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.

Of Paranormal Poopsticks.. or something like that.

So hell yeah, here I am again. I kind of fell off the face of the earth. I really HATE it when real life interferes with my online activities. I keep looking for the 'opt out' button for real life, but some of the penalties are a bit stiff.

Still here. Still following the childfree scene. Hurrah to Malaysian Airlines for making childfree flight possible. Boo to the chumsuckers at Good Morning America for subjecting the public to the "Octomom" recently. Please can we not give this idiot any more publicity?

Still working, loving my job. Celebrating hubby's escape from the 'Dungeon of Doom' job to one with more possibilities for growth, and a chance to see the sun more than once a day! Gearing up now to compose my manifesto to out the boss who made his life hell for the last year or so (after almost 3 years of treating him with respect and decency. why she went psycho we don't know).
A warning to anyone considering going to work for a branch of a company that outsources services, particularly when the corporate offices are on another coast- unless you are sure the person heading the local operation is actually doing their job, don't do it! Seriously, if the people in the 'eastern states corporate headquarters which shall not be named' had any real presence out here they'd KNOW why this location has such a horrendous turnover rate.

Still paddling furiously to keep an even keel financially. Hubby taking a small pay cut, but it is already SUPREMELY worth it to see him so much happier.

Alright, rambling catch up bullshit post about done. Time to come up with some topics and resume my trek toward regular blogging. Got any questions for me? I can expound.

Double Vision

Time for a trip down one of my cranial pathways. Sit back and relax a bit as I ramble (not rant.. believe me, my rants are not something you want to read- I tend to write them, go away, read them, go away, come back and delete them. Mt Vesuvius is a molten pimple compared to my flash fueled anger and I learned long ago that it's not good to to expose people to that explosive branch of my psyche) about being childfree in the workplace.

A few basic points that have been bandied about ad nauseum:
1. 'Preferential' treatment for parents.
I don't agree that the avenues offered to parents in the workplace are a true perk. In my mind the flexibility they are given is a necessary evil. Kids, like pets, need attention, they need the support of their parents, and they can't be left uncared for, or in the care of others under certain circumstances. The School Nurse shouldn't have to care for a puking kid until the work day ends. A day care provider shouldn't expose other kids in their care to a communicable disease. This concept often wars with my thoughts on how SOME parents make 'babysitters' of things that should not be utilized in that fashion. IE: Libraries, Television, Computers, and endless activities. By all means, if you are going to a movie that your child is too young to attend by themselves, GET A BABYSITTER. If you are going to an event that will last well beyond your child's usual bedtime, GET A BABYSITTER.

However if your child is ill to the point that they are contagious to others, if they are projecting bodily fluid from an orifice - stay home with them! Go get them and take them home if the school or the daycare provider call. If you have another option, a relative or friend who is available and willing to care for them- and you are comfortable with that concept, sure.. stay at work.

Though, like the childfree spectrum, the parental spectrum offers both thoughtful and considerate parents, and those who will use any possible excuse to get away from work, up to exaggerating symptoms.

In my employment history I have experienced a variety of supervisor/manager/boss types. Some who WERE blatantly biased toward parents, and some who were (and are) willing to consider individual needs versus 'do they have kids or not?'.

2. Not EVERYONE in your workplace is willing to worship your children or your pregnancy- nor do they want to be bombarded with anecdotes, photos or refrigerator artwork. Not EVERYONE want to attend baby showers or buy from fundraisers.

I take almost everything my personal sphere if childfreedom in a case by case basis. Hypocritically I am often willing to give a little more slack to people I know and people I interact with on a regular basis. OFTEN but not always. At work I am forced to keep my feelings much closer to my chest- there is nothing at all to be gained by allowing my feelings to be used against me. So while I'll often grumble, you'll never see any grandstanding.

Were I given the chance to dictate, it would be such that your 'parental status' is never a card you can play to get special treatment at work. Or, on the other side... make it so that I can take time of in the name of my pet- for appointments and illness.. just like I would if I had to take a child to the doctor, or take time off while they recover from surgery. In short, let's eliminate the double standard.

E Tu, Etymology?

Crikey, I don't think the title of this is exactly right- since etymology is the study of the history of words and their usage. I am actually going to work with suffixes. My last ramblings, and subsequent Tweets amongst my tweeps, got me to thinking.

Childfree, or childless? Two words. Well, one word, one mash up of 2 words.

Child.. obvious. Offspring, progeny. We won't go into the terms used by the various factions of the childfree spectrum, but many of you know of which words I speak.

Free- a bit more involved. Dictionary.com lists FORTY NINE different forms of usage for the word free. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/free

In essence.. they are all positive. I have to concede that some of the snark I've read about our choice of terminology now make sense. Have any of you seen the bristling remarks? That defining ourselves as childFREE is an offhand slap in the face aimed at parents. A shadowy implication that they are shackled, burdened, impeded or otherwise enslaved by their choice to reproduce.

Still, I will never accept being referred to as childless. The word less (which now that I think about it is both a word and a suffix) rarely implies anything positive, not to mention liberating.
Sugarless- good for dentists. Fearless- hm, impressive or stupid? I could go on, but why.

As my previous post states, my own definition of childless is clear. People who want, or wanted children- but for whatever reasons cannot have them. This in itself opens the door on another rant that boils down to adoption as a resource in these case- but I won't go there today.

So what else could I call myself? Barren? No not really. I spent years throwing wrenches in the babyworks- finally having them dismantled (yay tubal ligation!). In truth, I mused for years how I would have SO given up my (then) functional parts to someone who wanted to carry and bear their own child. Another door.. fertility, again- discussion tabled .

Since I can't invite every person I encounter into my house to see the things that define me as an overgrown child, I can't allow them access to my mind to relive my experiences babysitting, and dealing with a younger sibling who got away with everything while I was the 'responsible' one. I can't impart the hundreds of other experiences that shape my decision never to bear children or be a parent to any one else's children I am at a verbal stalemate.

No labels.. hell yeah. Of the many I've been given, or I've adopted over the years- Childfree is one that I truly embrace. I exercised my ability to think, to pick and choose. While there are those who would say that at age ten it is impossible to make such a definitive choice- but I did it. For the past 34 years I have continued to make decisions to support that choice. Even now, sterilized and happily married- far from any opportunity to change my mind- I stick to my convictions. When given a chance to share with others that it's a choice to be a parent I will.

I am about as far from perfect as it gets boys, girls and assorted life forms. On most days, my opinion and about $4.00 will buy you a Frappucino at Starbucks. However I am what I am and there is no changing me.

Do I write to seek justification for my choices? To seek confirmation? To seek sympathy? No. I write because I like to write and I believe what I have to share must might help someone else. If it doesn't, at least my typing skills get a work out.