Pa

Two years ago
I bought a black dress
For my grandfather's funeral
But the old bugger's
Still going.

Shame

I am so full of disgust that I can't even write.
Of course I am mad at the doctor for refusing to treat me. Mad but not entirely surprised, because hasn't this been the theme of the entire course of my disease? Haven't I always been made to beg, hasn't being chronically sick and riddled with pain stripped me of all dignity?
Of course I am mad at him, but I am even angrier at myself for sitting there and taking it. For not storming out of his office when I needed to. I am angry that I let him see my pain, that I came to him with a tiny bubble of hope in my hands, and shed tears when he ruthlessly popped it, but still shook his hand on my way out.
My mother raised me to be polite, and I think she was wrong. I tip stylists for bad haircuts. I thank customer service representatives for their time when they've just wasted mine. And now I'm letting doctors kill me with their carelessness.
And I fucking shook his hand.

Uncontrollable Pervert

Have you ever known the shame of having to register as a sex offender every time you move to a new neighbourhood? Or had to haltingly explain why there's a big black mark on your criminal record? Or had to make excuses every Sunday night when you slip off to the meeting that (hopefully) keeps your dirty compulsion in check?

Yeah, me neither. But that doesn't stop LegoLand from assuming I'm a pervert and barring me from their property.

Now, I do not having a burning need to visit LegoLand, thank god. I didn't grow up playing with it and haven't picked up the habit as an adult, which is a good thing because LegoLand doesn't want my kind. In fact, they prohibit me, and others like me, from entering?

Why?

Because I don't have kids.
And you know what they say about a couple of adults with no kids...they have lots and lots of disposable income.
Just ask Disney World, who recently got a whole truck load of cash from us when we travelled down to Florida and spent a week visiting their parks, eating their food (and yes, drinking what booze they have), and even buying souvenirs for the littluns back home. In fact, and this will come as a shock I know, we even paid a visit to the Lego store in Downtown Disney, where we bought, among other things, a big, expensive container that you can fill up with all the little pieces your heart can possibly covet. We have ten nieces and nephews AND COUNTING. Some have already been the recipient of Lego gifts (especially of the Marvel variety, if memory serves), but don't worry, Lego. We'll go spend our money elsewhere so you don't have to take it from our dirty, molesting hands.

Look away! I apologize for the graphic nature of this photo. Sean is pictured with a dragon made of Legos and there are NO CHILDREN IN SIGHT. You can practically see the beads of sweat on his forehead from keeping his hands to himself when really he can't wait to accost some little kid coming out of the bathroom. He's desperate! What a despicable human being. Thank god he can't get into LegoLand. Your children are safe from Uncle Sean, giver of amazing piggy back rides, pretend eater of all the pretend pie you can pretend serve him, contortionist willing to shove his 6'6 frame into a tiny plastic house built for those 3 feet and under.

Introspection

Thank you to Adi who challenged me to the Freestyle Writing Prompt. She gave me 5 minutes to write about introspection, and so I did:

This is a weirdly loaded word for me.

First, as an insomniac, and as someone who believes that happiness is a choice, I feel my thoughts turn inward at all kinds of quiet times. Am I happy? Where are the weak spots, and what can be done about them? I might also use meditation to take introspection deeper, to get beyond the superficial questions about myself and explore my soul. This is the level where I might be able to touch my physical pain, to do the work required in sublimating it. It works for as long as I’m able to stay in this deep thought, and then vanishes all too soon when I’m pulled out. At what point am I experiencing happiness and pain at the same time? And how can I continue to make those two things coexist, since they must? Introspection can be a trap. It’s a dangerous hallway to follow because soon you’re opening up all kinds of doors, some which may be better off staying shut. And somewhere in there is the reason I don’t sleep. It’s never been easy for me to turn it off. I have taught myself a lot of relaxation techniques to flip that switch, but introspection is difficult to avoid. I think TV was probably invented for just this reason. And I don’t watch TV.

Second, as a therapist, I caution my clients against this time and again. A little is good, but way too many of us overdose on it, and that’s toxic. There is a fine line between introspection and rumination, and we must find it and respect it. Err on the safe side. We cannot live inside ourselves. Start a conversation with a real person instead, someone who can offer a different perspective. Preferably someone who could even be impartial. But don’t rely solely on your own thoughts. Magical thinking. Pessimism. Miscommunication. Negative thoughts. Identity issues. Traps. All of them.

Words: 324

 

I'm posting it at Saint Vodka rather than Assholes Watching Movies because it seems a better fit over here. Plus this old blog gets lonely...

Absolutely Necessary Dog Pictures

Sweet little Fudge

Gertie in her pearls

Bronx in a box

Gentleman Herbie

Smiley Gertie

Fudgie in the WILD

Bashful Herb

Fudgie and friend

Bronx-a-saurus Rex

Herbie
RAWR