Showing posts with label oxymoron. Show all posts
Showing posts with label oxymoron. Show all posts

Thursday, April 3, 2008

Oxymorons: What To Do When You Can't Sleep

Have you ever spent time thinking of putting together a list of oxymorons? I’m sure there are a gazillion out there if we can open our minds to the possibilities. Right?

This ** is not an inexhaustible list, (no kidding) and perhaps not a list at all, but I’ve thought of a few things that MIGHT be a bit on an oxymoron list. If you don’t agree, which by all rights you may, please set me straight (or is that strait?—I think the former rather than the latter).

The thing is, I got shot today. Well, shots—inoculations—the kind of things they do to you in the doctor’s office when you’re dying of terrible, yucky infections and things. And because of one of those shots, I’ll never be able to be a professional athlete. I’m sorry. I know you’re all disappointed in me. But that’s the fact of the matter. I . . . was injected . . . with . . . (sob) . . . steroids. The truth is out. The fact that I’m 59 and could probably walk a mile or two if I needed to—in say an hour or two—and have to sit for another two to recover; and that my girth approximates that of an eight or nine month pregnant woman (well maybe only that of a seven or eight month pregnant woman) and I am and always have been excessively athletic (insert sarcastic tone) all of my entire, and might I add energetic, life. Well the jig is up. I have to confess.

So, I feel better now. Well my stuffed head is less stuffy and I can breathe more reasonably. But my belly! Oooooooooh. So much the worse. Antibiotics treat me badly. Yes, they do kill little microbes that harass my health, but that’s far from all they do! But that’s another story, isn’t it.

Why, you may ask, (or not) did I begin speaking of oxymorons then launch into morbid detail about my health and depredatious use of drugs? BECAUSE it’s 4:30 AM and I can’t sleep!! That’s why! And it’s because of the STEROIDS and ANTIBIOTICS I’ve been given! They’re wreaking havoc on me.

Why is the CURE every bit as miserable as the illness? Just different in its effects? I don’t know. I don’t like either. (I know, I know. Hush with all the whingeing (as Bush Babe puts it) and complaining.) Sorry. I just thought I should let you know the state of my being and how I got started thinking of oxymoronic statements in the wee hours! (There’s no other explanation, is there.)

So, back to that list ** I mentioned. Please share your thoughts about some of the things that passed through my mind a littler earlier. Are these true oxymornons, or not? And please feel free to share your own concoctions. I’m DYING . . . to hear/read them. THANKS.

**Here goes nuthin':
a dark light
a mighty weakling
blissfully depressed
closed-mouth windbag
deliciously distasteful
gluttonous ascetic
idiot savant
jaded innocence
jumbo shrimp
permanently transient
sardonically sincere

simply complex
tender-hearted cynic

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE share your thoughts/oxymorons/disagreements/corrections. In the comments below, even. Thank you. Thank you very much.

Another confession. My son did provide the lion’s share of these. I’ll color his contributions separately, so you can decide for yourselves what’s what.