Taylor Swift and Existential Crises

A pile of long-stemmed red roses against a chalky black background.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash. [Image Description: A pile of long-stemmed red roses against a chalky black background.]

Do you ever feel like you’ve been alone for so long that you don’t know how to spend time with someone else? Not even romantically. I’m sitting here, listening to Taylor Swift — yes, I know exactly how pathetic this sounds, thank you — after watching her documentary. (Stick with me here.) In the documentary, she talked about how she’d achieved her dreams and, while she was over the moon about it, she was struck with the realization that she had no one to call. Yes, she worked her ass off all of these years and achieved her grand goal, but she did it alone. There was no one to high five, as she put it, because her success was her own.

That stuck with me. When I kick ass and become a bestselling author, who would I call? I mean, besides my family. Who would I go out on the town and celebrate with? So, naturally, I thought of my friends. And while I have wonderful friends I wouldn’t trade for the world, and would 100% call them in this theoretical situation, who do I talk about my writing with?

My family knows about my blog. They know I want to be an author. But I never actually talk about the stories I’m writing. To anyone, friend or family. I’ve operated under a fear of “jinxing it”. If I talk about it, it’ll become a job, and these characters are too precious to me to let telling their stories become something that I dread.

The fear is not unfounded. I’ve made this mistake with projects in the past. I told people in order to become accountable and see the thing through, only to feel weighed down by expectations and pressure and possible disappointment. A lot of it was me projecting; convincing myself that if I don’t get this done everyone will see me for what I thought I was: lazy, fraudulent, never finishing what I start. Which wasn’t fair to myself, and I know that now, but I still hate the thought of having to do something. Because once I know I have to do something, I lose any and all interest in doing the thing.

Plus, why get anyone’s hopes up about any of the stories I’m writing if I may not stick with them? After all, I have a habit of not finishing the things I start. Evidence: the dozens of unfinished first drafts in my arsenal of notebooks and thumb drives. Which, to be fair, is partly because I’m still growing as a writer.

So, I didn’t jinx it. I didn’t talk about my stories. And I’m not sure it’s for the best.

Fear. Anxiety. Some days it feels like they rule my life. Because, yes, I have friends, but who am I really close with? Who do I call on a Friday night when I’m bored and need to get out of the house? Nobody, that’s who. Yes, a lot of the time I don’t feel up to it, but sometimes I do. And so now, fresh from the empowerment of Taylor Swift’s album Reformation, I’m running hypothetical situations in my head. Who would I call on a Friday night? Who is my best friend (within driving distance)? And that’s when it hit me.

I don’t have one.

I mean, I did, a long time ago, but shit happens and life moves on. In the time between then and now, I was so consumed by the daily drama of living with multiple chronic illnesses that I didn’t have time to think about strengthening my other friendships. Life moves on, yeah, but apparently without me.

Then I start thinking about how I can fix this. Forget a best friend and focus on being a better one to the friends I already have. And I’m hit with another realization.

I don’t know how.

Is it possible that, in the five or so years since, I’ve forgotten how to be a friend? With long distance friendships, your circle of people are a few taps away. And it’s hard, the distance, but your bond doesn’t suffer for it. Sitting here now, typing this, it feels like all of my friends are long distance, even though some are only a couple of towns away. How did this happen? When did normal, face-to-face conversation become a foreign concept to me? When did I stop showing up? When did I stop inviting people to hang out just to spend time with a human I don’t share a bathroom with?

Most importantly, when did I stop letting people in?

At some point in January, I promised myself I’d stop apologizing for taking up space. For having an opinion. For existing, in general. John Mulaney once said, “Hey, you could pour soup in my lap and I’ll probably apologize to you,” and I don’t think I can explain it any better than that.

My point is, while I am undoubtedly afraid of getting hurt again, I believe part of the reason I haven’t made an effort to spend time with friends in person is the same as the reason I apologize for taking up space. But I’m not a burden. And the worst anyone can say is no. And I’ve always known both of those things, but I’m still working on being okay with them. And for now that will have to do.

Chronically Stuck


Photo by rawpixel on Unsplash. [Image description: Someone putting a blue Post-it note on their laptop reading, “Let it be”.]

For the past few months, I’ve been feeling…off, and I think it shows in my blog posts. I’m not writing as much as I used to, both with my blog and fiction. Don’t get me wrong, I want to write. I’ve had ideas, and even if I didn’t have any ideas, I have lists overflowing with them for exactly that kind of situation.

However, as soon as I grab a pen, or open a fresh Google Doc, my inspiration is gone and I’m forced to set my tools aside once again. Now, I’ve tried the “just start writing and see where it takes you” method, which is actually the only reason I’ve posted anything at all on my blog these past few months. It’s just not doing it for me.

When I launched Chronically Dannie, I had this…drive to create. I remember finishing five posts in my first week and being so proud of every single one. I’m trying desperately to find my way back to that place by reading and rereading my favourite posts, flipping through journal entries from that time, distracting myself with other projects, and straight up asking my friends to tell me what I should write about. My goal when I was reading my old blog posts and journal entries was to get a better understanding of where and why things changed for me. You know what I’ve come up with? Bubkis. Nada. Zilch. Zero. Not one dang clue.

I am in no way saying I’m going to abandon this blog. Writing is and has always been my creative outlet. I’ve simply misplaced my inspiration, I think, and need to figure out a way to get it back. Until then… Well, I truly don’t know.

Breathing and Spring Cleaning


Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash. [Image Description: Blue hydrangeas in the background. The words “Breathing & Spring Cleaning” in black against a sheer white rectangle in the foreground.]

If you follow me on Instagram, you might’ve seen that I did some spring cleaning last weekend. Bulk week started on Easter, so my dad and I agreed it was the perfect time to get rid of the furniture I’ve been staring at 24/7 for over a decade of my life.

Can you tell I was all but begging for a change of scenery?

To be fair, this furniture set is way too much for the size of my bedroom. It was my brother’s, up until he became a teenager, and of course I inherited it when our parents redecorated his room. I can’t remember what my furniture situation was like before the hand-me-downs swallowed any and all of my free wall space. For over a decade, though, I haven’t been able to access one of the drawers in my bed frame. Drawers from one of the three dressers are also blocked just enough that I can only pull them open halfway. I found ways to work around it, but I’m an adult now. If I’m going to be bedbound for a majority of the time, I’m at least going to have furniture I can actually access, damn it!

To test the waters, I cleared 1 out of 3 of the dressers and my dad hauled it away. Ugh, you guys, I cannot tell you how much of a relief it is to not feel like your bedroom walls are closing in on you anymore. It’s weird having open space where the dresser used to be, but a good weird, you know? Anyway, I’m happy.

During this process, I ended up discovering a wall socket and a previously beloved pajama shirt I hadn’t even noticed was missing. Pretty successful evening, if I do say so myself. If you don’t count the disaster area that is my bedroom floor at the moment… Boxes and junk everywhere! When did I accumulate so much stuff?! Seriously, the amount of graphic tees I own alone is ridiculous. Especially considering I only wear, like, three of them regularly, on the rare occasion I leave my house. Otherwise I live in pajamas, which are currently taking up two drawers and half of a gigantic cardboard box.

On the chronic illness front, ankylosing spondylitis is piiissssed. I tried to lay down with my legs against the wall to make my POTS happy, but then ankylosing spondylitis decided to show up to the party and declared that position was going to be my worst nightmare come to life. I’m propped up against some pillows now, so the pain’s not too bad, but I shudder at the thought of what laying down to go to sleep is going to be like… Yikes. I’m also about 99.9% sure waking up tomorrow is going to be a drag. I used muscles I’d forgotten even existed trying to get this dresser situation sorted. My body is literally in for a rude awakening.

Now that I think about it, Methotrexate must be working because I had zero shoulder pain. Before, if I was upright for too long, the back of my left shoulder would start to burn so bad, I wouldn’t have been surprised if it were actually on fire. Don’t get me wrong, my back is screaming at me, but I’d take this over that shoulder pain any day.

Do you have the spring cleaning bug, too?

How I Became a Freelance Proofreader (& Why You Can, Too!)


Background by Nahil Naseer on Unsplash. [Image Description: The words How I Became a Freelance Proofreader…and why you can, too! against a deep green foliage background.]

For the past two months, I’ve been toying with the idea of pursuing freelance proofreading as a potential career. Whenever I read something where homonyms are mixed up or a spelling error is missed, it distracts me to the point where I can’t continue on with what I’m reading. I thought to myself, “Okay, there has to be a market for this kind of work!” Lo and behold, there is, and it’s called proofreading.

Prior to this realization, I was under the assumption that you had to be an editor to do this kind of work, but that’s not the case. Though I’m sure editors catch and fix mistakes with punctuation and formatting when they can, proofreaders come in at the end of the project to clean up anything that might have been missed.

Then I thought, “Well, you probably need a degree.” We all know that I did not go to college. So, that’s it, then, right? Wrong. It turns out anyone can be a proofreader with enough research and training. For the past couple of months, that’s exactly what I did. I researched, I studied, and last week I decided to put all of my hard work to the test.

Wanting to gain some experience before going off on my own, I joined Upwork. It took a few days for anyone to trust me enough to hire me seeing as how I’m brand stinkin’ new to the website, but, after sending out over ten proposals, I have a potential job interview! I said potential job interview because I still have yet to email them in order to schedule it. Ya girl’s a teeny bit terrified, but it’ll be fiiiine. Right?!

Versatile Blogger Award

I’ve been nominated for the Versatile Blogger Award. Thank you so much for nominating me, Mackenzie! Mackenzie, from Life with an Illness, is a fellow spoonie. I particularly enjoy her Midweek Motivation series and I think y’all will agree with me, so go check her blog out!

versatile 18

[Image Description: The words “The Versatile Blogger Award” in the middle of a rosey pink floral wreath.]


  • Share 8 interesting facts about yourself.
  • Nominate a few other versatile bloggers.

8 Facts About Me

  1. I started a YouTube channel when I was twelve and kept it going until I was about sixteen or seventeen years old. All of those videos have since been deleted or privatized, as no human being should be subjected to that level of torture.
  2. I’ve been chronically ill for over nine years and only recently learned how to refill my own medication.
  3. It’s in your best interest not to stand between me and a slice of cake. Especially if it’s chocolate or carrot.
  4. I’m one of those people that immediately checks for abs after they exercise.
  5. I really want to get better at applying makeup, but apparently not enough to actually try.
  6. When I was ten years old, I dreamed of being a pro skateboarder. Hate to break it to ya, younger me, but you never even learned how to turn!
  7. If I were a braver person, I would get rid of 3/4 of my wardrobe and start over, only bringing in pieces I 100% adore. I’m also broke, so there’s that.
  8. I don’t subscribe to the idea that you only have to be/do one thing for the rest of your life. I’ve got dreams! They’re multiplyin’…
electrifying gif

[Image Description: A GIF of a scene from the movie Grease. The character Danny is pretending to be electrocuted with the caption, “It’s electrifying!” at the bottom of the image.]


I’m going to be that blogger right now and not nominate anyone. *Gasp* Yes, I know, I’m terrible, but those eight facts took me three! hours! to think up and I need sleeeep. “Life is hard,” she types sarcastically.

Is This How Abled People Feel Every Day?


Photo by Ryan Moreno on Unsplash. [Image Description: A side view of a person with long blonde hair and their arms outstretched. Even without seeing their face, they look free.]

The past few weeks have been hectic around the ChronicallyDannie household. My mom was in the hospital due to her own health issues, which I will not go into detail here because, unlike her daughter, she wouldn’t appreciate having every intimate detail of her malfunctioning body broadcast on the Internet… Although, I will say she was discharged this week and is recovering from her surgery now. Things here are calming down a little bit.

Man, have I missed blogging! The only thing stopping me was lack of inspiration. To be honest, I’m still not at all inspired, but I figured I should stop thinking about blogging and just do it.

If you were a reader of Chronically Dannie around this time last year, you might remember that spring is my favourite season in regards to my health. The arthritis bit with the rain can be a killer, but Chronic Fatigue Syndrome gives me a much needed break. I forgot what it was like to wake up feeling rested. I feel human again! And I’m able to get so much done…

Today, I tossed out the recyclables, brought the basket of clean clothes upstairs, and unloaded the dishwasher. Do you want to know when I was able to do that last? Last spring! I hadn’t taken my meds yet, so I definitely had to rest my heart after all of that excitement, but you guys… Ugh. I don’t even know what to say. It feels nice; that’s all I’ve got.

I know my body won’t keep this up for long. Hell, I’ll definitely be feeling the consequences tomorrow. For now, though, I’m going to enjoy the little time I do have left until Chronic Fatigue and sleep apnea catch up to me once again.

Is this how abled people feel every day?

You Behind the Illness Tag


Photo by Renee Fisher on Unsplash. [Image Description: A black wall full of graffiti hearts in a variety of colours.]

Though I wasn’t technically tagged by Linds, I thought this one looked like fun, so I’m doing it anyway! You should definitely go and check out her blog.

Four Places I’ve Lived

  1. The same house my entire 21 years of life.
  2. We’re off to a great start.

Four Places I’ve Worked

  1. My mom’s office, folding statements and putting stamps on things.
  2. Proofreading for family here and there.
  3. Self-employed with Etsy.

Four Favourite Hobbies

  1. Writing
  2. Reading
  3. Video games
  4. Watching TV shows for an unhealthy amount of time.

Four Things I Like to Watch

  1. YouTube
  2. Gilmore Girls
  3. The Bold Type
  4. People. It’s a big help with writer’s block!

Four Things I Like to Read

  1. Other blogs
  2. YA Fiction
  3. Sci-Fi/Fantasy/Paranormal
  4. Books before watching their movie adaptations.

Four Places I’ve Been

  1. Florida
  2. Mexico
  3. Aruba
  4. Cape May

Four Things I Love to Eat

  1. Macaroni
  2. Dessert
  3. Krave cereal
  4. Potatoes. Any kind of potatoes.

Four Favourite Things to Drink

  1. Lemon Propel
  2. Milkshakes, extra whipped cream, paired with french fries.
  3. Hot chocolate, extra whipped cream, and some chocolate sprinkles.
  4. Iced lattes, extra whipped cream (only when I’m so fatigued that I don’t mind risking tachycardia and a headache)

Four Places I Want to Visit

  1. London
  2. New Zealand
  3. Seattle, Washington
  4. Portland, Oregon

Four Bloggers I’d Like to Tag

Anyone who’d like to do this! I was going to write that it’s a good way to connect with your audience, but honestly I just enjoy filling out questionnaires.

The Blissful Art of Not Caring



Photo by Becca Tapert on Unsplash. [Image Description: A girl sitting on the edge of a hill. She’s looking over a lake surrounded by mountains with her hypermobile arms in the air, flashing “rock on” signs with her hands.]

“We’re adults.
When did that happen?
And how do we make it stop?”
– Meredith Grey, Grey’s Anatomy

When this whole chronic illness thing began, or at least when my mom and I started looking into my symptoms, I didn’t care. I didn’t care about the tests or the treatments or the medications. I just went with it and trusted that the doctors and my mom knew what they were doing. During appointments with my doctors while we were still searching for the big answers, after a certain point I would check out. It was usually after I explained where it all began and listed my symptoms, but then I would check out. My mom would take over, my mind would wander elsewhere, and I didn’t care because I’d been through that appointment twenty other times with other specialists who promised they’d figure out what was going on with my body. Spoiler alert: very few of them kept their promises.

This time, this round of specialists, this past year… I care. More than I ever have before. Since transitioning from pediatric to adult doctors, I’ve had to reclaim some of my independence. I’m the one filling out paperwork and signing consent forms. I’m the one making decisions about which treatments to pursue and what medications I do or don’t want to try. The stakes seem higher now.

It’s really friggin’ terrifying.

When I was a teenager, my “life” seemed so far away. I had years before I would become an adult and have to handle all of this on my own. I hid behind that, I think. I’m not a decision maker. I don’t like uncertainty. There are too many variables, too many risks, feelings could get hurt and every choice has a consequence. Decisions are too final. Pair all of that with fatigue and brain fog and I can’t make a decision to save my life.

I’ve come to realize my “checking out” during appointments was a coping mechanism. If I detached myself from the situation, didn’t pay attention while my doctor discussed my case with my mom, and didn’t do any research for myself, then I wouldn’t have to face it. What I didn’t know couldn’t hurt me. The decisions were not in my hands and I hid behind that. It was my comfort zone. Now… It’s really friggin’ terrifying, okay?

Like I mentioned above, I didn’t care when it came to tests and scans and treatments. Fine, I’ll swallow that camera pill. Sure, I’ll eat those radioactive eggs. Yeah, I’ll go under anesthesia so you can stick cameras in places I don’t want to think about. Whatever, I’ll lay back as you put needles in my feet. Sure, why not?

Now, I’m aware. By legal obligation, I have to be aware of the risks and possible complications. I have to be aware of why we’re going for this test and trying that drug. There’s no more pretending nothing bad will happen and handing the real decision making off to my mom. I’m twenty-one years old, my doctors address me now.

I find myself worried about what this pelvic ultrasound I’m going for will show. There are symptoms I’ve put on the back burner while we were focusing on POTS and gastroparesis and leg pain, but we’re finally exploring them and I’m afraid of what we’ll find.

What about this new psoriatic arthritis treatment plan? Did you know in rare cases Methotrexate can cause missed periods and infertility? My period was a week-and-a-half late and for once I actually cared. I cared about possibly losing my hair, and my ability to become pregnant, and whether or not my veins will finally give up with these added Remicade infusions. I was so detached before and I don’t even think I was aware of it.

Obviously I knew I had POTS and Gastroparesis and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and everything else that’s going on with my body. I knew I was/am chronically ill and that none of these things have cures so I’d be dealing with them for the rest of my life. I knew what each diagnosis meant and I accepted the reality of it all, but I wasn’t really paying attention to the details. I didn’t research other treatment options or ask any questions… I was complacent. And now I’m not complacent. My eyes opened, the glass ceiling shattered, and I am aware.

There are moments, like right now, when I wish I could go back to not caring.

Liebster Award 2018

liebster 2018

[Image description: The words “Liebster award discover new blogs” against a view of the sunset above the clouds.]

I was nominated for the Liebster Award by Alyssa over at Queerly Texan. I found Alyssa’s blog shortly after I signed up for WordPress and I’m so glad I did! She writes about social justice and chronic illness. Thank you for nominating me!

Rules (if you choose to accept your nomination)

  • Thank the person who nominated you.
  • Display the award on your blog.
  • List the rules in your post.
  • Share 10 random facts about yourself.
  • Answer the questions given to you.
  • Nominate 5 to 11 other blogs. Don’t forget to let them know!
  • Give your nominees 11 questions to answer.

10 Random Facts About Me

  1. I’m watching last week’s episode of The Flash as I type this. This was a bad idea because now I’m too into this episode to come up with nine more things.
  2. The villain in that episode drove my dream car: 1970 SS Chevelle
  3. I get emotional at the sight of other people getting emotional. (Angry? Feel like you could cry? Overjoyed? Solidarity, sister!)
  4. My birthstone is peridot, but my favourite gemstone is actually rose quartz.
  5. It infuriates me when people act as if feminism is solely about the empowerment of white cis women.
  6. I started clearing out a dresser in my bedroom so I could get rid of it, but ran out of boxes, so now my room is in this sort of in between stage of organized chaos. I tried to put everything back, but somehow still have a bunch of boxes left over.
  7. When I was little, I hated ballet class, but to this day I find myself using those skills.
  8. Speaking of hating ballet class, I was pretty much against all things feminine back then. No dresses, no skirts, no pink, no nothin’. I was completely content with wearing my brother’s hand-me-downs and, though I sucked, I loved playing baseball. As I got older, my rules relaxed.
  9. I wanted to be an English teacher when I was a kid. Then I realized I’d have to wake up before the sun five days a week and took a hard pass.
  10. There are a couple of blog posts still live that I regret writing.

Alyssa’s Questions

  1. What is your favorite thing about the city/state/country you live in?
    My favourite thing about my town is the ice cream parlor that my family and I have been going to for around fifteen years.
  2. How do you come up with ideas for new blog posts?
    I have a list of post ideas saved in a Google doc. When I’m running low on inspiration, I pick something from that list. Although sometimes none of those ideas sound good to me and I end up doing a Dear Diary.
  3. What song means the most to you?
    This is tough! “Breathe (2 AM)” by Anna Nalick is my go-to when I need to sing some troubles away. I don’t remember how I stumbled upon it, but as soon as I did I sang it over and over until I got all of the lyrics right. There were many car rides as a wee teen where my family begged me to shut up.
  4. What was your favorite game to play as a child?
    There were a lot of PC games that I loved, but I can’t remember any of their names! For Playstation, though, I’d have to go with Spyro. My favourite board game was a tie between Candyland and Monopoly.
  5. What is the nicest thing anyone has ever said about you?
    I can’t remember anything specific (oops) but my day is made when someone tells me I made them laugh or that I’m a good person. Sometimes you just need that reassurance, ya know?
  6. What is a social justice cause you are passionate about?
    Disability rights, among other things. This can include awareness, equality, accessibility, and smashing stigmas to smithereens.
  7. Who is your favorite person to be around? and why?
    Can my dog count as a person? Seriously, I could be in the worst mood and then Milo will jump on me to tell me he deserves a treat for using his wee wee pad and all will feel right in the world again. I don’t know what I would’ve done without him these past nine, almost ten, years.
  8. Have you ever travelled abroad?
    We used to switch between Cancun and Aruba every year when I was in elementary school. To this day, my family won’t let me live down the time I threw a fit when my panty hose didn’t match my cover up. Maybe I’ll tell that story on this blog one day.
  9. What are you excited about this year?
    Getting my driver’s permit. This is the year, you guys, I can feel it! However, I am not excited about turning twenty-two already. Where’s a time machine when you need one?
  10. Would you ever want to be famous?
    I think fame is highly overrated. On the other hand, to be able to reach a wide audience and tell my story so kids in the future don’t have to go through what I did… Well, that’d be alright, too.

I Nominate…

Laura over at ribbonrx
Linds over at dysautonomiac
Becca over at becca leah holden
Mackenzie over at Life with an Illness
Catherine over at Finding my Miracle

My 11 Questions

  1. What’s your favourite quote?
  2. Other than blogging, what are your hobbies?
  3. If you owned a coffee shop, what would you name it?
  4. What’s one thing you want to have already done, but don’t want to actually do?
  5. If you had unlimited resources, what would you invent and why?
  6. Use three words to describe your ideal future self.
  7. You wake up one day and discover you have superpowers. Do you tell anyone?
  8. What’s your go-to comfort item in a flare?
  9. Where is your happy place? (Real or fictional.)
  10. What skill would you love to master?
  11. What’s your worst brain fog moment?

This Is Why I Don’t Gamble


Photo by Tim Goedhart on Unsplash. [Image Description: The word “breathe” in neon script against a wall completely covered in ivy.]

Last week, we talked about the bumpy road I had to travel until I was finally diagnosed with psoriatic arthritis. Still waiting on the insurance company to approve Remicade. In the mean time, my rheumatologist has given me the go-ahead to start the Methotrexate and folic acid he prescribed at our last visit. I’ll be taking Methotrexate once a week in pill form and the folic acid instructions say once daily. By the time you read this, I’ll have already started both.

I’m not gonna lie, you guys, I’m a little nervous! Usually, when my doctors prescribe a new treatment or test, I’m like, “Yeah, sure, whatever ya gotta do,” but with this… I don’t know, it just feels heavier. I suppose it doesn’t help that everyone I’ve talked to so far has commented on what a serious drug Methotrexate is. My doctor has assured me that combined with the folic acid and Remicade, I should be fine. The goal with all of this new medication is to help relieve my pain and maybe even reverse some of the damage that showed up in the CAT scans of my lower back.

Remember how I said it took ten years for this diagnosis? I wasn’t exaggerating. It has been untreated and undiagnosed for half of my life. Can you imagine the mess that creates in a person’s body? I don’t have to because I’ve been living with it, of course, but you get my point.

I’m also nervous about how my crappy veins are supposed to hold up now that we’re going to be adding Remicade every 6-8 weeks to my list of monthly infusions. If you don’t already know, I started iron infusions last summer after my hematologist (the one out of state) saw how awful my levels had gotten. Just another thing that fell through the cracks during our journey to getting answers… I did try oral iron supplements back then, but my body couldn’t tolerate them.

Anyway, now I’m on monthly iron infusions coupled with a bag of saline. My arms never cooperate, so the nurses at the infusion place tend to go for my hands these days. The idea of a port has already been mentioned on three different occasions, usually while one of the nurses is slapping my hand to bring up a juicier vein. You can see why I’m a little apprehensive to add even more needle pokes to my monthly schedule…

Overall, just a lot of uncertainty going around and, I have to say, I’m not a fan. This is why I don’t gamble.