In the last 24 hours I have:
...knocked over a glass, shattering said glass and dousing myself with water mere minutes before heading to work. I am wet and my floor is sharp.
...read a funny Sinfest;
...found precisely zero jobs I'm suitable for (I need to start checking daily, not weekly);
...heard that Mitch Hedberg overdosed, proving once again that very talented people can be very, very stupid and;
...learned that SCUL HQ was broken into, several bikes were stolen, the tool wall was emptied and the leader has decided to call it quits.
I normally enjoy going to work, at least marginally. It's easy, I'm good at it and the day flies by.
Today I just want to lie in between two flannel sheets (while wearing flannel long johns), door shut, shades drawn listening to Vangelis, drifting in and out of lucidity while my -9.25 eyesight kinda watches the fish suck up and spit out rocks.
Getting really sick of hearing all this talk about Terri Schiavo. It's "barbaric," it's "inhumane," it's in violation of the "sanctity of life." Every goddamn time I hear someone make a comment like this, a little voice in my head tacks on "which is what she wanted." None of them seem to want to admit this fact. None.
I have yet to hear anyone critical of the removal of her feeding tubes acknowledge that this is what she wanted. See, their logic doesn't work when you remove Terri from the "having something done to her" category, does it?
She wanted to die.
She didn't want to live for fifteen years with no brain.
Why can't you critics leave people to make up their own minds about their own bodies? What is it about this idea that scares you so much?