tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89737464501904267312011-09-18T17:52:19.277-04:00Welcome to my journal of: Pop culture, Politics, Poetry and the utterly random things that fall out of my head. This is the Official Motto: Be More Awesome, Curb The Suckage.Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.comBlogger471100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-44296823667467444602011-09-18T17:52:00.000-04:002011-09-18T17:52:19.323-04:00

Can be found at Wordpress.com, Tumblr.com and of course, Twitter.com

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-53989461686427646352010-07-28T18:30:00.001-04:002010-07-28T20:37:10.541-04:00

I was furious at the patronizing, misogynistic tone in this article about successful female social media users. "Tweethearts," and other twee language being used to diminish women and objectify them does not make me giggle. However, @geekgirldiva covered it way better than I did, here.  This morning, I was treated to this, before I had my first cup of coffee. Really? We're serious about this

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-81667593129321689592010-01-19T00:37:00.000-05:002010-01-19T00:37:10.320-05:00

Happy new year-ish. This is essentially a drive-by post, because there are a lot of VERY COMPLICATED things going on right now, that I can't talk about in public. The ultimate outcome is likely to be good. The walking-across-hot-coals period, may be lengthy. Good things are: I've got an awful lot of love in my life. Kind of chronic things I can live w/o: Pain of varying degrees and sources.

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-79073912093466533962009-12-28T01:13:00.000-05:002009-12-28T01:13:29.228-05:00

I'm following A LOT of people on twitter. Like, almost 400. (BTW: next time you're whinging because a celeb, etc., hasn't replied to you - STFU. Do you have any idea what their feeds look like? n00b.) A lot of people are following me. (I'm not entirely sure why, but I'm very grateful.) I get cycles of spam. I get cycles of LURKERS. Look, if you're marketing - you fail. Completely. If you like me

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-79901263761851850572009-12-27T00:09:00.001-05:002009-12-27T00:09:29.424-05:00

2058  -Andrews, S. N., Maj. Gen. RAMC It began on a Wednesday. A series of tsunamis that struck cities that were only unexpected in the sense that we blinded ourselves to the eventuality. It took three years. We know that the first indicators came decades before the fact, and we still haven't figured out how to solve it.  It seems the Earth did. The floods and droughts, the epidemics and

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-43048578684268877452009-12-26T22:58:00.000-05:002009-12-26T22:58:36.903-05:00

So, you can see my nomination for this, here. I'm at a loss for a couple of reasons. 1. I'm not sure I can think of ten things that no one knows about me. No, really. When I say I'm an open book, I mean it. Sooo... here goes: 1. I love brussels sprouts and liver. I really do. I hated both as a child, and now I love them. My mother loathes sprouts, but I'm making them for xmas dinner anyway. 2.

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-4760249652874921022009-12-18T01:35:00.001-05:002009-12-18T01:52:44.046-05:00

I have a theory, which I'll discuss later. Anyone who has read a sampling of my posts, knows that I'm not ashamed of being poor. It's a fact, being ashamed of it won't change it. I manage, I wobble, I falter, I pick myself up and dust myself off. I save and scrimp and feel guilty when I spend $20 on a night at a college bar (that's $20 including food, beer and tip.) I make choices. I buy a

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-36124151196955531472009-12-06T12:22:00.000-05:002009-12-06T12:22:35.072-05:00

It's something that's come up recently, this notion of privilege. Am I guilty of it? Am I privileged at all? The answers are: sort of, and definitely. I'm white. I'm fairly educated, (or at least self-educated,) I'm (mostly,) cis-gendered. I keep coming back to thoughts of my own naivete. I don't see the world the way I'm supposed to. That, in and of itself, is a privilege. I was raised to see

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-75405511252137212262009-11-26T16:57:00.000-05:002009-11-26T16:57:58.466-05:00

Holidays were always bittersweet. I have memories of about 2 Christmases with both my parents. After they split up, my dad wasn't around much. Ever. The last actual Christmas I remember seeing my father, I was 9. I was in the hospital at the time. I grew up poor, but not impoverished. I was always encouraged to use my imagination, to play. Many of the Christmas or birthday presents I received

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-80206609041297837182009-11-24T21:44:00.002-05:002009-11-24T21:48:54.939-05:00

What am I thankful for? This is a question that we often forget to ask. Too much is happening day to day, the world spins forward at an ever increasing rate. It's been a difficult year. For most of us, economically, we're not doing as well as we'd expected. A lot of people are unemployed. The numbers are way higher than most people would like us to believe. It's nearing 20% unemployed. People

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-76460475060229125412009-11-16T00:20:00.000-05:002009-11-16T00:20:37.341-05:00

Today was to be the day of apocalypse. In my novel, yo. So, um...it turns out that at least in this draft, without you know, incredibly detailed end-of-the-world-porn and statistics and whatnot, the apocalypse takes about 500 words from a 2nd tier character. (Oh, did I mention I now loathe my leads? The shiny-happy-lovers-who-will-suffer, writing them is so alien. They're, y'know - normal.) So,

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-38113120958796381022009-11-14T19:32:00.002-05:002009-11-14T20:00:53.025-05:00

I don't really talk about them much, I realize that. There are so many wondrous things in the world, that very often get drowned out by the horrifying injustices. As I've been ill recently, these have been invaluable. There's something profoundly wonderful about a cough drop that not only makes the scratchy, icky sore throat go away, but are chocolate. I talk for a living, trust me, they are a

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-84909040431515866312009-11-09T02:22:00.000-05:002009-11-09T02:22:49.425-05:00

1. I'm terribly behind on word count. 2. I'm actually getting a sense of inhabiting the world I'm writing, so hopefully, the word count will improve. 3. I'm incontrovertibly naive about human rights. I'm better off, if not happier that way. The human race can be terribly disappointing in its intolerance. 4. Politics is bullshit. Correction, politicians and the acts of politics are bullshit. None

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-11151495259824771402009-11-07T23:24:00.001-05:002009-11-07T23:25:20.402-05:00

To begin, I don't know all of the details of the current bill. As we're waiting on the House vote, two things seem clear: We're not getting anything close to what, "We the People," need, and the politicization of our identities/bodies, marches on. The Stupak amendment seems to have passed. This seems to prevent any insurer from covering abortion services. There is also, (not sure of amendment

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-54422857789443225102009-11-07T00:37:00.000-05:002009-11-07T00:37:16.623-05:00

There is a plethora of information coming at us, 24/7/365 if we let it. It becomes a wall of noise, a tidal wave of data ready to capsize the ramshackle rafts artist sail. We're on an endless journey to find an island of stillness in this raging sea. It's harder than it seems. We're not trained in it, most of us. In fact, we're trained to the opposite. Lately, it seems as if there is so much

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-27947835606947657432009-11-06T00:15:00.000-05:002009-11-06T00:15:32.644-05:00

For anyone scratching their heads over the topic... um... It's the Carnival of the RANDOM. This includes my occasional forays into deeply girlie things.  I confess: I'm a mineral makeup addict. I have been since discovering Bare Escentuals on QVC in 2003. I have problem skin. It's incredibly sensitive, yet oily-acne prone. When in doubt, my skin will break out rather than hive.  I'm also a very,

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-49567155303571439112009-11-03T22:48:00.000-05:002009-11-03T22:48:26.577-05:00

I don't have that feeling of, "YES," yet. At least not for all of it. I'm almost 4k words in and it feels a little like rollerskating on marbles. I feel awkward with dialogue and I'm still getting a sense for my characters. I'm being introduced to peripheral characters pretty quickly. I'm not sure who's important yet and who's not. I'm pretty sure that 2/3 of them are gonna end up dead by the end

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-24868632507552218762009-11-02T17:57:00.000-05:002009-11-02T17:57:21.984-05:00

No one gets along perfectly 24/7/365. No one. We get on each others' nerves, we've all got little ticks and habits and compulsions that drive other people crazy. What keeps us from killing each other or living lives of hermetic isolation? The need for other people, the recognition that we ourselves are flawed beings and maybe love. No one can hurt us the way the people we're closest to, can. We

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-74032901641370175842009-11-01T21:44:00.000-05:002009-11-01T21:44:53.130-05:00

 Today is the first day of my first NaNoWriMo, (National Novel Writing Month. No, I didn't know about it either.) I'm pretty sure I babbled my way through a prologue of 1774 words, (after losing 600 words when I did something silly here.)  At least, through the graces of Paperclippe,  I found the awesome yWriter software. It's free and has lots of very useful tools that I will write more about

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-82434118223893947042009-10-31T23:30:00.000-04:002009-10-31T23:30:47.106-04:00

Scattered words no more than usual no less than stinging on a screen no more duck's back water-roll today today I begin to think I begin to think that these words are enough I begin to think that I have words Of my own I begin to think I'm worth the consideration Of recognition you would rather be right than happy you would rather win than say I'm sorry you would rather be here than more I begin

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-45839614860759496402009-10-27T22:34:00.000-04:002009-10-28T02:09:13.666-04:00

Update: @ButMadNNW brought the Kitty Genovese case and this article by @MarkTyrrell to my attention. This relates directly to the Richmond High School case. (See Below.) There are about...four things that have happened in the last four months to make my gang-rape survivor radar, start blipping like the motherfucking Kraken is rising from the motherfucking deeps. (Cover your ears, children. The

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-58204550017282302832009-10-25T00:20:00.000-04:002009-10-25T00:20:23.203-04:00

If I could draw, I'd storyboard my novel rather than outline. The fundamentals of my writing process have always been a little bit of voodoo. I see a word, and it unlocks a door filled with images and sounds, tastes and smells. It's a little spooky at times, but it works. At least, it works with poetry. So far, the outlining is going ok. I've got a fair amount of the structure laid out, I've got

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-41752600925011520552009-10-22T22:49:00.000-04:002009-10-22T22:49:25.859-04:00

Note: I recommend reading the previous post, and particularly clicking through the links and watching the video you'll find. (The second half, equally powerful is here.) What do I want to say? Everything. I want to scrawl in abstracted, emotional hieroglyphs on the walls. I want to scream from the roof and show the world my battered and bloodied self and say, "I'm still here. I will not be as

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-69159633071828090882009-10-20T00:12:00.000-04:002009-10-20T00:12:54.156-04:00

From time to time, I will expound on certain thoughts I have about being an artist. You can see earlier thoughts, here and here. I ask a lot of questions, I'm pensive and analytical.The rickety audio of my observations and experiences is here, Lives on Display and Beauty were my commentary after 2 seasons of slam poetry contrasted with a more academic point of view. The original poetry/blog

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-9769979418295942942009-10-19T18:53:00.000-04:002009-10-19T19:05:06.671-04:00

Sooo... Yeah. I like Twilight. The movie. I've read the book. That's a separate issue, which I will address. I've been into vampires since 1979, when I was 6. Why? Frank Langella, because well: OMG, HAWT. Now, I should mention that horror is practically a part of my DNA. My mom is a horror fangirl, old school. We're talking Hitchcock, James Whale, SERIOUS Vincent Price/Hammer horror kinda stuff.

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-38547410380046915592009-10-11T12:21:00.000-04:002009-10-11T12:26:24.454-04:00

Dear Mr. President,                                I think you're trying to do what is best, what is right, what will make the United States a better country both for its citizens and as part of the global community. Here's the thing: your job can't be about putting out one fire at a time, be it the economy or wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. I'm not naive enough to think that's how you're thinking,

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-31209244889167505122009-10-10T20:39:00.000-04:002009-10-10T20:39:59.679-04:00

I'll begin with this: There are more than a billion people on this planet living on $1 a day or less. (Roughly the equivalent of .86PS) This is reality. In developing countries, roughly every 3 seconds, absolute, extreme poverty kills someone. Mostly children. Almost 30 thousand a day. These are big, mind-numbing, coma-inducing numbers. It's too big to get the mind around. It's nearly ten times

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-86350572012278105352009-09-26T19:51:00.000-04:002009-09-26T19:51:12.143-04:00

He watches the girl behind the bar with something approaching awe. The compact motion of her hands in the sink. Lift glass, swirl sponge-on-stick, rinse, place on towel to dry, over and over without a single motion wasted. The bartender pulls another Guinness and sets it on a napkin in front of him. He wishes for a cigarette. No smoking in bars seems like the act of a sadist. It's 3 o'clock in

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-8933507607920526402009-09-25T20:46:00.000-04:002009-09-25T20:46:51.647-04:00

Part One (illness) skin feels dry and tight like something becoming leather in desert scorching heat mouth unquenched despite swallowing an oceans' worth eyes burn with an unnameable fire as if the eyes of a witch at the stake the wicked bacilli in the blood at war with the white knights A crusader's errand to stamp out the pillaging of my body Part two Mouth becomes arid while palms sweat skin

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-64580473762884328242009-09-25T19:30:00.000-04:002009-09-25T19:30:45.754-04:00

A summit that should last a week, lasted less than 48 hours. Somehow, this seems wrong. A global economic summit with 20 of the world's leaders and the one big piece of news is Iran has a weapons-grade nuclear production facility? Again, this seems wrong. I missed the fireworks except as a voyeuristic witness from a distance. Twitter, the texts from friends, the news - these were my windows to

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-34672756568110361152009-09-17T23:11:00.000-04:002009-09-17T23:20:01.795-04:00

Artists make art. Sometimes commissioned, sometimes with the intent to sell, sometimes for ourselves. Censorship abrogates a fundamental right to free expression. When the state censors expression because it does not like what artists create, we see the strangling repression of ideologies in action. Just because you don't find Robert Mapplethorpe's photos, or Andres Serranos' Piss-Christ to your

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-56065610773287006202009-09-13T23:17:00.000-04:002009-09-16T20:53:09.675-04:00

(Partial Credit goes to @ItsMikeandIke, for lively conversation, also @ButMadNNW. Most importantly, my two favorite Whovians: @MelindaKitty and @Ree923. Go to twitter: Learn it, live it, love it.) Disclaimer: I am a rabid New Who fangirl. This is important to know. I will quote, reference and possibly drool over New Who episodes at the drop of a hat. Really. No, REALLY REALLY. Why? Read on, my

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-44361692147751798452009-09-12T00:28:00.000-04:002009-09-12T00:28:59.475-04:00

Knot in my chest anxious for a million reasons that only matter to me and a million reasons that matter too much to everyone and nothing's getting done frozen importuning in a flashbulb frame everything stays the same too much changing too fast for the heart to keep up unbroken and I'm waiting in the wings of everything never sure always a little out of step can't catch my break there's no room

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-31571850345450392602009-09-11T23:48:00.000-04:002009-09-11T23:48:30.588-04:00

We replay and resurrect Images sparking emotions We can only hold on to En masse On anniversaries With the prodding of the media Telling us What we remember feeling Only when reminded Summoning spirits from their rest Parading with the flags Marching in lockstep To a drummer Beating out A dirge Instead of a requiem Sung In exultation of the lives lived The love given The love received We raise

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-7120580044762342372009-09-07T00:19:00.000-04:002009-09-07T00:19:27.144-04:00

Fireflies shimmering in alternating currents As his mouth taught me to gasp In octaves of unapologetic pleasure With my clothes still on Mostly on, anyway Desire compensating for Shyness of inexperience Awkward limbs tangled in the backseat of my car His car The grass in the park Pushing thin cotton up Exposing my skin To the intensity of a gaze I wasn't prepared for Naked Isn't easy Until the

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-78646232971880264322009-09-06T23:49:00.000-04:002009-09-06T23:49:00.087-04:00

Lies of omission lying bitter on a bitten tongue Not telling lies Not telling truth The desperation of Imbalance of need Shifting Power In bloody increments The marks I ask for To prove I'm alive Bitten flesh Gone purple-yellow In places I can mostly conceal The words Falling Away Like ballistic interference Shrapnel Wounding Where no one can see Don't want me to love you This is too fragile Too

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-22887870178882457142009-09-06T23:00:00.000-04:002009-09-06T23:00:31.471-04:00

Every day brings news of destruction Despair The million ways the human race Is trying to die Fighting the tide of nihilistic disregard Learning to stand in the way No matter the cost Every pose of cynicism wears thin Rubbing the skin of my soul raw I want to not care I want to be immune The only time failure is a point of pride Observation demoralizes in extremis Take a break from the Bleeding

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-24648572614703231072009-09-06T11:38:00.000-04:002009-09-06T11:38:43.405-04:00

It is a truism that politics makes for some strange bedfellows. I've stopped trying. I used to be willing to engage with conscientious, thoughtful, reasonable people of opposing views. Unfortunately, since the forum I'm speaking of is Twitter.com and it's led by the prerogative of those who follow you... Occasionally, the nut jobs spoiling for a fight find me. I've learned how to block

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-63652634216529456562009-09-06T00:14:00.000-04:002009-09-06T00:14:49.219-04:00

Evocations Invocations Prayers whispered and Left hanging in the air Unanswered The scent and sensibility of Time Wrapped around our throats The taste of lime and rum licked off of calloused fingers Tracing the lines Bones beneath fragile skin Freckled like copper confetti thrown on ivory satin Breath disturbing the hair escaping down my neck Disturbing my comfortable misery With a daring glance

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-42109909186397568142009-09-05T22:15:00.000-04:002009-09-05T22:15:23.989-04:00

I confess: I'm mercurial and high-strung. Yet...I'm mostly happy. With who I am, with what I do, with the mark I'm making on the world, (however small, it's mine, it's authentic and it's not evil,) I'm basically happy. There are a lot of things I want to do, see, be, experience, share. There are people I've yet to meet, love, argue with, learn from, teach. My mundane life consists of a fair

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-30575046007238780432009-09-03T22:17:00.001-04:002009-09-04T21:47:08.330-04:00

This is not a scholarly treatise. This is an opinion and anecdotal evidence. This is not exclusive to visual artists. All of the artists I know, (lots) regardless of media, seem to share the ability to see the world differently. We're all familiar with the cliche of the tortured artist: the Van Goghs, Rimbauds...etc. I won't belabor the point. There's some scientific evidence that links

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-65065400679368573082009-09-02T18:25:00.001-04:002009-09-02T21:09:24.865-04:00

I'm descended from women who dye their hair. My maternal grandmother: shoe-polish black, my paternal grandmother: maintaining the ginger brilliance. My mom is where it starts to get interesting. On her side, we grey in our early 20's. She's been every color from blonde ( Born that way, then bleached in the 60's, baaad idea. Ow. Ow. Ow.) She's been brown, red, black. That was before the color

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-22010413997064262922009-09-01T22:36:00.000-04:002009-09-01T22:36:15.353-04:00

I repeat: If anyone has questions about Health Care and why a Public Option (weak)/NHS or hybrid Model, (i.e., France,) is better...Let me know. I worked in Health Insurance, specifically a Medicaid/Medicare/SCHIP HMO for 8+ yrs. I know what I'm talking about. I had a license to sell insurance, which is way more complicated than you think and I passed the test on the first try. I'm not stupid.

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-82155194365801656882009-08-31T20:38:00.000-04:002009-08-31T20:52:59.581-04:00

As the Goddess of Eclectica, I reserve the right to cross genres, mix metaphors and make playlists that confuse the hell out of the listener until they've absorbed the whole. You wanna make somethin' of it? No? I didn't think so. I've got high-low tastes in a stratified, cliqued-up world. Clive Barker sits cheek by jowl with The Bard in my pantheon of literary greats, John Mayer and Eric Clapton

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-28124269576735103372009-08-30T23:10:00.000-04:002009-09-03T19:05:30.489-04:00

I spent more than 8 years working in the Health Insurance industry. Ask me anything, I'll tell you the truth. 1997, the year when privatized Medicaid came into vogue. States were hemmoraghing red ink from their budgets. HMO's seemed like a reasonable alternative. It worked for the general public, after all. When I started working for Company X, I was young, broke, stupid and the head of a

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-14769911028902269732009-08-30T17:12:00.000-04:002009-08-30T18:04:19.345-04:00

In the scheme of things, most of daily life has no consequence. A lot comes down to, "My problems are more important than yours because they're mine." It's perspective. Relative to someone who's homeless, I'm pretty comfortable. I accept being mostly broke because I can't stomach corporate whoredom. That said, what we do and say matters. We can live in an attitude of bitterness and vitriol or

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973746450190426731.post-48976034099804474422009-08-30T14:25:00.000-04:002009-08-30T14:27:37.551-04:00

I'm trying to have a blog that's searchable without having to be logged into, or a member of any particular site. Content must be available to have any value at all.

Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03961318431610601783noreply@blogger.com5