Do you ever feel like a human doormat?
Do you find yourself getting suckered into doing stuff you don’t want to do?
I know this situation very well because I used to be the same way. When you find yourself in situations like these, it’s probably because your boundaries aren’t super strong.
Put another way, you suck at saying, ‘no.’
So, other people’s problems become your problems. Other people’s burdens become your burdens.
You don’t have to let that happen. But if you struggle to set strong boundaries, you almost always find yourself in draining situations like these.
I’ve always been a slow bloomer. So finding out my superpower late in life is unsurprising for me.
I didn’t engage with the intelligence gene until I was around 30. I remained childishly “prankish” until it was parentally embarrassing and my parents threatened to disown me. I was not so much worried about the disowning as I was the loss of accommodation and inheritance that went with it.
I only started drinking alcohol in my early 20’s. Sadly I am really terrible at that too. It brings out the child in me.
I love you, I love you, I love you. This was the ever repeated line my husband and I would spew at one another while away on our mini vacation. It wasn’t being said as a reminder but instead because we were so high from tequila shots and clean mountain air basically every minute of our getaway.
It is a wonderful thing to feel like you have no responsibilities in the world. When you have no responsibilities in the world, you can do things like start drinking at 11 a.m. …
Dear Mr. Williams, or can I call you Evan since you have asked us writers to be more relational? I take that to mean being more friendly and approachable in our writings — as if we were sitting down for coffee or a perhaps a strong rum with a good friend and having a chat.
I really would love to have a good, long elbow rub with you. I would have suggested that we could have gotten all kuniky* but then, the-you-know-what has taken that off the cards. So we either do an elbow grind or a daps as we…
He wakes up
Begins to stretch
Off he goes
He immediately starts looking
Looking for everyone
Greetings start to flow
While eating breakfast
Sharing is what he loves
Sharing his words
Back and front
Left and right
He goes all through his day
Talking amazed about everything
Every new object
Every new expression
Talking is what he enjoys the most
Soon we will all understand
Understand him is what is missing
He mumbles and babbles
For hours he goes
He is communicating
In his head, he knows what he is saying
He will soon learn
Learn to speak properly
Sadly … a limerick-based newsletter
Doc Funny’s been working in Pharma^
Tho prefers to be hangin’ in Parma*
But we’ve hit two eighteen**
The highest we’ve been
Due to our excellent karma
Well that’s enough of that shit.
But, seriously peeps. The good “Doctor Funny” couldn’t have done it without you.
So many of you have contributed funny, clever, snide, sarcastic, ribald, witty, amusing, silly, cute, catty and chatty stories for readers to delight in (and viewers to partially delight in).
Then of course there’s my stuff.
There once was a group of friends
That splintered off to different ends
At first, it was a bit tough
And hard not to be in a huff
But strong connections always transcend
All those random events shared
Like picking out the vomit from hair
That prick that hurt you
Or quick plan to thwart view
No need to decode it's already clear
Speeches and words are not necessary
The deeper the roots the more arbitrary
A shifted pitch or tone in a voice
Tells us it’s time to fight or rejoice
Yet, always knows when space is mandatory
It’s been awhile since I’ve been “relational.”
No, not that kind — that would be a whole different story — the kind of “relational” wherein I involve other writers in some ill-conceived scheme I’ve dreamed up.
#1 — Complete the phrase “Friends Don’t Let Friends …” in whatever manner you see fit.
#2 — Write a story of some kind about your completed phrase.
#3 — Publish that story somewhere.
#4 — Please link your story back to this prompt by doing the copy/paste voodoo that you do so well.
It’s as easy as 1, 2, 3. Four.
Do not read my poetry
as a backdoor to me —
a secret spy hole for to see.
So you can follow my life
Like you want to cause strife
now you no longer blow the fife?
You devour my writing
I guess you find it exciting,
Sir, your attention’s uninviting.
So nice you’re misled
since I’m now being fed
by new passions in my head.
I can conjure up the feelings —
great ideas congealing
turned into words revealing.
‘twould have been better unsaid —
and let you stew in your head,
eating my words as daily bread.
Not just a bunch of doctor jokes. Just a bunch of jokers.