Dear (Blank)

Following the WordPress suggestion to find an event listing, I found this one.

This seemed appropriate for my state of mind lately, and I had fun doing it!

A letter with blanks to fill in was a great way to get back into the mood.

Words in bold are mine.

Image

Dear Writer’s Block,

I have been trying to forget that I feel this way for quite a while, but I can’t pretend anymore.  I am really (blank).  You know when you arrived and stood between the tip of my pen and my paper? And my fingers and my keyboard?  Well, let me share how that makes me feel…  When you stand in the way, like a man holding a stop sign for construction on a day when I am already REALLY LATE for work, I feel (blank).  Not so much as a thought or even inspiration, but really, really (blank).  It makes me want to start copying Webster’s Dictionary (the entire thing) with my pen in a leather journal just so that I am writing SOMETHING.  I would like to think that I am not the only one who feels this way.  As a matter of fact, you know what some of my blocked friends told me? What they told me about the publishers of all notebooks and leather-bound journals at $15 a piece?  Well they told me that you made a deal with them, that you come along, cause this surge of blocked writers who buy notebooks thinking it will inspire them. The blocked writers never write a word and the journal makers make money.

You know what they say:  If one person says you’re a self-serving, money hungry schemer, you can forget it.  When two people say you’re a self-serving money hungry schemer who is also lazy, you might want to consider it.  When three people say you’re a self-serving, money hungry, scheming lazy liar you might want to give up what you are doing to save your dignity.  It’s about that time for you, Writer’s Block.  Think about that.

Since we are being so honest, there are a few other things I would like to air.  I hate it when you critique my imperfect sentences and grammatically strange dialogue.  It makes me stressed, uptight and trying to write like the advice from a perfectly grammatical How to Appropriately Use the English Language book, if there is such a thing.

I also hate the way you cripple my stories.  Every time you tell me that my character can’t cry because they didn’t seem like the crying type based on their character sketch and their lack of development that I the writer caused because I was a BLOCKED writer and a poor one to boot I want to start stringing together words that really don’t make sense at all in your not so deep psuedo-cement vat of assumptions that of course I can’t write.

 

Also, the journal and notebook maker is not your real friend.  Remember that secret that you shared?  Well those who make those impressive holders for words and thoughts shared it with everyone.  Now everyone knows you are a myth and that real writers CAN use their notebooks and journals just as well as blocked writers can. So they continue buying and selling their notebooks and they all laugh at you behind your back.

I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.  I really like you.  I value our relationship.  But I cannot go on pretending that Writer’s Unblock hasn’t happened.  If you care enough about me and this relationship, I am sure you would agree to stay away forever. I am getting to know your cousin, Unblock. He seems a little less uptight.

Still friends?

Fondly,

(Blank)

Oops, let’s try that again.

Fondly,

This pen loving, notebook collecting, word delighting, at times grammatically damaging but always sentence creating, unblocked Writer.

Excluded Middles: Quitting Facebook

Not directly about nursing, no. But the concept of intrinsic value that is discussed here is a core of healthcare-helping others. And ourselves as well. We have an identity apart from what we project. And so do our patients. I believe of course that is because we are created by God… And I re-blogged because I really, really, like this article.

Good Things Run Wild

Originally published as “The Sosyal Network” in the Manila Bulletin, October 26, 2011

I recently shut down my Facebook account. This is partly for pragmatic reasons: doing so has saved me a lot more time for work and leisure reading. It is partly for security reasons: like most people, I live with an exaggerated sense of self-importance, and am in constant fear of creepy strangers looking at my bikini photos.

I do not regret it. Getting rid of my Facebook account has liberated me from the bondage of constantly keeping up with my peers. I no longer know where everyone else is going and with whom and what they are doing there, and I no longer feel bad or uncool about not being there too. It has also saved me the trouble of trying to find good photos of myself to post, and evaluating my self-worth on the number of…

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Patient

Sara Khayat

I am metal.
My bones
broke and
mended
bent and
borrowed
woven
with titanium to
keep my spine
standing tall.

I am patient
swinging my legs
off the icy
exam table
as I absently
read the
posters lining
the walls.

I am transparent
X-Rayed and
displayed
along hallways of
doctors’
offices.

And I love them.
All of the people
brought together
by operating tables
spending their time
correcting my
spine and
placing the bones
in my ankle

Crying in waiting
rooms sleeping in
arm chairs
biting their nails
down to the skin
I love them.

All of the people
who felt by my
side wasn’t a bad
place to spend
their minutes, hours,
and
days.

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