wigglies

If you can wade thru the first several paragraphs of wallowy self-crappatizing, I think I say something at the end.

I seem to never be in the mood to write when I have the time to write--or, more properly, when I'm not doing something else that requires my attention, like work...or driving. Being ADD can really sap your momentum in writing...all those thoughts, whirling around...like the keys in that scene from the first Harry Potter movie....at least I guess I should be glad these winged keys (as in the openers of further thought and perhaps writage) don't attack.

Or do they? Thoughts can be wonderful things, open doors, find hidden meanings, rectify situations, calm the wretched soul and all that jazz. But they can also wound, even if they never leave your mind and make the wavy trip across time and space to someone else's mind. I suppose there are those people out there whose thoughts are always cheerful, positive, and uplifting, constantly telling themselves they are loved, worthwhile and great coffee makers. The rest of us have to work ourselves up to saying, hey..give yourself a bushin’ break here. (In an effort to clean up my language, I’ve decided to use less objectionable curse words…bush is a four-letter word in my house…however, upon further consideration, I believe fuck is less objectionable.)

Whether it’s worrying about things that might happen…could happen…omg, will happen if I don’t do X, or because I’ve done X…or there’s this odd mole, or…fuck, I’m rambling. Having the kid chatter in my ear while I’m trying to write doesn’t help at all. I’m distracted enough all on my own, thank you. I know a lot of my blog has to do with not be able to measure up to what I think my blog should be (did I say something about negative thoughts?), but it’s aggravating…in my mind, on the way home, I compose all sorts of poignant, hysterically funny, and/or interesting entries. When I finally sit down at the computer ZOTZ!! Gone. And no, do not suggest a tape recorder. a) I never know what to say into those things and b) I cannot STAND my voice.

Most of the time I think I’m not introspective enough, I don’t look in and examine things and work them out, then other times, I feel I live all my life within my own mind (and who knows, perhaps we do). But I suppose there’s a difference between living in the nevernever land of your mind and actually examining what’s there, analysing it and processing the information to better ourselves. But lately I feel like I’m treading water, there is no life, no purpose…are we truly just workerbees, turning out more workerbees, from whose ranks a few leaderbees emerge…and why am I wallowing in self-indulgent, pseudo-speak? Ramble ramble ramble.

Perhaps I burn out all my good stuff fantasizing about what I would say to so-n-so, if only I had them here. Here’s the one that had me going yesterday:

http://www.kget.com/news/local/story.aspx?content_id=f290458b-dd7d-4a20-ac99-525e48365b08

Okay, so there’s the Hippocratic oath right out the window, along with “..suffer the little children..,” not to mention the whole Mary Magdalene lesson is totally lost on this guy. I’m hoping he comes down with some fatal tumor… and the only person who can save his judgmental ass is the world’s most gifted surgeon, who’s totally decked out in tats and piercings. Dr. Merrill, meet Karma…Karma be a bitch, yo.

I’m sorry, but this guy should be immediately barred from practicing. No, it is not your right as a doctor—you are NOT fucking like a restaurant, you hypocritical bastard—to refuse care because your uptight ass can’t deal with a few tats and pieces of metal. I’m not wild about overly tattooedness, either (and yes, I do have one myself), and piercing anything but ears and navels just grosses me out….but I would not turn anyone away because of it.

There are a few losers out there who think this behavior is acceptable, that it’s his “right” to refuse “service.” Gah!!!! People, medical care is not “service.” Oil changes are “service.” And, while I’m blatantly not a Christian, I know there are actually a lot of good ones out there still and this kind of crap really hurts them. I don’t ever presume to speak for the Divine, but I sure hope Jesus and his Daddy have something special planned for this guy’s going away party.