jeudi, mai 26, 2005

Energy Reassignment Surgery

I swear, y'all, I'm an ass kicker trapped inside a Hashimoto's having body. So, I need the energy equivalent of a plastic surgeon, I guess. (Have recently become addicted to Nip/ Tuck on DVD and need Season 2 stat!) "Alright, H+P, what don't you like about yourself?" the kind doc will say. And I'll speak my truth. That's with a capital T, of course. And I'll hear about the procedure, the risks, the recovery time and I'll say this is really what I want. I won't be myself until I change what I've got going on right now. And the staff psychologist will say, "I think she's a good candidate because she was living as an ass kicker for most of her life until recently." And I'll think damn straight.

And somewhere along the way, someone will want me to understand that it's easier to dig a hole than it is to build a pole. And I'll scrunch my eyebrows together and try to figure out how that belongs in the analogy I'm running with. (Don't poke your eye out running with that thing.) Anyway, this is how I envision it- going under anesthesia, waking up to a somewhat "uncomfortable recovery" (that's doc speak for hurts like hell), and then going on my merry way despite the shocked looks and rude whispers of those around me who just don't understand who I really am. Who I really have been this whole time. That I'm only doing this to make things right. To make my outside match my inside.

Ah, well. I spoke to a friend today who pointed out that when I speak of the future, I sound a little afraid, I guess, and much more passive probably about my possibilities than I ever did before. I explain that I am and I amn't afraid, really. Hashimoto's has ruined my good time. Or at least the good time I thought was mine by rights. Now, I have to adjust my thinking to a much more zen kind of thing where sometimes I'm great and sometimes I'm dragging. Gonna have to wrap my head around "success" as an uneven or patchy proposition- or shall I say a fluid idea? Gonna have to figure out what I'll do for work that won't bore me to tears when I've got energy or kill me when I don't.

Hmmmmm. Romance novel writer, perhaps. It would make me laugh and could make me wealthier than I might reasonably deserve to be for exhausting a long list of euphemisms. I think about the make me laugh part and I like it. Plus, it would allow me to work wherever I am. I could travel a lot, which would make moi happy. Longmire can do my covers. Yep, I've solved my problems in a doctorless fashion.

And that'll do, pig.

3 commentaires:

  1. If you remember the origin of the term "romance," then you'll be making your heroes and heroines bigger than life with no warts and no need ever to relieve themselves. Please don't write a romance novel unless it's to spoof the genre. Spoofing won't get as much money, but then, when Dr. Hashimoto is skulking around, you won't have to sit there regretting being rich for crap.

  2. Oh I don't know. Being rich for crap is the whole American dream if I'm not mistaken. And if you can throw in some vampires into your romance story all the better. Write your stories. Let them be free! (just open a window while you're at it) And never take 'Hashimoto' for an answer.

  3. Aaaah, poor but honest, huh, Dabu? There's crap to that notion, too. Anyway, my favorite romance novel authors create flawed characters who are more loveable because they're recognizable to the ordinary-ish reader. The best fantasy, I think, is to be loved muchly as you are. Nothing wrong with that.

    K, take some megadophilus, honey. And stop ingesting so much sugar.