Poor, Poor, Pitiful She

Now, that's a hand-slap attributed to the insensitivity of The Offbeat Drummer and all her Blue Meanies. 

The definition of conjecture is "an opinion or conclusion formed on the basis of incomplete information."

After a conversation with an interested party last night, I've come to find out that Ms. Blog Stalker is not, in fact, as tough skinned and badass as the majority of the posse I know, and is going through "rough times." Rough times, Sister Sledge? I hold my head high (when I'm not suicidal, but I'm bipolar) and don't give a damn what people think of me.  I'm neither afraid nor give a damn about the criticism of the prose I compose on a regular basis, and who would think my blog is fictional to begin with? While I have a college degree in writing, I sucked at fiction writing. I think I got a C from the esteemed Robert Hellenga, best-selling author at Knox College. 

Whatever "story" which was presented to to the interested/involved party was pure conjecture. The ludicrous idea was suggested by this person, who's in the blog frequently, that I revert the blog, which is my running, rambling autobiography, into a work of fictitious "short stories." I listened to his rationale, and he made his case, but I just kind of "Uh huh'd" and "Mmm Hmm'd" my way through that part of the conversation. If I even attempted to all of a sudden say "This is a short story based on my imagination or recent events," at this point, nobody would believe me, because the vast majority of my reader base knows I tell nothing but the God's honest truth, which can be brutal and vulnerable at times. Is it risky to *not* write under a nom-de-plume?  Yes. Those who ask for pseudonyms or nicknames, I honor. Others who are bold enough and have nothing to hide from the universe, like me, use their real first names.

I've been hinging on a PhD or EdD in Creative Writing versus a PsyD doctorate in psychology once my masters is completed. I honestly would like to provide therapy, for which I'd be licensed, but a side gig as a college writing professor would make me very, very happy. Said contributor said I should I get that PhD in creative writing because it's my God given talent, just as we're all blessed with certain talents.(Ms. Blog Stalker is good with numbers but atrocious with English and vocabulary or intellectualism). I haven't outed anyone's libelous last name or real name who've requested. Should Ms. Blog Stalker require armchair therapy, I suggest she broach that with her friends or a real doctor, not this unlicensed psychologist. Otherwise, she's welcome to seek out my solicited advice, but it'll cost her $150 under the table to listen to her bitch for an hour.

The medical practice, remember, is deemed "Balderdash and Verities," which I borrowed from the late Harry Chapin, which essentially means what's truth and what's a lie. And trust me, there are plenty of crocodile tears and hurt feelings among the staff still working there, lies and covering one another's asses. Put simply, balderdash is bullshit & verities are the epitome of what's truthful. 

My friend's suggestion that I revamp "Rhythms" into a work of Lifetime TV movies is, the more I ponder it, ridiculous. Who would believe I'm fictitiously making this stuff up? Truly, as the cliche goes, the truth is stranger than fiction. My merry band of friends and family are what spice up my blog. To imply that it *was* fictitious or out of  purely my imagination would be non-authentic to  myself and what I write about. Nobody would believe me, certainly not the faithful readers, if I fictionalizaled stories of what has happened in mine or their lives, or that it was *good* fiction writing. 

At any rate, I've casted the perfect actress to play Ms. Blog Stalker, minus about 90 lbs and actually pretty, the inimitable Susan Lucci:

I'm irked more and more as the night progresses because this particular co-worker of Ms. BS, I believe, only heard her version of the story, which evidently he heard third-hand, so he has a one sided, crocodile tears "Andrea's harassing me!!!" Wah. When, as I said, I have proof that the site was accessed from B&D and the invasive and annoying texts weren't my instigation at quarter to five in the morning. He did't seem to care. At all. He has lost his mind, because he suggested that MS. BS and I actually have lunch to iron things out, but at least leave the Henchwoman out. No dice. She accessed me twice through home before I blocked her IP and that of her Henchwoman, yet released the office. I have nothing left to say. I'm a very busy grad student. I have moved on. There is literally no reason for our lives to intersect at this or any other juncture. 

"Rough times." Yes, we all go through them. Trust me that my illness has caused the worst of them, but I manage it as best I can But the strongest of us have the capacity, no matter how desperate things seem in the moment, to carry on. We don't cower and beg for alms of pity, and myself and most of my friends (and family) have been through far heavier shit and survived. The tenure at B&D almost literally killed me. Why would I want to relive that past, aside from making one lifelong friend?  I have no idea. She needs to grow a pair. All of this will make me a terrific therapist, no? This is how I'll end up:

But no, I've decided after pondering, that I'm not prefacing my blog entries, as "imaginative" they might be, as being stories of fiction, because they're actually things which happened to me or the people I care about. Perhaps a lesson of prose vs fiction is in order. I don't know. The verity is that I (pats back) am a good writer, most of the time. The balderdash would be making shit up you can't make shit up about. Literally.

So no, I'm not "harassing" your office staff. Like my friend Very said, Dr. Interested Party. They have an awful more to lose than I do. If you would take the time to read the emails I DO send, you might grasp that, since our propinquity has been askew, and spending time with me doesn't fit into your extremely busy schedule. 

Suffice it to say, while I was thanked for my card and token of extreme Miklasz family legacy, I didn't get the warm reaction I anticipated. Though atheist BMF was thanked profusely for his mass card, which was very thoughtful of him, especially given he was overseas and is an atheist, I got a chilly but acknowledged response for my gesture.

Ok, so what do I say next? This whole blog is a work of fiction? People please. I wouldn't insult your intelligence in such a fashion. Verily, that. Stop.