Category Archives: scorpio

Teh mipsellde sussecc with a dab of gable

Life happens when we least expect it. Things take over, the ideas ferment churning then charging in stampede as if to overtake your own soul. A random thought maybe? Think about this though. How many times have you only just begun something and then at the inklings of success another begins to worry, to think less but speak more, before actually considering what they are saying to you or they just want you back to the way you were before the happiness began.

When someone else becomes successful does it bother you or cause you feelings of jealousy? I’d would be lieing if I said “I jessica Doyle am happy all the time about everyone else’s happiness and success.” I would. Really. But let me say this in the next breath “I am happy for everyone’s success.” Whoah now that is deep – eh?

By fate or decision of my parents to propagate I was born in November. I am said to be a Scorpio. After an introduction to someone in real life I am already judged as a scorpion, that I have a stinger, that I am feisty, high-strung and overtly sexual and out to get you and your family. This bugs me. On the other hand some people become instantly mesmerized that I am a scorpio. It is like night and day. Have I actually taken on that prescribed personae, being overtly white and black? For a long time I wrote about wanting to find that happy medium, that’s something that makes me tick, that makes me happy.

Working at home has lots of benefits. But one of them isn’t having your boyfriend home for the week while he is off work because of a back injury from last week. Or that a woman you met in your building from the summertime is phoning an average of 20 times a day! I keep asking her not to. She is my friend. But I have my limits. I hate the phone. I hate ringing or buzzing or swooshing or dripping or tick-tocking. It soon becomes a repetitive nuisance. I already have a mother. And no… OMG! LMAO my mother is not, for the record, a nuisance. I love my mom. She is my mom.

So yes, Eric has been home from work. A gable fell on him. He went back to the doctor on Saturday because he was not feeling better and the pain had migrated to other areas of his back. Turns out he has two broken ribs and Walking Pneumonia. Ah yeaht – he does. I’d have to argue here with Wikipedia about:

Walking pneumonia is an outdated term referring to pneumonia (infection of the small air-filled sacs of the lung) which does not cause significant disability. People who are affected by walking pneumonia do not require hospitalization and are often able to continue participating in school or work functions…

Well maybe not argue but at least suggest that a doctor or someone with medical expertise edit the first sentence to read, Walking pneumonia refers to pneumonia (infection of the small air-filled sacs of the lung) which does not cause significant disability. Eric recieved a diagnosis using those exact words Walking pneumonia. Two years ago in another far away part of Canada one of my first cousins was diagnosed as having walking pneumonia.

I don’t really know how to measure success other than the feeling or rather onset of happiness. It could be the emotion of trust. Maybe the inclination of mere worth on a global scale could be measured. Grand!

So this whole cell-phone thing or lack there of occupies my mind from time to time accumulating the pros and cons to ownership of such things such as mobility. This makes me laugh. How many people out there actually do NOT own a cell-phone either?

If there ever were words I would love to continue typing dyslexically (and have them be correct regardless of misspellings) they are in no particular order:

  1. wrok
  2. thought
  3. thaught
  4. brought
  5. braught
  6. thast
  7. friend
  8. freind

I incredibly misspell these words repeatedly and others I’m sure. Surprisingly, I am a finger typer. I don’t know what to call it. I do not type like they teach you in school. I began typing after I learned key commands in 1994. I remember back in 1992, hand printing all of my University essays. I just didn’t type then.

Erratic Eroticism Censored

Creating a title for a posting is a troubling thing sometimes. The word ‘sometimes’ is a word I am particularly tired of writing. There is this word censorship that’s been bubblin’ around in my head today. I am feeling censored. I am feeling censored from myself today. Does that make sense to any of you? This is when I miss drugs. I get so gung hoe about an idea that it excites me beyond belief, to a point of exploding physically and emotionally if I can’t get the idea out fast enough. What do you after the damn excitement wains and you are left with the idea uncompleted? This is one time where I do NOT want to throw blame on anyone else but myself. So, here I am, censored and angry.

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