For example, the post just below this one. I tend to feel that way when I'm cycling looooowwwww.
BUT. That doesn't change the facts.
And, it doesn't change the fact, for me, that those facts SUCK.
So. How much is ME, and how much is the illness? Bets, anyone?
Anyone wanna start a pool?
Or spin a spinner, and whatever percent it lands on, we'll decide THAT percentage split will define the me/illness boundary for the day.
A touch sarcastic or cynical? Why the hell not?
If YOU didn't know how much you was you, and how much you wasn't you, then we might be in the same slappy happy crappy boat. (Slappy being mixed, or sarcastic moods too).
Somebody SLAP me . . . isn't that a Jim Carrey line, from a movie? I think I'm getting it mixed up with something else.
I feel a bit stirred, not shaken. Like when I was in 10th grade biology, in 9th grade (I was an advanced science student), and we were dissecting fetal pigs, and I opened up the flap I had just cut (anyone eating, or wanting to remain non-nauseaus for the next while, look away now) in the skull, and gazed upon the brains of the piglet; and then I stirred them around, and it was like tapioca.
Hope I have't ruined anyone's taste for tapioca. Have some!!
1 comment:
Sara, I am not sure how, but I completely missed this post until just now. Surprisingly, it did not curtail the degree to which I like tapioca. You know I have thought about the subject of how much is a person and how much is a physical ailment an awful lot. I like to hope that the good sides of me are the real me. I think where the best desires of are heart lie reflect us. If you are on a hormonal roller coaster of extreme high or low, how could that be you? But your ability to size things up and make sense of the world are you. How you are when your meds are working is you.
Post a Comment