Dr. Flo

52-year-old philosopher, and aspiring soul guardian.

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My Dream...

in spite of prior diagnostic labeling indicating my own insanity, is to illuminate the hidden and invisible webs permeating cultural, societal, and familial systems in an effort to support others toward recognition of their own inherent value and associated meaning and purpose in the world.
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The Dr. Flo Show

TDFS: Season 1 Episode 13

TDFS: Season 1 Episode 12

TDFS: Season 1 Episode 11

TDFS: Season 1 Episode 10

TDFS: Season 1 Episode 9

TDFS: Season 1 Episode 8

TDFS: Season 1 Episode 7

TDFS: Season 1 Episode 6

TDFS: Season 1 Episode 5

TDFS: Season 1 Episode 4

TDFS: Season 1 Episode 3

TDFS: Season 1 Episode 2

TDFS: Season 1 Episode 1

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Tales from the Wreckage: The Beginning
See the Cast of Characters in a way you've never seen them before! Beautifully illustrated with original art in the style of New Urban Graffiti, this work invites readers on journey from shame and addiction to an expanding concept of becoming more fully human and beautiful.
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Chop dropped down to her knees and turned to face the wall. “Chop, what’s up, honey?” Dr. Flo said softly, pausing in the midst of tying her shoes to look Chop’s way. Chop turned her head, communicating with her eyes that she heard the care in Dr. Flo’s voice. Chop then turned back toward the wall, burying her face in her hands, and stretching into Child’s Pose...
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The Power of Stories

Maybe it’s true what they say about creativity and madness, Dr. Flo thought as she pondered the seemingly impossible task of using the symbols of the English language to communicate the special significance of recent learnings. Continuing briefly with that line of thought, Dr. Flo realized, with more than a little surprise, that attempts to describe...
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So this is what it feels like to wait until the last minute to complete a project, Dr. Flo thought. Such a helpless feeling. It had been another week in another month in another year that appeared to be turning into a decade of Reckoning. 
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Dr. Flo's Committee

The insight about the duct tape regeneration sent shock waves through her nervous system as Dr. Flo gritted her teeth and kept her head down, willing herself to restrain the impulse to allow all the problems to once again get swept under the rug. “When will I learn?!” She spoke out loud to nobody in particular. Flo tasted the bitter pill of resignation underlying intellectually forced acceptance. 
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There it is Again

Dr. Flo sat propped up in bed, staring at the empty document aglow with the blinking cursor on her new Macbook. Noticing the way it felt to admit to her recent purchase, she deepened her breath as the combination of embarrassment, guilt, and anxiety slowly rose and spread throughout her chest and into her throat. Damn, you’re sensitive, Flo, said the Voice in her head...
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Catching sight of the golden rays of sun peeking through the leaves of the trees lining the sidewalk, Leo slowed down long enough to appreciate the growing familiarity of the sights. The dusk air felt crisp as Leo pulled the zipper of his blue sweater up and warmed his hands inside his pockets, making his way down the block to the delicatessen on the corner.
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Everybody Knows

ICE PICK here, and I am HOT today (in more ways than one). If I were you, I’d BACK THE FUCK UP, sit down, shut up, and LISTEN. Alright, alright, Dr. Flo’s nudging me, reminding me about catching more flies with honey and shit. I’ll try, Flo, sheesh. You see that?! You could take a lesson or two from me about how to LET SOME GODDAMN WOMEN INFLUENCE YOU. That is, if you can open your rigid, tight ass, thick skull...
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Authentic Relating

The World’s Opening Back Up! So says the Media, and the push and pull of societal pressure claws at my neck and bites my ankles. I’m supposed to rush out from behind these safe walls, joyous and full of delight at the prospect of meeting and resuming Normal Life. I should feel happy and excited. Not terribly unexpectedly - I don’t.
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What's That Wet Stuff

Just TOO DAMN IMPATIENT to let it play it out, eh? Not really a big surprise there. It seems to me that the vast majority of MOTHERFUCKERS in this country can’t seem to delay gratification for even a measly ten minutes let alone ten weeks. Fine, you want the shit spelled out for you? Watch me while I drop it in your mouth like you’re some damn, newborn baby bird.
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Muscle tension and the pain of the beginning stages of arthritis in her knees pulled Dr Flo from her reverie. Damn, I could really use a meeting, Flo thought as she used the brick wall behind the dumpster to get back on her feet, stretching and neck rolling her way up. Sensing that her time spent reminiscing might have lasted a bit too long given the context of her current life situation, Dr. Flo only hesitated a moment to contemplate her next move...
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Leo stared incredulously, mouth agape at the sight of Milo. It's all falling down, Leo thought. It's all collapsing around me. Leo could feel the adrenaline and cortisol crashing through his veins as clamoring strategies and plans of potential action swirled in and out of his mind. "There’s got to be another way!" he heard himself say out loud, startling at what he recognized as an echo of a familiar voice from the past. Overwhelmed with the amount of evidence currently suggesting that his life's mission had failed, Leo began to dig in his pockets, feeling the pebbles he picked up on the sandy shore last night...
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"But, as for me, I'm getting out!" Dr. Flo’s final yell startled Milo awake, and he sleepily lifted his head, taking care to avoid bopping his noggin on the metal frame of his bunk as he had done too many times before. Can't afford to lose any more brain cells while I'm stuck in this crap hole, Milo thought as he lifted himself up, got to his feet, and tiptoed gingerly to the front of his cell.
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Adult Children

Winded yet invigorated, Dr. Flo rounded the corner and hauled ass down the pavement in the near empty city. Spotting a large, green dumpster littered with spray paint tags, she glanced quickly over her shoulder before coming to a full stop and plopping down out of sight for a rest. Sweet escape, Dr. Flo thought, as a slow, mischievous grin slid across her face.
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Fuck That Noise

"Fuck that noise!” I hear Dr. Flo yell from the corner of my mind. I can feel her wrestling around in there, pounding fists in my chest, and then grasping, clutching at my throat. "I'm gonna say it loud and proud whether you like it or not," Flo utters between clenched teeth, “And I'm gonna say it with authority, damn it! "
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I am Dr. Flo

I am a 52-year-old silver linings finder, philosopher, and aspiring soul guardian. I tend to lean toward the idealistic side with a heart almost as big as my bite. I have a special talent for kicking down symbolic doors with my steel toe boots and using my super-sonic powered lantern to lead the way to the protective ledge of understanding and regeneration.

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