At the behest of my grandson, Marc, I decided it was time to continue on my quest for freedom through writing about the pathetic life I lead.  Those who know me and my deepest, darkest secrets, know that I am not serious when I say I have a pathetic life.  I have a tendency to over-dramatize for effect and it usually works for me.  I like being entertained by other human beings and most of the specimens I come in contact with are easily manipulated into providing an excellent show for me.  Enough of that.  Today is a beautiful day in Springfield, OR.  I am about to leave the house in search of fun.  I am not sure what I will do exactly, but I know one of my stops will be by the Willamette River where the geese hang out.  It's a great place, has park benches, a lot of geese and ducks, a few people, dogs who chase sticks that are thrown by their masters, and beautiful trees and grass.  I am going to take my crocheting with me and finish a shawl that I am making while I sit and enjoy the fresh air, flora, fauna, and animal antics from both human and animal species.  I know, human beings are animals, too.  From there, I do not know where my feet and vehicle will take me.  I have a new job.  It has me on my feet most of the day and, to say the least, is going to be the death of me.  I found a clinic in town that I thought would be able to give me medical care, but I was turned away because I was Native American and able to get care at an Indian clinic.  Here is the deal on that: If I go to a native clinic, the shortest drive is to Salem and that is 1.5 hours from Springfield.  The reason I chose a "free" clinic is because I cannot afford to drive anywhere because I am very low income.  When I got turned down this morning for being Native American, I had to laugh and cry at the same time.  Here I am, doing all I can to improve my situation in many different ways, going to school, working at the expense of my health so that I can make more money than I get living on unemployment benefits, and when I try to get help from a low-income clinic, I am penalized because I'm Native American?  I have always been proud of my native heritage and thankful for the benefits it has provided in the past.  Today, I felt discriminated against because of my native blood.  Had I not said anything about being native, I would have been able to see a doctor.  One of the things that ran through my mind is, "What if I did not have a car to drive to a native clinic?  Would I still have been turned down?"  I do not understand this world sometimes.  I have worked hard my whole life and now that I need help, I cannot get it.  Bums get health care, shelter, food, and clothing, all for free,  because they are homeless.  And I get nothing because I am trying?  Time to end this post before I start crying and ruin the rest of this day.  Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy!