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Too Late to Change It

‘Too Late to Change It‘ is today’s procrastination.

Instead of working on today’s assignment, I am writing about whether I regret writing this cartoon. It’s a new Reply All feature brought to you by procrastination.

So, when I wrote this joke, I had apparently just been engaged with a total Know-it-All.

Just to be clear, there is no shortage of total Know-it-Alls in my life. No shortage.

Like maybe I even got somebody else’s extra rejected total Know-it-Alls.

Anyway, the total Know-it-All was cracking me up because the total Know-it-All really did think they knew everything and that I knew nothing.  It was  comical because it just wasn’t possibly true given how life had played out so far to date.

And thusly, a cartoon was born. Or borne.

I’m not sure which it is.  And I have no blog editor.

But I read the cartoon today online and laughed. I no longer remember who the particular total Know-it-All was the day I wrote that cartoon, but I’ll always have this cartoon to remind me that my memory stinks and total Know-it-Alls are always amusing.

Happy February Saturday.

I’m glad I wrote this cartoon.

And a p.s. thank you to my real life cartoon editors who keep me from looking as stupid as I do before editing,

xoxo, dee

 

A+ for Shoes

Well? Do you miss them yet?

Too Late to Change It

‘Too Late to Change It‘ is today’s procrastination.

Instead of working on today’s homework, I am writing about whether I regret writing this cartoon. It’s a new Reply All feature brought to you by procrastination.

And I definitely do NOT regret writing this cartoon. I read it today when I went online and I totally agree with Lizzie! I feel that way too! I miss wearing all my pretty work clothes!  And I’m getting tired of being so short wearing heels with only a 1.5” heel. I’m ready to go back to the ZZ Top heels!

So yeah, I like this cartoon. And I think the real question now is whether Lizzie will start wearing more of her fun and fashion-y clothes to the office. Or elsewhere. She might be getting sick of her home office.

Or not.

I can’t remember where the storyline goes.

xoxoxo, dee

You “Worked” at Sheppard Pratt?

 

The next time you take a year off from college, spend it in a psychiatric hospital.

It was the B.E.S.T. experience of my life.

No question about it. Still. To this day.

After my second year of college, I was in need of a break. I had arrived at school so excited to proclaim myself pre-law, but once there I was really drawn more to social sciences and psychology.  Back home, I had volunteered in hospitals (anyone need a Candy Striper or Pinkie uniform?) and I liked the medical environment. So after my fourth semester of college, I left school, came back to Baltimore and got a job at the most beautiful psychiatric hospital around these parts, Sheppard Pratt.

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Nine and a Half Lives

How many lives have you lived in this lifetime so far?

Or chapters. How many chapters does your book have so far?

Do you come in around the suggested 10 chapters for a memoir? Or are you drowning in chapters?

I’m hoping you have a high number of chapters so I can feel better about my high number of chapters.

I think one of my less-than-helpful, sometimes irrational,  core beliefs or automatic thoughts is that other people live a low number of chapters where not too many chapters would mess up a straight-ish line if mapped out.

But I’m smart. I know that’s not true. I do.

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Adventures with Jimmy Carter

I barely survived high school.

I barely passed either. Because of gym.

Somehow I convinced somebody to let me take college classes early. Then I got permission to just move to Washington DC in my senior year.  Along the way there were notes about how I would fail if I didn’t make up gym classes and stupid things like that. But I always figured out how to do whatever was necessary to meet the gym class requirement that stood between me and an exciting, independent life.

Because I was not a big fan of high school. But I had big dreams.

So I left Baltimore and moved to an all-girls dormitory on 2nd Street near Union Station. It was run by nuns and no men were allowed beyond the lobby. It added to the outrageous surrealness of the entire fact that I tricked everybody into letting me just leave home.

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Stop It.

I looked through my journals to see if my notes from the first round of Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS) are similar to the notes from the second round.

I’m pleased to notice several positive similarities so far.

Just two weeks into each round, I started writing “Stop it” in my journal.

That was me telling myself to stop it.

Specifically that is me telling myself to stop after realizing I was engaging in bad (negative, unhelpful, unwanted, undesirable, maladaptive) behaviors or habits,

And that’s amazing.

Because usually, being quite the OCD-brain, I would obsess about the behavior once realizing I was engaging in the behavior.

In other words, I would meta obsess.

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