10 Day Challenge – day 1

10 Day Challenge

 This was floating around OD a few months ago.  Hell, why not? 

Day One: Ten things you want to say to ten different people right now.
Day Two: Nine things about yourself.
Day Three: Eight ways to win your heart.
Day Four: Seven things that cross your mind a lot.
Day Five: Six things you wish you’d never done.
Day Six: Five people who mean a lot (in no order whatsoever)
Day Seven: Four turn-offs.
Day Eight: Three turn-ons.
Day Nine: Two images that describe your life right now, and why.
Day Ten: One confession.
 

Day One: Ten things you want to say to ten different people right now.

1.  You sir, are the epitomy of what is wrong with the medical profession.  You offer the most cursory analysis, the laziest approach, no hope, no answers and advocate a lifetime of your continued assistance.  You give no explanation of your apathetic conclusion that nothing is curable, you expect me to believe that out of the blue, for no apparent reason, things have gone disastrously and permanently wrong in my body.  I am now to see myself as chronically and permanently defective; unable to do so much as walk without your assistance.  Without so much as an apology, you now expect me to pull $500 from my pension for the first installment of your service.  You aren’t even providing what the surgeon asked you to, nor bothering to justify the fact. 

Your approach reminds me of pharmaceutical companies who no longer develop two-week courses of antibiotics, or cures of any sort, but prefer to develop pills which have to be taken for a lifetime of continued illness. 

2.  It’s nice to spend time with you.  I consider you a friend, but I feel a bit awkward around you.  You’re so awkward yourself.  It makes me nervous.  Let’s see each other one-on-one occasionally, but let’s spend more of our time together with other friends. 

3.  Venezuela?  You’re leaving for Venezuela?  It sounds like a great adventure, really it does, but as always in my selfish way, I want you to be here for me instead.  You’d only just convinced me to make – what still seems to me – a crazy move, to let a stranger live in my house while I move to your town over summer.  All of this to work unpaid on an amateur film with a filmmaker I’ve never met.  And yes, while my health is still such a mess I very rarely have the strength to cook myself dinner.  But it gave me something to live for.  And you’d been trying for years to convince me to move there somehow.  And now – if you are not there this summer – I don’t see how I can manage it.  It saddens me. 

I’m a little afraid that I might be pulling you in directions that suit me rather than you.  You tell me that your ex-partner wants you to go back to Israel to be with the children, and I remind you that you were miserable there.  Am I seeing it clearly?  I will not pretend to be unbiased.  I will not pretend that I merely listen without opinions, even if it seems that way to you.  Are my intuition and my common sense telling me that you really would be miserable, or am I just trying to hold you here, because I would be miserable? 

I have for many years had this picture, this big happy picture of all of us living in Byron.  You, your children, her, me.  Oh, I don’t know if you and she are a couple – it doesn’t matter.  The important thing is that we are all in each other’s lives, and our lives are rich and satisfying and going well for us.  Perhaps it will still happen when the boy is seven, as I imagined.  Or perhaps it is a fantasy, or a possibility that never came to pass.  The thing is, you are still my only escape route. 

4.  I’m getting tired of your judgements, your high-strung paranoia, your negativity about my life, my people, the things that bring me joy.  Maybe I’m a bit over you.  What more is there to you?  It’s becoming familiar.  Maybe this is a good thing.  Time was, I felt responsible for you in your old age and illness.  Now I’m feeling like I’ve done what I can for you.  It’s time for me to live my life.  You would probably encourage me in this.  Until you heard my crazy house-swap idea.  That would bring up your worry and paranoia.  Pity. 

5.  You make it really hard to enjoy time with my family.  You married in and brought with you not only your far-right opinions, but a hostile, pit-bull way of expressing them which just doesn’t fit in this extremely conflict-averse family.  In this family, most of us never reveal our political leanings.  Yes really.  If we do, we discuss and explore politely, we don’t attack and call each other playground names.  How dare you come into my family and attack my political views!  I’ve come to dinner to see my brother and sister for the first time in months, not to hear my leaders called lunatics.  Honestly, I’d rather you weren’t even here.  Grow some manners. 

6.  I can’t tell what you want from me or with me.  You have been very generous.  I am very grateful.  Your wife suggests I should form a closer relationship with you.  Whenever you answer the phone I try to chat with you, but you don’t seem very interested in doing so.  I’m not sure… do you not actually want to be closer?  Do you think I don’t?  Do you just like to keep it brief?  I’m worried that you don’t feel giving to me is satisfying.  I wish we could sort this out somehow. 

7.  I’m used to being sick, but I’m not used to your health failing too.  It scares me.  I guess I always thought you’d be strong and healthy long into your retirement, your old age.  It seems our whole family’s health is failing all at once.  We are all sick, all desperately in need of someone to help out, someone to care for us at times, and all we can do is scream as we drown together.  I’m terrified. 

8.  Just cut your hedge down to fence level and let me get some sunlight, okay?  The house was here before you moved in, so don’t try that crap about growing a hedge high enough to screen out the second floor’s verandah.  Why should I live in cold and dark to keep your six-monthly barbeques "private"?  Are you planning to host swingers parties in your backyard?  You seem to have no need for auditory privacy.  You do realise, don’t you, that when you have all those long, loud phone conversations outside by the fence, I hear every single inane word? 

9.  I’m not into you, I just think you’re cool.  I’m worried you’ll think it’s something weird.  The situation seems so fragile. 

10.  I’m thinking of ringing you to chat.  Maybe you’d like me to, since I see your green Skype status.  I’m just worried I’ll only unload my frustrations on you, and I’d rather my calls were more positive experiences for you.