Rebroadcast. Actual content coming when I am not unspeakably enraged.

Warning: Triggery as Hell.

A Cornell University Doctor practices FGM as cosmetic surgery and effectively molests patients.

The things that need to happen to this man include:

1) getting fired.
2) revocation of license.
3) malpractice suits.
4) criminal charges.

And the doctors who are referring patients to him in the first place are culpable as well, I would say, deserving at least steps 1-3.

Drug dependancy.

This morning I set up the coffee grinder and coffee maker I received as wedding presents, the first such devices I have ever owned.  I opened the new, freshness-sealed packet of Gevalia French Roast beans in the cupboard.  For the first time since the beginning of last month (when Megan's Mr. Coffee-possessing roomie moved out, taking her wonderful kitchen appliance with her), I made coffee.  For the first time in ten days, (since I cannot use while participating in a pharmaceutical study), I had caffeine.

The high is glorious.  My mind feels like it is crackling with electricity, my body is filled with radiant light, my fingers dance across the keyboard, striking sparks with every word I set down.

I am a junkie.  My habit is mostly harmless (like the Earth itself, if certain sources are to be believed), perhaps even positive (the correlation between my caffeine intake and my creative output and general productivity may not be causative, or may be a psychosomatic placebo-effect figment of my hyperactive imagination, but then again, when did you last see me blogging?), but let's not fool ourselves here  -- I have a very real addiction.

This morning I have edited my resume, and prepared a job application - something I have been meaning to do for two weeks.  I am pondering working on my agent query letter, or perhaps (gasp!) putting some fiction down on paper again (not so much as a word written in the past six weeks.  Ouch.).

I can live with a little addiction, I think.