Yet another Random Pile of Crap

So a new year.. yadda yadda. I don't to resolutions. They do nothing more that set us up to fail.
You say you NEED to do something.. so when you don't do it you feel guilty.. and the guilt only serves to let us further sabatoge ourselves. So rather than saying "I Need To Lose Weight" say "I Want To Lose Weight", a true desire, versus something you are doing because you feel you NEED to- is again.. a path to guilt.

That being said.. life goes on. Things that piss me off, things that make me think, things that truly make me wonder what the fuck is up with our society. It seems that every day I see multiple instances of people who are so self centered that they have either lost, or forgotten to use the ability to see anything outside of their own little worlds.

It's a double edged sword. Despite my own desire to NOT BE one of these self centered asshats, my ranting about them only serves to lead me down the same path. The asshole cutting me off in traffic should, I expect, elicit some modicum of pity for them being so self centered, but all it does is make me yell at them. Is that feeding MY desire for my own little universe not to be disrupted?

Aye, a Craptacular Cycle indeed.

Can It Be? No it can't. Really? Well, maybe.

I'm sliding again. To the realm of not posting as much as I want to. The title of this post is me having a conversation with myself. Something I used to think was tremendously asinine, but I have since changed my view since sometimes the conversations I have with myself are the ONLY coherent ones going on at the moment.

It's that time of year. My birthday. I've long held that age is merely a number. As you've all ready before I may be growing older but I refuse to grow up. A more recently defined mantra for me is that only you have control of what you make of your life. If you're stuck in a boring, routine rut- if you've given in to the societal push that says if you aren't (insert any one or all of the following: married, a homeowner, a parent, involved in your church or civic groups yadda yadda) by a certain age you aren't 'grown up'- and you hate it.. it's YOUR FAULT and up to you to make some change.

I suppose a more direct, less politically correct (acceptable) and a more vulgar condensed version of this is: FUCK THE STATUS QUO.

Still fall becomes a time of introspection for me. This year I marvel at the fact that at my age, my dearly departed mother had two grown children, and one grandchild. My path being quite different, no kids involved (unless you count me, my husband and our two cats as we're stuck in teen mode most times). Someone said to me awhile back (in a classic 'Bingo' for the childfree)- so who will take care of you when you get old? I just blinked at them, and laughed it off as I knew it wasn't meant to be accusatory or offensive.

I guess I like to think much as I like to live.. in a dream world.. figuring (but not betting money) that perhaps (in a perfect world) all the money I've paid in taxes over the years to help support schools and other child oriented programs will come to bear in helping me and my hubby afford assisted living.

Yeah, it's a laugh riot isn't it? So, instead I just take thoughts like that like I do most other things that aren't worth borrowing trouble over.. I just shake my head and move on to the next topic on the Lazy Susan of my mind.

Wine, Cheese, Trees.. things that get better, bigger and more impressive with age? Bah. I don't give a rats ass about being impressive. I just want to be happy, healthy and know that the people I share my life with are near because they care, and for no other (material) reason.

To borrow from my muse The Bloggess (http:www.thebloggess.com): The Best Kind of Fucked Up.. that's what I want to be! Happy Unbirthday everyone!

Crapfest 2011

This entry finds our heroine nearing the end of "Crapfest 2011". What was likely (and OMG HOPEFULLY) the most hellish "week from hell' that the year has had to offer.

Well, maybe not to some.. in truth.. a really hellish week would likely contain fire, brimstone and assorted blood letting mayhem. Scratch the first two, and since the 'blood letting' involved was in a relevant biological not entirely unexpected way even that is a weak premise.

I assure you though.. from my own personal standpoint it was crappy. Any week that starts with a funeral and all the family mayhem that a funeral bring with it.. automatically earns the title 'crappy'. Even in the best of families, the happiest of "June Cleaver home cleaning house and baking cookies in her perfectly ironed dress wearing heels and crisp crinoline petticoats (wait did they wear crinolines then.. holy hell and I spelling that right even?) with nary a run in her hose a stain on her skirt of a hair out of place" families.. funerals bring their own bag on angst.

Pass said bag of angst to a dysfunctional family (That in no way puts the FUN in dysfunctional) and it's like a trap door to the third ring of hell opens up and no one is spared from having to pass through and take in a lungful of brimstone.

Obviously, unless my soul is bound to the earth and able to type, I am still here. Can I claim a survival victory? Still.. Monday was surreal. Tuesday appeared to be status quo.. until late in the afternoon when my body started sending signals that the fun wasn't over yet. Wednesday, Thursday and Friday found me staying home as my body put me through the wringer with what we know now are THREE culprits at work. Any one of these insidious icks could take a person out for a day.. all three.. my doctor said 'could knock ANYONE for a loop'.

I could say I have felt like a zombie.. but I don't think that's correct. Zombies, being what they are, are deliciously denied the ability to rationalize about how their body is being tortured once they are reanimated. Not so here boys and girls- and since my brain is a rewired whirling dervish (see previous entries on ADD) it is not a surprise that I would find myself awake in the dead of night racking up psychosomatic tomes of what could possibly be going on .

This morning I knew I'd had enough. Things are NOT resolving as they should and I am fed up with sitting at home, seriously when I'd rather be at work, that's a sure sign that I'm miserable.
My friendly neighborhood professional heard the tale of my woes and after consulting my records and doing the usual checks told me what HE thought was up and after some discussion we agreed.

Sadly the virus, infection and biological function are all things I simply have to ride out. Though he did prescribe some items for the sake of comfort so that maybe I can at least sleep when I'm in bed instead of doing my impression of a hot dog that's been on the rollers at the convenience store too long. rolling over, and over and over.. and not being improved by it.

He also penned a note so that the powers that be at my place of employment will know that I was NOT in Cabo sipping Corona (with lemon) on the beach while being massaged by a well muscled cabana boy.

I know I've said over and over that normal is boring.. but after this week I am SURELY ready for some sense of what is normal for me. Let's see if I can navigate the weekend without having more crap flung at my fan..

The Touch, The Feel.. of RANDOM CRAP

Which really IS the fabric of our lives sometimes right? When you've slid down the slitted sheet and down the slitted sheet you've slid, sometimes you just feel like you are being orbited by spheres of crap. Crap in itself isn't bad. It can in fact be VERY benign. It's all in how you look at it, and how high you can stack it!

Random Crap Bubble Number 1 (for today) Deals with Social Media.
As an admitted junkie of many adjuncts for 'social media' (hereafter referred to as SM) I am privy to various habits of "Net Denizens" on a regular basis. From the truly clueless, who don't realize that typing in caps is considered shouting, and that posting the same thing over and over and over again is a faux pas punishable by banning- to those who have figured out the ins and outs, but still haven't figured out how to filter their textual diarrhea so as not to offend people.

Some people, particularly those 'older folk' (45 in October) like myself who are relatively new (I'm no NOOB!)to the Internet, simply think that because they don't have to look people in the eye when they say things they can simply type out whatever is in the front of their brains, post it, and go on their merry way. Seriously. I don't know how many times I've explained in online venues that one must truly consider the words they have written before posting to a public venue- because text can MURDER even the kindest of intended sentiments or questions.

Words taken in with no tone of voice, facial expression or gesture can and often do take on a completely different tone. Someone hones in on that and you have a full scale textual war going on, until someone steps in (such as your friendly neighborhood moderator or administrator) and sets things straight.

Childish? You bet your computer chair shaped ass! But it happens.

Some people are simply trolls. They run around LOOKING to stir up trouble. Others simply lack the fundamental filters in their brains to learn from previous missteps and move forward more cautiously. They simply continue to cause horrendous cases of butt-hurt and move along as if nothing is at all wrong.

The only good thing I can say about this is that it keeps things lively and proves without a double that all human beings are NOT the same. Variety is the spice of life?? Yeah.

Random Crap Bubble Number 2- is about relationships and communication.
Do you ever get that feeling that your partner/spouse/lover/BFF is upset about something but you can't get them to spill it? If you're like me and in a relationship where your 'other half' is almost your double in how they deal with things, it's a constant struggle.

Having been diagnosed with ADD last year (yes, at age 43 I started taking Ritalin, and son of a biscuit it has been GREAT!) I have learned that I have to proceed a bit differently when dealing with my relationship, because at times, the unique rewiring of my brain blows things out of proportion. But today, oh today my long suffering readers, I am 2 shakes from coming unhinged. Yeah sharing this with you is about as random as it gets, but maybe I can re-ingest the words I've written and work out a solution.

Moral of the Craptacular Ramble: If Your UPSET with me.. for the sake of all that is holy and deep fried to perfection.. TELL ME ABOUT IT. Don't stew and expect me to read your mind, not if you want the issue fixed that is! And if you're really NOT upset with me.. tell me what you ARE upset about.. maybe I can help.

Damn, I hate spending my weekend walking on eggshells.

Random Crap Bubble #3- Words: Homiegnome, Douchetard, Crunchy butt nugget, and Butt burglar.

That is all.

Obsessively Oblivious

The random tangent of the moment asks an absurd question: Do now or have you ever known someone who (for all intents and purposes) seems to be obsessively oblivious?

Breakdown: We all have moments of relatively clueless. I'm pretty sure it's a homo sapien thing because, well, we're NOT computers. Our organic brains do not (as a rule) categorize and file every bit of information and recall it in a nanosecond. I'm talking about people who seem relatively normal except for one (or maybe even a few) seemingly glaring gaps in their ability to interact with society.

A Hypothetical Case In Point: The person who helps themseves to the last cup of coffee in a shared pot, repeatedly leaving a few milliliters in the bottom of the pot, but never seeming to get it that the appropriate reaction to that is to make more coffee. For this instance we shall assume that the individual has been kindly and repeatedly asked to remedy the empty pot.. heck they've even been shown by some kindhearted (and possible caffeine free) patient people just HOW to do so. Yet they do not.

Oblivious, Lazy or just a Jerk? I don't know.

Is it that I simply have a different way viewing things? I had a lady look me square in the eye as we arrived at the same time at the ONE open checkout lane in the grocery store. SHE had a loaded cart, I was carrying ONE item. Yet she hustled her way in front of me.

Had our positions been reversed, I would have stopped, smiled slightly, gestured for her to go ahead and said "You go ahead, since you only have one item".

Am I too nice? Was she a bitch? Or was she just so mired in her own little universe that she was oblivious to an opportunity to garner some cosmic Karma?

A friend and I were chatting about such things just last week. We decided we have simply been born in the wrong era. Unfortunately the cost of hopping a time machine and going back a few centuries is seriously uncomfortable clothing, a loss of any measurable rights for women, and of course NO INTERNET ACCESS.

Until next time.. I ask.. take a moment. Stop. Look. Listen in public situations. Can you make someones' day brighter by doing something simple and kind? There may be more free floating Karma in your reach than you think!

It's true. Sometimes you just have to write about silly shit and metal chickens!

I really must start by saying thanks to my net gal pals Krysti and Laura for turning me on to http://www.thebloggess.com . Jenny writes one mo-fo of a fun one and it helps me to realize that I'm not as fooked up as I seem to be, since there are OTHERS who seem to feel the same way!

In an odd kind of inside out burrito way, I must also lay curses upon the houses of whichever evil online acquaintances of mine turned me on to Pinterest- which seems to be the latest rage in Internet Spawned Crack Habits. (http://www.pinterest.com)

Truly I have the patience of a gnat and it doesn't take much to entice me into a crack habit that just requires a bit of clicky, caption, clicky to allow people into my head. But what the hell, you only live once and if you don't step out and wiggle your naked hiney (figuratively speaking that is) you can miss out on some fun shit.

Fatter of mactly I was just discussing that with some friends earlier today. I told someone, in absolute truth, that I am a recovering doormat and they didn't believe I could ever have been someone cowed into saying yes all the time and letting people walk on me.. but it's true. They wanted to know how did I stop? I haven't stopped 100% and I may never be 'cured'. That's okay because dammit it makes me who I am to have dealt with it, and the fact that I came out the other side.. well most of the way.. appearing as a confident outgoing person who doesn't take any crap .. is a blessing.

All the talk about 'cures' in this day and age just gags me. You know some things don't need to be 'cured'.. just managed. I'll talk about that more in another post.

Today it's about silly shit and metal chickens.

My mom was a chicken collector.. not live chickens mind you, that would be odd (and stinky!) but chicken decor.. for her kitchen. I can't see anything with a chicken on it and NOT think of her (she passed away in 2004). So when I was delving into Jennys' posts in her blog and came across the post about Beyonce, I about fell out of my chair. Not only is Beyonce a chicken, but the way Jenny acquired her, and how she uses the plucky metallic fowl is right from my own playbook!

And SILLY.. well part of that I attribute to one of my managed mental accessories that some scream should be "CURED". My brain is just hardwired a little differently. Besides being pretty much the poster child for optimism, I often view things through a skewed lens (or is that cracked?) that allows for strange but amusing observations. Put the two together and the impetus for this post is defined.

I'm rambling as I often do, but I'll end by sharing one of my personal mantras. I don't care how old you are, or what life has thrown at you. It IS possible to be happy- and happy is not defined the same way for everyone. It IS possible to get older and live without confining yourself (mentally and emotionally) within the cramped tiny box that some think society dictates. There is no law stating that you must cease to find amusement in simple things, cease to sing with the radio, cease dancing in the rain (and many other things) just because you have reached a certain age or station in life. In short: Life is what you make of it.. if you aren't having a good time it's YOUR OWN DAMN fault. Don't play the blame game: "Oh I can't because of (insert preordained life choice here)". ALSO to fall back on a previous line from one of my posts: STOP GIVING A TINKER'S DAMN about what ANYONE else has to say about you and how you choose to live. Most of those people are just jealous because they haven't figured out how to loose the societal shackles that bind them! Now.. GO FORTH AND LAUGH at silly shit!

Because crap, piled high enough WILL run downhill.

So the husband started a new job this week. This is good.. for VERY many reasons, but the change does not come without a bit of craptacularness. The good.. in that he has escaped a psycho micromanager and has thusly regained his ability to smile.. it SO good that it makes the craptacular downflow easier to manage. A bit of a pay cut.. but hell, benefits that are like changing from week old instant coffee to freshly ground and brewed Kona. I lost my car privileges.. one running car=he who has the earlier work schedule gets to drive and the other finds alternate transport. But again, I have a bus stop close to the house and I can be at work fifteen minutes before I have to get cracking, so it a win (whimper) win.

Since life never throw you just ONE craptacular instance at a time.. we also got to spend $300 that we don't have.. on tires for said running vehicle. The revelation of this need was a hysteria inducing trigger for the husband.. but not for me. I'm rather a 'glass half full' girl, and my general mantra is that it can ALWAYS be worse.. so we dealt with it.

The end results come out on the plus side. Happier hubby, safer mode of transport- I call it a win with a few whimper inducing moments- which when it comes right down to it, is amazingly more refreshing than a swift kick in the ass.

Huzzah.