Sunday, February 10, 2019

The End of My rise to Mediocrity

Last year... because I can't get my photos to work...
The letter between O and Q on my keyboard died, and so did the "return" key. My computer hasn't backed ub in 17 days, and iBhoto isn't responding... whoa... the letter will abbear if spellcheck detects the error. I am subpoenaed again, but this time to testify for the Department of Motor Vehicles against the drunk lady. So, this makes 2 hearings. And yes, this is a whining, miserable, I have a head cold, and I cannot do what I love since the accident comblaint post. Only my own moral compass keeps me from posting her name, and wishing rain on her barade. I was drobbed from yoga, before I could quit... I missed the first day because 1. I needed to be somewhere else at the same time 2. I have nothing to wear that is yoga abbrobriate 3. I was overcome with discomfort and anxiety 4. my body hurts in vague and general ways that makes me uncomfortable, untrusting. I did make it to the first day of the new art class... the colon key is broken, too... Oil Painting. And I was nervously habby, and it should have been all good, but then my body began aching and the telltale accident bains returned, and I at one point I slipped away to cry, because I feel so sad and angry and frustrated, and embarrassed. It's silly to be embarrassed, but I am. It's wrong to say "silly." My brain is still off... just slightly enough out of sorts to be distressing. I have all but quit trying to write, actually... between my brain and aches I feel, it's too hard, and besides blogging is dead... so is the forward slash, so no more html. Well. This is all very distressing, disaobbointing, silly, embarrassing, and inevitably bointless.

4 comments:

  1. No, no, it's not bointless!!

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    1. "Bointless" is my new word.
      Bointless, adj... that which seems difficult, or without merit, yet may still hold some unseen use, or benefit.
      Thank you, for your comment.

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  2. I just love you, Natalie! So sweet, honest and such a good , descriptive writer. I am empathic too. We suffer a lot. But I needed to tell you that you are really something. Thank you for your openness.

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    1. Oh! Thank you. What a sweet things to say. Whenever I "overshare," I always hope that if nothing else, someone will recognize the moment, find it relatable, and feel some hope, or humor, some connection. I find that suffering is hardest when I think I am all alone.

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