crismiss

So the crismass season has passed and we count our blessings, or, in most cases, we count who sent us crismiss cards and who didn't, vowing to send to those who did and screw the bastards who didn't. i was one of the bastards this year because i was too schizoed out to believe that there really was a holiday here. i bought thas gold earrings but she didn't particularly like them so we exchanged them for really cool bangles. i'm really happy for her because she loves the gift. i noticed the crismiss reminders began even before thanksforthefoodpigout day. used to be they'd wait until after that high holy day. now it's sell sell sell and buy this buy that. the christians have lost the meaning of crismiss but they aren't the only religion to lose the deeper meaning. at least the muslims haven't forgot how to jihad their butts off. almost got an entire airline this time. oops--forgot to mention it's a religion of peace--maybe they meant pieces of bodyparts. anyway, merry crismiss to all and to all a happy new year. may it not suck as much as these past several years did with the lack of mutual caring and love for the simple fact that we are humans and no religion should come in the way of that, nor piece of land.
peace out

ems

Two EMS workers were having lunch in Manhattan yesterday when a young woman, who worked in the restaurant they were eating in, had a medical event. The two EMS workers went on eating and did not intervene to help the young woman who subsequently died. How unconscionable is that? How do people get into professions like the helping professions and do nothing to help someone who obviously needed it. She died--a young, vital woman who could have very possibly been saved. These jerks were suspended--a lot of good that does her and her family.

writing

So the story is initially finished, but is it really? I know that I still have a lot to do in order to make it palatable to anyone reading it. I lack a strong plot, although there's a plot. I have a theme, but I need to express it stronger than I have already expressed it. And there are a lot of expletives in it that may cause people to think that I can only write a fucked up story with dirty dirty words. But seriously, I hope I can fix it in time--that is, in time before I'm too old to remember what the story is about. My characters are good, I think, but I want to make them gooder. Writing is tough.