A thousand times again, forgive me. I don't know how I let it come to pass that July would fly by and catch me here without a single blog entry. Verily, I have failed you, my beloved readers. Alas, I know I left you on baited breath, waiting for some sign of life and left you without so much as a few cobbled, witty remarks. If it's all the same to you, I'd very much like to go on about our business as if this whole sordid affair never did transpire.
In other words, let's get back to the task at hand!
Someone said something today that struck a nerve. It was something to this extent:
"Kids these days, they're so narcissistic. Everything is about them, their needs, their wants, their internet and their damn social lives. It's pathetic. Back in my time, we did productive things! We went to church, we respected those around us, we didn't ask questions or act like we had the answers to everything and we didn't need to broadcast to the world every tiny little detail of our lives!"
Fueled by my general love for confrontation and the fact that this stranger had, in very many regions of his broad and very ignorant statement, attacked my own character, I decided to have a little bit of fun.
"Does loving myself make me narcissistic? Does having the entire wealth of knowledge stored upon the internet, thus having access to information you'd never dream of mean nothing? We question things because we know better than to trust things at face value. We read, we write, we socialize, we contribute and we grow into the roles that you need to keep your precious world together. That very same world is the one we'll inherit, complete with all your mistakes and misgivings, so forgive us if we're only concerned with our own lives, wants and needs. We'll be spending the rest of our lives catering to yours, so please, indulge us."
Apparently this man was genuinely surprised to hear my rebuttal, as his face visibly paled and his mouth was left agape. One would have assumed he'd expect no less from a creature so completely in love with himself. Better still was the fact that he shrugged me off and, as many before him often do, replied with a simple statement:
"You'll change your mind when you're older, you'll complain just the same about your children and you'll come to understand that the only things you can trust in are your family and God."
I can't begrudge this as I'm sure that if I've ever the misfortune of children, I'll definitely loathe them something terrible. Oh, it won't be their fault, to be sure! I just can't be expected to love anything other than myself, apparently.
Now, on to personal matters!
Today, a computer tower was dropped onto my right hand. Excruciating, let me tell you. It turned several shades of yellow and blue and began to swell into quite a mess. Just when I thought my aches and pains were over, a shelf collapsed onto my head, aggravating an already bad headache into a full-on migraine, bumping my poor skull and, worst of all, forced me to bite down on my tongue. Thankfully, I didn't sever the thing, but I still bled quite a bit. If there has been any constant in my life, it is that I am a human accident magnet.
After finishing work, I went to have my hand checked out. If you've read my blog for some time, or know me personally, you'd know I have a terrible fear of hospitals, clinics and any other building associated with practiced medicine. So, shaking like a little girl being stared down by a pedo in a dark alley, I struggled to find the patience to wait my turn and hear this bitter, snarky old woman tell me to "Stop being a baby and put some ice on it, the swelling would go down."
Again, I couldn't hold my tongue.
"Thank you, Dr. Douchebag! Did you learn this sage-like advice while in Med. school, or was it your many years in practice that developed your keen eye and wonderful diagnostic and healing ability?"
It felt good, I can assure you of that.
At any rate, I now find myself at home, writing to you of my darling adventures. I had missed you, dear readers. I hope this entry finds you all in good health and cheer. Until next time, which I promise you will be soon!
p.s. Caspian, the band, is absolutely my new obsession. I've only rediscovered them, having never really given them the chance the first time around. Truely beautiful instrumental post-rock. You should all check out their album, "The Four Trees."