Music Tonight: Queen Latifah
Reading:Harpers magazine: Oct 2003
Tuesday, Oct. 21, 2003 - 4:28 a.m.
Cost of the War in Iraq
WARNING!!!! if you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of hearing things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is ok to read, save yourself and me the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, ie my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. Keep that in mind. Thanks. * Here is a Diary Etiquette Read Me.
The Skinny on Steven Pinker
zzzzz. Boy, waking up early like noon can seriously make you tired! I actually attempted to sleep at around 5am, but I know for a fact that I last looked at the clock around 6:30. Which is not good when you need to be up at noon. I have friends who are capable of filling the gas tank in less than 6 hours, but they may be lying, or just so tired they are delirious.
The worst sleeping pill is knowing you SHOULD be sleeping... you NEED to be sleeping. My mind kept running over everything from how my blue ink is running when I wash over it (potential major disaster) to very very clear images of San Fran and ob's life as I visited it. How the hell can my mind be so clear as to remember spaces in SF as vividly as my own apartment. aagh. Erase erase.
Here is an unfinished painting from my Bear work... it is obviously Bear in Spain, dancing the flamenco with a lovely lady. Aforementioned blue ink problem is vaguely evidenced in the carpeting... everywhere the beige wash was over the ultramarine blue, it ran. I redid some of the blue curlicues on top. But what a pain. Click on the image to see a larger version.
Today I had to be up for my yearly visit to Pearl, my wonderful wonderful family physician. There are very few left in the world these days, so I value her greatly, above and beyond the fact that she is intelligent, funny, chatty, and shares pics of her family. Once when she was doing a uterine biopsy (nastiness i tell you) on me, she got me to go "ouch ouch ouch" while she dug away. Which I obligingly did, and then commented "that didnt hurt that much". THEN she said "now say "Pearl you're a fuckin bitch".." Which of course sent me to laughing... WHOSE doctor tells them to say that! Well, as I laughingly repeated "Pearl you're a ..." the "`FUCKING BITCH!!!!!" turned into an anguished scream. My ride in the waiting room said he could hear me screaming "Fucking bitch" very clearly all the way out there! While I defiled her name with her permission she caringly muttered "sorry sorry sorry sorry" as she scraped out my innards. All very sweet. Great bedside manner. Yessiree, a keeper Doctor, that one.
Today all was quite dull. She again told me I was boringly healthy. She quizzed me on my life (imagine a doctor interested in your emotions.. wow), tapped my knees, felt up my tits, and told me entertaining stories about the sister of Steven Pinker, who apparently she went to highschool with. I am jealous she hangs out with the author of "How the Mind Works", a book I loved (except for his typical 20th century take on the sexes, urk). She also weighed me and I have lost 21, yes, twentyone, pounds since last year. No wonder my bracelet falls off my arm, and my pants fit again. Thankgod last year she didnt tell me I weighed 156 pounds. EEEK!
The weird thing is I would normally be thrilled to be sad long enough to lose 21 pounds, but since I have been hanging out with these fat-positive SF chicks, I now feel like an unsexy scrawny chicken. So much for competing with Big and Bodacious. hah. Pearl said I should be thrilled... I have the average body that the average women wants. Wonderful. I must start eating more. Must start working out so I dont lose my ass as much as my gut.
One positive thing (well, boringly healthy is a positive thing in itself) is that she said that I am within the range of normal as per my emotions. She said that I could sometimes skirt the manicdepressive, but I am definitely within normal and just have my emotions close to the surface. That is good to hear, what with several people in my life opining that I should be on drugs. Some people think I am too angry. Or too sad. Or too busy and high energy... hah. I dont get up til 2pm half the time. Too high energy. Unlike the people mentioned earlier I am stubborn as shit about getting enough sleep. Strange how that would give one energy. Anyhews it was very nice to hear from a medical professional that I definitely do NOT need any drugs. I personally think I can tell when I am depressed enough that it has crossed into debilitating. Had enough experience with it earlier in life.
That said, I have cut Loathe out of my favorite diaries list. I "gave advice" in his notes yesterday, to which he snarkily replied "wench, if I wanted advice I'd ask for it". I thought about it, and realized that I had gone from admiring his wording of deathly dark feelings, which I shared at that moment, to impatience and annoyance at his perpetual "the world is shit, i have nothing to live for, i should die" attitude. So rather than annoy him with further advice, I will just acknowledge that he and I have parted ways. Further evidence that I am not yet a prozac candidate. yay.
Hmmm, this is not a very exciting entry. I am sure I had zillions of exciting quotes to repeat, and insights to offer. hmmm.
Here is one from Harper's Magazine:
"What does a liberal-minded person such as myself desire most but to enjoy as much as he can of this life and to cause no harm. Give us an unfinished sentence that begins with the words "All I want..." and isn't that how most of us would complete it? To have fun and to do no harm. And isn't that enough? we ask, especially if we are of a certain age and a certain income and have just stepped, in a reflective mood, out of or into a nice warm shower.There we go. Something to think about. Now I am going to go have a hot drink in bed. Almost said a Corona with double lime, but no, it is cold out. Predicting that the rain will turn to wet snow. Ulg. I am not ready yet. My brain is still in late Sept, and I haven't gotten the garden in yet. Mired down in my work.
Please do my two new surveys, called "Sexaddict" and "Breakup", okay?
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Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
*inspired by Chaosdaily