These Eyes

27 Jan

I lost the time to write. After a while it all starts to type out the same way. My eyes still hurt. I wondered how long this has been going on, and then I read old writing and found out it has been a year of these eyes.

I thought the eye doctor would tell me: They are beautiful! And let me go.

I am not sure how my eyes can be dry with the years of tears.



13 Jul

Who is standing in the middle of these organs trying to balance the see-saw? That is the imaginary Mr Rational on the pivot, and he is a buzz kill.

My heart has taken over my prefrontal cortex. My frontal lobe has selective attention and there is only one thing on my mind. I am out of control and I like it.

And if I break my own heart while I wreck my brain: I will take a full strength Aspirin, wrap myself in sterile gauze, listen to my heart tones and check my pupils.


8 Jul

Where does consciousness live? In the Reticular Activating System!

The RAS runs from the lower brain stem to the mesencephalon and thalamus– to the cerebral cortex, it is a path between our lower brain and our upper brain.

It brings together a response to the outside world. It filters out stimulus that we do not need, and we focus on what we need to pay attention to.

If someone tells me something I do not want to know about, I will say—I am sorry my RAS filtered that information out as unnecessary to my knowledge bank, please try again later.

I slept now I am awake! I am aroused and paying attention, thanks to my RAS.


14 Jun


I am trying to keep my balance on the life beam. The write is neglected and the love is thirty stories high in a building that is not under construction. I want to marry an ironworker.

Eye Pain

22 Feb

My eyes have been hurting and it is not from looking at dirty pictures. Somewhere the will to write got lost and I ended up with a neglected new nurse blog. The poem today was about fairies and Absinthe, my own green eyes and a purse made out of cigar box, but I trashed it as raw and never started over again. I will blame it on the new job and the pursuit of domestic bunny-ship. It might just be the cold weather. Hot chocolate loses its magical comfort a few months in- and I know spring is coming.

I might need reading glasses. I am finding it hard to get into the brain. I have not really tried. I am looking for my get-a-way car but it does not exist.

Ripped Panty Hose

8 Jan

You can’t control the runners in ripped control top nylons.

Providing a small sense of control to a patient during their most vulnerable state of being: ‘No, I can not remove the peripheral intravenous catheter that is infusing critical medications into your blood stream and I can not remove this blood pressure cuff but would you like your telephone here or there?’

When I go home, I try to put the spoons in the right spot to get the same feeling, but it never really feels quite the same.

It’s An Automatic.

6 Jan

Drawing from