baggage's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My thoughts they flutter like fireflies Ya know, there are moments when I'm filled with love and generosity, and there are moments when my blood flows hate and negativity. Thankfully, my mood usually plants itself between those two extremes-and if it decides to take a trip-it's usually towards the love and generosity side of things. But, I have friends-friends who can go from the middle of that spectrum to the hate and negative side in mere seconds. And it scares me. Because everytime they do, I feel as if I'm being forced to stare into a sewer line; a sewer line that was, mere moments ago, a clear running stream. It's not the complexity of human nature that surprises me. It's our ethnocentricity; this pride that tells us that we're so much better than wild animals. By surrounding ourselves with the trappings of our intelligence, we've convinced ourselves of our superiority-when in reality-the line that separates our civilized inclinations from the animals within is thin indeed-and, essentially, imaginary. ________________________________________________________________ I saw A.I. recently. And it hit me with a full course of melancholy. Because a part of me thinks it wants children. And another treasures my lack of brood. And I'm afraid that someday, the part of me that wants children will prevail over the other. And by then, it will be much too late. ________________________________________________________________ My hands are getting better. And I owe it to some folks who aren't recognized by my insurance company. It's funny what defines "medicine" these days. An MD, fully supported by the medical community spends ten minutes with me and says: take an Alleve and come back next week A doctor falling under the "alternative medicine" banner and unrecognized by my insurance company gives a specific definition of my problem, and successfully begins to treat it. I'm not really interested in starting a tirade about HMOs. But, what I do find irritating to no end is that I pay, WE PAY, for our medical insurance and someone else decides which fucking doctor we see. I see the deductions from my paycheck. I should decide which doctor pokes around my problems-not some big conglomerate with an 800 number and a fucking automated voice line. ________________________________________________________________ I came home Friday night to a star filled sky, a brass band, Girl-Unit's lap, green tea and strawberries dipped in cream. I tell you, I am lucky beyond description. Dear Lord-what did I do to deserve this richness of experience? _________________________________________________________________ I want to update more. But I can't. And it's pissing me off. i can't wait till this annoying tingle in my hands go away. I can't wait. 2:00 p.m. - 2001-08-13 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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