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If You’re Going To Call Me A Name, Let It Be This
I’m 5’1″. I’ve been called short before, and a lot of other names, too, that I’d rather not recall. Nobody’s perfect. But now that I’m all grown up (debatable), if you are going to call me a name, let these words roll off your tongue: That girl is a hopeless romantic. That’s a nomenclature I hold in the highest esteem. I find the terminology particularly flattering, for in doing my research on what it means to truly be a HOPELESS ROMANTIC, these are the findings: Hopeless Romantics are NOT hopeless. Not at all. They tend to be very true, caring, and loving people. They believe in passion, chivalry, and true…
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Friday Fodder: Dialogue with a Doctor
“So, how are you?” “Not so great or I wouldn’t be here.” “Tell me what’s going on?” “Do you want the whole list or just the top ten?” “Let’s start with number one.” “I have heart palpitations that are crazy, pounding. They’re so distracting, I’m having trouble sleeping.” “Everyone has those.” “But mine are so bad, I find myself concentrating on them all the time. Hearing my heart beating at such a rapid pace and skipping beats makes me feel like Edgar Allan Poe’s character in ‘The Tell-Tale Heart.’ I may be going insane.” “Maybe, but I’m guessing your heart is just fine.” “But what should I do about the…
