I really don't feel like going to work today. Yesterday my hips hurt, and I was stiff and limping for several hours, even after taking painkillers. They must have helped a little though...after that the stiffness went away and the pain dimmed down some. Then it flared back up to the point where I just wanted to go up in the break room and cry for a while, but no: we were swamped with customers. It's all the pivoting, stopping, starting, twisting, squatting, lifting, that does it. The faster it all has to be done, the more it hurts. There were only two of us, Sierra and I; we needed a third person desperately, especially since I was slower due to my hips, and her to her pregnancy. Then some fool needed to feed 50 people but called with less than an hour to spare, at the rushed hour, and wanted 20 breasts and 10 thighs!!!! Egads! They wouldn't all fit in one fryer load, the hot case was empty from cooking chicken (when we cook chicken, we have only one fryer, so we can't cook anything else. A batch of chicken -8 each breasts, thighs, legs, and wings- takes 15 minutes to cook) and there were *also* two orders for 12 pieces. So: 20 breasts, 10 thighs, plus 6 each breasts, thighs, legs, and wings. 54 pieces in all, and all within about an hour's time. The case just got emptier and emptier....meanwhile, other people saw the chicken cooking and wanted some, and we had to tell them it was all pre-ordered. Then they got pissy. One man all but yelled at us. There was so much chicken ordered that we had to bread more (we bread it ourselves) to fill the orders. Breading a box of chicken takes at least 15-20 minutes, and she had to do that while I waited on the ranting customers and reduced the doughnuts. A checker came back and helped us. At any rate, it was sort of hellish. I don't want it again tonight.

Today: Birthday shopping. Make a cake for my oldest son. It will be an ice cream cake, chocolate with mint chip ice cream. And, the library book sale, before work.

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Is it this hard for everyone? For normal people, do the bills and chores and deadlines and pressure of daily life lay this heavy on them? Do they constantly feel as I do, that they're at the very ends of their ropes? One problem solved only gives rise to another, it seems. One bill paid off gives birth to a different one. Every hour seems claimed and possessed by a task or some urgent matter. There is no time to think without the world intruding on me, I hate it.

I figured out how to effectively handle the conflicts with my (night) manager. Note: she is not my boss, or even my manager, only the assistant manager, who has a power trip going on. Anyway, I stopped talking to her. At all. It works amazingly well!!! Nearly all of her intimidation was verbal. When I stopped talking, she tried to get me to talk a few times (angrily hissing) but after that she stopped trying, and I've been so much happier! :-D It's not even a matter of my being upset with her anymore. I'm a lot calmer in my own headspace. I've also come to the realization that while 95% of her intimidation was verbal, 95% of my verbal communication with her was of an approval seeking or conciliatory nature. No wonder I felt bullied! And see, I was kind of my own fault in a way, wasn't it? At least to some extent?

I know she's peeved, but she's more or less avoiding me, and as it turned out, verbal communication wasn't actually even necessary. I don't think I'm going to resume speaking to me until I have come up with an adequate way to defend myself from her.
-----------------So that's handled...for now...-------------------------------
Another girl, who is deficient in comparison with me in terms of seniority on the job, experience, speed, quality work, work ethic, intelligence, * and* she is younger than me, insists on treatign me in a bossy way. It irritates me. If I confront her on an issue, she immediately backs down: "Oh, I didn't mean it that way, I just..." and makes it out as though I was overreacting. I may not be a gem, but I do conciously try to improve on my job peformance every single day. This girl is lazy. In fact, several of us,, including our well respected and loved manager, think she's a pothead and comes to work stoned. (Gee, thanks, doper, enjoy your buzz and just float along while we do your work!) It's all OK though. The big bosses seem to have their eye on her. She didn't get a raise, everyone else did. Hmmmm....

Getting a buzz on your off time at night is oen thing. Coming to work stoned or trying to function that way is something entirely different.
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Anyway, my hips feel shot, I'm exhausted, I'm going to bed. Yes, before 9 P.M.!
(Like anyone cares).....

Ok, I made an appointment with the voc-rehab people. Please, please please, people, take me seriously. Don't tell me that I'm doing fine where I am and don't need voc rehab....

OK, let's get one thing straight from the start here: rejection is never nice. It never feels good. That having been said, I think it hurts more to be rejected by a guy than it does to be turned away by a girl.
Here's why:

• Women tend to be fickle. We all know that.
• They also tend to be emotional and to want love.
• Therefore, it may be that their heart hasn't connected yet. That's bearable, isn't it?
• Also, if they turn down a fling, woemn do have more at stake: possible pregnancy, their 'reputation' and even physical harm.
• When a woman turns down a guy, she's turning down the possibility of bearing his child. You have to feel pretty secure to want to do that.
• With a guy, bedding a lot of girls is proof he's a stud (among his peers, at least).
• He doesn't have to worry about getting pregnant, and he isn't as likely to be raped by a girl.
• With guys, they are hardwired for sex and lots of it.
• That's not to say that they don't feel love, they do....but they can easily enjoy it without the love.
• Besides, some guys will screw just about anything that has a hole. Old ladies get raped. They get off on *pictures* for godssake.
• So, I mean, if a guy doesn't want you, at all, something is seriously wrong with you.

Of course, it could also be that the males are evolving to be more conscientious. I suppose that's possible.
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I went to the store this evening, and I was in a good mood. Scattered, but Ok. I saw some people I know, and as always, it took me several seconds (him) and a tad longer (her) to recognize them. Actually, I wouldn't have noticed her without him. He's easier to tell apart from the general populace. Nothign personal at all, I'm just that way. I often walk right past people I know without even seeign them. When they say hello, alarms go off...I feel confused...who the hell is this? They look like they know and like me. Who are they?? So anyway, I see these people, and he's very, very friendly and extraverted. He smiles hugely, showing his gums and lots of teeth, his glasses flash...and he asks if I saw his picture in the paper. I have just processed who it is, context and all that, and then it takes me a moment to process what he just said. Paper...picture? Whose picture? His and hers! :-D Paper? Paper? :scratching head: Local paper! :-D Oh. I don't buy the paper. That's why I haven't seen it. Hmmm. I will look. Nonono!! The *free* paper, don't you get it? :-D Oh! yes, I get it. I didn't look at it yet. OK, I will look. :smiles:

Meanwhile, she looks very pissed, stares at my shirt and gives me a very dirty look, and if I can read a look, it's intense. It has to be. :Me, looks at shirt, looks back at her: My shirt is plain blue, comfortably snug so I know where it is. Nice blue, I like it. What's wrong? She says to him, "That's OK dear, don't bother her with it. She hasn't seen it.", in a very snippy, snotty voice. I say good bye to he and he waves bye in a rather naive but friendly fashion. Nice guy. Why's she such a bitch?

And I have absolutely NO idea what I did wrong. This kind of thing happens to me all the time. I try to tell myself that I don't care, and I don't....much.... But it niggles at me, anyway. Maybe someone told them something bad about me? :shrug: I just have no idea at all. Is it because I don't care much about people except when they're right in front of me, for the most part? I am friendly when they're there.....and isn't that what matters? :stumped:

*Bitterness* (Tim, don't worry about this)
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Oh, this song says it so well...R.E.M. I can't always find words for what I want to say....but that says just about all of it, in one song. Heh. :-/

I drink down the bitterness of it as though it were some sort of evil tasting medicine.

Do you realize at all...that since all that, I don't take the word "friend" seriously anymore. I hear that word and it touches that nerve of bitterness...the cynic awakens and sneers....and I know that I'll never trust a "friend" in the same way as before. The word has lost any pleasant meaning for me, I almost hate it. Can I blame you for this, I don't know. Does that matter, not really.

I've never said this before, but I'll say it now and not again: if there had been one chance of my being "normal", if I had ever had the will for it, if there were a motivator, if there were an example, an interpreter, you were it, man. And it's gone. Fuck normality!!! Normalcy with all its two edged swords (both edges cut me) can go and take a flying leap.

The song is still playing...it couldn't be more real to me...

Mystified.........
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I went back looking at the comments left on this blog. For some reason, a LOT of Tim's comments are flat out GONE! :-( I enjoyed going back and reading them....

There are other comments, by someone termed "friend", and this is what has me puzzled. Who is this 'friend'? I don't have very many friends, and this one feels male. There are even fewer male friends. I think it might be a Christian, which narrows it down further, but I don't think it's the father of my children....he would probably sign his name. :confused:

I went to a play/musical program at my daughter's school last night. It was, in two words, absolutely horrid, and I'm saying this aside from being surounded by some 200 people, lots of sounds from speakers, and people clapping, etc etc, all the usual sensory overload stuff. It was rampantly patriotic and Christian, and perfectly demonstrated the herd mentality. An excerpt: "We owe our freedom of speech not to the organzers of protests, but to the soldier. We owe our freedom of religion not to the (can't remember), but to the soldier" etc etc, ad nauseum. The gist was that, essentially, we owe every civil right we have to violence and to men who are willign to carry out violence. That the world just can't get along without people who are willing to commit violence! What an awful, misguided theme for a children's play!

Would it be so....unthought of...to have a children's play with some innocent, childish them, or something educational, or something such as peaceful efforts towards improving the world, or understanding different cultures, or saving the environment, or living conciously? They will grow up soon enough...do they have to be indoctrinated towards committing atrocities at such a young age?

(and then we wonder why we have school shootings and stabbings...)

Sometimes I wish that I could leave my body to its daily chores, to go around it's work as a sort of golem. And that my heart could soar in its own thoughts and be mindless of the troubles and pains of the world...

Everyday Eroticism

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It's the theme of all my art (well, all my recent art from the past year or two). I see it everywhere, the thread of creation and reproduction, sexuality. Understand: by sexuality I don't mean merely a man and a woman having missionary intercourse. No, I refer here to sex in its far reaching sense, from hermaphrodite nudibranches to the kelp they cling to...waving sensuosly in the ocean currents...to the pine trees showering the air and earth with their grains of pollen...I could go on in this way for a long time.....

Now, consider this: the custom of a man giving a flower to the girl he wants or loves. What kind of a flower? A rose. What sort of a rose? Longstemmed...no thorns, and very few leaves, if any. Color? Red...dark, passionate, blood infused red. Lastly, the profile of the flower: full blown, fragrant, with the beautiful shape we associate with a rose bush? No sir...a tight, pert rosebud. The contours of it should be fairly clean. OK: now picture this, all these factors, in your mind. In hand: a flower, held upright, with a long stem, culminating in the most important part, the dark red bud. Think, think, think.....what else could this represent? Hmmmm.....is it any wonder that this is the symbol used as an emblem of acceptance or rejection? Could anything be more heartening to a man than to see his girl clasp his rose lovingly and bring it to her lips?

Now, don't go blaming this on me. I didn't come up with the custom. I don't even like red roses much. All I did was to observe what should have been obvious anyway!

Re: Standing up for oneself: I hate to do it. For one thign, it's very hard for me (at times) to deliniate the line between doing a favor for someone and being taken advantage of. For another, I simply dislike having to assert myself in order to obtain fair treatment. In a relationship of any kind (intimate, friend, aquaintance) if the problem becomes a recurring issue, I have a bad habit of simply dropping the relationship altogether, or at least dropping it to a less intimate level.

People very often assume that I'm a doormat. That isn't necessarily true... It's more along the lines of: If someone is willing to take advantage of me or to treat me badly unless I stand up for myself, I really don't know if I care to continue the relationship. I feel like I shouldn't have to assert myself in oder to be treated decently.

An analogy: You are playing a game with someone, a board or card game, perhaps. You catch them cheating. Perhaps you call them on it, perhpas not. At any rate, they continue to cheat, and to escalate the bahavior. Do you continue playing with them? No. Why not? They are not fun to play with.

Or, to put it another way, if a person is so inclined as to take advantage of or be mean to me, I don't really want to continue being as close to them. It isn't worth the hassle or confrontation and stress and adrenaline. Screw it! After all, doesn't their behavior say something about the value of the relationship to them?
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But, there is a problem. I don't know how to *confront* someone unless I'm so angry that I could scream. (By that time I don't much care how they react.) My co-workers are not treating me well, and I'm not mad enough to scream. What to do, what to do? One of them is a manager so I can really let loose with her.

Eeeek! Ok, it's my turn now to be a shallow, self absorbed female...the sort I don't like. I just got back from the thrift store. For some reason they had the bathroom mirror cruelly mounted directly opposite the toilet! Talk about tactless!!! I don't even much enjoy looking at myself clothed, thank you. Anyway, it was/is a little depressing. See, I *knew* that I had gone from 105# (my all time lowest as an adult, not bad after 5 kids!) back past my usual 120# to 125#. Five pounds over niggled me a little bit...but not too much. Many of my pants still fit...the size 1-3's, as a rule, did not. Oh well, wear something else. That was my attitude, until I was so rudely confronted by that mirror. Cellulite? On me??? I don't even care very much what I look like, but this bothers me. It's gross. Twenty pounds of fat! Ick, ick, ick. Sadly, I know what is doing it: the birth control. I'm not actually eating more or exercising less. I could probably cut back to one meal a day and not lose very much of it......:sigh:

I feel like such a pathetic piece of shit. He is so nice to me, and all I seem to do is to wait for some warning sign that yes, it's too good to be true and he doesn't actually like me the way I thought he did, That there's been some sort of a mistake, that something has changed or is changing. I am so used to it, it's all I've known. I feel like my hopes have been dashed so often that there just aren't any anymore, that the stuff faith is made of simply doesn't reside in me any longer. I feel so safe, so happy with him, but it's hard to enjoy it, because I'm always afriad that it's going to end. Because it always does.

One of these days he is going to get really tired of my worrying and insecurity, and he is going to say, "Fine! Have it your way! I give up! I don't want you if this is the way it's going to be!" and then he'll go. :-( :-( :-(

I really am a pain to deal with.

I am considering dropping out of the goat world as such. Oh, I'll still keep my girls (I am still looking for a place for us and them), and I'll keep breeding them for the same traits I've wanted (nothing foils a goatbreeding program, or any breeding program, as quickly as changing your mind constantly about the goals!!!). I'll renew my ADGA membership, even though I'm convinced by now that they're a bunch of back stabbing, membership bleeding crooks, because I need teh records and the registry. But as far as showing very much, or including it as an element in my goals or plans.....I dunno.

See, what I'm realizing is that the showring B.S. is all about social interaction, who you know, who likes you, and who you hate and will gossip about. And this, my friends, is soemthing that I am simply unable to do well at. I know, because I've tried. I've rubbed the right shoulders, talked to the right people, done my homework backward and forward,and made the mistake of showing it off. Soem of teh breeders have been nice. Others seem to have been nice to my face one day and ignore me the next (or even within a day, for no reason I could ferret out). I thought, at first, that mayeb people disliked the lady I bought my broodstock from, but others have her stock and seem to do alright. What I do see is that the showring itself is politics. It's about who you know, and whether the judge likes you. Occasionally you have a truly honest and fair judge. They're rare! For a very long time, I've wanted to be one of them, a fair and honest judge who could black out the faces and just look at the goats, and only the goats. But frankly, I really don't feel like having lots of people mad at me.

Could I forget the people surrounding me and see only the goats, keep my concentration and drive the anxiety away? Could I even speak? If I could, could I actually articulate exactly *why* one goat is better than the next. I often just know, intuitively, and it takes me time to figure out why. What will I do if some hot shot with their head in the clouds walks by disgruntled and insults me or threatens me? (I suppose I'd ignore them). Do I have what it takes? I know that I can do the goats justice. The social issues and their stupid games (and believe me, they whine about this even among themselves) are what worry me.

Frustrating: That I am not able to adequately communicate my thoughts through speech, so impatient people assume (unfairly) that I'm unintelligent. Yes, I'm articulate enough here, in writing. Get me on a phone or in person and I fumble and can't grasp the spoken words to my satisfaction. I have an excellent vocabulary, but I cannot...organize it to my liking in the time frame that most people expect in a typical conversation. If they pressure or criticize me, I quickly turn into the likes of an inarticulate idiot, sputtering vehemently. They say that it's very funny when I get mad. :-/
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Carrying on from the previous thread: sometimes I have the wish to be an advocate for other autistics. I miss the autistic people I used to work with as a 'worker' (they were called 'consumers', how sick is that??? I called them clients instead, it sounded more dignified). I don't miss anyone else, just the other autists. I had a dream that I was working there again, only this time I was working with one of the ones they only let me work with once or twice (they quickly curtailed my interactions with my kin when they saw I was on their side). I was communicating with him, in non verbal ways, and we were interacting. I hesitiate to have written this. It isn't professional (fuck their professionalism!!!), and it feels weak somehow. But it bothers me deeply, the way our kind are treated. Frankly, I don't care where on the spectrum they are: they have a right to stim, a right to experience the things they do, and a right to be unique. They have THE SAME BASIC HUMAN RIGHTS that regular people take for granted. I get so upset, I feel so futile. We are autistic, NOT sub-human.

I was lucky; for all that I was smothered and abused, it would have been far, far worse had I been labeled. I am not against labeling per se, hell I like to label and categorize anythign that comes to my attention. If I see a plant, I want to know what it is, what it's related to, etc etc. But when a person becomes nothing more than a label, something to be dehumanized, to excuse inexcuseable behavior to them *because* they're autistic is WRONG.

As anyone with half an eye could tell, the tendrils of my mind have been searching out all the different branches of thought and perspectives on autism. I joined first Aspergia and then wrongplanet.net, tried in vain to jumpstart the local autism support group (mostly because I wnated to meet more of my own kind), tried-even more vainly- to be an advocate for the other autistics at S.L. Start, devoured books (some of which I threw across the room because they'd been written by an ignorant normal with no idea what he was speaking of), signed up for a research study on how autistics think, searched for and read blogs and websites by other aspies and people on the spectrum....the only thing that's been holding me back is that I don't have enough time to pursue it as much as I'd like. More than anything, I've introspected: focused on replaying my childhood in my mind's eye, watching myself, how I felt, what I did, the reasoning, when it was so much more pure and unsullied by the tyranny of the normal world.

Went back and read my old report cards annd school records: "We are working on getting her to speak up so others can hear"...."is well liked but often plays alone on the playground and in the room."....."seems to need a lot of teacher approval and encouragement"..."needs to keep her desk neater". What amazes me are the things that they did NOT write...but I suppose I don't have the time to get into that. All the signs were there.....for those with eyes to see them.

Anyway, I'm getting diverted. If there is one recurring idea that enrages me, it is that autistic people are, by definition, fucked up and need to be fixed, cured, and improved. The notion that any hope for our success in the world is entirely dependent upon our becomign just as nearly 'normal' and 'well adjusted' as we can be. Early diagnosis is pushed emphatically. QUICK!!! Save 'em while you still can! While there's still hope!!! Get therapy!!! I don't know if my son is aspie or not, but I do know this: no therapy. No "fixing". No "cures".

Why can't they see it another way: that an aspie has the potential for genius, more than your average Dick or Jane. That our talents and interests should be observed and encouraged, that these are our gifts and strengths. That our way of thought is valuable, unique, and should be given opportunity to develop. I'm not saying that autistic children should be coddled or babied- quite the reverse! We should be aware of the challenges facing them, but encourage independence as much as possible- REAL independence skills. Education: Waldorf schools, home school or perhaps schools for gifted children. Nearly every aspie I've met yet, online or not, has had huge challenges in school that shut them down or stressed them severely (and I could rant about stupid teachers for a long time, but instead, I have to go to my daughter's school now to deliver something to her).

Ick. I just ate a strawberry (storebought) and it was good until I detected something akin to bleach on it. It was the same with the food I ate this morning, which was boiled in water (city water). The chlorine flavor was positively nauseating. When I bite into pork, I taste/remember the smell of pigpens. I can smell cigarettes long after they've gone up in smoke...not only that they're a cigarette, but to some degree, the quality or type. I work in a deli. I can smell that the bathroom, which is upstairs from us, in a large grocery store, has been fouled. The scent of the new oil, after cleaning the fryer, drives me nuts. I won't even delve into the agony of customers walking by doused with perfume or scent, or worse, a coworker (worse because then I have to smell it all day long).
Okay, so it has reddeming points. I can get almost high off the pleasure of smelling or tasting something I LIKE, such as fruit, flowers, and so on. And I can smell flowers which other people claim are devoid of scent (impending rant....plant breeders are neglecting the scent in favor of flashier gaudier blooms).
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Due to three or more coworkers getting sick, I had to work 7 days in a row at the store. The effect was that I had a meltdown the day before yesterday, was a bundle of nerves yesterday, and today I'm beginning to feel more....controlled. Maybe. All five children are here today, and my 4th just stood next to me and asked "May I have some milk?" three or four times, with the cup stuck in my line of vision, before I was able to comprehend what he was saying. He has a habit of saying the same thing, over and over and over, with the same inflection each time.....eventually it gets through.

Geckos: We now have three leopard geckos, given to us by a guy Tim met at the laundromat. I am still getting used to them. There is something about that that is too strongly reminiscent of serpents for me to pick one up yet....but I sit by the tank and watch them undulate around the ample landscape. We planted a large bon-sai type tree in there, and they climb it or lay underneath it.

Goats: I let Reflex, the senior buck, into the main herd and penned up all the doelings who are too young or small to be bred. There is going to be some inbreeding and quite a bit of linebreeding going on....but in all honesty, the other buck, while he's of decent quality, just isn't what Reflex is. Reflex is strongly, heavily linebred on Sodium Oaks Sasin. See his pedigree and inbreeding data here. That pedigree contains Sodium Oaks or Shahena'ko (which is strongly based on Sodium Oaks) almost exclusively if you track it back far enough. He is 20.34% inbred, with 7% of that being Sasin, and next two top contributors are Sasin's sire and dam.

:gasp:!! Inbreeding!!!! Egads!!

Not at all. Careful, judicious inbreeding or linebreeding in animals can procure some of the best animals there are. It gives consistency. The caveats: you MUST cull aniamls that are substandard and you must be careful about mating two animals which exhibit the same negative traits (although this applies also with outcrossing).

What is interesting and makes Reflex so special: many Sasin daughters or progeny highly inbred on him are very hocky, as Sasin himself was. The daughters also tend to have overly large teats (a hazard to the doe- they're likelier to get caught on soemthing and torn or injured). But Reflex just happens to have a very wide, open rear leg set, and so do his daughters, and only one of them so far has had huge teats. Most of all, he's a very consistent buck- his daughters usally come out like peas in a pod. Did I mention that he's always had a very calm, gentle, non-aggressive disposition, and his daughters tend to as well?

I love that buck. I can't wait to have another crop of his daughters hit the ground.

A stinging thought occurs to me, unbidden: if he, who smiled at me, who talked for long hours into the night with me, who stood up for me, who helped me when I was too proud to ask, who I could go to with problems to be solved, who worked with me, played with me, who informed me when I was out of line and unreasonable, out of at least ten people to attempt the task, he was the only one who could teach me to drive....He says that he is not, was not, my friend. That we're only aquaintances. My mind still ponders and puzzles over this, agonizes over it, unwilling to digest it whole....but let's not get stuck on that. Here is what niggles at me now:

If I wasn't his friend, after all that, then what about all these other people who don't know me half as well (if that)??? My head swims with grief for a moment.... It seems to me, logically spekaing, that none of them can be friends. They are all aquaintances.

I am depressed. Working at the job I am doing is very hard. The multi-taskign is driving me crazy. Even worse are the coworkers, who insist on insulting me by saying that I am "normal". Shut up!!!! I'm NOT normal. I've never been normal. Tellign me that I am does NOTHING for me, other than to deprive me of any valid reason for being the way I am. When you believe I am normal, you are telling me that I can change the way I am, that I have been this way by choice my entire life....and that's a fucking lie. I can't change that I cringe at sounds and textures and the sudden appearance of people when I haven't been expecting them. That "teamwork" is nearly impossible for me, that what it means to me is to find some task that needs to be done and that I can do all by myself while they all do something else. Etc etc etc...

I don't understand why my diagnosis should be threatening to them. Why are THEY so invested in my being normal? I'm happy the way I am. Well, about as happy as I can be after being warped and castigated by the normal world for not fitting into their narrow little mindset. After everything the "normal" world has done to me, do I want to be one of them? I think NOT...

See, I think that there is a need for us and a place for us in the world. The problem is that they don't recognize that unless and until we do something impressive, and most of us get so battered down that we never even come close to realizing a frgament of our potential.

Regarding Mortality

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From the July 2003 issue of Discover magazine:

• From birth- 44 years, accidents are the leading cause of death in the U.S.
• Included under the definition of accident:unintentional injuries, motor vehicle accidents, and medical errors.
• More people die due to medical errors than from breast cancer, car wrecks, or AIDS.
• Pretty scary thought, eh? We have pink ribbons and mammogram advisories, AIDS education, benefits, research, and so on, and mothers against drunk driving, but no (well, none to my knowledge) organized attempt by the [public at large to curb goof-ups on the part of our doctors.
• In fact, I think it's safe to say that most of us trust our doctors implicitly. If we DO dare to question our doctor's judgement, we can expect to be shot down with a cold stare or an arrogant answer.
• Yet, from reading non-fictional accounts written by interns, residents, and medical doctors, it's quite clear that they're all too aware of their own shortcomings. Therefore, it strikes me as a bit odd that some/many of them will hardly let you get a word in edgewise, even if it's information that they might need to take into consideration in order to make an educated decision.

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Moving Along Here.....

• Congenital defects strike us down in a noticeable way until we hit, say 24 and older. Perhaps it actually makes a good bit of sense to marry late, thereby ensuring longevity for your offspring.
• The real MONSTER is heart disease, the leading cause of death of all Americans, 29.6% of us. One in four...almost one in three.
• In women aged 25 or older, heart disease kills more of us than breast cancer or stroke combined.
• Even in your youth, ages 15-24 (both genders) it's still the fifth leading cause of death.
• After 75, it's #1.
• Cancer's another ugly one, just second to heart disease at 23% of all deaths.

More on this later.......

Spring is coming. I feel it in the pores of my skin, I smell it, so faintly, in the air. I sense it strongly. Most of my goats aren't bred.... Time to plant... I have to find a place....and yet, I don't want to hurry that TOO much; after all, this is a place where I'll be for at least a good chunk of our life... At any rate, I hate contacting people...realtors, landowners, etc. I think the only time where I actively contacted total strangers and was happy about it was when I was calling everyone I could think of, or who was referred to me, about the Sodium Oaks herd (dairy goats). I can't believe that didn't bother me: "Hello, you don't know me, but I heard that you knew something about Sodium Oaks!"

This is one area of aspiness that has always handicapped me: my aversion to making phone calls could almost have been classified as phobic at times. I also actively avoid all sorts of paperwork: bills, even when I have plenty of money, paying rent, all sorts of trivial but important things that involve interacting with a person. I'll avoid them, and then it winds up hurting me.

Case in point: hospital bill- the hospital has called for me twice. I owe them. I can't pay it. I'm scared. What I should do is to call them back, tell them I can't afford it, and set up a payment plan. That is why they called. If I don't do th is, they're going send that bill to a collection agency. I've been telling myself this for the past week or so. I still haven't worked up the nerve to call them. I'm in absolute dread of it. There are a number of other similar medical bills like that.

Again: Paying rent- it's due today. I don't have the money. If I call the landlord, he won't charge me a late fee if I pay it on the 4th, when I get paid. IF my check covers it. I'm afraid to call him. I don't want to, I keep avoiding it.

What I need is to hire someone to handle all this stuff for me, all the bills, and the business phone calls, and....maybe other stuff too. This stuff stresses me so much that it's unreal...