot deformity. This explains much, like why I’ve been a shitty athlete my whole life. It explains why soccer was probably a bad sport to force me to play for two or three years. It explains why my legs have always seemed to tire in a game life basketball before my lungs and my body as a whole.

“When you try to walk properly, you’re body is working two to three times harder than that of someone without this deformity”.

I asked if this caused by my having walked a lot, from a young age, on my toes.

“You probably walked on your toes because you learned it was a lot more comfortable to do so”.

In other words, it’s not my fault that I walk funny.

“How you walk isn’t your fault, David, but everything else about how you live your life is!” the doctor taunted.

I made that last part up.

____

There have been a ridiculous number of people whom I’ve been desperate for to embrace me and all of my deformities throughout my life. I can’t for the life of me imagine why they would, but I cling to these pathetic strands of hope. These strands represent that possibility that I can somehow suddenly overcome my deformities or that somehow, suitably intelligent, attractive, caring, sensitive, funny, wonderful people won’t be as appealing as one who quite questionably has these traits plus all these added deformities.

I must emphasis how utterly fragile these strands of hope are. If there were literally strands, they’d have a width of the reciprocal of infinity. And I haven’t taken any math in 12 years, but I think 1/∞ is really tiny. I mention this as yet another refrain to anyone out there who ever surmised that I might have been deluded into thinking something that I, quite frankly, never did.

It would be unfair if I failed to recognize that a few individuals have determined that I am ok, even with the deformities. I admit, I have been unnecessarily cruel to some of these people. This topic is outside the scope of what I’m trying to write about now. (There’s a cop-out, I know). But I didn’t want to offend anyone who might think that I’m not putz, loser, or freak. (I suppose that if you don’t think I’m one of those, I haven’t necessarily been cruel to you. This is a hard point to make, and I give up on it for now).

It’s 4:40AM. Writing at this hour, this ridiculous hour, is usually a bad idea. I will surely wonder later on what I was thinking.

I’m just trying to get some of the melancholy out. I probably shouldn’t even be saying that, should I?

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“I’m happy, confident, and love what I do!” That 98% of the women on Match.com and 94% of them are looking for the same in a partner. The other 0.01% (did I do that right?) leaves, well I don’t even think that leaves a whole person, so that doesn’t leave me with much.

I don’t think I’ve ever met or seen a profile of someone who has said, “I’m looking for a guy who’s generally unhappy, lacks confidence, and finds no fulfillment in what he does for a living,” let alone the one that says that followed by, “Physical and emotional deformities are all right by me!”

________

Common question I get….”Why are you so hard on yourself?”

I usually answer something to the effect of, “Well, if you look at me and where I’m at in my life, should I allow myself to be ok with the point I’ve brought myself to?” And then the person can’t give a correct answer. No one ever says, “I see your point”. And if someone did, it’s not as if that would be helpful either.

so I just alienate everyone who ever tries to help.

________

I’m going to try to get some sleep now. I realize one or two of you will think it’s nice I’m so open and honest. The rest of you think I’m certifiably insane. And I’d be lying if I claimed that that didn’t bother me in the least. I know I don’t come across like this at all, but I really do want to be liked.

That’s really a horrible thing to have said. I will quickly publish this, get to sleep, and post some pet pictures or remembrances of old sitcoms, sometng, anything, trivial, to get this blather off the top of the feed/page.

After Joe gets through with Mitt Romney, Mitt will feel like that poor dog Seamus that the Romneys strapped to the roof of their car…