Silence Abounds and Immoral Grounds

You know I woke up this morning with the day in front of me — actually slightly behind me. My gut had been doing the rumba last night and had kept me up, keeping me sleep deprieved and groggy most of the day.

So I came online around 10 AM to find an email from Mike Emmons – which got me excited because I’m in the mood to work on a campaign and try to help out from the grass roots side at the very top of the organization.

Well, my excitement didn’t last long when I found that the person who had steered me to Mike Emmons had shared my own private conversation about Mike’s site with Mike without my permission. Mike had responded to some comments I made but I didn’t care to read them over. Why? Because of the ethical breach of sending someone’s email to someone else with regards to business.

If I wanted to talk to Mike Emmons about certain things – me and Mike could discuss them together in the future. That’s between me and Mike Emmons, not a third party who introduced me to Mike Emmons.

So, as the day went on, I got to go to the Hospital again to have stitches removed from my back. My doctor is almost shocked at how well I am doing and damnit – I am too. Still a LONG way to go when it comes to recovery and rehab but, as someone who was supposed to be left paraplegic by my last operation, I am no more paraplegic than a member of a dance troop.

Of course, not everything went hunky dory with the doctor appointment and my problems with it isn’t because of the doctor or having to wait an obsessively long time to get my stitches removed. It was dear old Dad once again who decided to piss me off. Not because he did something – it was because what he didn’t do.

We left around 1:30 and got back sometime after 5 and between those hours, my father barely said anything to me, and wouldn’t answer my questions with much more than a shrug or a gesture. I didn’t enjoy the car ride (though I kept picking up songs on the radio, which never happens with me) nor the hospital stay all thanks to the fact Dad wanted to play alpha-male who just grunted.

I’m a conversationalist, folks. I like to talk – I like to discss things and there are plenty of things in the world to discuss – just why the hell my Father likes to act like an oaf is beyond me. I really get sick of the fact he seems so dis-passionate about everything and anything. There are plenty of journal entries in the past where I have complained about him… I can’t point to them now but it’s worth repeating again that he is so indolent it isn’t even funny.