I'm Not Writing

The last week and a half have been rough. I'm not writing about it. In fact, I'm not writing about anything.

I feel bad when I don't post on my regular schedule, but if the last few weeks have taught me anything, it's that my schedule doesn't mean shit.

I'll be back to you shortly with the snarky, assholistic commentary that you're all used to.

I promise.

As always, it's hip to be square (and MIA), kids.

"Brave Secrets"

When we see patients who don't get any better, it's often because they're hiding something that they don't want us to know. It's usually something that they feel makes them terrible or deficient in some way. In reality, once we find out what it actually is, it's almost always something that everyone has gone through or done. Or, it's something that makes them a little different, but that the rest of the world would have no problem with. The news that they are not broken or different instantly makes them better, and then they don't need us anymore.

We love when people don't need us anymore. 

Anyway, the point of this is that everyone has secrets or quirky things that they do that they think make them different. I have a ton, and I keep them to myself because I don't want people to think I'm weird or obsessive or over-bearing. To paraphrase pretty much my favorite author in the whole wide world, The Bloggess (@TheBloggess), if we all talked about our "brave secrets" we'd realize that we all have the same secrets.

I'm collecting guest posts from fellow bloggers on the quirks that you think make you different. They will go up over the next few weeks. These aren't deep, life-changing, traumatic events. It's little things that we all do that maybe make us shy when someone notices.

Actually, screw that. None of you bitches are shy. 

You know what I mean.

If you want to contribute, shoot me an email at maternaldamnation@gmail.com. Tell me what you want to write about or send me a draft. You don't have to bare your soul, but you could talk about your high school garage band the Soul Bears. 

Dude. I'm going to start a band called The Soul Bears. TRADEMARKED.

We're all really different, and that's what kind of makes us all the same. 

I'll be posting my quirky Soul Bear over the next few days. In the meantime, send me the goods!

As always, it's hip to be square (and quirky!), kids.  

My Soul Bear

I need someone to draw me a picture of a Soul Bear so I can use it as my eventual band logo, but also so that I can have it and laugh.

Please see this post to find out what a Soul Bear is. 

For my entire life, I've just assumed people didn't like me. I have no ill will toward them, but I always felt like if it was between me and someone else, they would want to hang out with someone else because WHO WOULDN'T? I am still amazed when friends call and ask for my attention because I'm so uncool that I'm warm. I always feel like the little kid around big grown ups, even though were often the same age and I'm intelligent enough to conversate the shit out of a... conversation. 

Anyway, this extends to my Twitter life. People follow me and I get all excited and happy. Then I go all "OH MY BOB THEY ARE GOING TO THINK I'M STUPID AND NOT COME TO MY BIRTHDAY PARTY AND UNFOLLOW ME AND I'LL BE DEVASTATED WHEN I NOTICE AND OHMYBOBBBBBB!"

Just for the record, when you try to dramatically write the word "Bob", it pretty much always looks like "boob". 

Heh. Boobies. 

Anyway, I have been known to occassionally (read: all the time) check to make sure people I admire out there on the Internetz are still following me. I do it with people I talk to all the damn time. It's the reason that I almost didn't want to start #SnarkLine. I was worried that no one would think I was funny or nice enough. 

I'M BOTH, DAMMIT. 

So that's my Soul Bear. Even if you love me, I probably think you hate me. If you don't answer, I assume it's cause I said something stupid. Even with all of my educations and accomplishments, I will always be the kid that didn't get picked for kickball because she was too damn small.

Hi from down here.

As always, it's hip to be square (and obsessive!), kids.