Self pity

Why write about it? Who gives a shit about your woes, your mental and physical fatigue? Nobody.  He didn't like to read or hear other people's tales of woe or the things that get them down, so why would he think anyone would want to hear his?

The problem, he surmised, was his own.  He was acutely diligent in his writing, postings to Facebook, and blog to be upbeat and positive. He told himself that he tried to bring a smile to people's faces, to lighten their load for a moment, or longer.  But today he faced the truth; he did it all, not for them, but for himself.  He ways always seeking approval, accolades to prove his worth. His Facebook posts, blog essays, interactions with his patients and co-workers were meant to bring him good feelings.  Those times when the feedback was negative it hit him like the stab of a stingray. His hackles would rise in he would rebut furiously.

This week he noted a dramatic decline to zero, or nearly so, in his Facebook "likes" and favorable comments. Not that the ten or twenty likes were a majority of his 460 "friends," but enough to keep him coming back to the page incessantly for some little boost to his ego. Someone, not so insecure, might put this off to "Facebook fatigue."  But he took it as a personal affront.

It got him to thinking, for the first time in a lifelong career of caring for the sick and wounded, what's the use?  He never thought, in 52 years, that the time would come when he no longer looked forward to going to work.  Today that day arrived.  Mentally and physically fatigued, he thought; it's time to walk away from the head of the bed.

He never wanted to get to the point where he wouldn't give a hundred percent, when "they" would say, "it's time to give it up, retire." "They haven't,but he has. 

So, what's next? he thought; sit on the deck, smoke a cigar or two, drink a beer or gin and tonic and wait for the grim reaper?  Maybe, maybe, why not self-indulge, and fuck the rest.

Why not?

Random thoughts

Random thoughts;
George Bush waged war on Iraq.
Barack Obama waged war on America.

Many immigrants are in America illegally....
America has always been a land founded by and populated by immigrants.

Our law-makers have created so many laws that the majority of Americans are law breakers; more or less.

The heat of this July day is preferable to the cold of February.

It's a dogs world.
Cats come in second.

I read books.
And write about reading.

I like George Carlin.
I dislike Donald Trump.

I never like math.
Common core makes me like it less.

I like trees, water; rivers, streams, lakes and oceans, birds, rabbits, deer, foxes, and wild life in general. Also flowers, vegetable gardens and grass. I like blue sky, red sunsets, greenery, yellow sun, brown skin, and purple anything.

 People? The jury is still out.

I dislike anger, yelling, bellicose buffoons, liars, politicians, rude crass vulgar language, war, bullying, religious zealots, media shit-pot stirrers, megalomaniac bosses, purveyors of child pornography, charlatans and their patent medicines, murderers, rapists, and/or anyone who promotes discord.

I'd like to teach the world to sing; they say that I'm a dreamer, Imagine.

Guilty pleasure

Everyday, in the early afternoon

I become a sinner.

Guilty pleasure.

Blind myself from recrimination,

Unseen, unseeing;

Indulging sets my spirit free.

I take you in,

You course through me 

Make yourself known

To every dendrite.

Unlocked, my imagination soars.

Each exhalation, slow exhilaration.

My enemy, my friend;

My Ava gardener.

I'm 150 years old;

“I wish to live to 150 years old, but the day I die, I wish it to be with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other.”