Procedure again. I’m not entirely sure if this site works. Or maybe it’s because I haven’t signed up yet. Either way. I said last time that the word procedure was quite clean, although really the most accurate way of putting that is to say that it makes me think of clean things. It makes me think of hospitals, but I think a procedure by definition should also be a series of actions, which, if done correctly, should be clean.
i don’t know why but i have this notion that the basic procedure of love and life is:
you go through a roller coaster…one moment you’re happy and floating in love the next moment you’re frustrated, confused, if not broken hearted.
is a very clean and precise word. It makes me think of hospitals. Speaking of which, I quite like watching hospital shows. Me and my roommate watch Grey’s Anatomy, which makes her think of her crazy ex boyfriend. Makes her sad. I think maybe watching it with me might be better. I can’t be sure. I wish I could be.
i think of surgery. it has steps. you must follow them to be successful. surgery is cool. i like it. don’t wanna study it though. but it’s fun to watch. i really just think of medical stuff, cuz that’s what i’m into, ya know?
Just another day;
in the life of me-
same shit,
different toilet.
typical.
go figure.
shocker.
wake up.
go to work.
come home.
go to sleep;
but not tonight,
on the night of christmas eve,
i opened all my presents.
by myself;
i was supposed to wait…
like everyone else.
naughty.
haahahhh!
oh well.
as of right now;
its just me and my dog,
keeping each others company,
at least i have the lovely pleasure-
of saying i never sleep alone.
thanks to my faithful companion.
happy whatever doesn’t offend you holiday.
Procedure is protocol
It is to be followed
Not questioned
But what if it’s not right?
What about exceptions?
Things cannot always be placed in a proper order
With time limits
And rules
Actions are fluid
And done with emotion
Not everything can be placed in an assembly line
Some things can only be.
OOOH! well there usually is a curriculum. But most often it is best to drop that entirely. The procedure is as follows:
Feel the thump in the chest
how does it feel
dance to that
record the footsteps
put it on a yellow sticky note
paste in cerebral
don’t forget
feel the thump
the process of how to do things. following procedure. step by step. across the board. who has the manual? can i download the pdf? procedure. how would anything get done without procedure?
The process is simple. You open the chest with one clean incision. You peel open the heart, muscle by muscle. Simply, from inside you take out the little being who lives there, who has a house there with you. You take the creature out and through this simple procedure, you heal the once broken heart.
i think the procedure started at about six in the morning. they strapped my legs and feet down and they told me to breath slow and easy for the next few minutes. i had no idea what i was getting myself into. this would become a whole new world for me. Living, day by day, as a stranger.
is a lot of bullshit i hate procudure i wouldn’t follow it if god came down and kicked me in the ass with his big brown hairy foot. Well unless it was to save my life or you know make things safer actually i’d do anything god told me so yeah i like procedure it should b
I don’t know what type of procedure I must follow so that I can gain what many would consider expected at the age of twenty. How do I go about finding a significant other? I feel as if it’s extremely complicated and often tiresome. This procedure is very new to me.
The needle slipped in as smoothly as he had imagined it would, cold steel stealthily finding it’s way buried shallowly into his skin. It was the procedure. No, no it was more grand than that. It was The Procedure, and though he knew there would be pain, this was only the beginning, he also knew there would he happiness. A sort of calm after the storm in knowing that, after this, after all of this shit he would be put through and pulled right the fuck out of, he would be beautiful like the rest. Unleashed like a once diseased cow back into the herd now that he’s normal again, he’s not here to be snobbed at, and he could finally feel at home. Or so he hoped.
“You have to follow procedure,” she says, her voice insistent and shrill. He doesn’t look up. His eyes are intent on the green liquid as it drips, little by little, into the cool glass of the test tube. “Look, you can’t do this. We’ll get in horrible trouble–”
“Oh, shut up,” he says, still not turning his gaze away. “Do you even know how to have fun?”
She shuts up. He risks a glance at her and sees an expression of hurt cross her face, before it shutters and she purses her lips and scowls and generally looks very disapproving.
No. Will not write about procedure. i will not. Rather, will write about smoke curling and twirling away from incense stick, lights glowing and growing and ginger bread houses not being destroyed by earthquakes. There is no procedure for this life.
The procedure is difficult and multi-faceted. You never know what to do. There are many steps, but no one knows them, nor the order. Life’s tricky, huh?
It was time. After all of the times he had fallen over, thrown himself overboard and fucking crash landed into you-suck-ville, he was going to go through with it. No stopping him now, no sir. There was no telling how many times he had wanted to finish where he had started, and that included yesterday. A day in which he not only successfully shat his pants (metaphorically) in front of the girl of his dreams, but managed to set his friend up with her. The douche. Well not today! Dirk was well on his way to doing shit RIGHT for a chance, yessir! No dicking around today. Smooth sailing here he comes
There is a way to find out you will die by a sorry disease which eats at your skin, your bones, the ashes of your soul, the globules of fat that make you horny for yourself… there is a way to find out you will be happy for only so much longer, and a way to find out you will be in pain in exactly 395 and a quarter days.
There is a proceduce, usually involving kindness and always involving the faintly horrendous characteristics of big eyes, to finding out anything.
The doctor was shocked. He had never seen a case like this before. Survival would require a new procedure, one that had never been performed at his small hospital before tonight. The chance of the patient pulling through and surviving was very slim, but he didn’t have the heart to tell the family of their child’s fate.
So, the doctor comes in the room and says- knick knack, i need you to go back home to guam. the doctor shawn needs to come in and do appendix surgery on his back. so KK goes home, where he is brought falafel and dark chocolate. he lives in guam and does yoga every day.
Yikes. That word seems scary. I think of surgery. Getting cut open. Having something inside of you cut out because it’s foreign and doesn’t belong.
Maybe it’s more, procedures and protocols. The order of things. The order of how something should work in order to produce a specific result.
the procedure was very painful. Something i had never gone through before. I could feel the knife cut into my abdomen, they told me i wouldn’t feel anything. I could picture the blood pooling in on the sheets underneath me. Should i say something. Should I tell them I can feel this ultimate pain. Or should I endure the excruciating pain I was going through.
Our days became routine; conversation ran dry
You stopped saying you found me beautiful because you didn’t want to lie.
We loved only out of habit, and performed it like a chore
And in my heart I knew: it wasn’t yours anymore.
The woman peered anxiously at the body covered by cloth. She asked questions, expecting answers. They whisked the table away, the body still on it. They pushed her back, her frantic cries ignored. Into the morgue, into the earth, gone. Gone, gone, gone. All part of the procedure.
One word. So many different things could be made by this one word. Love. Life. Death. Happiness. Anger. Depression. Sadness. Family. Time. Everything and nothing is meant by this. It could be the biggest and smallest thing. It could change your life for good.
I know that I’m supposed to be happy that it’s Christmas, but I can’t help but feel like the time of “giving” is just some big, long commercial. Instead of feeling the closeness of friends and family, I’m shunned and ignored by those I care about, and my thoughts leave me thinking of his big Cheshire cat smile and the future that was savagely stripped away from him by an unloving god,
all line up. commander yelled. we all jumped off of our asses and got in line. follow procedure the commander yelled. we all got in the line and walkede to our stations. i got into my ship gun station and straped up. i was ready. this was going to be my first time in
the hospital. it can be either a surgery, an exam, a dissection, or cleaning out the bedpan. it spans over the multitude or departments. it has be performed by people who are known to be smart. because they had to take 56789o classes to do this so called procedure.
there is no plan. there is no wit. its a procedure. its second hand, or the back of your hand. its a process, but there is no thought. no doubt. just 60 seconds to do what you are instinctly supposed to do. and then they call it a procedure. there are steps. one follows another. the other proceeds the last.
Standing amongst old friends and strangers, a warmth fell over my being. These parties used to feel like a procedure–like a painful removal of my innocence. But now it didn’t matter. I was beyond these people and this place, and happiness was all I had left from the regret, lost friendships, and hurt. Stepping away from the remnants of my past life, I moved into a new one. A new year, a new me, people used to say. But I didn’t need a year to help me along. I only needed a good amount of strength and an extra dose of courage.
The procedure was long and grueling. Days went by, months, then years- it seemed like the end was always in sight but just out of reach. Step after step the procedure went on. Some times the purpose was clear, other times not so much, but nevertheless the procedure never stalled. Life.
procedure. Its an interesting word. What kind of procedure is being talked about? Medical procedure? Fire procedure? What comes to my mind when I hear this word? Well… Let me just write, just like the instructions tell me. Life is full of different kind of procedures.
“Aaand that’s it!” *snip* “uh… oops. Well, that wasn’t necessarily what we wanted to happen, but I guess if we… hrm… give him more anesthesia, will you Janet? Goodness, this field surgery is hard. Uh, Jim, hand me that stick of gum. I think I have a solution…”
That was it. My grandmother lost everything after her procedure. Her arm, her freedom. Now she has to be watched and helped through everything. She can no longer cook or read or dress her self. I may never know how she feels, but I can try to help.
Procedure sounds like a really long, unfortunate boring word that nobody truly wants to hear but is forced to listen to anyway. Like how you have to complete a procedure in a long math problem or a shitty experiment on the scientific method for chemistry class. But procedures can have more substance than that, too. Like trying to seduce a rather attractive guy is a procedure. Meticulous. Difficult. A pretty rough experience, in all honesty. Maybe procedures are just a stupid girl thing. Or a desperate girl thing. Or maybe I’m just a stupid, desperate girl. Guess we’ll never know.
Procedure again. I’m not entirely sure if this site works. Or maybe it’s because I haven’t signed up yet. Either way. I said last time that the word procedure was quite clean, although really the most accurate way of putting that is to say that it makes me think of clean things. It makes me think of hospitals, but I think a procedure by definition should also be a series of actions, which, if done correctly, should be clean.
i don’t know why but i have this notion that the basic procedure of love and life is:
you go through a roller coaster…one moment you’re happy and floating in love the next moment you’re frustrated, confused, if not broken hearted.
is a very clean and precise word. It makes me think of hospitals. Speaking of which, I quite like watching hospital shows. Me and my roommate watch Grey’s Anatomy, which makes her think of her crazy ex boyfriend. Makes her sad. I think maybe watching it with me might be better. I can’t be sure. I wish I could be.
i think of surgery. it has steps. you must follow them to be successful. surgery is cool. i like it. don’t wanna study it though. but it’s fun to watch. i really just think of medical stuff, cuz that’s what i’m into, ya know?
Just another day;
in the life of me-
same shit,
different toilet.
typical.
go figure.
shocker.
wake up.
go to work.
come home.
go to sleep;
but not tonight,
on the night of christmas eve,
i opened all my presents.
by myself;
i was supposed to wait…
like everyone else.
naughty.
haahahhh!
oh well.
as of right now;
its just me and my dog,
keeping each others company,
at least i have the lovely pleasure-
of saying i never sleep alone.
thanks to my faithful companion.
happy whatever doesn’t offend you holiday.
Procedure is protocol
It is to be followed
Not questioned
But what if it’s not right?
What about exceptions?
Things cannot always be placed in a proper order
With time limits
And rules
Actions are fluid
And done with emotion
Not everything can be placed in an assembly line
Some things can only be.
OOOH! well there usually is a curriculum. But most often it is best to drop that entirely. The procedure is as follows:
Feel the thump in the chest
how does it feel
dance to that
record the footsteps
put it on a yellow sticky note
paste in cerebral
don’t forget
feel the thump
Miss are you sure?
Positive you’d like to do this?
Go through with this procedure?
Do what you have to,
please, please,
take a finger,
take a toe,
take a limb,
take my nose.
Please, please, please.
Rid me of my soul.
the process of how to do things. following procedure. step by step. across the board. who has the manual? can i download the pdf? procedure. how would anything get done without procedure?
The process is simple. You open the chest with one clean incision. You peel open the heart, muscle by muscle. Simply, from inside you take out the little being who lives there, who has a house there with you. You take the creature out and through this simple procedure, you heal the once broken heart.
i think the procedure started at about six in the morning. they strapped my legs and feet down and they told me to breath slow and easy for the next few minutes. i had no idea what i was getting myself into. this would become a whole new world for me. Living, day by day, as a stranger.
is a lot of bullshit i hate procudure i wouldn’t follow it if god came down and kicked me in the ass with his big brown hairy foot. Well unless it was to save my life or you know make things safer actually i’d do anything god told me so yeah i like procedure it should b
I don’t know what type of procedure I must follow so that I can gain what many would consider expected at the age of twenty. How do I go about finding a significant other? I feel as if it’s extremely complicated and often tiresome. This procedure is very new to me.
The needle slipped in as smoothly as he had imagined it would, cold steel stealthily finding it’s way buried shallowly into his skin. It was the procedure. No, no it was more grand than that. It was The Procedure, and though he knew there would be pain, this was only the beginning, he also knew there would he happiness. A sort of calm after the storm in knowing that, after this, after all of this shit he would be put through and pulled right the fuck out of, he would be beautiful like the rest. Unleashed like a once diseased cow back into the herd now that he’s normal again, he’s not here to be snobbed at, and he could finally feel at home. Or so he hoped.
“You have to follow procedure,” she says, her voice insistent and shrill. He doesn’t look up. His eyes are intent on the green liquid as it drips, little by little, into the cool glass of the test tube. “Look, you can’t do this. We’ll get in horrible trouble–”
“Oh, shut up,” he says, still not turning his gaze away. “Do you even know how to have fun?”
She shuts up. He risks a glance at her and sees an expression of hurt cross her face, before it shutters and she purses her lips and scowls and generally looks very disapproving.
No. Will not write about procedure. i will not. Rather, will write about smoke curling and twirling away from incense stick, lights glowing and growing and ginger bread houses not being destroyed by earthquakes. There is no procedure for this life.
“Just following standard procedure, Ma’am.”
“But when am I going to be able to get my husband’s body back? How long will it take?” she cried.
“I’ll file form BR-241 and submit it to the coroner’s office. Should be about 3 weeks.”
The procedure is difficult and multi-faceted. You never know what to do. There are many steps, but no one knows them, nor the order. Life’s tricky, huh?
It was time. After all of the times he had fallen over, thrown himself overboard and fucking crash landed into you-suck-ville, he was going to go through with it. No stopping him now, no sir. There was no telling how many times he had wanted to finish where he had started, and that included yesterday. A day in which he not only successfully shat his pants (metaphorically) in front of the girl of his dreams, but managed to set his friend up with her. The douche. Well not today! Dirk was well on his way to doing shit RIGHT for a chance, yessir! No dicking around today. Smooth sailing here he comes
There is a way to find out you will die by a sorry disease which eats at your skin, your bones, the ashes of your soul, the globules of fat that make you horny for yourself… there is a way to find out you will be happy for only so much longer, and a way to find out you will be in pain in exactly 395 and a quarter days.
There is a proceduce, usually involving kindness and always involving the faintly horrendous characteristics of big eyes, to finding out anything.
The doctor was shocked. He had never seen a case like this before. Survival would require a new procedure, one that had never been performed at his small hospital before tonight. The chance of the patient pulling through and surviving was very slim, but he didn’t have the heart to tell the family of their child’s fate.
So, the doctor comes in the room and says- knick knack, i need you to go back home to guam. the doctor shawn needs to come in and do appendix surgery on his back. so KK goes home, where he is brought falafel and dark chocolate. he lives in guam and does yoga every day.
Yikes. That word seems scary. I think of surgery. Getting cut open. Having something inside of you cut out because it’s foreign and doesn’t belong.
Maybe it’s more, procedures and protocols. The order of things. The order of how something should work in order to produce a specific result.
the procedure was very painful. Something i had never gone through before. I could feel the knife cut into my abdomen, they told me i wouldn’t feel anything. I could picture the blood pooling in on the sheets underneath me. Should i say something. Should I tell them I can feel this ultimate pain. Or should I endure the excruciating pain I was going through.
Our days became routine; conversation ran dry
You stopped saying you found me beautiful because you didn’t want to lie.
We loved only out of habit, and performed it like a chore
And in my heart I knew: it wasn’t yours anymore.
I wanted you to love me
so I
went through the process
of change
I fixed my hair
I threw away my
old clothes
and hoped to be
what you loved.
The woman peered anxiously at the body covered by cloth. She asked questions, expecting answers. They whisked the table away, the body still on it. They pushed her back, her frantic cries ignored. Into the morgue, into the earth, gone. Gone, gone, gone. All part of the procedure.
One word. So many different things could be made by this one word. Love. Life. Death. Happiness. Anger. Depression. Sadness. Family. Time. Everything and nothing is meant by this. It could be the biggest and smallest thing. It could change your life for good.
I know that I’m supposed to be happy that it’s Christmas, but I can’t help but feel like the time of “giving” is just some big, long commercial. Instead of feeling the closeness of friends and family, I’m shunned and ignored by those I care about, and my thoughts leave me thinking of his big Cheshire cat smile and the future that was savagely stripped away from him by an unloving god,
It is the procedure of the heart in love that is beyond the scientific method, one can prove that simply by falling, deep.
all line up. commander yelled. we all jumped off of our asses and got in line. follow procedure the commander yelled. we all got in the line and walkede to our stations. i got into my ship gun station and straped up. i was ready. this was going to be my first time in
the hospital. it can be either a surgery, an exam, a dissection, or cleaning out the bedpan. it spans over the multitude or departments. it has be performed by people who are known to be smart. because they had to take 56789o classes to do this so called procedure.
instructions for performing an activity; guidelines; ritual;
there is no plan. there is no wit. its a procedure. its second hand, or the back of your hand. its a process, but there is no thought. no doubt. just 60 seconds to do what you are instinctly supposed to do. and then they call it a procedure. there are steps. one follows another. the other proceeds the last.
Standing amongst old friends and strangers, a warmth fell over my being. These parties used to feel like a procedure–like a painful removal of my innocence. But now it didn’t matter. I was beyond these people and this place, and happiness was all I had left from the regret, lost friendships, and hurt. Stepping away from the remnants of my past life, I moved into a new one. A new year, a new me, people used to say. But I didn’t need a year to help me along. I only needed a good amount of strength and an extra dose of courage.
The procedure was long and grueling. Days went by, months, then years- it seemed like the end was always in sight but just out of reach. Step after step the procedure went on. Some times the purpose was clear, other times not so much, but nevertheless the procedure never stalled. Life.
procedure. Its an interesting word. What kind of procedure is being talked about? Medical procedure? Fire procedure? What comes to my mind when I hear this word? Well… Let me just write, just like the instructions tell me. Life is full of different kind of procedures.
“Aaand that’s it!” *snip* “uh… oops. Well, that wasn’t necessarily what we wanted to happen, but I guess if we… hrm… give him more anesthesia, will you Janet? Goodness, this field surgery is hard. Uh, Jim, hand me that stick of gum. I think I have a solution…”
That was it. My grandmother lost everything after her procedure. Her arm, her freedom. Now she has to be watched and helped through everything. She can no longer cook or read or dress her self. I may never know how she feels, but I can try to help.
Procedure sounds like a really long, unfortunate boring word that nobody truly wants to hear but is forced to listen to anyway. Like how you have to complete a procedure in a long math problem or a shitty experiment on the scientific method for chemistry class. But procedures can have more substance than that, too. Like trying to seduce a rather attractive guy is a procedure. Meticulous. Difficult. A pretty rough experience, in all honesty. Maybe procedures are just a stupid girl thing. Or a desperate girl thing. Or maybe I’m just a stupid, desperate girl. Guess we’ll never know.