Heartless bitch. That's me.

Hmm where do I start.

Hey Suha, your heart is made of stone.

Hey Suha, you have no heart.

Hey Suha, I bet you don't bleed.

Hey Suha, you make the best surgeon because you can't feel.

Yeah that's me alright. Listen, I don't know why I don't cry when I hear that my oldest uncle didn't wake up after his colostomy. I don't know why I sound like a rehearsed know-it-all robot when you tell me that you just delivered Yara two months ahead of schedule. I don't know why I don't flinch when you tell me you're spending time with a woman that's not always at the mercy of an ugly black beeper. I don't know why I didn't attend Baby Dorian's memorial on Monday. I don't know why I pretend that you're not dying and not call or email.

Yes, of course I know that I do all these things. What - you thought I wasn't aware? Trust me I am aware. Now to answer the question that you are politely not asking me? I don't know. Honest to God I don't know why I was conditioned this way. What did that one rapping fool once say? The gift and the curse. Very useful trait for a surgeon and yet it is considered a personality flaw for everyone else. I am trying to change. I really am. I promise I will be a better daughter/friend/wife/person. But there's just one thing I want to ask of you. Can you please not make me feel like shit about things? Can you please not make me feel like I'm not human? I know it's asking a lot coming from me but pleasepleaseplease pretend that I have flesh beneath all of these layers of skin. You are important to me and I don't want to drive you away. Please promise that you understand. Tell me that you know how I feel about you. I can't imagine how my life would be if I lost you.

It is nights like this that I wish Starbucks delivered

At the moment I'm having a huge craving for Pumpkin Spice Latte with a generous helping of whip. And some pumpkin loaf cake to go along with it. And the Egg Florentine sandwich while we're talking about pre-packaged Starbucks goodness. Better make it two Egg Florentine sandwiches since one never seems to be enough. Damn if McDonald’s freaking delivers why can’t Starbucks? How else is a lazy-ass-woman-whose-husband-is-working-overtime-and-she-doesn’t-wanna-go-outside-intheuglywetcoldweather-but-she’s-craving-frothy-milk supposed to survive? I mean damn it’s only 2 blocks away so it wouldn’t be much of a hassle for them anyway. I, on the other hand, would actually have to get out of these PJs and put on some snow [slush] boots and and and…ahh whatever.

And yes this is an unapologetic drive-by blog entry. I had intentions to share the amazing birthday weekend I had 2 weeks ago but my internet connections gave out so I’m currently using my BlackBerry as a tethered modem for my laptop. That means I’m on dialup speed. Something I haven’t used since 1999. It took the whole day just to change up my playlist. Grr arrghh.