WEEK 17 OR BLATANT ABUSE OF THE SLASH MARK
HIV, cancer, diabetes, flatulence, midgetism – all the pathologies and/or manifestations thereof I’ve run into this week. I didn’t massage, the midget, I just saw her on DuPont Circle. I think she went up to my hip.
It’s been quite a week pathologically – I have met people sicker, weirder, more broken, more hurting than I am. In a way one has to feel sorry for them, yet at the same time I feel like yelling “just because you have (insert disease here) is no reason to be an asshole. Just because your parents were abusive/alcoholics/bipolar/dead/divorced/schizophrenic/all/none of the above is no reason to be so self-absorbed and/or take it out on me. I’m a massage therapist (soon to be reflexologist/aromatherapist) not a psychiatrist. For the little amount of money you are paying me to put up with this crap you could at least tip me better.”
Then I wonder what my doctor/dentist/vet/hairdresser/vet thinks of me. Am I that weird/annoying/obnoxious/disgusting?
The Life Before Her Eyes opened this week. I saw the Mix preview Monday, but only the first 35 minutes of it. It’s about a woman in her thirties who survived a Columbine-like high school shooting. As the 15th anniversary approaches she is having weird flashbacks. It is supposed to have a surprise ending, like Tony Perkins in Psycho being his own mother or Bruce Willis in the Sixth Sense being already dead. Being a crime victim myself it was kind of disturbing – now I get scared when I’m in the studio alone at night.
It’s been quite a week pathologically – I have met people sicker, weirder, more broken, more hurting than I am. In a way one has to feel sorry for them, yet at the same time I feel like yelling “just because you have (insert disease here) is no reason to be an asshole. Just because your parents were abusive/alcoholics/bipolar/dead/divorced/schizophrenic/all/none of the above is no reason to be so self-absorbed and/or take it out on me. I’m a massage therapist (soon to be reflexologist/aromatherapist) not a psychiatrist. For the little amount of money you are paying me to put up with this crap you could at least tip me better.”
Then I wonder what my doctor/dentist/vet/hairdresser/vet thinks of me. Am I that weird/annoying/obnoxious/disgusting?
The Life Before Her Eyes opened this week. I saw the Mix preview Monday, but only the first 35 minutes of it. It’s about a woman in her thirties who survived a Columbine-like high school shooting. As the 15th anniversary approaches she is having weird flashbacks. It is supposed to have a surprise ending, like Tony Perkins in Psycho being his own mother or Bruce Willis in the Sixth Sense being already dead. Being a crime victim myself it was kind of disturbing – now I get scared when I’m in the studio alone at night.
posted by Numerologist at 10:45 PM
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