Blackberry Molasses

Well, I'm back...I don't know the last time I wrote something, there has been a fair amount of stuff going on in my head, if not my life. I've been wandering the long and lonely road of post-operative depression (again) because I had surgery (again) and it hurt (again), which I, for some reason, never really anticipate or appreciate.

I did watch Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby for the upteenth time last night. That shiz is so freaking funny. I think I will take a cue and name my kids Walker and Texas Ranger (T.R.) for short...that slays me every single time. And the discussion of crepes as "really thin pancakes." Killer.

I also took some hits about my appearance yesterday. Among the things I was critisized for: being too skinny, looking weak, and having scribbling all over my body. Now that I write it I can't believe I went through all the trouble of feeling hurt or concerned. i think I just managed to be in the line of fire of someone who was having a series of really crap moments strung together. How foolish is that: you're too skinny? Well, within the context of I've been in and out of the hospital all summer and honestly, this is the healthiest I've been in 15 years and I eat whatever I can (there are necessary limits, these have not been cosmetic procedures after all). As far as me looking weak, well, I am weak. All my physical resources are focused on a 3-inch long, 6-inch deep incision on my abdomen in addition to all the other subdermal openings I have.

As far as the scribbling, well, if I had it to do all over again I might have stopped at the first one. It is the most beautiful and glorious. The rest were results of nothing more interesting than boredom. But I don't care so much about criticism on the body art, I've heard it too much.

"I'd rather be paid than popular..." How do I feel about that statement? I've never been popular. Ever. I've been notorious, but not popular. Popular implies that you put yourself out there and I've never been good at that. I value my privacy (this she types with a straight face despite yammering on about emotions and physical ailment for the past few paragraphs).

This morning I was reading Perez Hilton's blog. I enjoy Prezzers, he's funny and flippant and has cool hair. He posted something on Angelina Jolie and her father, rather her brother making a small statement about her father. I was suprised to read all the desperately hateful comments that came in as response. People were threatening death etc. Where do people get off doing that? Apparently the folks involved in Ellen Degeneres' doggy adoption fiasco are also receiving death threats. Did I miss something here? I tend to think of people who call and say over-the-top, outrageous things like "if you don't let blah blah blah happen, you will get killed!" as weak, scared, yappiing little dogs. They are the human equivalent of chihuahas. Pepe's.

Have you noticed that? The people with the 'flame-on' personality more often than not are the least developed adn least capable of interacting with life in any sort of proactive manner? These are people to whom everything happens and they NEVER take control of their own lives. So the threats and flashing anger is just a way for them to express themselves that they somehow think is justified or okay because they feel otherwise powerless.

Sometimes I want to put them through boot camp just so they learn that they, too, can survive in this world. Then I wonder if their parents are contributing to the problem. I have to say that this suspicion could be the result of the socio-economic class to which I belong. But it seems that the kids whose parents either coddled them too long or abandoned them entirely are the hottest heads and the least able to understand coping in the world. Two sides of the same coin, I guess.

Well, spottieottiedopalicious is playing and I'm going to sit back and listen to my cells mend.

"Now who else wanna f*ck with Hollywood Cole?"