Not a lot going on right now, to be honest.
Did the wound care thing this morning. Nothing to report there, all quite routine. The nurse rushed through it a bit and I missed Dwayne’s steady, craftsman-like touch.
I won’t be forgetting him any time soon. Soooo damned hot.
Otherwise it’s a pleasantly quiet day. I don’t even have any forthcoming appointments that I know of besides good old wound care.
The wounds are looking pretty good in general. The old one on the left has sealed over completely, or at least it had until I tried to remove what looked like dried skin and it started to bleed a little.
Lesson learned. Ne touche pas. Leave the damned thing alone.
Still very pleased that it has sealed up after staying open and refusing to heal at all for literal years. I guess being sealed off under a bandage and protected from the elements (and me) was just what it needed.
Or maybe all I really needed was someone to care for me and show me some TLC. The relationship between our bodies and our emotional states is very complex and intricate, and patient readers know I have massive unmet nurturing needs.
Somewhere in the deepest levels of my brain is a little boy who concluded that because nobody cared for him, he wasn’t worth caring for, and who therefore kind of gave up on life and stopping caring about himself too,.
This is not a mindset that promotes the sort of wholesome and active engagement with life that is most conducive to healing.
Like I have said before. at one point in elementary school I just laid down in a snowbank and willed myself to die.
I suppose I should be glad it didn’t occur to me to take a more practical approach and actually attempt suicide.
That would have drawn attention to my plight and I couldn’t have that. That went against the rules of my personal universe.
No matter how much I suffered. it was still my job to stay out of the way and blend in with the furniture and pretend I did not exist.
I wasn’t even supposed to be there, let alone have needs and desires that required any effort or expense from anyone ever.
I deserved absolutely nothing ever, not even existence. My entire life was a mistake, an accident, a tragedy. An ugly truth to be minimized and denied as much as possible.
That total negation of self lies at the heart of my mental health issues. I am still afraid to live because deep down I feel like I will get in trouble for reminding the universe that I exist and have needs and such.
So yeah. Maybe all I truly need in order to heal and thrive is for people to show they care enough to care for me and thus validate me as a person who is worth something to somebody somewhere, instead of being nothing but an accursed burden who should just go away and die somewhere far, far away from the rest of humanity.
I know people love me. I know people care about me. I know they want me around.
But I don’t feel it.
And part of me refuses to believe it.
And it’s so very, very cold in here.
Midnight tundra, all the way down.
More after the break,
If this beverage is a SlurpEE, does that make me the SlurpER?
I’m a Poke Man!
So I am finally getting around to the newfangled (well, recentfangled anyway) cuisine they call Poke, pronounced ‘poké’ (or “poke, eh” for you Anglos).
It’s a traditional Hawaiian food and it’s basically just a bowl of various foods plus a sauce. It starts with a base of rice then you add meat, fresh veggies, accents like fried onion or garlic, and then a sauce or sauces.
Then you limber up your elbows and mix it all together till it’s basically a complex salad.
I’m quite enjoying it so far. I chose a citrus sauce which is quite delightful and a smoky teriyaki sauce which, alas, I cannot taste.
Oh well. I knew that was the likely outcome.
Sadly, the protein options were mostly fish. Not surprising given that it’s an island cuisine, but still, a little disappointing.
The only options that had never lived underwater were marinated tofu and “juicey” (sic) chicken, and after some consideration. I doubled up on the chicken.
I have nothing against tofu but “marinated” is way too vague a word for my comfort.
Marinated in what? Lemon juice? BBQ sauce? Molten lava?
I need details, people!
What I like most about this cuisine is that it’s low carb. Originally, I was going to get Chinese food, but then I looked at my usual order – chow mein (noodles), fried rice (rice), and sweet and sour pork (breaded, fried, AND served with a sugar laden sauce) and decided that was way, way too many carbs for me.
Et tu, Chinese food?
So I got my poke on instead.
I wish we knew which hole he’s gonna poke her through.
Nothing can explain Tim and Eric. It’s not even what you would usually call comedy.
What are the odds that two people with the same extremely weird sense of humour would meet in high school and have the grit and ambition to actually produce a show based on that extremely specific and bizarre sense of humour?
Let alone have it actually catch on with weirdos like me.
Anyhow, back to the point, poke is great. Not exactly a bizarre concept, like I said. it’s pretty much just a complicated salad. But I like it.
You want weird, try BlackBall Taiwanese Dessert.
It looks like this :
..and is so abstract and bizarre that I was honestly tempted to try it till I saw the “dessert” in the name of the place and figured it was not for me.
Who wouldn’t be delighted by a hearty dessert of what appears to be, clockwise from the upper left, chicken entrails, gelatinized rice in a Skin of Evil sauce, red beans that have led an unwholesome and unfortunate life, what they insist on calling “peannuts”. and every child’s favorite, olives blacker than the sky in space.
Go home, BlackBall, You’re drunk. And probably an alien.
Get your drunk alien ass home right now!
God damn it, I thought you were one of the good ones.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.