in files marked for psychologists actually interested in what I have written. Laughing, meaning they're in e-mail draft or labeled in Word files. Indeed, I have acted as my own therapist because my life is so far out of their paradigms that their diagnoses literally sicken me, AND I know I'm way funnier than any of them . . . and I digress again . . .
I've run the gamut of what I could write you, most of it stored
in files marked for psychologists actually interested in what I have written. Laughing, meaning they're in e-mail draft or labeled in Word files. Indeed, I have acted as my own therapist because my life is so far out of their paradigms that their diagnoses literally sicken me, AND I know I'm way funnier than any of them . . . and I digress again . . .
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What a day this is . . . my phone is ringin' off the walls. I'm going to have to go out and walk, walk, walk this afternoon . . . whew . . . I can't even explain how many times I have said, "if you believe you are the only one who feels this way, log onto the net, type, find them all, know you're not alone." OR "if you think your thought is original, know what I know, if I'm thinking it, someone else on the planet is thinking it, find them." UFO's, the economy and stock market, GMO's, starvation, medical need for PTSD, quantum healing and that's just my telephone morning . . . And just to make you smile, must e-mail the neighbors tomorrow, they brought me "steel cut oats" and home canned cherries. I will confess that I thought steel cut oats were just overpriced yuppie oat meal. How wrong I was!!!!! Now I truly believe that oat meal is a sad thing for the oats to have to be. Steel cut oats are happier . . . I won't say it exactly like that, I was just typing like I normally type for a few seconds to make me laugh. I can imagine peace, away from this house, away from my phone . . . away where nobody knows how to find me, nobody worries about me . . . and that ends that dream for today . . . I'm going to watch something on Hulu. After a day like today I turn on Hulu, watch something I have to follow while playing a computer game until my brain slams right side to left side real. When I met the man who walked my dreams, my teacher, my spiritual partner, a soul mate, I was married with young children. It was a no win for me. He was a four tour Nam vet with PTSD who sometimes drank tequila for breakfast. He would have cost me custody of my wee ones. I would have walked away from everything, except my children, for him, everything. The truth is, if I had chosen him, if I had walked away from my children, he would have never forgiven me, I wouldn't have been a woman he could love. The ultimate Catch 22 I still breathe real. There's a part of me that would have made a very good lawyer, everybody thought that was true. It is true and there were no cases I wanted to argue, thought I would be able to effectively argue, within our current court system. The truth is, I'm not a lawyer because when you're guilty you're guilty, I will not defend you. People thought I would have made a good surgeon too and I sincerely know that's not true, ewww. If you're alive, I'm not going to cut you. I might have been able to be a good Medical Examiner and smells will stop me in my tracks, so no. The truth is, there's a whole lot of things I'm not responsible enough to be or do, I know that. Laughing . . . I'm pretty smart, I don't kid myself about things like that. There are minutes I'm twelve again, pining away for something I don't understand and want desperately to figure out. There are moments when I'm out and about when I realize just how many people are on this planet and I'd rather be giving my oxygen allotment to anyone else. There are moments when I amazingly know that as I go, so I go . . . those are the moments that remind me life is the gift it is. My pettest peeve is the silverware drawer. OMG how hard is it to put silverware in its own slot in the drawer insert obviously designed to do just that? I can't tell you how many times I have had to rearrange that drawer because a dinner fork and a salad fork are not interchangeable any more than soup spoon and a teaspoon are. Finally . . . after many years of attempting to explain to all the misguided souls who believe a fork is a fork in any slot . . . I solved it for me. One day I took out the insert and just dumped the dishwasher basket. What I found to my surprise was, it's so much easier. In my effort to holler, "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em," from my own intellectual or organizational superiority, I found my own reality. When people remark about it, I tell them it saves so much time. If my dishwasher was clean, I'd demonstrate. Peace to the pieces . . . There are moments, sometimes hours, as has been the case today, when birds talk to me. That sounds so spiritual, so Zen. It’s not what you might be thinking. Today, 6:06 a.m., “cheater, cheater, cheater.” It stays until another bird overpowers the sound with “Judy, Judy, Judy”, then, “save a seat, save a seat, save a seat.” It is maddening and I cannot stop it. Well, I can stop it if the docs would give me my preferred prescription**. That’ll stop everything. The only thing past drugs that will stop this now is listening. The birds are actually answering my questions. I know that sounds ridiculous and it’s not. My mind flies pictures in between their calls. Now they are saying, “hello, hello, hello”. ** Read this with a pronounced Southern Accent: |
About Janet:Janet DeLong, PhD, is a philosophical writer. She'd tell you that is by default, we know it's by design. While her perceptions are not always comfortable, they are always Categories
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