The Deep Abyss

I hate how sometimes your brain doesn’t let your mouth in on what’s going on in your head, so it tries to decipher it and ends up getting it all wrong. It boggles my mind how emotions can lead to problems because you can’t seem to understand them at all. And I really hate when people don’t get that you are just trying to let your emotions explain themselves, and that you aren’t trying to let them run amuck. It’s just that your heart and mind can’t begin to fathom the true depth and intensity of the feelings that are hidden away in that secret box. It’s the place where your love for a child dwells, but it is also a dark place, where you store pure hatred, the deep abyss where all those intense feelings live and are stored, because if turned loose they would be in such pure, raw, uncontrollable form that even the sanest of minds wouldn’t be able to manage them. And so it goes another mask is added to the collection…and you’re the only one who knows.

Are you trying to tell me something?

So I did this wordle cloud tag where the most used words in my posts are scrambled up and put into this little college.... I love how this seems to scream for me to take Meds, so what are you trying to tell me?

Just Sign on the dotted line …….

Kat’s been a sick puppy of late. Started coming down with a cold Friday which culminated with feeling like death warmed over by Sunday Night. So I called in for a sub, called my doctor and was happy to get an 11:00 apt on Monday.

Now I don’t know why these doctors try and kid themselves, I can’t remember the last time I was seen even within 15 minutes of my appointment time. And heaven forbid you sign in late to your “over booked by an hour appointment” because you might throw off the Doctors schedule. Excuse me?...What schedule? Oh the, I’ll get to you when I can schedule. I really think that doctors should give out those flashing buzzing pagers when you show up at their office, you know the kind you get when you go to Outback Steakhouse, at least that way I could go back home and rest or at least sit comfortably in my car while I wait for the Doctor to bless me with his presence.

Now of course there are no clocks in the waiting rooms, the 1st lesson they teach Doctors in medical school. But I’ve got my cell phone and I know I ‘ve waited exactly 75 mins for the Doctor to examine me. Once the Doc finally does show up, I try to keep side conversations to a minimum, why?, because one, I’ve waited long enough, and two, I know there is a roomful of other equally pissed off people waiting.

But No! He wants to chit chat about my Tigers Pathetic Season….look dude I’m sick enough, do you have to rub salt in my wounds? Just give me my damn scripts before I cough up a huge lugie on your shoe…to make matters worse I have to remind him I’m allergic to penicillin…AGAIN! Seriously what do I have to do go into anaphylactic shock right here in the examining room for you to remember that? Just give me your script pad and I’ll write out my own meds. Just sign on the dotted line and make me happy Kat.