My Orthopedic Surgeon

First of all I want to say, the man is gorgeous. After one meeting I fantasized about having his children. Of course, we would have to adopt them from Korea.

I never returned for my follow-up appointment. He recently began emailing me with doom and gloom messages. After inumerable attempts to respond, "password not recognized, password must contain a number, username not recongized... I sent the following message: "Screw you. If you want to tell me I'm dying, just call already."

I'm going to Ireland next month. Huh? Wha? Me stick around and DEAL with my problems?

I'm not afraid of anything except:

Driving a car on the wrong side of the road.

Someone is going to die.

I can't wait to see my neighbours that were kind to me when I was a little girl. They were magical, funny and mysterious people. It's dark over there, overcast and forlorn yet tremendously green. A strange smell lurks in the air, like the smell of decay.

I can't wait to smell that heady odor along the rocky cliffs overlooking that strange, sad ocean. No sand, no waves...just dirt and rocks reaching out for what seems like miles, where the murky ocean lapps forward spilling over the round stones that pepper the shore.

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Below is one of my favorite Irish singers: I used to listen to this song. I was in a year-long law suit. All I wanted was out. It was so hard. I didn't tell anyone. I did it alone. I didn't need anyone. I won. But really, I lost in the end. But like I always say, the fights not over until you stop getting up.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ns6ToVJdWUw