james blunt is sad
James Blunt makes us feel good about being depressed. (Not that I’m depressed, but his music almost makes me wish I were.)
I realised this on my way home today. Listening to Radio1. People love him because they feel like he gives meaning to their misery. Adds a certain kind of celluloid romance to it by setting it to music. That he dresses it up and turns it into something artistic. Lets them find beauty in sadness. And allows them to wallow in it without feeling counter productive. Misery is the fruit of the spirit, he seems to say.
James Blunt … is an ENABLER. 
good lord woman!
Ever had one of those days where you just want to run and run until your lungs give out? Because it’s the only thing that will do? I feel like that today. Full of pent up anxiety.
I feel the need. The need for speed.
I hate that movie.
I dare say running would do the trick. But It’d be more of a hobble. Thanks to Alyssa. This week has been all about upper body and walking lunges and not being able to straighten out my arms until today. It’s fantastic, really.
Still, ever tried to run without using your arms? If so, you see my point.
medical billing. the nhs takes on america.
In the UK I go to my GP just by calling up in the morning and attending the office sometime later in the day. His time and advice are free. If he writes me a prescription I get it filled for something like 15 dollars. No matter what it is.
I’m usually one of the first to point out the failings of all things NHS. I once worked for their regulatory body so I could probably do a better job than most. Still. It’s gotta beat this:
Last week after visiting my doctor’s office in the US I find $100 tacked onto my already substantial bill and converse with the Desk Sergeant as follows:
Me: “Wait a minute. What’s this?”
Desk Sergeant: “It’s $100.”
Me: (Blank look.) “Yeah. I know that. What’s it for.”
Desk Sergeant: “It’s for seeing the doctor.”
Me: “Isn’t that what this list,” points to lengthy bill, “Is for?”
Desk Sergeant: “Yes.”
Me: (Second blank look.) “Uh, huh. So is this a gratuity or something?”
Desk Sergeant: (Blank look of her own.) “You haven’t been here in six months. You’re a new patient. New patients, mean extra administration duties.”
(It had been six months and two days, btw.)
Me: “But you already had all my details. You already know everything about me. You already had a file on me because I saw it when I walked in the door. You never did anything AT ALL today except ask ‘what’s wrong with you this morning?’. And you just stared at me when I told you. So you see, you didn’t really have to do any ‘new patient’ things. Did you? I’d like to contest this.”
Desk Sergeant: “I had to move your file from that cabinet,” points over her left shoulder “To this cabinet,” points over her right shoulder. “And put a NEW sticker on it.”
Me: (Through closed eyes. After a long pause.) What do I EVEN say to that…?”
thankful
The new year rings in the restart to my five-days-on / two-days-off gym routine. It’s painful but mandatory if I want to get any cardiovascular activity at all and not turn in to a sausage.
They say it takes three weeks to form a habit, and that’s about how long it will hurt. After that your body starts to crave it. To need it. And to really withdraw if it doesn’t have it. So it’s not as bad as it sounds. I mean, it IS. But only for three weeks.
I have a few other New Years’ resolutions floating around inside my head but the bits and pieces haven’t formed into coherent sentences yet. And writing them down never helps anyway.
I think it was Ryan Seacrest who said he wanted to be more thankful. Or maybe one of those chics off the Morning Show. Either way, it sounds good to me.
I want to be more THANKFUL this year. The rest will come or go as it pleases. It always does.
p.s.
Who’s Liverpool sleeping with at the New York Times?
( New York Times Top 53 Places to Visit in 2008: See #16)
