Can I Tell You How Sad I Am?

I didn't even know until this week.

Some kind soul recently sent me (quite illegally) some medicine that would cost me $4/month, if only I didn't have to pay $50/month to a gatekeeper (not even a doctor!) to obtain the prescription, which of course I cannot afford. Welcome to America, 2012.

This medicine is not addictive, not a drug-of-abuse, but very, very effective. It's even off-patent, and available as a generic. I know about this medicine. It has been prescribed for me on several occasions, back when I had insurance, and the best doctors Nashville could offer. It requires no special monitoring; it isn't something an idiot could use to overdose, or at least not easily.

However, one thing this medicine does is help you see what's going on around you, more clearly. And I have to say, taking this clearer inventory of my life, I am very sad. I was just as sad before, but it didn't register the same way -- that's part and parcel of the disorder, really.

Instead of being hopelessly resigned, I'm now trying to solve some problems that were, before, intractable. And, I am sad. The hole is deep, and the rope too short.

Someone online tonight commented that my technical knowledge should score me a $60K/year job with benefits (after a back-and-forth networking troubleshooting session). I don't know about that, but I'd be happy with half that, easily. Still, the rope is shorter.
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