The Artist in the Ambulance

Because someday I'm going to do an agglomeration of public service announcements:

Today's Topic: When (and when NOT) to call an ambulance.

If you are a young woman with heavy menstrual cramps, and the Ibuprofen your mother just gave you is not working yet, do NOT call the ambulance. Try waiting a half and hour and maybe taking a couple more. You are welcome to call your doctor's office or pharmacist for medication info.

If you find yourself suddenly on the floor, alone, without recollection of the last 5 minutes, please, feel free to call the ambulance. We do not want this to happen again while you are trying to drive.

If your leg started hurting 3 months ago for an unknown reason, and you decide you finally have time to stop in and get it checked out today, you can probably handle walking your ass into the waiting room instead of tying up the ambulance and keeping the EMT's from people who can't breathe.

If you have gotten hung up on a barbed-wire fence after going 100+ miles per hour on an ATV and clotheslined yourself on said fence, and an hour later (after you have finally freed yourself), it feels that your throat is full of fluid, for Christ's sake, CALL the ambulance. Do not have your little neice with a learner's permit drive you.

Thank you, and have a safe day.

Deep Water

For the two people out there who still read this (and let me know that they are patiently waiting for the next entry), hello!

Balance has been on my mind a lot lately. So many goals, so little time, and so much to do it's exhausting. Updating my planner lately has been a chore. Every time I add another task in, I feel I am drilling another hole in my tiny survival raft. Not only have I neglected my family and friends, but I have also neglected myself. I get so bogged down with all of the assignments with work, school, personal health, housework, and errands, that the pressure mounts eponentially on this piece of coal. Lately, no facet of a diamond-in-process has glimmered to light. Nope, this coal frickin' collapses upon itself and somehow ignites into self-rebellion. (Wow, is that too many analogies for ya'?) I take pleasure in tossing aside my planner to sit and soak in my own self pity. Listen to the song. My water is self-produced. Tears from years of self-pity. Even I am tired of my obsession with whining.

Time to look to the sun. Or, Son, rather. I have spent entirely too much time dreaming of how good it will be; I have been stuck on survival mode until then. Time to love myself and think of today. My Dollar Store straws have holes and it's time to just get rid of the water.

Maybe that means I will write more. Maybe it doesn't. Either way, it made me happy today.