Polluted Stream of Consciousness

In lieu of a real composition, I will now attempt to placate you with a little stream of what’s going through the ol’ noggin. Just so you know, it’s not particularly pleasant, and profanity will probably be plentiful, but hey–at least I’m posting something!

It’s been a couple of weeks, I know, and unfortunately I haven’t been in the most contented frame of mind lately. I’ve been spending hours drawing intricate, full-page doodles and then coloring them in meticulously with a rainbow of fine-point Sharpies in an attempt to try and meditate some clarity and purpose out of myself, but I just keep getting grumpier and grumpier. Maybe this is a purging period before a prolific flowering of creativity and love for my fellow man. Well, at least maybe the first thing, but probably not the second….

….anyway, here are some of the cantankerous contents of my cranky consciousness on this particular late June day, in no particular order:

Clear your goddamn throat and swallow your disgusting excessive saliva, you creepy podiatrist bastard. You’re making me want to vomit.

(NOTE: In case you didn’t know, I do medical transcription and listen to doctors yammer all day. Sometimes I’m flabbergasted that they made it out of high school.)

I wonder if I can get Brad to bring me lunch…

It’s a perfect, cooler-than-normal day today. Still, I sure would like to get the heck out of here and go somewhere. Nothing big. I’m talking like Lake Almanor or San Francisco. Last night I actually dreamed I found myself in Japan without being sure how I got there, but the understanding was that it was just a weekend getaway. To Japan!

Ugh. I’m serious, Dr. Spitmouth. If you don’t stop it with the phlegm-speak I am climbing right through these headphones and strangling you in a fit of rage.

…and while I’m at it, I’m going to go back to two of my back neighbors’ adjacent places, open their gates, and let their f*cking goddamn motherf*cking dogs out so maybe they’ll quit barking and starting shit with each other all day long, which causes my dogs to flip out barking and tear outside on an emergency basis at least once every hour. DAMMIT!!

Somebody I know told me I write a lot of gibberish on Facebook. Gibberish? Really? Have you read much on Facebook? I had no response at the time, because really this person is genuinely a nice guy and I didn’t want to foster a bad relationship. What I wanted to say, though, was “Funny how you can be told by a university English department chairperson that you write well (as you’re picking up your English degree), but some drunk dude 15 years your junior with chew in his teeth has no problem letting you know it’s ‘gibberish.'” Ok, whatever you say, man!

Only 4 more patient reports to transcribe from the doctor who speaks Phlegmish, thank goodness….

Has anyone seen that movie “Wanted” with Angelina Jolie, James McEvoy, Morgan Freeman, etc., where the McEvoy character is a frustrated office drone about to bust a vein in his head from trying to hold all the rage in, and then the Angie character recruits him and he learns how to be a strong, confident, badass assassin who doesn’t care what people think and doesn’t take no shit off nobody? Well, that’s a fantasy I’m entertaining at the moment. The assassin part is optional, but the badass, no-shit part is mandatory.

Now that things circulate so widely via Facebook, Pinterest, etc., there’s been an onslaught of motivational, chin-up-type material coming at us–the ubiquitous “Keep Calm and Carry On” posters (my favorite is the one half-finished and smeared with blood), the “if you think YOUR life is hard, listen to THIS sad story” chain letters, the bloggers and gurus bragging about how awesome and perfect and successful they are and how you need to just GO FOR IT, etc., etc., etc. Well, I’ve seen all this stuff, but I still reserve the right to vent my frustrations once in a while, so don’t tell me how things could be worse. I know they could be much worse. I realize I have my health and all my limbs and a house and food and loved ones. We all know a lot of people have it worse than we do. That doesn’t change the fact that each of us might feel a little bit down once in a while and want to let off some steam about it.

I can’t believe how hard it is, though, to get me sick enough of the things that bug me before I’ll actually change something. I’m doing a little, but not nearly enough.

…ehhh, that’s enough for now. Comments are always welcome. Unsolicited advice…well…I’ll let you decide if you think that’s what you want to give me.

6 thoughts on “Polluted Stream of Consciousness

  1. Gibberish? I couldn’t absorb much past that word ’cause it pissed me off! Maybe next post write something like “Fffffffuk so hella board I think (insert stupid nickname of homie here) is the shiiiiit gonna get so f-ed drunk tonight LOL!” then, well, he’d probably consider you brilliant. Or, at least, hella funny. Tell that punk there ain’t but one person on your friends list who has drawn fairly sizable paychecks (well, sometimes) typing words for a living for most of the past 35 years and YOU are one of his few must-reads everyday and furthermore, he’s not invited to Wallystock. Unless he’s a blood relative or a member of a band, but that’s just common sense …

  2. You had me at ‘not particularly pleasant.’ Keep ’em coming. I enjoy your writing, but is it only clear to me that you were born to be the singer in a punk band? Also, your dreamy Japan story reminded me of a Murakami book. Have you read any of his books? I think you would enjoy. That is all. Carry on and swing a sack of hammers.

    • Ha! Yes, Craig, I think it IS only clear to you, and I appreciate it! Never read any Murakami, but if I can hang onto what little attention span I have left lately I’ll be sure and check some out.

  3. Love your blogs, Amber.
    BTW, I have a mental picture of Dr. Phlegm, and it is extremely unpleasant. Too bad you couldn’t put his calls through some type of voice synthesizer. I would rather listen to R2D2 than a mouth full of garbled spittle.

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