Visions
I'm in a class where the professor has spent 72 minutes explaining the difference between a Vision Statement and a Mission. This isn't Business Management 101. My ADD has had me count tiles on the ceiling (there is 142); think about if I remember every step of infant CPR; wonder what would happen if the professor's head spontaneously combusted; think about how right-wing, conservative Christians have made me denounce any belief of a God (people always say they feel they were "enlightened" when they found God. I was "enlightened" when I accepted science as my one truth and I think it's damned shitty that atheists and agnostics aren't allowed to be proud of their faith (or lack thereof) without being seen as a degenerate)...
Checking in with the professor. Now examining examples of non-profit and religious organization's missions and vision statements. Enough to keep my attention for 6.2 seconds.
I wish I could dissect an eyeball. My own eyeball. Except I'd want to have a cybernetic eye implanted first because I would not want to lose my sight. I'd just like to physically examine my own body more. Damned oncologist did not even allow me to have my own abdominal mass. Had to send it to be biopsied. That was stupid. I knew it wasn't cancerous. My white blood cell count was fine. All I get is auburn strands of hair and fingernail clippings, which are boorish and humdrum.
112 minutes into class and we are still talking about Vision Statements. I'm starting to understand the allure of diploma mills. Who invented zippers? I bet they made a lot of money.
I want to carry a child still. It weighs on me /daily/. I don't talk to ANYONE about it because I know it's burdensome. I want to spend every penny I can muster on fertility treatments. Every fucking penny. But I don't have enough pennies to buy myself a pair of fucking tennis shoes. It grates on me SO MUCH when people tell me they pray or wish for me to find peace in accepting it. Umm, hell no? If you got diagnosed with something curable, or incurable! ...and you vocally expressed that you still wanted to overcome that disability, who the hell would I be to tell you that I hope you can find acceptance in your limitation? If you lost a leg and wanted to run a marathon, I'd buy you a god-damned wheelchair and push your ass myself. I'd bend over backwards doing fundraisers to buy you a prosthetic limb. I sure as shit would not except some omnipotent fantasy dude to bestow a sudden indifference over your ailment.
127 minutes in and she has moved on to Objectives and Goals. Goals! My goal is to not slap any random strangers that I pass on the way back to my car. I wish it was socially acceptable to be more aggressive. I'm so much more contentious than I used to be. I blame it on increased confidence, a growing sense of self-acceptance and an enhanced sense of apathy.
I hate not feeling in control.
Checking in with the professor. Now examining examples of non-profit and religious organization's missions and vision statements. Enough to keep my attention for 6.2 seconds.
I wish I could dissect an eyeball. My own eyeball. Except I'd want to have a cybernetic eye implanted first because I would not want to lose my sight. I'd just like to physically examine my own body more. Damned oncologist did not even allow me to have my own abdominal mass. Had to send it to be biopsied. That was stupid. I knew it wasn't cancerous. My white blood cell count was fine. All I get is auburn strands of hair and fingernail clippings, which are boorish and humdrum.
112 minutes into class and we are still talking about Vision Statements. I'm starting to understand the allure of diploma mills. Who invented zippers? I bet they made a lot of money.
I want to carry a child still. It weighs on me /daily/. I don't talk to ANYONE about it because I know it's burdensome. I want to spend every penny I can muster on fertility treatments. Every fucking penny. But I don't have enough pennies to buy myself a pair of fucking tennis shoes. It grates on me SO MUCH when people tell me they pray or wish for me to find peace in accepting it. Umm, hell no? If you got diagnosed with something curable, or incurable! ...and you vocally expressed that you still wanted to overcome that disability, who the hell would I be to tell you that I hope you can find acceptance in your limitation? If you lost a leg and wanted to run a marathon, I'd buy you a god-damned wheelchair and push your ass myself. I'd bend over backwards doing fundraisers to buy you a prosthetic limb. I sure as shit would not except some omnipotent fantasy dude to bestow a sudden indifference over your ailment.
127 minutes in and she has moved on to Objectives and Goals. Goals! My goal is to not slap any random strangers that I pass on the way back to my car. I wish it was socially acceptable to be more aggressive. I'm so much more contentious than I used to be. I blame it on increased confidence, a growing sense of self-acceptance and an enhanced sense of apathy.
I hate not feeling in control.