This blog meant to tell my story. And now my story includes a miscarriage. So here I go.
On Tuesday we went to the first OB appointment. They did an early ultrasound. Everything was going well. Then the tech said, "The baby is measuring 6 weeks. And there is no heartbeat". Which means that two weeks ago, for whatever reason, the baby stopped growing. The baby was gone.
Then my head took over and explored the options. I could take some medicine to help facilitate the passing of the baby at home. Or, I go under anesthesia and they would complete the process.
In all honestly, I didn't want to do either. Yet, the fact of the matter is, is that the baby was gone. Fetal demise in utero they said.
Then they sent me home to think about it. That's when I watched the Watchmen again. There was a lot of hot boiling tears, anger and sad going on. The movie helped distract me. Because I needed my head to figure this out. Before my heart took over.
I went in for the surgery. It went well. I cried when I say they brought me to my "surgical suite". I cried when they had me change into a gown. I cried when they started the IV. I cried when they wheeled me into the operating room. I didn't want to do this. Mr. Hall was holding my hand the entire time. I didn't want to do this. And I cried and sobbed. I didn't want to do this. Then I went to sleep.
And when I woke up I remembered this song. A song I haven't heard in over 10 years. Yet there it was, clear as if I had heard it that morning. It was the beginning of my heart taking over.
"I'm stretched out on your grave"
It's a dark song. Reading through the lyrics now, I realize that this song is all about her losing a little girl. I like the part where she sings "I would have sheltered you through rain and through storm." Because that's what I would have done for this baby. Still would.
And my heart, right now, it's just breaking right now.
Then, I remember. Healing is not a linear process. There will be good days and bad days. Good hours and bad hours.
Then my head takes over again. I remind myself that life is all around me. That I believe we are all part of a bigger life force. All the trees and plants and everything around us is connected by an unstoppable and interconnected life force. And for 6 weeks the baby's life force was growing inside me. And I housed her well.
The reality is, is that the baby stopped growing. For two weeks she was already gone. Her life force had been reabsorbed by this vast universal energy. And my body had been carrying on, like nothing happened. But she was still gone.
Then then my heart takes over again. But this time, my unstoppable, relentless, positive and thankful energy is taking over.
When Mr. Hall and I got married, we purposefully formed a family. Him and me. And we had decided to add at least three more to this tribe. We made this commitment to be parents even before the babies were conceived.
They were real before any positive pregnancy tests. Two of them are here now, running around and driving us crazy in the most wonderful ways. There were real before they were born because they grew in our hearts first.
This third baby, that we just lost, wasn't meant to be ours. Yet here's the thing. The third baby was already here, full grown in our hearts. But now she's smaller. A wee bit of a thing. But she's still here. Waiting to grow again. Only different next time.
So, for the next two months- I pamper myself. I will go back on weight watchers, yoga and spend time growing with my new friends. I will soak up this spring weather. I will drink lots of booze. I will let all of these emotions-- good, bad, ugly and beautiful wash over me. Because even though I don't want to be on this journey, I'm here.
And so is Mr. Hall.
And this next song, this song is for him. Because we are doing ok, we are healing together. And I want to thank him for being with me through this. For letting me be there for him.
This will make all the difference I think. Being thankful and listening to each other.
so here's where I end this one and last post about baby the third.
the song is called
"Thank you for hearing me"
Before you press play, I suggest you curl up with your partner, wife, girlfriend, boyfriend or husband. Snuggle and turn this song up. Because it is the most thankful song I have ever heard.
Heck, snuggle with your dog or cat if noone else is home. Even a pillow will do in a pinch.
And thank you guys, for reading this. It's a tough subject to talk about. Thank you for reading me.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Slyde is a blogger who enjoys swimming in the nude late at night. In his own pool. He got caught a few nights ago, being all nudie and swimming. It was a very funny post.
This is not Slyde. This is Alan Moore. He created The Watchmen. He looks exactly like I thought he would.
Before we begin, I must confess I knew very little about Mr. Moore or The Watchmen before I watched the movie. And I still don't.
I had seen about 2 minutes of a profile of Mr. Moore, produced by CBS Sunday Morning. I had learned that Mr. Moore was an Anarchist and not just for show. Which is important to understand as we examine The Watchmen.
Anarchy is a political philosophy. One of many.
I have dated a number of guys who were very much into their political philosophies, both left and right. The degree that they were devoted to their philosophy was in direct proportion to how much of an asshole they were. For example, if the guy was only slightly devoted to the left or the right, he was only slightly an asshole. This is important to know about me, as I examine The Watchmen.
Moore appears particularly devoted to his political ideology. Thus, I imagine he is very much an asshole. I can guarantee he has had at least 2 divorces in his life time. Betcha ten bucks. Lemme go check. YEP. Divorces.
Luckily, Moore has some awareness of what he is. Luckily, he made a comic book about it. That's what The Watchmen is. Moore's person drawn and quartered, hung out to dry. It blends his political and personal narratives. Which makes for awesome fun.
NOW-on to the movie itself . . .
Here's a quick summary: The Watchmen are a group of Superheros that began somewhere around WWII. Members of the group eventually died off, went crazy, were killed or just faded away. Here is what they looked like when they called themselves the Minutemen.
They were replaced by a new group of Watchmen.
However, the new group of Watchmen had an original member in their midst. His name is The Comedian. He's not very funny though.
Here is his insignia. This will be important later.
Their task in the film, as with all Superhero movies, is to save the day. All while Moore displays and works out his personal demons through the various superheros comprising the Watchmen. Again, great fun with this film.
My favorite character in all of this, and the one I believe is closest to Moore himself, is Rorschach. (That's him, right up there). Get it? Rorschach. Rorschach is man deeply stewed in morality. Which, in theory, is nice. It's nice to know that he has a moral compass, feels the need to create a utopia from this world. It's nice, but not really practical.
Rorschach narrates the film much the way DeNiro narrates Taxi Driver. Going on and on about filthy streets and whores. Inwardly, he rages against evil. It turns his meat and bones into a tough, jerky like substance. He becomes unyielding, unbendable and uncompromising.
Rorschach without the mask.
It also turns him into an violent asshole. Which he acknowledges in one scene. He apologizes for being so hard to live with to his friend. Warmed my heart that scene.
The problem that Rorschach struggles with, is that evil can never be done away with. There is a duality of good and evil in everything. Which brings us to this character. The Comedian.
Again, The Comedian is a carry over from the first group of Watchmen. He has good and evil pouring out like sunshine. He is without clear boundaries or intent. It is muddled and never quite clean with him. He is evil to further good. Which is funny. Not funny ha ha, but funny as in ain't that a bitch.
His daughter is this woman.
She is an ingenue of sorts. With a jonez for powerful Superhero men. Which is why she leapt at the chance to date this guy.
Dr. Manhattan is the most powerful of the lot. Bending time and matter to his will. He is also the most emotionally disconnected of the group. Which makes sense. The ties that bind people to others, what makes us feel love and close to each other, is knowing how finite life is. This guy is immortal and has absolute permanence. He has to work to make things precious, to see miracles.
Such disconnect eventually leads her to disconnect from him. She leaves him. They fight about it, while on Mars. I was tickled and enraged by this scene.
They sound like they are in a session with a couple's therapist. She says, "I need you." and "You have no idea how that makes me feel." And he says, "If I say I am sorry will you stop crying?" And "You just can't see it from my perspective."
He is not listening and worse, he's placating her. It is a subtle form of bullying in this scene. Then, he started using intellectual double speak to invalidate her feelings. She has her heart out, asking him to love her, asking him to see the miracles she sees all around her. Then he says, "Miracles are, by definition, meaningless."
I really wanted to punch him during that scene. Just haul off and clock him until a tooth fell out. Then I realized, "Oh yeah, I stopped dating assholes a long time ago." It's ok now, I don't have to feel like that anymore. Just because there is evil doesn't mean I can't thrive in my world. A world were miracles and wonders never cease.
In the end, their goal becomes realized. The world fits back together again. But this time, all the pain and misery of life is no more. Which is very different than any other Superhero movie. Most Superhero movies have the hero save the day and then save it again when a new evil pops up. But this time, the day is saved forever.
Which is funny considering the title of it all. One would assume that The Watchmen are Superheros that watch over us. Taking care of us little people. They are Superheros after all. But they aren't watching over us.
Their job is tending to the gears and switches of good and evil. To keep everything working in harmony so time can keep marching on. They are the Watchmen after all.
Which is funny. Not funny ha ha, but ain't that a bitch kind of funny.
Monday, March 29, 2010
This has to be the forth posting of this post. But, it's a goodie. And updated!
I thought it fitting considering I feel all floor of a taxi cab lately with the pregnancy. And Mr. Hall is um ... acting up almost disproportionally.
There was an incident, about 8 years ago, when I was about four months preggos. Chubby, but not obviously pregnant. Pregnancy induced horrible cystic acne. Short boy hair cut (don't ask). Still throwing up. Mr. Hall and I had spent the day at a water park.
There was me, again, being chubby, horrible cystic acne and short boy hair cut. I felt fugly. And when we got home, he began chasing me around. "What the hell?," I thought. "Can't you see me? What has gotten into you?" And he said, "I've been staring at you all day, I just couldn't wait to get home."
That is when I realized---my husband has permanent love goggles on.
Some five years and two kids later, it remains much the same. Saturday was a day of filling sippy cups, braiding hair, mowing lawns, laundry, blah blah blah domestic bliss blah blah. And we fall into bed. And the chasing begins in earnest.
"What the heck?," I think. And so I ask, "What was so arousing today? Was it something I wore?" I mean, I do look good these days, what with the 35 lb weight loss. And I cannot say enough about the wonderbra. But no, none of this was the ticket. Although, "It helps.", he said.
"It was just being around you, sorry it's not more complicated.", he said smiling.
My husband is awesome. I need to follow this lead. To be aware of how much he is to me and all the places he excites me. I need to let the love flow around me at all times. I need to realize that my current shadow of constant, bone crushing nausea should not block the love flow. To challenge my feelings of fugly. Cause even though I'm swimming under a sea of deafening hormones, I'm still underneath. Wearing my cute dresses and suede boots. And Mr. Hall loves me no matter what.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
This week was probably the most trying I've had at work. I see a lot and feel a lot. Then, I'm reminded that I'm just one part of this huge interplay between ugly and beautiful. And I, being a wee human being, can only cause so much goodness to grow. It's humbling. And achingly frustrating. I can only help so much.
I'm not a superhero.
And it all comes down to this, which am I going to let rise up inside me? Defeat or hope?
Guess which one I choose.
It's hope and beauty by the way. Because that's what Mrs. Hall is made of :)
Friday, March 26, 2010
I'm what they call a bossy, alpha female type.
I need a man who can handle such aggressive energy and do it all the while I have no idea I'm being handled.
Mr. Hall excels at this.
And then, after watching Charade (the movie I wrote about last Saturday) I found myself intrigued by Mr. Cary Grant.
This is a man who handles many a bossy, alpha female type.
All the while, they have no idea.
Thus, I'm about to develop an obsession with Cary Grant. But, I don't know any other films he has made.
Enjoy the song! (just click the x to end the advert!)
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Zombie movies often traffic in reliable elements. For instance, there will always be nonsensical, dirty hordes of Zombie people. They will gather and move en masse. They go around moaning, walking crooked and eating brains. They bite non-Zombies thus infecting them with Zombie germs, which perpetuates the species.
Then, there is a group of non-zombies. These people make up the heroes of the story. The heroes are often slow in realizing there are hordes of Zombies outside their very doors. Also, they are slow in figuring out what made it all happen. But, eventually the heroes get their act together and fight a righteous fight. All good fun.
With that being said, is it possible to create mind bending originality with a Zombie film? Is it possible to scare the viewer, this viewer, even if she knows all of the above? Even if she has average to above average writing skills and can thus predict a lot of dialogue and plot devices?
In the case of Monty Pool, you bet yer sweet bippy!!
The heroes of this story are a radio disk jockey and his producer. The radio station is set in Canada. Snowy, cold Canada. The disk jockey is a bit of a crank ass and wears a black cowboy hat. He also hates his job. He wants to be big and famous. Yet there he is, stuck in small town Canada. Announcing school closings. Again, he's a bit of a crank ass.
The producer calms and cajoles a decent morning program from yon cranky DJ.
Now, let's take a moment to get some visuals. Because 95% percent of this film takes place in a basement with our two heroes. In a radio studio.
This is Mazzie. The aforementioned DJ.
Here is the producer, being patient and cajoling.
Now, about 15 minutes into the morning program, reports start trickling in about a group of protesters. A horde of chanting people, because yes o yes! The Zombie invasion HAS BEGUN!
But wait. There's less.
What got me clutching Mr. Hall, what made me literally say to myself, over and over again, "This is just a movie!", what scared the crap out of me, was the sheer spookiness of the unseen. The verbiage! The actual Zombies don't show up until well past the half way mark. Yet there I was, freaking out because of the Zombies.
This is a testament to the actors. Because really, it's all them. The DJ goes on describing reports of protesters. Protesters who are busting into buildings and killing people. Making these musical chanting noises. It's all his words describing the action.
Words people, WORDS!
And here I am, the viewer, knowing it's just words and facial expression. Knowing it's just a movie. Yet there it is, scaring the crap out of Mrs. Hall. And you think it wouldn't work, but goddamn! It did!
Then the heroes must figure out how this is happening. What is causing the protesters to gather, to kill and then eat the innards? What is the cause of all this? How is it spreading??!!!
THIS IS WHERE THE FILM GETS BRILLIANT!
It isn't Zombie bites. Or a virus or nuclear radiation. No!! It's sound. Words are the carrier of the Zombie illness. Which makes the setting of a radio station all the more brilliant of a setting, no? Because a radio station transmits words and sounds. And the Zombies being to hone in on the radio station. After all, that's where the words are coming from!
Thus the Zombies bust into the radio station. Breaking glass all that.
But here's the thing, the DJ and the producer are in sound proof booth. They are making the sounds but cannot be heard directly. So the Zombies gather around the glass. Bashing into it. This is the first glimpse of the Zombies. Making a mess of the glass. It's gross.
The first Zombie appears.
Then lots of Zombies.
Bumping up against the soundproof both, over and over, trying to get at the sound. It's really gross.
But, eventually they realize they get can't get at the sound by bumping against the glass. They wander off toward the speaker. But again, they leave quite the mess.
So, at this point in the film the heroes have figured out sounds and words are infecting people. Making them very ill indeed. But which words? And what is the cure?
I'm not going to tell you!
But, I'll give you a hint. A riddle really. When does a word lose it's meaning?
When does a word lose it's meaning?
Well, you'll just have to watch the film. Which was a phenomenally freaky ride. It's heartwarming actually. Raised my spirits beyond belief. Because I now know there are a whole host of films out there, all having what I like the best.
Which is originality. And writing that drives both crazy character development and the movie itself. Without getting all Jane Austen or Precious! Movies that are smart and freaky! And let we forget, I LOVE ME SOME ZOMBIES!!
It's a love I'm passing down to my kids. See, look at yon youngin' Halls. She how they do the Zombie!
Ok good, now go! Find the movie and watch it! CATCH THE ZOMBIE FEVAH!!!
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
This morning he packed me a bag of anti-morning sickness treats. And when he made the PB&J sammiches, he spread the jelly all the way out to the edges.
And as I was leaving he said, "Hey, why don't you take the truck and I'll get your car washed and oil changed today."
Being married makes everything so very awesome. Especially since I'm married to Mr. Hall.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
So, I'm a psychiatric nurse practitioner. I work with crazy people every day. Which I love.
What I don't love is working with addicts. Well, lemme rephrase that. I don't like working with addicts that haven't worked on their addiction in any way, shape or form. Addicts that have surrendered I like. Those that have gone to AA/NA I like. Those are the type of people I can work with. Cause they see they have a problem.
What I mean by that, is that some addicts don't see a problem with their substance use despite all evidence to the contrary. Despite having six owi's, having lost multiple jobs/marriages or having had multiple detox stays at yon hospital. Those are SIGNS OF ADDICTION. THEY INDICATE A PATIENT HAS A PROBLEM WITH alcohol or other drugs. I'M NOT MAKING IT UP.
IT'S NOT MY DEFINITION OF ADDICTION PEOPLE. That is the definition of addiction. Continued use of substances despite repeated adverse consequences.
So, addicts come to me cause I carry a prescription pad. I can prescribe controlled substances. I don't though. Well, not very often. This is disappointing to the active addict in my office. And I do my best, be my most polite, use my most motivational interviewing technique to CALL ATTENTION TO THE BIG ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM. That they are seeking drugs to feed their addiction.
And I won't participate in such tomfoolery!
The problem is, is that addicts can be very forceful. Or try to be forceful anyway. They get loud, stand up and curse. They'll claim malpractice on my part or get weepy. They'll act out by harming themselves. They threaten and/or call me the b word. All of which is the addict's brain talking. I don't take it personally.
But the thing is, now a days, from the time I wake up until the time I fitfully fall asleep I feel like I'm gonna throw up. I'm tired and wrung out. I have but no patience for my addict patients.
SO after the forth addict came to me this week, being forceful as all get out, I kind of lost it. My powers of gentle persuasion, logical explanations, offer of multiple different medications, all of that fell on deaf ears. And my patient kept arguing with me. For 25 minutes.
THEN I PUT UP MY HANDS. He shut up.
In a clear and very loud tone, with my face all flush, I said, "THIS is my final offer. WE do x or y. Or there are 4 other prescribers in this office and many more in this city. You are hear voluntarily, you don't need to be here. Either choose a plan or see someone else. BUT I am not discussing the xanax again."
Cause really, those in active addictions cannot be reasoned with. So my futile attempts at logical and patient centered interventions fell on deaf ears. Maybe I crossed over the line. I should have kept my cool. But, I'm only human. But, I need to be more direct I think. 25 minutes is way too long to argue. So, maybe next time I'll blend the direct approach though.
And that's the thing, there will always be a next time. Cause 80% of all addicts have some sort of mental illness. :)
ok, good. feels good to get that off my chest. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna throw up.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Week 7, the wee-est Hall, still in utero, is the size of a blueberry.
I feel so disconnected, so floaty and exhausted. Exhausted doesn't even cover it. It's like my body is in slow mo and I'm talking myself through every movement. Like when I get dressed. I say to myself, "first the tights, then the dress, then the suede boots, then breathe." Then there is matter of the pukies. Which have arrived. Good times.
I feel like there is a grip on me, from the outside. I feel like I am being carried along, floating in jello.
Then, sometimes, I have a few hours were I am free. All the nausea and exhaustion is gone. The boobins are just there, not being fireballs. Then I start to panic just a little. And want to reach for my remaining five pregnancy tests.
Then I chill out and realize that all of this ebbs and flows. And there is a new level of trust between me and my body. I can do this. I've done this twice before even. I can weather the electrical booby storm, the waves of nausea and the brick blanket of tired. Because I am growing a miracle.
And throughout the week I'll read this and try to hold back the tears of joy.
Mommy loves her little blueberry. Can't wait to see you ;)
The big news this week: Hands and feet are emerging from developing arms and legs — although they look more like paddles at this point than the tiny, pudgy extremities you're daydreaming about holding and tickling. Technically, your baby is still considered an embryo and has something of a small tail, which is an extension of her tailbone. The tail will disappear within a few weeks, but that's the only thing getting smaller. Your baby has doubled in size since last week and now measures half an inch long, about the size of a blueberry.
Friday, March 19, 2010
When they first meet, Cary Grant says, "Do we know each other?"
To which Ms. Hepburn replies, "I'm afraid I know an awful lot of people . .
"And I simply can't know anyone new, unless somebody dies."
"Let me know if someone goes on the critical list.", says Grant.
Breathtaking and wonderful. What more can there be said about this film? :)
Thursday, March 18, 2010
From The Onion newspaper. A newspaper that never fails to make me laugh during my lunch break.
COLUMBUS, OH—In an alarming trend that some are calling a failure of U.S. drug prevention policies, daily marijuana use increased nearly threefold this month among 26-year-old Gary.
Researchers at the Department of Health and Human Services are attributing the spike in cannabis consumption to a number of troubling factors, including Gary- related underemployment, decreased motivation, and prolonged exposure to Josh.
"This is very distressing, to say the least," said HHS Secretary Kathleen Sebelius, who blamed the increase on a lack of programs designed to educate Gary about the dangers of marijuana. "As a nation, it is vital that we learn how to talk to Gary about drugs—and how to listen to what he's trying to tell us."
"We've failed to recognize warning signs such as boredom and a growing need to just chill out," Sebelius added. "But we intend to use every resource at our disposal to meet our goal of cutting marijuana use among Gary by half over the next 10 years."
A recent survey conducted by HHS suggests that the drug's recent popularity with Gary might be linked to his girlfriend Laura working longer hours lately, to his recent acquisition of a quarter ounce of weed, or to his growing belief that it is socially acceptable to be stoned as fuck all day long.
According to federal records, daily Gary marijuana use began at age 15 and rose steadily over the next two years, only to plummet dramatically in 2001 when Gary's mother discovered the remains of a joint in an Altoids container on his dresser.
Despite the momentary decline, usage began creeping back up to previous levels almost immediately, with intake peaking in 2005 following the purchase of a sweet 3-foot glass bong.
"Our efforts to keep marijuana out of the hands of Gary have clearly been insufficient," said Benjamin Whitmore, a researcher with the National Institute on Drug Abuse who recently found evidence that Gary can easily obtain pot from that one guy who always scores the super dank shit with all the crystals. "He already smoked his half of the bag he split with Kevin, and now he's dipping into the rest of it. We're looking at a full-blown, Gary-wide crisis here."
Whitmore's study indicates that constantly being fried can have a variety of negative effects on Gary, including a sharp uptick in the viewing of crappy movies and a noted decrease in Pop-Tart reserves.
In addition, being so fucking stoned all the time can affect job productivity, with Gary often delivering pizzas to the wrong house, or just showing up in customers' living rooms without thinking to bring their orders.
One local marijuana expert confirmed that the drug has become a regular routine—and even a lifestyle—for Gary.
"Dude, he's been smoking up like crazy," roommate Chip Nichols said while carefully breaking apart a bud on the sleeve of Herbie Hancock's 1974 record Thrust. "It's awesome. First thing each day he wakes and bakes, and then an hour later he's yelling that we've got to pack another bowl. He usually stops home between pizza deliveries to pull a couple tubes before driving back to work." Continued Nichols, "Dude, he's been smoking up like crazy."
Nichols said that pot-smoking among Gary had steadily dropped off in 2009, reaching an all-time low early this February, a circumstance possibly connected to Laura's increasingly vocal disapproval of his habit and to Gary's dealer getting busted.
Despite her criticism of federal policies that have failed to reverse the trend in Gary, Secretary Sebelius said the nation should be heartened by new reports that marijuana use has completely ceased among Chicago resident Erica, who recently got really high and totally freaked out while watching Starship Troopers.
SOOO FUNNY!! I EMAILED THIS TO COWORKERS. Cause every day our patients HERE AT THE MENTAL HEALTH DEPARTMENT go on and on about THC. Claiming it's a 'gift from god' BUT I CAN'T PRESCRIBE IT SO SHUT UP ALREADY!!
BUT, So funny . .. . so funny.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Like most holidays, St. Patrick's Day has some shady beginnings. But that was the olden times.
At this point most people use the day to spread merriment and get roaring drunk. To claim themselves Irish thus receive all manner of kisses. And on this day, towns dye their rivers green.
As for me, I've been lax on my celebration of St. Paddy's day. I need to add it to my days of celebration. I need to buy a green dress and get all Erin go Braugh. Next year I will be schlepping all five of us to the parade. Cause really, one cannot celebrate TOO MANY holidays.
AND I LOVE BAGPIPES!
AND BIG BOOMING DRUMS!
But alas, today I will be quiet and contemplative. Because I'm feeling my own special whispers of green. Looks like morning sickness is peaking it's head above ground. Just like the last two times.
So, wish me luck as I plow through.
And have some green beer for me. Raising a glass to the holiday. What ever it may mean to you! :)
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
So, hanging out with the group of women the other day. Having coffee, meeting new people. I now belong to a few groups comprised of local women. I found the groups on meetup.com. Which is very cool. Cause now, out of the groups, I have two special ladies I am happy and proud to call friends.
So, these groups of women are an eclectic mix. We are mostly transplants to the area. And I am a chatty, happy person and I do love these outings. Getting to know new people. But this is where it gets complicated.
Most people are:
Well, maybe not most people, but some people. As for me, well, I hide my freak flag quite well. I can blend with these crowds. Except last Sunday I didn't have my game face on. And my freak flag came flying out.
Ya see, I have a lot of interests. In fact, if you crack open my profile--under interests it says, "Pretty much everything, at least once." Also, when I am interested in something, I go all out. I get absorbed and a wee bit obsessional. Then the phase passes and I'm on to the next thing.
Then things like this conversation happens:
Mrs. Hall: So Katy, where are you from?
Katy (being a new member of the group): Oh, I'm from Canada.
Mrs. Hall: Oh, that's interesting.
(we make some small chit chat, comparing Canada with her current location, we talk about her job, things are going well with the conversation, Katy's got herself a spark plug personality . . .which I enjoy ;)
THEN I START TO REVEAL A CORNER OF THE FREAK FLAG.
Mrs. Hall: I just downloaded a movie called "Ponty Pool". It's a Canadian Zombie film. Looks good . . . .
(I proceed to list off four or five foreign horror films I've seen lately. CAUSE FOREIGN HORROR FILMS IS MY LATEST OBSESSION)
And I've seen:
Which is a stylish and smart movie about doppelgangers. It's awesome really.
I've also seen:
Which I loved so much I talked about it here.
Then there is Ponty Pool. Which I have not seen but am very excited to see. And Katy is from Canada.
I think I'm going to hold on here. I mean, I've conquered putting myself out there. I've cultivated natural social abilities and have let them come to the forefront. I'm very proud of myself, proud that I can blend with the white bread and mayonnaise. I'm proud that I can derive satisfaction amongst the normal people of this earth.
Cause I am one of God's special people. All unique and crazy like. With unending positive energy and smiley goodness. And my freak flag is pretty. So I'm gonna let it fly. High and proud.
Now you! You go and fly yours too!
All killer, no filler
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- I don't know how else to say this, but we lost the...
- I watched The Watchmen and Slyde asked what I thou...
- Observations on the male sex drive
- Dr. Horrible and Penny sing my dilemma outloud
- I'm about to develop an obsession with Cary Grant
- Pontypool movie review, now with more Zombie love
- This is why I married Mr. Hall, right here:
- Then my morning sickness starting yelling at my pa...
- In the grip of the blueberry
- Charade (the movie)
- Bag of weed!! The video that never fails to satisf...
- Marijuana Use Triples Among Gary
- Whispers of Green on St. Paddy's Day
- Then my freak flag came flying out
- At Six weeks, she's the size of a lentil bean
- Pancake provides some art for Sunday
- Upside down Jeeps and other soft violence
- You kids GET OFF MY LAWN! Part one
- Would you make out with your clone? Discuss
- I got a massage once. Dude touched my butt.
- The Spectrum of Cool
- This is what I say to Mr. Hall
- Then the Asian Tattooed Lady told me something wei...
- Boobies del fuego
- ▼ March (24)
- ► 2009 (205)
The Biography of the Blog wing
Feel the love people, feel the love
Five questions for Mrs. Hall
The Nurse Wing
Minority status as viewed by a nurse
Crackhouses as viewed by a nurse
Crazy old people stories as viewed by a nurse
Addicts as viewed by a nurse
Hey NURSE: Stories from my time at the County Jail
Hearing the Soldier's Story as viewed by a nurse
Machismo as viewed by a nurse
The Wing of Mr. Hall's favorites
Love you Pancake Wing
Love you Pancake