heavens to mergensens, and damn it to hell, I am conflicted about blogging. Part of me feels impelled by society to blog. Blog this, blog that, this blog, blogger this, blogosphere. Such an unsexysounding thing-- blog.
Still, the soundless space(When the speakers are off) of this place is disheartening. There seems a perplexing trend of brevity that I don't ascribe to. I have not yet reached a readership that can inspire advertisers, and it hurts.
Advertising reminds me that I was in Orange county this week and in a clothes store I saw tiny tiny t-shirts and on them it said in bold print, " Most popular baby," " Baby most likely to succeed." There were more but I blocked them out. I'm not unaware that Orange county is a hotbed of such notions and yet still I was appalled. beyond measure. And, I felt very sure at that moment that if we would just eliminated advertising we'd all be ok. No need for complex social agendas or dogmas-- just no advertising-- ever. No one allowed to pressure baby like that and pressure us all into buying into concepts that are created by those who want to have a big salary. Advertising is what is making us all miserable and I want it to stop.
Words and words. i love words. But, do they love me? That is what consumes me for the duration of this blog post. I recently had many traumas and just when I thought they'd come to an end, a new one has cropped up. But, none can, in the shadow, of what happened 3 months ago, compare. What happened? Mommy Henya was rushed to the hospital with terrible pain. There we waited, but no one knew what was wrong. A week later, a call came that said that a mass was found in mommy Henya's pancreas. I was recovering from a somewhat botched surgery and wasn't told this. Eventually, I was. And I lost most if not all of the remaining marble. I tell ya.
I read over 200 articles on the internet and was truly obssessed with finding out what the odds and chances were. Through extensive googling, I arrived at a 1% chance of an outcome that wouldn't destroy me completely. And, I looked at it, that 1%, and I did not believe that I would be the benefactor of such a lottery.
And this process was long and tests were done and done, and I googled and googled , and I fell into a darkness darker than I'd known and I'd known darkness. The day of reckoning was near and the biopsy is what it was called. And, the doctor was Indian and she wasn't kind, but many were. And, strangers at cedars sinai, asked me if I was ok, because I suppose my eyes are expressive. i certainly didn't attempt to tell them the scope of my suffering. And, I really don't like drinking anymore but I knew that the level of anguish and the waiting were too much and so I went and got a small bottle of vodka. And, I had 2 hours to wait, to find out, what my future would be. And, that time, as all time does, passed. And, the indian radiologist wasn't kind when she said, "it does not present as cancer." Then, it was a matter of operation or no operation and the odds of no operation was once again, 1%. And, after a week, we were told that she would have to have a modified operation. Better than the Whipple. And, we all convened to feel that this is fine and we are lucky. 2 days later we were told that they are just going to adopt a wait and see approach and they will check her mass every 3-6 months. And, I googled some more, and I was sure I'd never complain again and I'd do everything in my power to make my mothers life better because it seemed that I'd finally been really lucky or that for the first time I'd felt lucky, in a long time. And now more than 3 months have passed and no one is calling insisting my mother be checked and she has not lost weight or developed jaundice and that is very good.
Now, false witnesses, have emerged and sociopaths spouting phsycobabble have come forth to upset my universe. Someone I trusted has shown herself to be beyond trust and a stranger has decided to hurt me for no discernible reason. They do not know that I've survived much worse and I see it as a sturdy and short hurdle that I will cross seamlessly. I desire a mutual understanding but it is denied me in favor of spurious lies and abuses of the legal system . It clouds my blood and brain with disgust, hatred, and (bitter) bafflement. I don't understand. I do know that they both live to win and that I don't want them to.
Oh yes, how did that diatribe come to pass? Words. Yes, I was talking about words. When I stood outside cedars sinai, and I strolled the streets of Beverly hills, and I suffered suffered suffered and I thought, " I am bereft, I am disconsolate, I am forlorn, I am forsaken, I am despondent beyond the pale, and then I thought, " i know too many damned words." I wish I didn't no so many damned words. I wish I just felt, "this is not awesome."
Ah, I feel better.
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