Danielle Trussoni was definately “Daddy’s Little Girl”. She was named after him, physically resembled him, and adored him. Her parents split up when Danielle was young. While Danielle’s mother kept her other siblings, Danielle chose to live with her father.

The two were very close, and this allowed Danielle to notice that there were some very odd things about her father. Dan was haunted by his experiences in Vietnam. He would tell stories about his experiences over there, and end up lost in thought, oblivious to his surroundings. Danielle simply accepted her father as he was, and basically took care of him until he was “back”. In many ways, she had become the adult in their family.

When she grew up, she was able to sift through her memories from childhood and re-examine them with the eyes of an adult. She remembered pictures her father showed her from when he was in Vietnam. Some were brutal, and frightening. Was the skull she found in the basement real? Why did her father have it?

This memoir is an extremely personal look at how her family was affected by her father’s experiences in Vietnam. The book jumps in chronology, juxtaposing Trussoni’s childhood memories with her adult experiences as she searched for answers about what really happened.

She discovers that her father was once what was called a “Tunnel Rat” in Vietnam, one of the most dangerous and psychologically damaging jobs a soldier could have. After doing a lot of research on Vietnam, and what American soldiers went through in regards to it, Danielle embarks on a trip. She visits Vietnam herself, and takes a guided tour of the same tunnels that her father crawled through years before. Her experience going into one of these dark, small, dirty tunnels following a tour guide is terrifying and stressful. There is something about being in the dark, underground, in an enclosed space that is unnerving all on it’s own. She can only imagine what her father may have felt as a soldier, who knew that these tunnels held traps, and enemies, both of whom could kill him in an instant.

There are a lot of families who watched loved ones head off to war, and return home as a completely different, and damaged, person. This book focuses on a father who was in Vietnam, however, I am certain that soldiers who have been in other wars come back dramatically different too. I think a lot of people will read this book, and recognize some of the behaviors and patterns seen in Trussoni’s family in their own.

I chose to read this book for a few reasons. My father was in the military around the time of Vietnam. I haven’t any idea what he may, or may not have experienced, or where, exactly in the world he may have served. However, it is clear that my father is different from many other fathers, and I can see some similarities between how he behaves, and how Trussoni’s father behaved. This is a book that daughters of soldiers will understand.

I also wanted to read this book because I think it was part of a group that once was on MySpace called “The Memorist’s Collective”, or something close to that. Long ago, I entered a contest that they held, where the winner would get their memoir published by a major publishing house. I didn’t win the contest, but I did get the opportunity to read some excellent submissions and excerpts from other people’s memoirs. As a result, I now really enjoy reading memoirs, and finding out about other people’s lives from their unique and personal writings.

There were four authors organizing the group, and Trussoni was one of them (unless I am completely mistaken). I have reviewed the books of two of the other members so far: I Am Not Myself These Days: A Memoir by Josh Kilmer Purcell, and Queen of the Oddballs by Hillary Carlip. Each book is unique, touching, fabulous, and extremely personal. I intend to seek out the last book from this group sometime soon.

I have a sinus infection. At least, I’m fairly certain it’s a sinus infection. I get them several times a year, and every doctor I’ve ever gone to says that the frequency has something to do with how severely allergic I am to all of nature. Well, not exactly in those words, but you get the idea.

Anyway, since I get them all the time, I’m fairly certain the misery I have been experiencing lately is the demon called “sinus infection”. Not 100% certain, but fairly certain. Why the uncertainty? Oh, because this is America, and I am unemployed, and therefore, apparently this means that I don’t deserve health insurance. Which means I can’t really afford to go see a doctor about it, get confirmation of what is slowly killing me, and potentially get antibiotics to cure it.

Back in September, I had one of those special jobs that allows a person to be considered valuable enough to society to get health insurance. Those who have been following this blog already know that my old job, as a teacher’s aide for special education students… went *POOF* and disappeared, right along with a pathetically high number of other teacher’s jobs here in California.

Some of you out there might be thinking: “What about COBRA health insurance?” If you are thinking this, then I firmly believe that you have never, ever, in your entire life, ever lost a job and been offered COBRA. I blogged about this a while ago, but here’s a quick recap.

COBRA cost more per month than I was going to get in Unemployment Insurance benefits. Which means that every cent that I got from Unemployment Insurance would have gone directly to COBRA, plus some of what was in our pittance of a savings account. Once that ran out, and it would very quickly, I would once again have no health insurance. Oh, and this was all a moot point anyway, because, if I remember correctly, I hadn’t actually received any money from Unemployment Insurance by the time the deadline to sign up for COBRA ran out.

A good friend of mine had a brilliant suggestion. She pointed out that most, if not all, clinics and doctor’s offices should have something called a “sliding scale” of fees for people who have no health insurance. Today, as I type this, it is Sunday. If I’m still this sick tomorrow, I’m going to start making phone calls, and begin the “Quest to Find the Sliding Scale”.

The only other option I’m aware of is to do what some members of my family end up doing. Go to the ER when things get so bad that one is near death, and get treated. Then, when the bill comes, “lose it”, or change addresses, or, tell them that you’ve died. Or, declare bankruptcy. Oh, or I could just curl up and die after finally succumbing to my illness. There’s that.

Until then, here I sit. Blogging incoherently, while listening to podcasts, and running a fever. I’m certain that later on, I will go back to the poor woman’s version of health care: Sleeping, drinking lots of water, and playing video games. I’ve been playing Viva Pinata, Farmville, and World of Warcraft for countless hours lately. I don’t recommend getting into the battlegrounds in WoW while really, really sick. Unless you find dying over and over again to be as amusing as I seem to at the moment. Perhaps this sinus infection is eating my brain.

Anyhow…. I know that what I’m writing sounds like a whole lot of “poor me”. If only! There are hundreds, if not thousands, of people in the exact same overcrowded and sinking boat as I am. When it comes to health insurance, we, the Unemployed, are standing on the Titanic, listening to the Government continue to play the violin and chello, oblivious.

I just read this article that came from the Cal Coast News. com. It’s called County Unemployment At Record High. Here are some “fun facts”:

* Statewide, the unemployment rate increased to 12.5 percent in January, compared with a national 10.6 percent rate.

* The number of unemployed county residents rose by 1,900 people during the month, bringing the 12 month total of non-farm jobs lost to 5,200.

Depressing. I’m not sure why they don’t count “farm jobs” as a part of this, but, whatever. Nothing makes sense to me anymore. I bring up these numbers to illustrate my point, that there are a whole bunch of us out there who are unemployed, who are sick, and who are lacking the health insurance we need to get better.

There are those in this country that believe that if America decided to give governmental subsidized health insurance, (*cough* like Medicare *cough*), to it’s citizens, that this would be horrible, because then we would have become “Socialists”. Somehow, there are a bunch of people out there, who I am certain have adequate health insurance that they have no fear of losing, who just don’t want everybody else to have the same protection that they are enjoying.

Here is what I have to say to these people. We, the Unemployed, and Underemployed, outnumber you. Most of us are contagious, since we can’t afford to see a doctor. We still have to go out in the world to do things like go to grocery stores to purchase food, go to gas stations to put gas in our cars, and go to the post office to send off our “Continued Claim Forms”. You have been crossing paths with us. That item you put in your grocery cart might be same one that we coughed on, and put back on the shelf, because we can’t afford to buy it.

Some of us who are underemployed can’t afford to stay home sick from work, so, instead, we are ringing up your purchases while we are sick, and handing them back to you with added germs. We end up serving, (or cooking!) your food as you eat lunch or dinner at your expensive restaurant of choice. You run the risk, each and every day, of catching the diseases, viruses, and colds that the thousands of us without health insurance can’t afford to see a doctor about. If you care for absolutely no one other than yourself, and aren’t stupid, you should be able to see why it would be a good idea for America to give all it’s citizens affordable health insurance. Think about that!

J.C. Hutchins just had this book published by a major publisher.  This is a remarkable feat because the book started out as a podcast.  Hutchins podcasted the book in weekly installments, it grew in popularity, and now it is published in book form (I read it on the Amazon Kindle app on my iPod Touch.  This book is the first in a series as the original manuscript was broken up into several smaller novels.  It is obvious that the story goes on when you reach the last sentence of the book.

The book opens up dramatically with a four year old having assassinated the president of the United States.  Then seven people are kidnapped.  There is John, the musician; Dr. Mike, the psychologist about to go on Larry King; Michael, the marine; Father Thomas, the priest; Kilroy 2.0, a notorious computer hacker; Jay who works for the U.N.; and Jack, a geneticist.  They are taken to this top secret facility where they find out they are beta clones and must stop the Alpha from killing more people.

I couldn’t listen to the original podcasted novel, but enjoyed it quite a bit in print form.  It eventually turns into a real page- turner.  The most interesting character in my opinion is John, a musician, kind of the black sheep who hasn’t really done much with his life, but is as smart as the others. For some reason he seems to stand out to me as the main character even though the seven clones are supposed to be equals in terms of character development.  Kilroy 2.0 is a fun character as the nerdy computer hacker who laughs maniacally and believes in the vast conspiracy network.  I really enjoyed the parts in the book where the seven clones work together to solve a piece of the puzzle that has been placed before them.  Overall I would have to say it is a fun read.

Stephen King has written some long books in his career, most notably The Stand.  At over 1000 pages and 35 hours long for the audiobook (which I listened to), Under the Dome can join those ranks.  I’ve been listening to this book since December and last night I finally finished it.  Like most Stephen King books it doesn’t start picking up the pace until three quarters of the way through it. The beginning is all set up and with a whole town full of characters as are in this book there is a lot to set up.

As you can guess from the title, a mysterious glass dome has completely covered the Maine town of Chester’s Mill.  The dome is completely clear and when it falls, a man giving flying lessons to a woman in a Cessna-like plane crash into it killing them both foreshadowing a bigger and more devastating plane crash outside of the dome later in the story.  Birds line the edges of the dome where they have flown into it and have been crushed to death.  The dome goes several miles into the air and deep under the ground.  It also has an effect on people where the touch it for the first time they feel a big electric shock and then every time they touch it after that they are fine.  If someone has a pacemaker or a hearing aid they are dead on contact with the dome.

The hero of the story is Dale Barbara or “Barbie” for short.  He was a sergeant  in Iraq who got a job as a short order cook at the local eating establishment Sweet Briar Rose.  He got in a fight with the town hoodlums including Junior Renny, Mel Searls, and  Carl Thibodeaux (spelling may not be right as I listened to the book and didn’t read the pages) in a bar parking lot. Barbie was leaving town on foot after the fight when the dome fell and he was trapped in town.  Meanwhile Junior  has these horrible migraines caused by a brain tumor and he murders two young girls in this house and they become his “girlfriends”.  Junior’s father James Renny is the major villain in the story. Big Jim Renny is a used car salesman and the town’s second selectman.  He has also been involved in a huge national Meth ring.  The police chief Randolph is worthless and cowers to Renny letting Renny basically run the town as a dictator when the dome falls.  Renny hires his son Junior and the other thugs involved in the fight with Barbie as police officers and this is the beginning of Chester’s Mill becoming a police state with much similarity to Nazi Germany.

The book then turns in the direction of a good and evil story under the dome with the good side being Dale Barbara and his friends including Julia Schumway, head of the newspaper, and Rusty Everett, the medical assistant, who becomes main doctor when the doctor dies.  The bad side is the new police force, Big Jim Renny, and his cronies involved in the Meth ring before the dome fell.

I found this book to be an entertaining and interesting character study of a trapped town.  Several themes stood out for me such as the corruption of power, how easily people can side with the Big Jim to the point where people are wearing blue handkerchiefs tied to their arms as armbands, and then when we find out the origins of the dome the theme shifts to shameful things everybody has done sometime in their lives.

At the end of the book is an author’s note where Stephen King says that he first started writing this book in 1976 and could only get about 70 pages into it.  He went back to it again in 2006 and started over from scratch, but keeping the same opening idea that he had way back then.  I thought that was really interesting.  The reader Raul Esparza did a really good job of capturing the personalities of the many different characters in this book.

I think we’ve finally got that sewer gas problem under control. After moving some stuff around, I discovered this open drain pipe, hiding in the hallway:

We went to the hardware store later that day and picked up another Qwik Cap. Now the pipe is capped and so far, so good:

I seem to have come through my respiratory infection. Haven’t completely recovered, but feeling much better. Unfortunately, Jen’s come down with similar symptoms and she’s pretty sick. Guess that was inevitable. She’s holding off for now, but she may go and see a doctor if things don’t improve soon. We were invited to a party tonight but we had to cancel, which is disappointing. But, she’s in no shape to go anywhere right now. We spent the day at home. Watching TV and playing Viva Pinata.
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This is the first time I’ve put together a review of a book without reading it all the way through. And, as a general rule, I’ll slog it out with just about any book if I get far enough into it. In the case of Breaking The Sound Barrier, I managed to get about a third of the way through. And then I had to stop. I just kept thinking to myself, “Why was this book even made? What exactly is its purpose?” Penned by “Democracy Now!” host/reporter/producer Amy Goodman, Breaking The Sound Barrier is (apparently) a collection of news stories that were covered by “Democracy Now!” between 2006 and 2009. At least, that’s what I think it is. The book never seems to make it clear. Broken down into sections with bleak headers such as “WAR,” “TORTURE” and “GLOBAL ECONOMIC MELTDOWN,” the reader is subjected to one depressing article after another. I understand that a great deal of what happens in the world is tragic. And that most of that tragedy goes unreported by the world’s corporate news machines. And for that reason, it’s good to know that operations like “Democracy Now!” are out there, fighting the good fight. But again, I have to wonder, “Why was this book made?” Turning to a random page finds an article about a father who’s gone on a nationwide anti-war protest after his son (a U.S. soldier) was killed in the Middle East (page 17). Another random turn finds an article about psychologists working in government-sponsored torture programs. And it goes on, and on. All of the stories contained in Breaking The Sound Barrier are around three pages long. And I’m sure they’re archived on the Internet. So why was it necessary to compile them in book form? Who felt that anyone would want to read all ot these miserable stories, back to back? I’ll admit, part of my disappointment in this book comes from my own misunderstanding of its contents. I thought it was going to be historical or autobiographical in nature. I’d find a story about Goodman’s history, and the evolution of “Democracy Now!’ to be an interesting read. Or perhaps some essays/editorials on the state of modern media, from the viewpoint of someone who’s doing things at a grassroots level. Instead, I got WAR and TORTURE. I realize it’s my own fault for not cracking the book open and giving it a more thorough preview at the bookstore. But nowhere on the book’s front or back covers does it ever state what it is exactly that’s inside. I have subscribed to the “Democracy Now” podcast in the past, and may do so again in the future. And I’d recommend it to anyone looking for an alternative to mainstream news reporting. Just stick to the podcast/radio show/web versions and skip this book.

I’m still sick. After about a week of not getting any better, I finally decided to go see a doctor. He diagnosed me with a respiratory infection and prescribed some antibiotics. That was on Thursday afternoon. After being on the medicine for a couple days, I’m starting to feel better. However, Thursday night, I did something that probably wan’t too smart in terms of my recovery from the respiratory infection, I went with Jen to a midnight showing of Alice In Wonderland. The reason I say this wasn’t so smart is that I wound up being out rather late, and I had to get up early the next day for work. Still, I’m glad I went, and I don’t think the lack of rest did much to aggravate my condition. Anyway, here’s some photos from the movie opening.
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It’s been kinda rough over the last few days. I seem to have come down again with some kind of sickness. I’m beginning to wonder if there might be something in the environment of the new studio setting that’s affecting me. I tend to doubt that, though. If I were experiencing an allergic reaction, Jen probably wouldn’t be able to spend any time in this room at all. And while she’s been a bit sick herself, she doesn’t believe her illness is directly attributable to allergies. And she’d know. Regardless, I’m going to try and do some cleaning around here over the next week to see if that helps. This room hasn’t been cleaned since the Big Room Move, and it could use it.
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Being unemployed means that you end up spending a lot of time at home. At least, I have. Honestly, though, I like being at home. It makes me happy. And, I haven’t just been sitting around my house, playing WoW, and eating bon bons. I’ve been doing some freelance writing work. So, I guess I should have said that being unemployed, or being a freelance writer, means you spend a lot of time at home.

Since I am at home all the time, I am very aware of each time the phone rings. Shawn and I have been plagued with phone calls from tele-marketers lately. The phone will ring, and the caller ID will say something like “Unknown caller”, or will have an 800 number appearing, or say something like “Card Services”. These are tip offs that the person on the other end of the phone is someone who wants to sell me something.

Those that know me are aware that I am not one to sit quietly by and let something that is bothering me continue to happen, with no comment from me. I have decided to fight the tele-marketers, and see if I can make them stop calling my house all day long.

The first call came from The Bank. In my experience, if any bank wants to let me know about something important, it’s not going to do it over the phone. It’s going to send it by letter. This would be the first tele-marketer I would battle.

The girl on the phone asked for Shawn. I could hear several other voices of the people in the call center behind her. Each voice was harassing another unsuspecting person via telephone.

“He’s not here. Who is this?” I asked. She asked me if I was his wife, and I confirmed that. Next, she started her sales pitch. Something about did I want to take advantage of their offer of some kind of insurance on our bank account? It wouldn’t cost me a thing! She was happy to babble on, but I stopped her.

Here is the part where I must admit that I, too, once worked as a tele-marketer. I was in college, and I needed the money. I’m not proud of it. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and everyone makes mistakes when they are young. I’ll never do work like that again. It was horrible!

This is why I knew to cut off this tele-marketers speech when I did. I recognized right away that she was giving me the kind of sales pitch where if she gets to the end and you haven’t hung up yet, the tele-marketer takes that to mean that you agree, and will take whatever offer they are pushing today.

I hope that everyone reading this blog is aware that these kinds of offers, that “are no cost to you”, and have a “free” trial… come with hidden fees. You usually have to cancel it before the free trial ends, or they will start charging you for this service that you didn’t want in the first place. They are hoping that you will completely forget all about this particular service that they are selling, and won’t remember to call and cancel, and that they can continue to charge you lots of money.

Anyway, I cut off this tele-marketer before she could mark me down as a “sale”. I calmly explained that no, I am not interested in this service.

“But, it’s free!” she said. So, I explained that I know that there is a hidden fee if I took this offer and didn’t cancel it before the free trial ended. “I used to be a tele-marketer,” I said. Most tele-marketers don’t have a handy answer for that one. It stops them from talking for a second or two, and this is when you have a chance to get a few words in edgewise.

“We never, ever, ever, take offers that are given to us over the phone”, I explained. “If we want this, or any other service, we will go into the bank and ask for it. You guys have been calling my house nearly every day for the past few weeks. Please stop calling us now.”

“Ok, if you have any questions, please call…” and she rattled off a phone number. They have to do that. I think there might be some kind of fine involved if they don’t give out that phone number at the end. I remember having to rapidly spit out a phone number before someone hung up the phone on me. It’s not fun. Instead of listening to the number, I hung up the phone.

I thought maybe that was the end of that. I explained that they will get absolutely nowhere with trying to sell us anything. They would be rational, and stop wasting their time, right?

Wrong! A few days later, The Bank called again. Unimpressed, I picked up the phone. This time it was a young man on the other end of the phone. He too, wanted to know if Shawn was home. Once again, I said that no, Shawn wasn’t home, this was his wife.

The young man called me “Mrs. Mylastname”, and mispronounced it. He then went into the exact same sales pitch that the girl used the other day. Once again, I cut him off.

“Look, I know that this offer isn’t free, because these things always come with hidden fees if you don’t cancel it. I know this because I used to be a tele-marketer myself. You guys just called the other day, and I explained that to the girl on the phone. We never, ever, take offers over the telephone. If we want something from The Bank, we will just go in and ask…”

“Ma’am, rest.” the young man said. Rest? Is that like the new way to say chillax? Rest? Nobody has ever instructed me to “rest” before, except my doctor when I’ve been really sick.

“You guys call us nearly every day, and have for the past few weeks. Could you please stop calling us now?” I asked.

The young man said “Ok. If you have any questions, please call…” I hung up the phone.

I know from my experiences as a tele-marketer that there are certain ways to mark each call after you get off the phone with someone. Each place does it slightly differently, but, in general, there is supposed to be a code, or a set of numbers to use when a person refuses the offer. This should take that number off the dialer, so the call center doesn’t waste it’s time on “dead” leads.

There should be something specific and obvious in the system to let the bosses know that the person asked to not be called anymore, or asked to be “taken off the list”. Unless it’s changed, there is a law they are breaking if somebody tells them to stop calling and they continue to do so.

None of these codes will work, however, if the tele-marketer doesn’t bother to mark the call correctly. At this point, I figure the first girl didn’t make a note in their system that I had refused the offer. The second guy wouldn’t have any way of knowing that I had already been called, and said “no”. But, I figured, this second guy should mark down that I refused the offer, and they would stop calling. All was well.

Two hours later, the phone rang once more. It was The Bank, calling again! Now, I was getting angry! I picked up the phone, and barked “hello!” into it. Silence. “Hello?” I asked again.

Finally, some very exhausted woman answered the phone. She asked if I was “Mrs. Mylastname”, and didn’t pronounce it correctly. It’s a very simple last name! It has one syllable! Why are these fools getting that wrong, repeatedly?

“I am, but that’s not how you pronounce it.” I said. “Who is this?”

Instead of telling me who she was, she mumbled through the exact same sales pitch I had heard twice before. I cut her off as soon as possible.

“Look!” I told her, very unpleasantly, “You keep calling us! Well, not you, personally. First it was some other girl, and then a guy. You people just called me two hours ago about this same thing! I keep saying that I’m not interested, that I will never, ever, ever take an offer that comes to me by telephone, and that I want you to stop calling us. Can you manage to stop calling us now?”

The tired woman sighed, and started rattling off the same phone number. I hung up, once again.

The good news is that this finally worked. No one from The Bank has called to try and sell us something over the phone since then.

As I am writing this blog, the phone is ringing. It’s a tele-marketer from our Insurance Company, wanting to “schedule a time” for us to come in and talk about our policies. “Just to make sure that you are where you want to be at with those”. Translation: we want to go over your policies, and find some way to make more money from you.

The battle continues!

Been kinda depressed today. As is my nature, I’ve taken to a bit of self-analysis to try and pinpoint the source of the depression. Can’t say this day started well for me. I woke up way too early and wasn’t able to get back to sleep. Then my usual breakfast routine ended in complete failure. (I mention this because I really needed that spot of ghetto-tastic caffeine.) Later in the day, I tried catching up on my sleep, but was interrupted a couple times, and wound up just laying around a lot longer than I would’ve liked. Sleep is a funny thing for me. If I don’t get enough, or my sleep cycle gets thrown off, it affects me. I need to work on getting on a regular, daily, sleep schedule. It’s not easy, as I tend to be drawn to more of a nocturnal schedule. But my current work hours don’t really allow for that. (And that, in and of itself, isn’t necessarily a complaint.) Further on in the day, I discovered that the obnoxious sewer smell I wrote about before has returned. It went away after I capped that dryer vent, and I thought that was the end of it. But apparently, capping the vent was just a coincidental fix. ‘Cause it’s back. I took another look in the hallway to see if there might be another vent/pipe/something that needs to be covered. Couldn’t really find anything. Discouraged to say that this problem is probably going to require the services of a plumber. More discouraged to know that, it may be a week before we’ll even be able to get someone out to look at it. (I’ve often stated, with all kidding aside, that we should just burn down this place and collect the insurance money. If it were only so easy…) Last week, I mentioned my latest guitar obsession. In connection with that, I wrote about prioritizing things that need to be done. And this plumbing issue has to be moved to the top of the list. Also, I’ve tried a couple times now to get hold of someone to come out and help us with the non-plumbing issues I mentioned last week. And I can’t get this guy to return my calls. Frustrating. But, I guess if he doesn’t want the work, I’ll just have to find someone else. Which probably isn’t that big of a deal. It just takes more time and puts things off even more. I need to exercise patience. But it’s not always easy. Anyway, the whole point of this entry is mostly to say that, when things suck, action is all there is. There was a time in my life when I would’ve tried to sedate the depressive tendencies with a large pizza and a liter of Pepsi. (Food addiction = probably the least sexiest of all addictions.) But I’m not doing that now. And that is its own kind of victory. But it doesn’t do much to solve the problems at hand. But, there is a plan of action to deal with the problems. And that’s a start. All I can really do for the rest of today is try and relax. And maybe go play some Viva Pinata.