Yesterday afternoon I rescued four people from an elevator.
I'm sure they would have gotten out without me…eventually. But they were damned happy to see me.
The elevator door was opening about a foot then closing. I reached in and hit the safety mechanism to see if the door would retract from my hand. It didn't. The second time I pressed my hand against the door and was able to hold it and push it further open. This is when I discovered the elevator car was still moving. It would rise up about a foot above the floor then drop back down about two feet. So I'm holding the door open with one hand and pulling people out with the other. This all took a matter of seconds, I'm sure. I knew three of the people in the elevator, they were pretty shook up. I've been stuck in the elevators at work a few times, but nothing like this.
+1 to the bizarre list.
July 31, 2008
July 30, 2008
The bizarre list
Some friends and I were recently discussing the bizarre things that sometimes happen...and the absolutely stupid stuff we've done. It brought back some "fond" memories.
A few...
I have broken my arm in 4 places...at one time...playing kickball. If anybody out there knows an Anthony Willoughby, I still owe him an apology.
I have been in two hurricanes.
I have been in Florida when the entire state was trying to go up in flames...fire on 3 sides, ocean on the fourth.
I left a casino in the Bahamas moments before armed, masked, gunmen robbed the place. Tell me...wouldn't you notice men in ski masks on a tropical island? And where do you go on an island after a robbery?(Going on vacation with me might prove hazardous)
I have driven the wrong way down a one way street...on purpose. In that same line of thought, I have helped repossess cars. I worked several years with a private investigator. This allows for several other bizarre stories...including the transvestite hooker with an automatic weapon in her/his bra. Applying for a job as a stripper and repeatedly being made to look like a hooker.
I've been in a car that backed through the drive-thru at McDonald's...more than once.
I've passed a bottle opener to someone in another car...while they were both speeding down the freeway.
I used to paddle out into the Ohio River to ride the waves from the barges as they passed. I'm still amazed as much time as I spent in that river that I don't glow in the dark.
I grew up in a haunted house. People tend to be fascinated and/or dubious when I talk it. It wasn't anything special...built in the mid to late 60's in Valley Station. As far as we know not on any type of burial ground nor had anything violent occurred there. People ask. The thing about it, no one that ever entered that house would deny that it was haunted. From one particularly cold bedroom to whispers and footsteps in the hall. There was frequently the feeling of being watched. Mom blamed Dad for messing the bed up in the guest room...until it continued even when Dad was in the hospital. Most of it was benign. I only remember a few times that I felt frightened by it. Not the case with our neighbor who refused to enter the house after dark when we weren't home. We also had a poodle that would suddenly come running down the hall trembling all over.
I've gotten lost hiking...fortunately I do my hiking locally. It only took an hour or so to find something recognizable. I've also gotten lost in a cornfield, something my husband finds utterly amazing for the stupidity of it.
I've been chased by a bull...and subsequently jumped an electric fence. In the same summer, while in the "country"...I tried to ride a cow, something I don't recommend. And my cousins convinced me that mama pigs like it when you pick up the babies...go ahead, try it sometime.
I've been thrown by a horse. Actually thrown may not be the right term since the horse didn't throw me. It was more like he flipped over backwards with me still on. We ended up on the ground with me on the bottom, trapped between him, the ground and a chain link fence. I still ride every chance I get.
I've had two black eyes...both of them from toddlers.
I've been shot in the back with a staple gun....and shot in the butt with a BB gun. I've been hit the head with a mallet at a haunted house during one of the Ghost Runs...I still hate haunted houses. I've been shot with a sling shot from 150 feet with a fist sized clump of frozen jello...come on admit it, can anybody else say that?
A few...
I have broken my arm in 4 places...at one time...playing kickball. If anybody out there knows an Anthony Willoughby, I still owe him an apology.
I have been in two hurricanes.
I have been in Florida when the entire state was trying to go up in flames...fire on 3 sides, ocean on the fourth.
I left a casino in the Bahamas moments before armed, masked, gunmen robbed the place. Tell me...wouldn't you notice men in ski masks on a tropical island? And where do you go on an island after a robbery?(Going on vacation with me might prove hazardous)
I have driven the wrong way down a one way street...on purpose. In that same line of thought, I have helped repossess cars. I worked several years with a private investigator. This allows for several other bizarre stories...including the transvestite hooker with an automatic weapon in her/his bra. Applying for a job as a stripper and repeatedly being made to look like a hooker.
I've been in a car that backed through the drive-thru at McDonald's...more than once.
I've passed a bottle opener to someone in another car...while they were both speeding down the freeway.
I used to paddle out into the Ohio River to ride the waves from the barges as they passed. I'm still amazed as much time as I spent in that river that I don't glow in the dark.
I grew up in a haunted house. People tend to be fascinated and/or dubious when I talk it. It wasn't anything special...built in the mid to late 60's in Valley Station. As far as we know not on any type of burial ground nor had anything violent occurred there. People ask. The thing about it, no one that ever entered that house would deny that it was haunted. From one particularly cold bedroom to whispers and footsteps in the hall. There was frequently the feeling of being watched. Mom blamed Dad for messing the bed up in the guest room...until it continued even when Dad was in the hospital. Most of it was benign. I only remember a few times that I felt frightened by it. Not the case with our neighbor who refused to enter the house after dark when we weren't home. We also had a poodle that would suddenly come running down the hall trembling all over.
I've gotten lost hiking...fortunately I do my hiking locally. It only took an hour or so to find something recognizable. I've also gotten lost in a cornfield, something my husband finds utterly amazing for the stupidity of it.
I've been chased by a bull...and subsequently jumped an electric fence. In the same summer, while in the "country"...I tried to ride a cow, something I don't recommend. And my cousins convinced me that mama pigs like it when you pick up the babies...go ahead, try it sometime.
I've been thrown by a horse. Actually thrown may not be the right term since the horse didn't throw me. It was more like he flipped over backwards with me still on. We ended up on the ground with me on the bottom, trapped between him, the ground and a chain link fence. I still ride every chance I get.
I've had two black eyes...both of them from toddlers.
I've been shot in the back with a staple gun....and shot in the butt with a BB gun. I've been hit the head with a mallet at a haunted house during one of the Ghost Runs...I still hate haunted houses. I've been shot with a sling shot from 150 feet with a fist sized clump of frozen jello...come on admit it, can anybody else say that?
How about a tequila float?
I've heard it said that getting old isn't for wimps. It just sneaks up on you. You start noticing little things...then all those little things become a big thing. I'm hardly a senior citizen and I'm frequently told to act my age. I'm not sure what that means, but I don't think I want to do it. I am active and perhaps just a shade crazy, I'll admit it...it keeps life interesting. But it seems over the last few years I'm slowing down a bit. I'm not staying up all night...but maybe that's because I don't have good enough of a reason to stay up all night. Hey, this is my story and I'm sticking to it.
My hair color and texture has changed...so has my skin. I have more lotions, potions and notions than I know what to do with...and have a suspicion that none of them, outside of possibly my hair color, are doing much more than separating my money from my wallet.
My hormones are playing hide and seek. My emotions have gone berserk. My metabolism is AWOL, meaning I can gain weight on bread and water. Which leaves me a hot, angry, hungry woman. If you're laughing now, I'll guess you're female and over 40. If you're crying, I'm sorry...go eat ice cream, you'll feel better.
My hair color and texture has changed...so has my skin. I have more lotions, potions and notions than I know what to do with...and have a suspicion that none of them, outside of possibly my hair color, are doing much more than separating my money from my wallet.
My hormones are playing hide and seek. My emotions have gone berserk. My metabolism is AWOL, meaning I can gain weight on bread and water. Which leaves me a hot, angry, hungry woman. If you're laughing now, I'll guess you're female and over 40. If you're crying, I'm sorry...go eat ice cream, you'll feel better.
July 29, 2008
Licking the wounds
You can imagine if you get 30+ people running around trying to cover each other in Jello, that there might be a few injuries. I was honestly surprised last year, when all we walked away with was only a few scrapes and bruises...especially after a gigantic hole was "found" in the playing field.
This year, again, there were some bumps. I've got a vicious bruise on my thigh about 4 inches across. But we also had a hospital run this year. The amazing thing was, it had nothing to do with Jello Wars. It was between events when an unstoppable force hit the immovable object...that would be 5'9" 150 lbs of pure determination vs 6'7" 300 lbs of youthful mass. The unstoppable force ended up with a separated shoulder and a fractured collar bone. Hearing him tell how he was trying to explain in the ER how he came to be injured and no the red stuff all over him was not blood, but Jello was hilarious.
At least having his arm in a sling and bound to his body prevented him from being thrown into the wrestling Jello face first...again.
Despite our injuries the day still provided a great deal of fun with friends. I hope he can say the same thing.
This year, again, there were some bumps. I've got a vicious bruise on my thigh about 4 inches across. But we also had a hospital run this year. The amazing thing was, it had nothing to do with Jello Wars. It was between events when an unstoppable force hit the immovable object...that would be 5'9" 150 lbs of pure determination vs 6'7" 300 lbs of youthful mass. The unstoppable force ended up with a separated shoulder and a fractured collar bone. Hearing him tell how he was trying to explain in the ER how he came to be injured and no the red stuff all over him was not blood, but Jello was hilarious.
At least having his arm in a sling and bound to his body prevented him from being thrown into the wrestling Jello face first...again.
Despite our injuries the day still provided a great deal of fun with friends. I hope he can say the same thing.
July 28, 2008
A Tale of Battle
Gather around children as I tell you a tale of great bravery. There was once a group of geeks...I mean warriors, that sought out a new way to do battle. A way that would honor the bravest, the toughest, the smartest, without all the mess of blood, guts and death. Their idea...splat each other with Jello, while wearing white T-shirts of course. On 07-07-07 their vision came to a field in Oldham County, where four groups of contestants withstood the challenge...and over 80 gallons of Jello. The contenders were smart, often professionals in their fields...now they were standing in a field and the ammunition proved challenging. Do you know how hard it is to fling Jello...and keep it intact until impact with your target?
It is extremely difficult if not damn near impossible. This took intelligence, creativity, and dare I say...weapons of mass propulsion.
The day was hot. The battle was long. And the ammunition was sticky. But alas, a victor was declared. Something that is disputed to this very day! So......I give you the rematch.Today on that same field in Oldham County the warriors will step forward once more. The sun shining off brilliant white T-shirts, shields and wiggly giggly Jello...and a few smiling faces.The rules have changed, the battle field has taken on the shape of a triangle with a team gracing each point. But the object is the same....take home the glory that is Jello!!!
It is extremely difficult if not damn near impossible. This took intelligence, creativity, and dare I say...weapons of mass propulsion.
The day was hot. The battle was long. And the ammunition was sticky. But alas, a victor was declared. Something that is disputed to this very day! So......I give you the rematch.Today on that same field in Oldham County the warriors will step forward once more. The sun shining off brilliant white T-shirts, shields and wiggly giggly Jello...and a few smiling faces.The rules have changed, the battle field has taken on the shape of a triangle with a team gracing each point. But the object is the same....take home the glory that is Jello!!!
Screamin' Sea-men? A Thunder Tale
I experienced my first Thunder Over Louisville in May (remember I'm still catching up).
Hmmm, where do I start?
The obvious....the fireworks were spectacular. The air show was pretty interesting as well. I'd never been to one of those either. I have been so deprived. The day...We headed up to Floyd's Knob to join the friends that had invited us. A 45 minute drive for us, so we had plenty of time to look at the sky and worry about rain. We had already discussed our layers for warmth at home. We arrived at Ginny and John's just before 1...then the fun began. After a trip down the knob along hair pin curves with a hair raising driver, we stopped at the gas station for ice. Ginny comments this is the point they got to last year when they realized they'd forgotten the tickets.
John says, "Tickets?" Back the way we came.
Eventually, after threats of car sickness, we make it to Derby Dinner Playhouse. We park and meet up with another couple and begin the long trek to the river...until an entrepreneurial soul comes along with a tractor and flat bed with hay bales, no less, and offers to take us to the flood wall...got to love the American spirit.
At the flood wall I discover my wallet is missing. I try not to freak when freaking is not going to do any good. I do a quick mental inventory of my wallets contents...bank card, Visa, Priscilla's gift card with $14 remaining on it, insurance card, my driver's license that has a good picture (Those are hard to come by) and about $6. I'm hoping my host's German Shepherd, who I'd been running around the house with, was having the time of her life with a new chew toy...look green stuffing!
While doing this mental calculation of my possible financial ruination at the hands of an unscrupulous person, we weave through the throngs of people, vendors and infamous Thunder pots.
At King Fish we are shown to our tables, directly across from where one of the barges will be and under cover. Damn, it's cold on the river. Zach, our server, brings coffee.
So we spend the day talking, gawking at air crafts, taking pictures of each other...and taking a walking tour of the flood wall. It's cold, but it isn't raining...yet, and the company is good.
It did eventually rain...just a little, but enough to win my $5 bet that it would because of my presence. I also got a dollar on a dare...so I had recouped the $6 in my wallet.
King Fish did a wonderful job, we were served appetizers, dinner and dessert...and the drinks never stopped coming. Hint for future reference, oatmeal raisin cookies and coconut rum...not a good combination.
It's moving along to 9:30 so we pull our chairs up, maybe 12 feet from the river, for an unobstructed view of the fireworks, bridge and downtown Louisville (until the smoke completely obscured the view at one point. I kept hearing Smoke on the Water in my head. Yes, I'm telling my age). The city looks beautiful at night.
There we sit, bundled and huddled, watching the fireworks with the occasional and mandatory ohhhhs and ahhhhs. There were planets, hearts and stars and a rainbow of colors. At some point, there is an explosion of white fireworks, not very high with small squiggly tails, that are erupting with high pitched whistles from the barges and bridge and from two different voices on two different sides of me, I hear, "Screaming sperms." I think they look more like movie special effects for ghosts...but now I can't get the thought Screaming Semen out of my head...and they repeated these loud, blinding white pyrotechnics repeatedly.
We spent a short time in traffic, there was apparently an injury accident somewhere, but I think generally things moved well. We headed back up to the knobs and spent time in a hot tub being defrosted while everyone else fought traffic. About 14 hours after the adventure began we were on our way home...warm, content and tired. Or as Ginny put it...frozen, defrosted and cooked.
My son found my wallet at home. I'd apparently dropped it rushing around to get ready. So I guess this story has a happy ending.
Hmmm, where do I start?
The obvious....the fireworks were spectacular. The air show was pretty interesting as well. I'd never been to one of those either. I have been so deprived. The day...We headed up to Floyd's Knob to join the friends that had invited us. A 45 minute drive for us, so we had plenty of time to look at the sky and worry about rain. We had already discussed our layers for warmth at home. We arrived at Ginny and John's just before 1...then the fun began. After a trip down the knob along hair pin curves with a hair raising driver, we stopped at the gas station for ice. Ginny comments this is the point they got to last year when they realized they'd forgotten the tickets.
John says, "Tickets?" Back the way we came.
Eventually, after threats of car sickness, we make it to Derby Dinner Playhouse. We park and meet up with another couple and begin the long trek to the river...until an entrepreneurial soul comes along with a tractor and flat bed with hay bales, no less, and offers to take us to the flood wall...got to love the American spirit.
At the flood wall I discover my wallet is missing. I try not to freak when freaking is not going to do any good. I do a quick mental inventory of my wallets contents...bank card, Visa, Priscilla's gift card with $14 remaining on it, insurance card, my driver's license that has a good picture (Those are hard to come by) and about $6. I'm hoping my host's German Shepherd, who I'd been running around the house with, was having the time of her life with a new chew toy...look green stuffing!
While doing this mental calculation of my possible financial ruination at the hands of an unscrupulous person, we weave through the throngs of people, vendors and infamous Thunder pots.
At King Fish we are shown to our tables, directly across from where one of the barges will be and under cover. Damn, it's cold on the river. Zach, our server, brings coffee.
So we spend the day talking, gawking at air crafts, taking pictures of each other...and taking a walking tour of the flood wall. It's cold, but it isn't raining...yet, and the company is good.
It did eventually rain...just a little, but enough to win my $5 bet that it would because of my presence. I also got a dollar on a dare...so I had recouped the $6 in my wallet.
King Fish did a wonderful job, we were served appetizers, dinner and dessert...and the drinks never stopped coming. Hint for future reference, oatmeal raisin cookies and coconut rum...not a good combination.
It's moving along to 9:30 so we pull our chairs up, maybe 12 feet from the river, for an unobstructed view of the fireworks, bridge and downtown Louisville (until the smoke completely obscured the view at one point. I kept hearing Smoke on the Water in my head. Yes, I'm telling my age). The city looks beautiful at night.
There we sit, bundled and huddled, watching the fireworks with the occasional and mandatory ohhhhs and ahhhhs. There were planets, hearts and stars and a rainbow of colors. At some point, there is an explosion of white fireworks, not very high with small squiggly tails, that are erupting with high pitched whistles from the barges and bridge and from two different voices on two different sides of me, I hear, "Screaming sperms." I think they look more like movie special effects for ghosts...but now I can't get the thought Screaming Semen out of my head...and they repeated these loud, blinding white pyrotechnics repeatedly.
We spent a short time in traffic, there was apparently an injury accident somewhere, but I think generally things moved well. We headed back up to the knobs and spent time in a hot tub being defrosted while everyone else fought traffic. About 14 hours after the adventure began we were on our way home...warm, content and tired. Or as Ginny put it...frozen, defrosted and cooked.
My son found my wallet at home. I'd apparently dropped it rushing around to get ready. So I guess this story has a happy ending.
Unknowing
No matter how hard you try...you can not unknow something. Or for that fact unknow someone. You can disassociate yourself with them, but you still have a history with that person. Sometimes that history will haunt you forever...ask most divorced people.
Over the years I have been unfortunate to gain knowledge of things I didn't want to know. Usually, these are personal things. I'm not sure why people want to share these things...maybe it lessens their burden. I can guess why they chose me to share with...I keep a confidence. I do not tell tales, especially if it isn't my story to tell. I often feel this way even when I've not been sworn to silence.
There was one time...it involved an attorney, and the possibility of a judge and an oath to tell the truth, the whole truth...
If I'd liked the girl, I may have kept her secret a little longer.
Over the years I have been unfortunate to gain knowledge of things I didn't want to know. Usually, these are personal things. I'm not sure why people want to share these things...maybe it lessens their burden. I can guess why they chose me to share with...I keep a confidence. I do not tell tales, especially if it isn't my story to tell. I often feel this way even when I've not been sworn to silence.
There was one time...it involved an attorney, and the possibility of a judge and an oath to tell the truth, the whole truth...
If I'd liked the girl, I may have kept her secret a little longer.
July 27, 2008
Attention restaurants
I generally do not like cheese. That is why I order my food, without cheese. This concept seems to perplex people, especially those that work in restaurants. Tonight I had a salad...no cheese, at least not once I picked it out. I had chili...no cheese, so what's the stringy yellow stuff in my chili? They aren't putting it on, it's just kind of mixed up with everything in the kitchen...it is omnipotent cheese! Oh wait...wrong big word. It is ubiquitous cheese!That was pretty good. I spell check. I spelled omnipotent and ubiquitous correctly but misspelled cheese twice.
I digress.
My point is this...I don't like cheese, but I'm not going to suffer horrible consequences, but what if I were allergic?There are a lot of allergies out there and they can be pretty serious. The people in the kitchen need to be more responsible for the way food is handled.
I digress.
My point is this...I don't like cheese, but I'm not going to suffer horrible consequences, but what if I were allergic?There are a lot of allergies out there and they can be pretty serious. The people in the kitchen need to be more responsible for the way food is handled.
good vs evil
I often fear I am repeating myself, as similar subjects frequently haunt my thoughts. If I become redundant please forgive me...mark it up to bad genes and family tradition.
Not to mention that after sitting here typing for an eternity, I somehow managed to lose the entire entry and am starting over. Why is it, it never seems as good the second time?
Friday as I was trying to leave work, I was paged. I walked away from the elevator to return the call. I was sitting at a table in the lobby, trying to resolve the problem by phone, when a particularly obstinate surgeon walked over. I am in no way ashamed of my tattoos, but I do try to keep them covered at work. My lab coat had been shed on my way out the door and my tattoo was visible along the bottom edge of my short sleeve shirt. He pushed up my sleeve, to see my gargoyle. Still on the phone, I turned my body and pushed up the other sleeve, showing off my angel. He walked away shaking his head...but he was smiling too.
Body art always seems to elicit a strong response...everyone is entitled to an opinion. But I'm frequently surprised by it. An "older" conservatively dressed lady approached me at the mall Saturday. She could see the bottom half of my angel and asked if she could see the rest. She admired her and told me how beautiful she was. Anyone that appreciates body art, admires the work. Travis (King/Body Art Emporium) did an amazing job. The angel, bright and colorful is perceived as a symbol of hope and faith...good. My gargoyle, rendered in gray scale, often gets the opposite reaction. He is often mistaken for a demon. I frequently explain, in an architectural sense, what a gargoyle does. I have seen women wrinkle their nose, asking why I wanted something so ugly. But not everyone. I once had a Hispanic boy of 4 or 5 look up at me with bright shining eyes and proclaim, "Bonita gargoyle!"
That is the purpose...it's about perception. They are opposites in appearance...light/dark, male/female, but the same in character. Both are legendary protectors...and perceived totally different. Imagine the surprise I get when I propose that the angel is indeed the evil of the two...perhaps the angel of death. With this she often gets a closer inspection. No, there is nothing there to suggest such a morose occupation. But it makes people think.
Not to mention that after sitting here typing for an eternity, I somehow managed to lose the entire entry and am starting over. Why is it, it never seems as good the second time?
Friday as I was trying to leave work, I was paged. I walked away from the elevator to return the call. I was sitting at a table in the lobby, trying to resolve the problem by phone, when a particularly obstinate surgeon walked over. I am in no way ashamed of my tattoos, but I do try to keep them covered at work. My lab coat had been shed on my way out the door and my tattoo was visible along the bottom edge of my short sleeve shirt. He pushed up my sleeve, to see my gargoyle. Still on the phone, I turned my body and pushed up the other sleeve, showing off my angel. He walked away shaking his head...but he was smiling too.
Body art always seems to elicit a strong response...everyone is entitled to an opinion. But I'm frequently surprised by it. An "older" conservatively dressed lady approached me at the mall Saturday. She could see the bottom half of my angel and asked if she could see the rest. She admired her and told me how beautiful she was. Anyone that appreciates body art, admires the work. Travis (King/Body Art Emporium) did an amazing job. The angel, bright and colorful is perceived as a symbol of hope and faith...good. My gargoyle, rendered in gray scale, often gets the opposite reaction. He is often mistaken for a demon. I frequently explain, in an architectural sense, what a gargoyle does. I have seen women wrinkle their nose, asking why I wanted something so ugly. But not everyone. I once had a Hispanic boy of 4 or 5 look up at me with bright shining eyes and proclaim, "Bonita gargoyle!"
That is the purpose...it's about perception. They are opposites in appearance...light/dark, male/female, but the same in character. Both are legendary protectors...and perceived totally different. Imagine the surprise I get when I propose that the angel is indeed the evil of the two...perhaps the angel of death. With this she often gets a closer inspection. No, there is nothing there to suggest such a morose occupation. But it makes people think.
July 26, 2008
Sometimes you get little messages, perhaps warning you of things to come. This morning as I was leaving the house...had not even gotten far enough out to close the door, I felt something hit my chest.
Damn bird!
I guess I should be grateful that at least I could turn around, go inside and change my shirt.
I was a little more cautious as I headed out the second time...just in case Mother Nature was gunning for me.
Damn bird!
I guess I should be grateful that at least I could turn around, go inside and change my shirt.
I was a little more cautious as I headed out the second time...just in case Mother Nature was gunning for me.
July 25, 2008
An argument to allow torture
This evening we were going into Border's on Hurstbourne, the third book store of the evening, when we noticed a car parked near the front door blocking traffic. What a fucktard, I think. What makes you so special that you can't pull into a parking place like everyone else? So we park and approach the store...car still there. What is their issue? As we get to the doors, an employee is coming out headed for the offending car. Presumably someone has complained. I reach out to pull the door open when I notice a gigantic glob of...something, Vaseline like, all over the handle. Another man, watching from inside, tells us the person in the car was taking pictures of people as they stuck their hands into the goo. Was there a purpose to this? Is this what some people find funny? And for future reference, pick a place where you aren't blocking traffic and drawing attention to yourself.
Moron.
Moron.
I'm a mutant
My doctor thinks I may be some weird genetic hybrid unknown to man or science...he can't explain me any other way. That or I've contracted a mutant strain of a disease that I've not been exposed to or doesn't exists. There was some mention of me being a case study in Boston. Why would they want to study me in Boston? I am living proof, for the time being, that they don't always know everything.
I'm falling apart at the seams...or more accurately, the joints.
I'm falling apart at the seams...or more accurately, the joints.
July 24, 2008
Un-munch-kin
Once upon a time when you entered an eating establishment they inquired about your seating preference. Then a law was passed...and you no longer had options. I want options damn it!!! Most restaurants were built to cater to options, so why can't we have them? If I can't select between smoking and non-smoking, how about family and non-family.
I would like to enjoy my meal without the screeching, whining and crying of the adorable little bastards. This particularly annoys me at 9 PM when Momma's little pumpkin should be tucked into bed. Nooooo, I don't hate kids. I just don't want to spend time with most of them.
Especially if their parents lack the ability to control the little rug rats. I have had my conversations continually interrupted, I've been spilled on, I came very close one time to having two butter covered hands ran through my hair...and it wasn't a sexual escapade. And none were at Chuck E Cheese.
I raised my kids. They didn't run around in restaurants, they didn't stand in the seats, they didn't talk to people at neighboring tables. They knew how to behave. I also knew better than to take them to places that were not kid friendly. ALL kids have a limit on how long they can sit still. We spent a lot of years doing take out.Table in the kid free zone please.
I would like to enjoy my meal without the screeching, whining and crying of the adorable little bastards. This particularly annoys me at 9 PM when Momma's little pumpkin should be tucked into bed. Nooooo, I don't hate kids. I just don't want to spend time with most of them.
Especially if their parents lack the ability to control the little rug rats. I have had my conversations continually interrupted, I've been spilled on, I came very close one time to having two butter covered hands ran through my hair...and it wasn't a sexual escapade. And none were at Chuck E Cheese.
I raised my kids. They didn't run around in restaurants, they didn't stand in the seats, they didn't talk to people at neighboring tables. They knew how to behave. I also knew better than to take them to places that were not kid friendly. ALL kids have a limit on how long they can sit still. We spent a lot of years doing take out.Table in the kid free zone please.
There she blows
I'm feeling much better...it is amazing what a bubble bath can do for a tired body.
God help the world I've discovered videos again.
I revisited the Jello Wars videos we posted to You Tube last year. Funny thing is, when we were planning this last year, 07-07-07, you couldn't hardly find a video...now there are more than a few. Just good clean...mmmm, sticky, fun among friends.
I didn't fight in this years Jello War, 06-07-08. I didn't think the Physical Therapist would approve...OK, honestly, it's just because it would hurt, a LOT! I'm what's known in medical circles as non-compliant.
I was recruited as a judge. But I am FAR from impartial. So I ended up videotaping.
Speaking of judges...you know, I have never been called for jury duty. I find that kind of odd. I qualify by all the ways I've heard they select jurors. Not that any righteous self-respecting lawyer would ever allow me to sit on one of their cases. I am the perfect Devil's Advocate...and a trial lawyers worst nightmare. I CAN see how it could have happened that way...and there is always room (just like Jello) for reasonable doubt.
Besides what is a jury of your peers? Do I have peers? Middle aged, Caucasian females with idiosyncrasies to drive the sane mad and the insane to distraction, that refuses all efforts to label her...except perhaps evil and freak, but makes a damn good drink and a pretty decent friend to man and beast...and not in the kinky, twisted, perverted way your mind just went...or maybe that was just my sick, demented, filthy mind. I bet they're out there and we could have one hell of a party.
Why do I keep thinking about the joke...
How do you know if a man is well hung?
You can only get two fingers between his neck and the noose.
Guilty as charged. Got handcuffs?
God help the world I've discovered videos again.
I revisited the Jello Wars videos we posted to You Tube last year. Funny thing is, when we were planning this last year, 07-07-07, you couldn't hardly find a video...now there are more than a few. Just good clean...mmmm, sticky, fun among friends.
I didn't fight in this years Jello War, 06-07-08. I didn't think the Physical Therapist would approve...OK, honestly, it's just because it would hurt, a LOT! I'm what's known in medical circles as non-compliant.
I was recruited as a judge. But I am FAR from impartial. So I ended up videotaping.
Speaking of judges...you know, I have never been called for jury duty. I find that kind of odd. I qualify by all the ways I've heard they select jurors. Not that any righteous self-respecting lawyer would ever allow me to sit on one of their cases. I am the perfect Devil's Advocate...and a trial lawyers worst nightmare. I CAN see how it could have happened that way...and there is always room (just like Jello) for reasonable doubt.
Besides what is a jury of your peers? Do I have peers? Middle aged, Caucasian females with idiosyncrasies to drive the sane mad and the insane to distraction, that refuses all efforts to label her...except perhaps evil and freak, but makes a damn good drink and a pretty decent friend to man and beast...and not in the kinky, twisted, perverted way your mind just went...or maybe that was just my sick, demented, filthy mind. I bet they're out there and we could have one hell of a party.
Why do I keep thinking about the joke...
How do you know if a man is well hung?
You can only get two fingers between his neck and the noose.
Guilty as charged. Got handcuffs?
July 23, 2008
Trashed
You want to know what's wrong with this country...at least the one that is annoying me at the moment? What's wrong with this country is the fact that you can't just throw away your trash! NO...you have to worry that somebody might steal your identity or at the very least use your credit card information. I am really fed up with this. I am not guilty of anything (illegal) and yet I have to shred documents.
July 22, 2008
Silence is..
safe.
There are days when I should remain silent. Just nod my head agreeably and go along to get along. Because ever now and then, I just get in this mood. I don't know where it comes from...or for that fact, where it goes. One of the things I do at work is answer questions. Questions from everyone about everything. I supposedly see all, know all...or if I don't know, I know who does. This can grate of your nerves...depending on how often you're interupted.
Enter the mood. Today a doctor says he wants to ask me a question. Without hesitation or thought, I respond, "Not taking questions today, but thank you for playing." Stunned would be an understatement.
I did, however, relent and answer his question.
There are days when I should remain silent. Just nod my head agreeably and go along to get along. Because ever now and then, I just get in this mood. I don't know where it comes from...or for that fact, where it goes. One of the things I do at work is answer questions. Questions from everyone about everything. I supposedly see all, know all...or if I don't know, I know who does. This can grate of your nerves...depending on how often you're interupted.
Enter the mood. Today a doctor says he wants to ask me a question. Without hesitation or thought, I respond, "Not taking questions today, but thank you for playing." Stunned would be an understatement.
I did, however, relent and answer his question.
What is your potential?
I am good at a lot of things...no modesty lost there. But I am lacking in the talent department. I have nightmares about a spotlight shining on me and the announcer saying, "And for the talent part of the evening..." I have no talent...can't sing, dance or play an instrument. And since I'm tone deaf, I'm thinking I can't learn. I like to draw...it isn't good, but I do it anyway. My art teacher in high school once looked at my drawing, then the still life and asked, "Is that what you really see?" Of course, I could be an expressionist.
I could do that.
I like to write, some people tell me I'm good. But I never get very far with it. Besides, I would never be one of those people that would read poetry, not even original work, and call it talent. Not that I don't think writers are talented...I'm envious, but it's not THAT kind of talent.
I often wonder if there is something maybe I'd be really good at if I'd been given the opportunity. What if...Maybe I could have been a great guitar player, if I'd ever taken lessons. It's unlikely, but what if? Maybe I am an artist...if I found the right medium. Maybe I should play in clay. I've always wanted to do that.
I wonder how many people have hidden talent that was never nurtured?
How sad.
I could do that.
I like to write, some people tell me I'm good. But I never get very far with it. Besides, I would never be one of those people that would read poetry, not even original work, and call it talent. Not that I don't think writers are talented...I'm envious, but it's not THAT kind of talent.
I often wonder if there is something maybe I'd be really good at if I'd been given the opportunity. What if...Maybe I could have been a great guitar player, if I'd ever taken lessons. It's unlikely, but what if? Maybe I am an artist...if I found the right medium. Maybe I should play in clay. I've always wanted to do that.
I wonder how many people have hidden talent that was never nurtured?
How sad.
July 21, 2008
Nice guys don't care where they finish
I have never been one for introducing friends, trying to make a love match. Now that I think about it, I think I've done it twice...in high school. I introduced two of my friends to my ex-boyfriend...one of them ended up marrying him. That success however, has not led me to make a habit of making introductions. That slope is just too slippery and fraught with dangers.
I frequently hear women say they can't find a nice single guy. I don't understand, as I know a number of nice single men. Maybe it's because I'm not looking for Mr. Right and I'm getting to know these guys as friends. I think that may be the problem, they say they're looking for a nice single guy when what they want is someone that looks like they could grace the cover of GQ magazine. When what they should be looking for is a guy that will treat them well.
The qualifications:
1. a job...a stable, reliable job with a living wage
2. single...not married, engaged or involved
3. straight...for these particular purposes
4. lacking baggage...this can involve a lot of things depending on your preferences. Anything from crazy ex-wives, not having kids or prison records.
5. intelligence...this may be a personal preference, but I think he should be able to hold a conversation.
6. etc...this is where all the real preferences come in.
Forget GQ...look for what's really important to you. Sense of humor or adventure. Religious or political affiliations. Non-drinker. Ask yourself what is essential for your happiness.
I frequently hear women say they can't find a nice single guy. I don't understand, as I know a number of nice single men. Maybe it's because I'm not looking for Mr. Right and I'm getting to know these guys as friends. I think that may be the problem, they say they're looking for a nice single guy when what they want is someone that looks like they could grace the cover of GQ magazine. When what they should be looking for is a guy that will treat them well.
The qualifications:
1. a job...a stable, reliable job with a living wage
2. single...not married, engaged or involved
3. straight...for these particular purposes
4. lacking baggage...this can involve a lot of things depending on your preferences. Anything from crazy ex-wives, not having kids or prison records.
5. intelligence...this may be a personal preference, but I think he should be able to hold a conversation.
6. etc...this is where all the real preferences come in.
Forget GQ...look for what's really important to you. Sense of humor or adventure. Religious or political affiliations. Non-drinker. Ask yourself what is essential for your happiness.
July 20, 2008
Lyrica
I've been promising myself I would sit down and write this, as I think it might be important to someone else.
A few months ago my doctor started me on Lyrica, a relatively new drug often advertised on television as the only FDA approved medication for fibromyalgia. This medication appears to be widely prescribed. My doctor started me out at 75 mg twice a day for a week, then doubled to 150 mg for a week, then again to 300 mg...this was supposed to be the maintenance dose. This medication made me sleepy and that's putting it mildly. The first day I took 150 mg I slept through my contractor busting up a tile floor out with a hammer. I spent my days walking through a swirling haze. The day I fell asleep driving home from work, I quit taking it...cold turkey. I spent the next few days feeling like total hell. The nerves deadened by the drug screamed, I was sick at my stomach and I couldn't sleep.
I talked to my doctor and he convinced me to try again at a lower dose...freeing yourself from chronic pain can be a mighty motivator. I was taking 75 mg twice day again. The sleepiness returned, but the nerve pain wasn't relieved at this dose. I kept telling myself, "Give it a chance." But then something happened...one too many people asked me if I was OK. I seemed quiet...not something I normally hear. I told myself it was just because I was so sleepy, so tired. I asked my husband and he said that I was "mellow"...definitely not a description I was used to. I am anything but mellow.
That was the final straw. I was losing myself in a medication, without benefit. I weaned the drug off this time, slowly decreasing the dose. I feel much better. I know that sounds strange when I also say the pain is back. The pain has been there for a long time. I'm used to it. I can live with it better than living with the treatment.
A few months ago my doctor started me on Lyrica, a relatively new drug often advertised on television as the only FDA approved medication for fibromyalgia. This medication appears to be widely prescribed. My doctor started me out at 75 mg twice a day for a week, then doubled to 150 mg for a week, then again to 300 mg...this was supposed to be the maintenance dose. This medication made me sleepy and that's putting it mildly. The first day I took 150 mg I slept through my contractor busting up a tile floor out with a hammer. I spent my days walking through a swirling haze. The day I fell asleep driving home from work, I quit taking it...cold turkey. I spent the next few days feeling like total hell. The nerves deadened by the drug screamed, I was sick at my stomach and I couldn't sleep.
I talked to my doctor and he convinced me to try again at a lower dose...freeing yourself from chronic pain can be a mighty motivator. I was taking 75 mg twice day again. The sleepiness returned, but the nerve pain wasn't relieved at this dose. I kept telling myself, "Give it a chance." But then something happened...one too many people asked me if I was OK. I seemed quiet...not something I normally hear. I told myself it was just because I was so sleepy, so tired. I asked my husband and he said that I was "mellow"...definitely not a description I was used to. I am anything but mellow.
That was the final straw. I was losing myself in a medication, without benefit. I weaned the drug off this time, slowly decreasing the dose. I feel much better. I know that sounds strange when I also say the pain is back. The pain has been there for a long time. I'm used to it. I can live with it better than living with the treatment.
July 19, 2008
Entitlement
Why do so many people seem to have this sense of entitlement? Why do they think the world owes them? Nobody ever promised you a good life...or if they did, they lied. I see this all the time. I recently talked with a man that currently is in debt to my employer in excess of $177,000, and this amount is growing on a daily basis. He has no means of defraying any of this expense. What brought me to speak with him was the additional services he would require in the future. None of this is negotiable, it is absolutely required for his continued well being. I explain that I will be arranging his treatments at the cost of $244 a day for the next seven weeks, that's at cost. I'm offering nearly $12,000 of necessary services to him at no cost. Does he show gratitude? NO...he wants me to rearrange the time because it's inconvenient.
This drives me nuts. Honestly, I get maybe one thank you out of every 200 encounters I have. People take what I'm doing for granted and they often ask for more. Don't get me wrong, my job is not about the gratitude, it's about helping people, but you'd think less people would take for granted that someone was going to be there to solve all there problems. I often provide resources so they can pursue avenues to help themselves or to provide for discounted services and it's not good enough. They want to know why I won't call and arrange this for them? Or they tell me they can't afford the $1 co-pay.
I grew up believing what I got in this world I'd have to do for myself...and I was capable of accomplishing anything. I'm glad I wasn't taught to hold out my hand and eventually someone would take it...hopefully before I drowned. Somewhere along the line...all this ends up coming from our pockets.
This drives me nuts. Honestly, I get maybe one thank you out of every 200 encounters I have. People take what I'm doing for granted and they often ask for more. Don't get me wrong, my job is not about the gratitude, it's about helping people, but you'd think less people would take for granted that someone was going to be there to solve all there problems. I often provide resources so they can pursue avenues to help themselves or to provide for discounted services and it's not good enough. They want to know why I won't call and arrange this for them? Or they tell me they can't afford the $1 co-pay.
I grew up believing what I got in this world I'd have to do for myself...and I was capable of accomplishing anything. I'm glad I wasn't taught to hold out my hand and eventually someone would take it...hopefully before I drowned. Somewhere along the line...all this ends up coming from our pockets.
July 18, 2008
Angry words
It is amazing how often my own words echo in my head. I think about writing and about what has been written.
Thinking about what I wrote last night, I realized something...
I will tell you almost anything about myself. I am not bashful, nor am I ashamed. I will not, however, tell you about other people. I do not repeat what has been told to me....and I don't tell their stories in anyway that could be harmful, even remotely. I also avoid putting my anger, when directed at a particular individual, into written form. Once words are written they are permanent. You can't wriggle your way out of them later when perhaps the crow is cold.
Thinking about what I wrote last night, I realized something...
I will tell you almost anything about myself. I am not bashful, nor am I ashamed. I will not, however, tell you about other people. I do not repeat what has been told to me....and I don't tell their stories in anyway that could be harmful, even remotely. I also avoid putting my anger, when directed at a particular individual, into written form. Once words are written they are permanent. You can't wriggle your way out of them later when perhaps the crow is cold.
July 17, 2008
Sometimes I have to edit
I've given thought to several items today that I considered writing about. I ran into the very unusual position of finding myself either not capable or unwilling to publicly divulge the information. As I am extremely not used to the idea of editing myself, I asked if there was another route I might take to make my point.
Point 1: If you do wrong and get caught, make it right because eventually it will bite you on the ass. Someone near and dear to my heart learned that lesson last night in a very painful manner...so of course we are all making fun of him. What are friends for?
Point 2: Sometimes words are cheap, even when heartfelt. Actions speak louder...but eventually enough time passes, the pain goes away and people quit caring what you do to make things right. It's easy to convince yourself that maybe things were never right in the first place. It's easier on the heart that way. Sometimes you have to let go.
Point 3: Sometimes the solution is worse than the problem. You have to examine what you are least willing to deal with. No matter how good the intention, sometimes you CAN'T fix everything. The newest and brightest isn't always the best. Sometimes status quo isn't so bad.
Point 4: Beautiful...isn't perfect.
Point 1: If you do wrong and get caught, make it right because eventually it will bite you on the ass. Someone near and dear to my heart learned that lesson last night in a very painful manner...so of course we are all making fun of him. What are friends for?
Point 2: Sometimes words are cheap, even when heartfelt. Actions speak louder...but eventually enough time passes, the pain goes away and people quit caring what you do to make things right. It's easy to convince yourself that maybe things were never right in the first place. It's easier on the heart that way. Sometimes you have to let go.
Point 3: Sometimes the solution is worse than the problem. You have to examine what you are least willing to deal with. No matter how good the intention, sometimes you CAN'T fix everything. The newest and brightest isn't always the best. Sometimes status quo isn't so bad.
Point 4: Beautiful...isn't perfect.
July 16, 2008
Make mine an adventure
I have never read Alice in Wonderland...an oversight that I vow one day to correct. I have always wondered what Alice must have thought as she found herself in such a fantastical place. I often find that I feel like I have tumbled down the rabbit hole into some strange and bizarre place. I am lacking a Mad Hatter and caterpillars do not speak to me, but I am fortunate enough to have populated my life with more than my share of peculiar characters...and I do have one that rushes around declaring we're going to be late. I relish the bizarre and unusual and can't for the life of me figure out why so many people want to be, act, dress just like everybody else. People come to me asking for stories of my adventures and I wonder why they don't go on one of their own.
July 15, 2008
Insecure much?
Why as human beings do we feel so guilty? Maybe paranoid is a better word, or is it egotistical?
Anyway....Ever walked into a room and been greeted with sudden silence? Have you overheard something and wondered if it was about you? What about people laughing as you walk by, do you suddenly feel awkward? When someone offers you gum or a mint, are they being polite? Or do you have really bad breath? (Hint: always accept the offer, just in case).
It appears that, generally speaking, we are a very insecure lot. Or is it just me?
Anyway....Ever walked into a room and been greeted with sudden silence? Have you overheard something and wondered if it was about you? What about people laughing as you walk by, do you suddenly feel awkward? When someone offers you gum or a mint, are they being polite? Or do you have really bad breath? (Hint: always accept the offer, just in case).
It appears that, generally speaking, we are a very insecure lot. Or is it just me?
Being different
Ever notice how often people claim they are "different"? I notice this statement of individuality frequently. Each individual thinking they are different from the other...what? Ever wonder how they got different, or what makes them different? After all it seems our society is set up to make us all carbon copies. Schools, political parties, even religion teaches like mindedness. Isn't one of the things we seek out in other individuals is that they think like we do?
The fashion industry spends fortunes to assure that we all look alike. Styles change and we're supposed to keep up. There isn't much choice. If you want to buy anything, your choices are limited by what some person has deemed fashionable at this particular moment.
If you want to be different you have to reach out there, outside of societal norms. You have to THINK different to be different, eventually this will effect the way you look so you'll look different. Then guess what will happen when you finally reach differentness? You'll be criticized!
Don't believe me...
Dress unusual. I mean really unusual. Remember the last time you were at the mall and saw the really strange kid in the really bizarre clothes? Remember the feeling of superiority? Did his/her differentness make you uncomfortable?
Tell people you're atheist. For a country built on the idea of religious freedom...this isn't an acceptable option. You aren't allowed to not believe in God like everybody else. It makes you too different.
Speak radical ideas. Remember freedom of speech? It used to be a right in this country. Not any more, now everyone is "politically correct"...so much for being different. Yes, like everybody else I like to think I'm different. Just a little odd. A touch left of normal. Maybe the only difference in me is the realization that I'm really not.
The fashion industry spends fortunes to assure that we all look alike. Styles change and we're supposed to keep up. There isn't much choice. If you want to buy anything, your choices are limited by what some person has deemed fashionable at this particular moment.
If you want to be different you have to reach out there, outside of societal norms. You have to THINK different to be different, eventually this will effect the way you look so you'll look different. Then guess what will happen when you finally reach differentness? You'll be criticized!
Don't believe me...
Dress unusual. I mean really unusual. Remember the last time you were at the mall and saw the really strange kid in the really bizarre clothes? Remember the feeling of superiority? Did his/her differentness make you uncomfortable?
Tell people you're atheist. For a country built on the idea of religious freedom...this isn't an acceptable option. You aren't allowed to not believe in God like everybody else. It makes you too different.
Speak radical ideas. Remember freedom of speech? It used to be a right in this country. Not any more, now everyone is "politically correct"...so much for being different. Yes, like everybody else I like to think I'm different. Just a little odd. A touch left of normal. Maybe the only difference in me is the realization that I'm really not.
July 14, 2008
Bad feelings and blue lights
I sometime get bad feelings...and sometimes I'm right that something is wrong, often enough to make me a little nervous. Now that I think about it, why don't I ever get good feelings? I mean sometimes I get overly happy for no apparent reason...but that's just the manic phase, and it passes. Totally different thing.
So this morning I wake up with a song stuck in my head. Not so unusual to have a song in my head on repeat, but not usually in the morning before I've even had the music on. I kept hearing the chorus of a Creed song...I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking, maybe six feet, ain't so far down. For some bizarre reason this morning the six feet part kept making me think of death. Bad feeling first thing in the morning.
Bad feeling this afternoon...looking in the rear view to see red and blues coming up on your bumper. Worse feeling, the speedometer is 10 over. Pulling to the shoulder and having the cop pass you...priceless.
As the unmarked Dodge passed it made me wonder how much the county makes in revenue from speeding tickets. I mean what other reason is there to have unmarked cars doing traffic stops? (He had someone pulled over when I passed him again). If the real purpose is to enforce the speed limit, wouldn't marked cars make more sense? Everybody slows down when they see one. So why are the unmarked cars out there? The low profile light bars are making it harder to spot even marked police cars on the road. Why all the subterfuge?
So this morning I wake up with a song stuck in my head. Not so unusual to have a song in my head on repeat, but not usually in the morning before I've even had the music on. I kept hearing the chorus of a Creed song...I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking, maybe six feet, ain't so far down. For some bizarre reason this morning the six feet part kept making me think of death. Bad feeling first thing in the morning.
Bad feeling this afternoon...looking in the rear view to see red and blues coming up on your bumper. Worse feeling, the speedometer is 10 over. Pulling to the shoulder and having the cop pass you...priceless.
As the unmarked Dodge passed it made me wonder how much the county makes in revenue from speeding tickets. I mean what other reason is there to have unmarked cars doing traffic stops? (He had someone pulled over when I passed him again). If the real purpose is to enforce the speed limit, wouldn't marked cars make more sense? Everybody slows down when they see one. So why are the unmarked cars out there? The low profile light bars are making it harder to spot even marked police cars on the road. Why all the subterfuge?
Living backwards
I think I'm living life backwards. I had way too many responsibilities as a kid...I raised my parents. I was doing the cooking, laundry and yard work by the time I was 11 or 12. They worked all day, then napped on the couch/chair until bed time. I got married at 18. Bought a house at 19. Had babies at 22 and 25. I started college at 30, my career 5 years later. Now I'm 45, woops...46, forgot about that last birthday. Jeez how could I forget Ninjas? Must just be denial. Anyway...I have more fun than I ever did before. I'm more likely to play, be sporadic..or spontaneous, I think that's what I meant, but I'm likely to be sporadic too. I know all about responsibility, and I have my share, but that doesn't mean I can't have fun too. Too many people get tired...or forget what it's like. When was the last time you built a sandcastle? OK, I'll admit that one has been a while, Ohio River sand doesn't pack very well. What about rolling in the floor and laughing until you cry? Finger painting? Built a fort? Had a snowball fight?...ice don't count. Bounced in an inflatable castle? Filled a room with helium balloons? Food fight? I recommend that one only as an outdoor activity...jello is good at close range. Toga? Or for that fact dressed in anything remotely resembling a costume...outside of the bedroom? Life should be an experienced...live it.
July 13, 2008
The corn has eyes
Driving down a winding country road at night in a light fog between corn fields is just plain creepy.
There was one set of eyes reflecting our headlights...fortunately, they were very close to the ground.
Damn ninja serial killers.
There was one set of eyes reflecting our headlights...fortunately, they were very close to the ground.
Damn ninja serial killers.
RANT
I'm going to rant, because I can and because the world is full of assholes, jerks and dicks. If you are offended by language, this may be your signal to exit stage left...but then who knows.
In general, I hate people. Most are not worth the time or effort to get to know them. I ran into a few prime examples of these living, breathing sacks of shit today. And they did so much for my mood.
Sack o'shit number one: Entirely too bright and early this morning I greet someone with "Good morning." I get a sneer in return. I really do hope their day was going bad...and got worse. How hard is it to be civil?
I encountered a sack o'shit on my way home this afternoon. I'm in the fast lane, going as fast as the traffic will allow. I notice a red rice burner taking a run for my rear end. He slides over into the slow lane. I wonder where he's going...there is a dump truck in that lane, which is why everyone is in the fast lane. He runs up on the dump truck, then over into the merge lane from an on ramp and passes the truck on the right. He apparently didn't clear the truck by much, as the dump truck slammed on his brakes. I thought his day was fixing to get really bad, but alas it wasn't meant to be. It's times like that when I really, really wish I could reach my hand through the moon roof and put a little blue light out and go after his ass. Just to see the look on his face when I wrote him up for as many traffic violations as I could come up with.
As I continue home imagining how many traffic violations I could come up with...while respecting all traffic laws myself and paying absolute attention to the road ::cough::...I come to a stop as a sack o'shit pedestrian crosses the road in front of me. Lucky for him I was paying attention. This is a young man, crossing the street at the speed of a piss ant, wait that's too fast...what's really slow? OH yeah, turtles are slow...he was crossing the street at the speed of a turtle on downers with a tranquilizer chaser. As I turn behind him he slowly turns his head to look at me...because he had no clue I was there. He had just moseyed across my path without looking. The biggest annoyance was it appeared that he was moving so slowly because he had to hold his pants up. If you have to physically hold your pants up...THEY'RE TOO DAMN BIG!!! Or maybe the fist in the front wasn't for the pants, maybe he had a handful of johnson. You don't have to keep hold of it, it won't go anywhere. Maybe if you bought pants that fit you wouldn't keep losing it. I'm just trying to alleviate your fears...but then I'm probably using too big of words for you, aren't I?
The last sack o'shit...probably in the mirror.
In general, I hate people. Most are not worth the time or effort to get to know them. I ran into a few prime examples of these living, breathing sacks of shit today. And they did so much for my mood.
Sack o'shit number one: Entirely too bright and early this morning I greet someone with "Good morning." I get a sneer in return. I really do hope their day was going bad...and got worse. How hard is it to be civil?
I encountered a sack o'shit on my way home this afternoon. I'm in the fast lane, going as fast as the traffic will allow. I notice a red rice burner taking a run for my rear end. He slides over into the slow lane. I wonder where he's going...there is a dump truck in that lane, which is why everyone is in the fast lane. He runs up on the dump truck, then over into the merge lane from an on ramp and passes the truck on the right. He apparently didn't clear the truck by much, as the dump truck slammed on his brakes. I thought his day was fixing to get really bad, but alas it wasn't meant to be. It's times like that when I really, really wish I could reach my hand through the moon roof and put a little blue light out and go after his ass. Just to see the look on his face when I wrote him up for as many traffic violations as I could come up with.
As I continue home imagining how many traffic violations I could come up with...while respecting all traffic laws myself and paying absolute attention to the road ::cough::...I come to a stop as a sack o'shit pedestrian crosses the road in front of me. Lucky for him I was paying attention. This is a young man, crossing the street at the speed of a piss ant, wait that's too fast...what's really slow? OH yeah, turtles are slow...he was crossing the street at the speed of a turtle on downers with a tranquilizer chaser. As I turn behind him he slowly turns his head to look at me...because he had no clue I was there. He had just moseyed across my path without looking. The biggest annoyance was it appeared that he was moving so slowly because he had to hold his pants up. If you have to physically hold your pants up...THEY'RE TOO DAMN BIG!!! Or maybe the fist in the front wasn't for the pants, maybe he had a handful of johnson. You don't have to keep hold of it, it won't go anywhere. Maybe if you bought pants that fit you wouldn't keep losing it. I'm just trying to alleviate your fears...but then I'm probably using too big of words for you, aren't I?
The last sack o'shit...probably in the mirror.
This one time at band camp...
We were discussing the stories of our lives today. Those events that stand out in your memory, for whatever reason. They're not all happy ones but somehow they define your history. Fortunately none of mine start out with, "This one time at band camp..."
The closest I can get to that is dating a member of the marching band in high school. Yes, even then I was a geek. No...let me think, I never dated anyone that played sports. Very few of my best memories, unlike most people, involve high school.
I remember breaking my arm in the third grade...in four places. My arm sported a definite U shape between the wrist and elbow. I don't remember it hurting much. What I remember is the look on the face of every adult when they saw it.
I remember playing around with my son at a Target one day. We were pushing and bumping into each other, just goofing off. As we walked to the exit we separated, going out side by side doors. His opened automatically...mine didn't. He laughed all the way to the car.
I promise, not all of my memories are so painful.
Nor do I plan on sharing them all...I barely know you.
The closest I can get to that is dating a member of the marching band in high school. Yes, even then I was a geek. No...let me think, I never dated anyone that played sports. Very few of my best memories, unlike most people, involve high school.
I remember breaking my arm in the third grade...in four places. My arm sported a definite U shape between the wrist and elbow. I don't remember it hurting much. What I remember is the look on the face of every adult when they saw it.
I remember playing around with my son at a Target one day. We were pushing and bumping into each other, just goofing off. As we walked to the exit we separated, going out side by side doors. His opened automatically...mine didn't. He laughed all the way to the car.
I promise, not all of my memories are so painful.
Nor do I plan on sharing them all...I barely know you.
Need or want?
Have you ever thought about the words need and want?
We often seem to use them interchangeably. But I don't think we should...we should reconsider the priorities.
I need a job because I need to eat and because I need money in order to enjoy things like going to the movies, or out to dinner. I don't need to do those things, I want to.
I think I'd rather be wanted than needed. My kids needed me when they were young. Now they spend time with me because they want to. My friends spend time with me because they want to, there isn't anything they need that I can give them. They only want my time.
I don't need other people. I am pretty independent. I can support myself financially and emotionally. I want to spend time with people that make me smile.
Life would not be very good if all we lived for was what we needed, if it was all we could obtain. Wanting things keeps us living. Desire for something more, something better, is a very strong motivator.
Unfortunately, some people lose themselves in the chase. They forget what it was all about in the beginning. They lose sight of the things that were important to them.
What's my point? Nothing, absolutely nothing.
We often seem to use them interchangeably. But I don't think we should...we should reconsider the priorities.
I need a job because I need to eat and because I need money in order to enjoy things like going to the movies, or out to dinner. I don't need to do those things, I want to.
I think I'd rather be wanted than needed. My kids needed me when they were young. Now they spend time with me because they want to. My friends spend time with me because they want to, there isn't anything they need that I can give them. They only want my time.
I don't need other people. I am pretty independent. I can support myself financially and emotionally. I want to spend time with people that make me smile.
Life would not be very good if all we lived for was what we needed, if it was all we could obtain. Wanting things keeps us living. Desire for something more, something better, is a very strong motivator.
Unfortunately, some people lose themselves in the chase. They forget what it was all about in the beginning. They lose sight of the things that were important to them.
What's my point? Nothing, absolutely nothing.
July 12, 2008
Your rights as I see them
You have the right to make decisions regarding your life, even if they are bad ones. You do not have the right to blame everybody else for the consequences of those decisions.
You have the right to behave like a jackass. You do not have the right to bitch when everybody treats you like you behave.
You have the right to express your opinion. You do not have the right to browbeat people into agreeing with you.
You have the right to behave like a jackass. You do not have the right to bitch when everybody treats you like you behave.
You have the right to express your opinion. You do not have the right to browbeat people into agreeing with you.
I'm a bitch
I wasn't sure how to take it when my husband said he found my theme song and the title was "I'm a Bitch." He swore the song was me exactly. So I did the only logical thing...I found it online. YouTube, of course. I have to agree with his sentiment. It even made me smile...though the video kind of sucked. It you happen to be a little curious...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fk58p1jeCCA The lyrics change, requiring you to pay attention to the end...four minutes, 14 seconds. I know, that's asking a lot.
Human hackles or goosebumps?
That's when the hair on the neck stands up. Dogs usually do it for the same reason humans do. Never really thought about it before but it is an odd phenomenon. Anyways...today we were discussing those things in life that caused human hackles, goosebumps (we won't get into geese) and cold chills. People tend to be fascinated and/or dubious when I talk about the house I grew up in. It wasn't anything special...built in the mid to late 60's in Valley Station. As far as we know not on any type of burial ground nor had anything violent occurred there. People ask. The thing about it, no one that ever entered that house would deny that it was haunted. From one particularly cold bedroom to whispers and footsteps in the hall. There was frequently the feeling of being watched. Mom blamed Dad for messing the bed up in the guest room...until it continued even when Dad was in the hospital. Most of it was benign. I only remember a few times that I felt frightened by it. Not the case with our neighbor who refused to enter the house after dark when we weren't home. We also had a poodle that would suddenly come running down the hall trembling all over.
I have never felt any type of presence in the house I live in now. But my sons SWEAR that a black cat lived here when we moved in. They were 6 and 9 when we bought this house. They both still tell me, 15 years later, that the cat would go from one of their closets to the other's during the night...funny thing, I always kept their doors closed at night.
A friend at work told me today about her brother's watch. It had been given to him as a present, shortly later, it disappeared. They searched and searched and couldn't find it. Then one day, about three years later, his Mom found it in between the couch cushions...even though she was of the habit of vacuuming the couch on a regular basis. But the real kicker...it was a new couch!
I find stuff like that much more interesting than the light orbs I hear people talk about...I prefer a ghost with a bit of friskiness.
I have never felt any type of presence in the house I live in now. But my sons SWEAR that a black cat lived here when we moved in. They were 6 and 9 when we bought this house. They both still tell me, 15 years later, that the cat would go from one of their closets to the other's during the night...funny thing, I always kept their doors closed at night.
A friend at work told me today about her brother's watch. It had been given to him as a present, shortly later, it disappeared. They searched and searched and couldn't find it. Then one day, about three years later, his Mom found it in between the couch cushions...even though she was of the habit of vacuuming the couch on a regular basis. But the real kicker...it was a new couch!
I find stuff like that much more interesting than the light orbs I hear people talk about...I prefer a ghost with a bit of friskiness.
July 11, 2008
Disorderly conduct
My mother is OCD...that's Obsessive Compulsive. So is my son. If you've never lived with an OCD person I can not explain the joy that it is. Though everyone varies depending on their focus and severity. My mother is a clean freak. I've seen her scrub the corners of the kitchen floor with a toothbrush. She used to trash my room when I was a kid because I didn't keep it neat enough. She'd turn my drawers upside down into the floor, toss my clothes out of the closet, pull the mattress off my bed...all because her perception was the room was disorganized. I would come home from school to a room that Hurricane Norma had just passed through, with instructions of, "Now do it right."
My father was bipolar, formerly known as Manic Depressive. I don't remember ever seeing my Dad as manic, maybe because that is where I live. Dad always seemed one step away from suicide...something I used to blame my Mom for, as living with her was not easy. Now I realize that he was dealing with his own issues not necessarily hers.
I am painfully aware that I did not fall far from the tree. Especially when I see some of these issue passed on to my children. I have been very, very fortunate, as I learned early on to take control.
When my son was diagnosed OCD (the 1st time I'd seen a name for what I'd seen in my mother my entire life), we went through a lot of counseling. The psychiatrist told me that I had an extremely strong personality. This won't come as a surprise to anyone that has met me. He was honestly surprised that I had never tried to commit suicide. It has been necessary for me to maintain control of my emotions in order to survive.
I fight depression with activity. Not hard for a manic, but sometimes the energy is hard to maintain. Being quiet and still are not good for me. That hole is deep, and a lot easier to fall into than climb out. I have learned to control the OCD to be a good example for my son. I now at least resist the demand, simply because my mind seems to have settled on it...relentlessly. It's like having a song stuck in your head, that won't go away. I see something that "needs to be done" and it can become a single solitary thought...a grove your mind is stuck in until it's resolved. It's isn't easy...but there are fewer grooves now days, and they don't seem as deep. The biggest thing, is just being aware. I have to know in order to control. Never believe that these are nice tidy little issues. No, the human mind is not that simple. I am a nice little package of issues...are you surprised? There is Manic Compulsive...Energizer bunny on a mission. Manic Obsessive...the person you want to clean your house. Unfortunately, I only seem to get half done before the manic phase passes. The body can only maintain that energy level for so long. This is also the times when I'm usually not sleeping. We won't discuss the depressed mania or compulsive...those would be homicidal and suicidal.
Explains a lot doesn't it?
My father was bipolar, formerly known as Manic Depressive. I don't remember ever seeing my Dad as manic, maybe because that is where I live. Dad always seemed one step away from suicide...something I used to blame my Mom for, as living with her was not easy. Now I realize that he was dealing with his own issues not necessarily hers.
I am painfully aware that I did not fall far from the tree. Especially when I see some of these issue passed on to my children. I have been very, very fortunate, as I learned early on to take control.
When my son was diagnosed OCD (the 1st time I'd seen a name for what I'd seen in my mother my entire life), we went through a lot of counseling. The psychiatrist told me that I had an extremely strong personality. This won't come as a surprise to anyone that has met me. He was honestly surprised that I had never tried to commit suicide. It has been necessary for me to maintain control of my emotions in order to survive.
I fight depression with activity. Not hard for a manic, but sometimes the energy is hard to maintain. Being quiet and still are not good for me. That hole is deep, and a lot easier to fall into than climb out. I have learned to control the OCD to be a good example for my son. I now at least resist the demand, simply because my mind seems to have settled on it...relentlessly. It's like having a song stuck in your head, that won't go away. I see something that "needs to be done" and it can become a single solitary thought...a grove your mind is stuck in until it's resolved. It's isn't easy...but there are fewer grooves now days, and they don't seem as deep. The biggest thing, is just being aware. I have to know in order to control. Never believe that these are nice tidy little issues. No, the human mind is not that simple. I am a nice little package of issues...are you surprised? There is Manic Compulsive...Energizer bunny on a mission. Manic Obsessive...the person you want to clean your house. Unfortunately, I only seem to get half done before the manic phase passes. The body can only maintain that energy level for so long. This is also the times when I'm usually not sleeping. We won't discuss the depressed mania or compulsive...those would be homicidal and suicidal.
Explains a lot doesn't it?
Love advice
Never fall in love with someone that can't look at a cloud and see something other than a cloud. OK, I'll admit, my dragon was his sand flea; my houseshoe, his tortoise; and my crocodile, his dead dog. We may never see the same thing...but at least he's willing to look into the sky with me.
July 10, 2008
Prejudice in polite society
Political correctness has caused most prejudices to go underground. At least now days those that harbor negative feeling towards certain people aren't so comfortable being public about it. I note two very noticeable exceptions. If you smoke or if you are fat, look out. There are no protections for your feelings even in polite society. It seem that it is very acceptable to be rude to smokers and obese people.
Mind tricks
Have you ever noticed, as you drift off to sleep, that thoughts will surface of such clarity...thoughts that you wonder why you'd never considered this before? Something so perfect and clear. Only to find the next morning that the thought has completely evaporated, like fog in the daylight. Last night as I floated into the darkness, I had such a thought...a solution to an emotional quandary that had been bothering me during the day. I have spent a good deal of energy trying to recall that thought but it is nowhere to be found. Ahhhh the frustration.
July 09, 2008
Recipe
Kids. You gotta love them. I adore them. A little salt, a squeeze of lemon--perfect.
~Harry Dresden
Page 159 Storm Front by Jim Butcher
I am not alone.
~Harry Dresden
Page 159 Storm Front by Jim Butcher
I am not alone.
Set up
I finally got the blog set up the way I want...for now anyway. I really enjoy tinkering with stuff like this. I thought I'd do a little introduction to the page...not me, that's already been done.
The Name: Beneath a Sanguine Moon
First off, I went searching on Google for a number of ideas, looking for something that wouldn't have pages of hits. There were certain criteria, of course. I have a kind of thread that runs through everything I have online. That shouldn't be so unusual, as it is meant to be aesthetically pleasing.
The Avatar
It is perfect. Would you believe that I never noticed the animal's face in it before? Not until a couple of days after posting it.
The only dream I remember from my childhood is being chased by a large orange moon. I have no idea why it terrified me...but the memory remained.
Echo
I use one persona online. One name familiar to all things...except here. Because I was pulling things from my past to here...it was an echo. Though that is also a part of a common thread...it all ties together. I actually have made a great effort to keep everything connected. There is one word, my word, that is the link between all things. Once I give someone the magic word, they can find my profiles and photos...my entire online life.
Want a challenge? Try coming up with a name, a word, anything that isn't already online...
The Name: Beneath a Sanguine Moon
First off, I went searching on Google for a number of ideas, looking for something that wouldn't have pages of hits. There were certain criteria, of course. I have a kind of thread that runs through everything I have online. That shouldn't be so unusual, as it is meant to be aesthetically pleasing.
The Avatar
It is perfect. Would you believe that I never noticed the animal's face in it before? Not until a couple of days after posting it.
The only dream I remember from my childhood is being chased by a large orange moon. I have no idea why it terrified me...but the memory remained.
Echo
I use one persona online. One name familiar to all things...except here. Because I was pulling things from my past to here...it was an echo. Though that is also a part of a common thread...it all ties together. I actually have made a great effort to keep everything connected. There is one word, my word, that is the link between all things. Once I give someone the magic word, they can find my profiles and photos...my entire online life.
Want a challenge? Try coming up with a name, a word, anything that isn't already online...
Do unto others
This is likely to come as a surprise to many people...blurring the line between perception and reality. But in my personal life I tend not to be very confrontational. Not in serious matters, that is. I don't like to fight or argue...I'm more likely to ignore you. I always hope the problem will just go away. I don't want to talk about how I'm feeling or what makes me angry. I don't like getting into escalating accusations of wrong doing. This probably stems from growing up with a verbally abusive mother. Someone to this day who will declare her love for me...and with the next breath rip me to shreds for some small perceived infraction. Yes...amazingly enough I am still working on that relationship. That seems to be an ongoing battle of mine. I have a really hard time walking away. I will hold on to the last thread of hope that things can be fixed. There doesn't seem to be a limit to my capacity for self punishment.
Everything will be fine as long as the other person, who may be unaware of the rules, agrees to play by them. Go sulk somewhere else...and when you feel better and get your head on straight, we'll talk, When others don't agree to my terms is when the problems arise. They'll do something...maybe to get my attention, this is when the evil light in my brain starts flashing. They've unknowingly and unfortunately triggered the retribution response.
Now the phrase "Do unto others" seems to float to the forefront of my brain. The last half of the phrase seems to be a little foggy. Sometimes I take the easy road with some small token of my disdain. But then I begin to see more of that phrase as the angry fog lifts...not really. There actually is a part of me, that's been there as long as I can remember, that tells me, even in anger, that I will regret the action at hand later. I believe this is the component my Mother...who also liked to throw things like coffee cups at televisions, lacked. So I remind myself that just because someone wants to act like an ass...I don't have to respond as such. This sometimes has the effect of leaving that person feeling like their efforts have gone unnoticed...which only annoys them more. So see...in the end, I still win.
Everything will be fine as long as the other person, who may be unaware of the rules, agrees to play by them. Go sulk somewhere else...and when you feel better and get your head on straight, we'll talk, When others don't agree to my terms is when the problems arise. They'll do something...maybe to get my attention, this is when the evil light in my brain starts flashing. They've unknowingly and unfortunately triggered the retribution response.
Now the phrase "Do unto others" seems to float to the forefront of my brain. The last half of the phrase seems to be a little foggy. Sometimes I take the easy road with some small token of my disdain. But then I begin to see more of that phrase as the angry fog lifts...not really. There actually is a part of me, that's been there as long as I can remember, that tells me, even in anger, that I will regret the action at hand later. I believe this is the component my Mother...who also liked to throw things like coffee cups at televisions, lacked. So I remind myself that just because someone wants to act like an ass...I don't have to respond as such. This sometimes has the effect of leaving that person feeling like their efforts have gone unnoticed...which only annoys them more. So see...in the end, I still win.
July 08, 2008
Dispel the darkness?
Once upon a time many things went bump in the night. The human psyche knew and feared them, even if their mind was unable to explain them. Then religion came along and the darkness was dispelled. Later science explained all the things of the known world. But everything revolves in a cycle...there still exists the unknown, unexplained and even the darkness.
Just a thought.
Just a thought.
Fight to win
I do not understand competitiveness.
If I enjoy a game, I will play...regardless if I ever win. I don't understand why some people MUST win.
Ever met the person that just can not have someone get a head of them on the road? These people are the face of road rage.
It's all about feeling superior over the other person...can't let someone get a head of you.
What makes them so competitive? Why do they have to take power in such insignificant situations in order to make themselves feel better?
Habits
Ever stopped and thought about something you just did that was totally stupid?
Today I opened the bread, there were three slices left. I took one to make a peanut butter sandwich for my dog...no that's not the stupid thing...you have to get the pill in him somehow. Anyway, the bread was a little past prime and I had a fresh new loaf on the counter. So I pitched the old bread in the garbage, but before I did...and here's the stupid part, I twisted the close tie to shut the bag. Why? I was throwing the bread in the garbage.
Another one that I've realized, is opening the eggs at the grocery. Do you open the carton to find half the eggs smashed? Do you reseal the carton before placing it back in the case? Why? Now the next person comes along and does the same thing. If only one egg is cracked in two cartons, why not switch an egg around instead of opening carton three, four and five. It was an especially bad day for eggs apparently.
I know there are others I've got myself doing...hey, I'm not going to admit to everything. I'm just trying to become more aware, so I don't get caught at it as often.
Today I opened the bread, there were three slices left. I took one to make a peanut butter sandwich for my dog...no that's not the stupid thing...you have to get the pill in him somehow. Anyway, the bread was a little past prime and I had a fresh new loaf on the counter. So I pitched the old bread in the garbage, but before I did...and here's the stupid part, I twisted the close tie to shut the bag. Why? I was throwing the bread in the garbage.
Another one that I've realized, is opening the eggs at the grocery. Do you open the carton to find half the eggs smashed? Do you reseal the carton before placing it back in the case? Why? Now the next person comes along and does the same thing. If only one egg is cracked in two cartons, why not switch an egg around instead of opening carton three, four and five. It was an especially bad day for eggs apparently.
I know there are others I've got myself doing...hey, I'm not going to admit to everything. I'm just trying to become more aware, so I don't get caught at it as often.
July 07, 2008
Good Advice
Keep cheerful friends. The grouches pull you down. Don't be a grouch.
Like yourself. You are the only person you have your entire life.
Dance and sing, even if you'll only do it when you're alone.
Play. Nobody ever says, I wished I'd worked more.
Bad things happen. Endure, grieve and move on.
Surround yourself with whatever gives you joy.
Stay up to date, don't live in the past.
Say I love you, I miss you, I'm sorry.
Lost time can never be found.
Enjoy the simple things.
Try everything...twice.
Don't take guilt trips.
Never stop learning.
Laugh often.
Take naps.
Forgive.
Like yourself. You are the only person you have your entire life.
Dance and sing, even if you'll only do it when you're alone.
Play. Nobody ever says, I wished I'd worked more.
Bad things happen. Endure, grieve and move on.
Surround yourself with whatever gives you joy.
Stay up to date, don't live in the past.
Say I love you, I miss you, I'm sorry.
Lost time can never be found.
Enjoy the simple things.
Try everything...twice.
Don't take guilt trips.
Never stop learning.
Laugh often.
Take naps.
Forgive.
Sarcasm
I have a mile wide sarcastic streak served up with a dry, dark sense of humor and a side of bad attitude. Each has the potential of getting me into trouble on a regular basis. I have to frequently remind myself at work to think before speaking. Sometimes it still comes out. It's amazing what you can say if you have a smile on your face...and they think you're kidding. Sarcasm is not expressed as well in written language...it often comes across crass. Not that I can't be obnoxious at times, but it usually is not my intent.
So if you read something on these pages you find a bit strange, look at it from another angle...I suggest with your head between your knees. Add a dash of sarcasm, a sprinkle of humor and a dollop of attitude...stir well. Best served chilled with a slice of lime.
So if you read something on these pages you find a bit strange, look at it from another angle...I suggest with your head between your knees. Add a dash of sarcasm, a sprinkle of humor and a dollop of attitude...stir well. Best served chilled with a slice of lime.
You are not alone
Ever feel like you're not alone...when you're supposed to be?
Last night, shortly after going to bed, I had the strangest feeling someone had walked into the room. I opened my eyes and looked around. My monitor was still on, so there was plenty of light to see. Nothing. I closed my eyes again and rolled back over to get comfortable. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was not alone. I sat back up in the bed and looked around. I even said, "Hello?" Again, nothing. I eventually drifted off to sleep...thinking I knew nobody was there, but some part of me wasn't so certain.
Last night, shortly after going to bed, I had the strangest feeling someone had walked into the room. I opened my eyes and looked around. My monitor was still on, so there was plenty of light to see. Nothing. I closed my eyes again and rolled back over to get comfortable. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was not alone. I sat back up in the bed and looked around. I even said, "Hello?" Again, nothing. I eventually drifted off to sleep...thinking I knew nobody was there, but some part of me wasn't so certain.
July 06, 2008
I hear voices
I've often heard people refer to using an "inside voice" meaning to speak softer. I have an inside my head voice...the problem is, it doesn't stay inside my head. I tend to say what I think...and I don't mean that in some nasty, I tell it like I see it kind of way. It's just I'm the one that says what everybody else in the room is thinking. Or if they weren't thinking it, I suspect they wonder why not after I say it. I'm not above stating the obvious. I love to turn a phrase or capture the pun...or create one. The naughtier the better...innuendo is a great and an underrated talent.
Gender rules
I wonder why gender specific dress codes are allowed. Has this ever been legally challenged? Why is it women can have pierced ears, but men can not? What about long hair? Don't give me the "it's more socially acceptable" argument...doesn't fly with me. Women fought...are still fighting, for the right to be treated equally in the workplace. We can wear pants and do dirty jobs with the best of them. Isn't there anybody out there arguing for men to be able to have the same freedom of expression that women enjoy? OK, I know there is somebody asking...what if men want to wear skirts? You can cut the sarcasm. I have no objection to a man wearing a skirt. You may think hair length and earrings are trivial matters, they aren't to everyone. Why do we tolerate gender specific rules? Aren't we supposed to finally be better than that?
Know fear
It isn't the things that go bump in the night that should frighten you. It's the things willing to face you in the light.
Pet peeve
You want to know what's wrong with this country...at least the one that is annoying me at the moment? What's wrong with this country is the fact that you can't just throw away your trash! NO...you have to worry that somebody might steal your identity or at the very least use your credit card information. I am really fed up with this. I am not guilty of anything (illegal) and yet I have to shred documents.
Making a living
How many times have you been asked what you do for a living?
Traditionally this means the person is asking about your job. My job is not what I do for a living, it is what I do so I can afford to live. What I do for a living, what gives my life meaning, is everything but my job. I am not my job. It does not represent who I am, except for maybe what degree I earned. Why are people interested in your job? I think it's usually a status symbol to many people...they want to know if you are important, or more importantly are they higher on the ladder than you. I think that is the bigger issue. Strangely enough, I can't tell you what many of my friends "do". I'd rather tell you what they enjoy, what is meaningful to them or about a time we spent together. When my friends all sit laughing and having fun together we're all equals.
Traditionally this means the person is asking about your job. My job is not what I do for a living, it is what I do so I can afford to live. What I do for a living, what gives my life meaning, is everything but my job. I am not my job. It does not represent who I am, except for maybe what degree I earned. Why are people interested in your job? I think it's usually a status symbol to many people...they want to know if you are important, or more importantly are they higher on the ladder than you. I think that is the bigger issue. Strangely enough, I can't tell you what many of my friends "do". I'd rather tell you what they enjoy, what is meaningful to them or about a time we spent together. When my friends all sit laughing and having fun together we're all equals.
Respect
Why do people have so much trouble practicing respect?
When you open your car doors, don't hit the car next to yours. It may be a piece of junk, but it belongs to somebody. That is respect.
Don't let your kids play in my yard unless they've been invited. That is respect.
Keep your animals at your house/yard. That is respect.
Keep your appointments and be timely. Time is valuable to other people also. That is respect.
Be mindful of your surroundings. I don't want to hear your personal phone conversations. At the movies, I don't want to hear you at all. That is respect.
Prioritize your company. Whether a business or personal, why is the person on the phone more important than the person standing in front of you? That is respect.
I don't care what you do for a living. If you are the janitor or the CEO, I will treat you the same. That is respect.
I don't care about your race, religion, political affiliations or anything else...if you treat me with respect, I will treat you in kind. You don't have to do anymore than be polite
When you open your car doors, don't hit the car next to yours. It may be a piece of junk, but it belongs to somebody. That is respect.
Don't let your kids play in my yard unless they've been invited. That is respect.
Keep your animals at your house/yard. That is respect.
Keep your appointments and be timely. Time is valuable to other people also. That is respect.
Be mindful of your surroundings. I don't want to hear your personal phone conversations. At the movies, I don't want to hear you at all. That is respect.
Prioritize your company. Whether a business or personal, why is the person on the phone more important than the person standing in front of you? That is respect.
I don't care what you do for a living. If you are the janitor or the CEO, I will treat you the same. That is respect.
I don't care about your race, religion, political affiliations or anything else...if you treat me with respect, I will treat you in kind. You don't have to do anymore than be polite
July 05, 2008
Why?
People should ask themselves that more often....why?
Why do I behave that way?
Why do I believe that?
Why don't I believe that?
Why am I who I am?
We are greatly a product of our environment. We behave and believe much the same as the people around us. You have to examine yourself and others...ask WHY?
Someone once told me a story that is a great example. She said a friend was baking a ham for the holidays. As she sat and watched, the friend sliced off both ends of the ham. She asked her friend why she did that. The friend replied, "Because that is how my Mom always did it." So she called her Mom and inquired. Her Mom replied, "That is the way your Grandma always did it." So they called Grandma. Grandma replied, "I always cut the ends off the ham because I didn't own a pan big enough to put it in."
Too many of us go through life doing as those before us without ever inquiring as to why it's done this way. It's ok to keep believing, or not. It's ok to keep being who you are, if you are happy. It's ok to cut the ends off the ham. But ever now and then stop...and ask, why?
Why do I behave that way?
Why do I believe that?
Why don't I believe that?
Why am I who I am?
We are greatly a product of our environment. We behave and believe much the same as the people around us. You have to examine yourself and others...ask WHY?
Someone once told me a story that is a great example. She said a friend was baking a ham for the holidays. As she sat and watched, the friend sliced off both ends of the ham. She asked her friend why she did that. The friend replied, "Because that is how my Mom always did it." So she called her Mom and inquired. Her Mom replied, "That is the way your Grandma always did it." So they called Grandma. Grandma replied, "I always cut the ends off the ham because I didn't own a pan big enough to put it in."
Too many of us go through life doing as those before us without ever inquiring as to why it's done this way. It's ok to keep believing, or not. It's ok to keep being who you are, if you are happy. It's ok to cut the ends off the ham. But ever now and then stop...and ask, why?
Original thought
What does that mean to you?
I often think I've had an original thought, only to discover someone has walked there before me.
People tell me that my mind works in mysterious ways, so I know I must be on the right path. This usually occurs just prior to being told how odd, weird or funny I am, or being called a freak. One of the few labels I wear with pride.
I enjoy my little mental trips into the underbrush, the unbeaten path, if you will. So if I occasionally come upon the embers of someone else's fire, I won't let it disturb me. I'll just be reassured that I am not alone. I am among freaks...I mean friends.
Like a new toy
I'm still playing with this. New toy! How cool. I love the email to
blog concept.
blog concept.
Anyway I'm moving some entries from an older blog to this one. Only
those not time sensitive. It wouldn't really be beneficial to tell you
about a movie I saw last year. It's interesting, and sometimes,
painful to look back over the last few years. I've changed my life.
Made some directional decisions. Gotten my act together. Made new
friends and lost one very dear to my heart...or so I thought. My Dad
died. But for the most part, it's been good.
That, in part, will explain why you will see so many posts in a short time.
I also tend to be a prolific writer. It is cheap therapy.
I have somewhat mixed feelings. I would like to know if ANYDODY has
discovered me in the in this dark little corner of the world wide web,
but at the same time I am aware that I will cater my writings to the
reader. This kind of ruins the whole therapy aspect.
Echo
My favorite quotes
Outside a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside a dog, it's too
dark to read. - Groucho Marx
dark to read. - Groucho Marx
Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting
different results. - Albert Einstein
This would be a test of the no response emergency system
I am not sure why anybody would want to hear my thoughts. I can't imagine anything I'm willing to express in a public forum, that could be used against me for all eternity, would be all that captivating. However, I do know from past experience that sometimes expressing my thoughts helps clear the mind, taking out the trash as you will.
Warnings:
You have been warned that you may be bored to tears. Reading at work may not be advisable, as sleeping is generally discouraged.
Anything you say, can, and will be used against you.
No place, anywhere, did it say that I had to make sense.
I am not always grammatically correct, nor do I care...maybe that one should have been first.
You are allowed to disagree with my opinions. I am allowed not to care.
Welcome to my world...
A new beginning
So here I am.
I promise nothing spectacular. Only random thoughts from an arguably deranged mind. It's dark in here. Never know what you might find. So watch your step...oh and occasionally the ceiling is low. So watch your head. Are you sure you want to be here at all?
It could be a bumpy ride.
I promise nothing spectacular. Only random thoughts from an arguably deranged mind. It's dark in here. Never know what you might find. So watch your step...oh and occasionally the ceiling is low. So watch your head. Are you sure you want to be here at all?
It could be a bumpy ride.
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