Someday soon, you might be chased by a huge reptile, a huge fish, huge cockroaches, huge prehistoric birds or a huge land shark that has genes of a human. This happens to people all the time, as evidenced by the endless number of movies produced by the Sy-Fy Channel. Here are a few important survival tips should such a calamity occur.
First, your chances of survival are much greater if you have both a first and last name. When introduced to anyone, make sure to say both. Insist everyone call you by both. Because if you're referred to as Private Simmons or simply Nurse, you will be eaten by a strange alien beast. If you're just "Hey, you," you might as well shoot yourself immediately. Likewise, if you're beautiful and/or handsome but not the heroine or the hero's girlfriend, you're simply there to heighten suspense so wander off to take that hot, steamy shower and make it easier for the alien to dine on your stupid bones. If, however, you are the Brawny Shy Scientist (male) or the Brainy Frigid Scientist (female), the odds of your survival go up.
Second, try to be the only person of your skin color or ethnicity. If there are two blacks or Hispanics or whatever, only one of them will survive. So if you see someone like you, kill him or her as soon as you can.
Unless, of course, that killing makes you into a Crazed Military Man or Evil Corporate Toady. The alien will kill you terribly, but you will have a lot of fun bedeviling the hero and his blonde scientist girlfriend before the alien sucks out your brain through your nose.
Third, if you are called on a mysterious mission to a mysterious military complex located on a mysterious island, in a mysterious volcano, at the mysterious North Pole or under the mysterious ocean, don't go! Leap out a window, head for Latin America, and never look back. But if you have to go, make sure you're divorced and that your former spouse has to go with you, even though your ex vowed to insert pencils in your eyes if he/she ever saw you again. It helps if you are still secretly in love with your ex underneath all those layers of seething hatred and disgust, because you will end up falling in love again before the danger is over.
Fourth, after you shoot the monster or cut off its head or drop a car on it or gas it to death, go over there and cut its head off! If you don't, you can count on it rising again to menace you. Just pretend it's a budget produced by Congress and keep hacking away pieces of it until the budget balances or it's dead, whichever comes first.
Fifth, genetic tampering ALWAYS produces a monster. As soon as someone mentions it, immediately start planning to face a hideous creature with superhuman strength and an insatiable appetite for human flesh. You'd think scientists would learn, but right now some highbrow is mixing the genes of an innocent bear with the genes of Rush Limbaugh or some other horrible creature.
Sixth, radiation will also always produce a monster. And if you throw in some alien DNA or other genetic tampering, you've got real trouble. It's well known that Bill Clinton was the result of just such an experiment.
Seventh, never go off alone. Unless you've always had a hankering to find out what it feels like to be dismembered. If you must be alone, take your portable stereo along and play Celine Dion's Greatest Hits. Monsters will either flee from you or decide that you'd make a lovely bride. Either way you're alive, although if the latter happens, you might not want to be.
Eighth, most aliens want to devour us. Beware them. Yes, I know it seems strange to travel across hundreds of light years just for a snack, but humans are the galactic equivalent of potato chips. We're just dang tasty as most of us know.
Ninth, watch out for the so-called friendly aliens. A relationship with them will only end in heartache for all concerned. The "friendly" aliens will cause a lot of death and suffering, be imprisoned by the military and/or secret government agency, be tortured, and then leave and/or die in a all-consuming explosion without giving us any of their amazing technology. For advanced beings, you'd think they'd do a bit of research on us before landing. Just watching one reality show should give them plenty of reasons to stay a few stars away.
Tenth, it's entirely possible that you might survive the ordeal. I regret to inform you that if you do, you'll suffer a fate worse than death -- you'll be asked back for the sequel.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Monday, August 29, 2005
Ouch
I went to the gym today and over-did it. Way over. I was okay until I stopped moving and sat for a bit watching TV. And then I was still okay except for most of my body was pretty well shot. (My left ring finger is fine. Doesn't ache at all.)
I also realized that I was more shallow (shallower?) than I had thought. While wrestling with my involvement with the local theater group, it occurred to me that I'd be happier if someone would just pat me on my head every now and then and say, "Good job." The whole group has problems with appreciation. Well, really the whole world does. We humans are quick to pull down but slow to build up. We should really work on that.
I need to take a couple Advil and go to bed. Catch y'all tomorrow.
I also realized that I was more shallow (shallower?) than I had thought. While wrestling with my involvement with the local theater group, it occurred to me that I'd be happier if someone would just pat me on my head every now and then and say, "Good job." The whole group has problems with appreciation. Well, really the whole world does. We humans are quick to pull down but slow to build up. We should really work on that.
I need to take a couple Advil and go to bed. Catch y'all tomorrow.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Random weekend thoughts
We've had the strangest August here. Rain and more rain when we're usually very dry. I wonder what the winter is going to be like. Wet and warm or cold and dry? Or some mixture thereof?
Minute Maid makes a most excellent Cherry Limeade. Poured over crushed ice from my fridge, it's as good as a Sonic Cherry Limeade.
Tina Turner's CD All the Best is great. Highly recommended if you like the lady with the best legs in the music business.
It's such a shame that we don't have passenger blimps today. It's so cool to look up and see that huge object in the sky, floating there in seemingly full defiance of gravity.
Talyn still hasn't arrived. I checked my local Wal-Mart for any of Holly Lisle's books as I think I read that Wal-Mart was carrying them, but no luck. Our Wal-Mart doesn't have many books, but does have hundreds of hip-hop and rap CDs. The country and rock racks are always nearly empty, but they never expand those sections. Curious stocking policy.
If someone says he/she has no ego and is willing to do whatever is best for an organization, don't ever ever ever believe it. He/she has an ego as large as the Hindenburg and twice as volatile.
Ego-driven people will hurt others around them and then claim they are the injured party. I saw that repeatedly this weekend. And I think a reckoning is being planned. I intend to avoid being there when the boom is lowered. People have long memories of insults and slights, and it's going to be real ugly. I can't do anything to stop it so I think I'm just going to get out of the way. Life is too short to subject yourself to bad things that you don't have to, and I have conflicting feelings on this person, anyway.
Wal-Mart will eventually own the world, at least the part that Microsoft doesn't. I just wish they'd get it over with so that we could assume our slave duties.
I added new scrollies and a new Quote of the Week. I also fixed two links that had changed and deleted one that didn't work anymore. I added Word Verification to the Comments. I was getting blog spammed for several comments a day. Word Verification is a good solution until we can find the spammers and subject them to torture and endless pain -- make them watch "The Real World" over and over. Well, maybe even they don't deserve that.
$3 gasoline. Wow. Makes me sick to my stomach as I look at what the high prices are doing to my budget. It's going to be a lean Christmas.
I wish my local library stayed open later on Saturday. It closes at one. You'd think they'd stay later on Saturday and close sooner on a weekday, but maybe they tried it in the past and it didn't work. It's probably hard to find people to work on Saturdays.
The post office has some really cool stamps. Don't just choose the regular flag stamp that comes in the rolls. Ask to see what else they have. They all cost the same, and you might as well spend your 37 cents on stamps that feature flowers, planes, clouds, artwork, ocean life, famous Americans, historical American flags, etc. It's a small pleasure, and we all need more of those.
I want to go to the gym five times this next week. At least that's the plan.
People who cheat on their spouses will lie about other things, too. You can count on it.
Chocolate-covered strawberries really are the food of the gods. Easy to make with chocolate that's made to melt in the microwave. Chocolate-covered banana chunks are good, too. Apples slices aren't good dipped in chocolate.
We fall in love with the people we fall in love with, and that's that. Doesn't matter who is perfect for us or who would be better for us. Our wayward hearts choose, and we have to go on from there. We can waste our lives on a wrong love or choose to walk away and find a different love. Or live alone. And the last two choices aren't as terrible as they sound. They're really not.
Too many people are unhappy in this world. They need to try to change that. Motion is almost always better than staying in an ugly room simply because it's familiar. Life is risk. Harbors are good places to rest, to learn, to heal and to relax, but life takes place out there on the boundless blue. Cast off, and let the winds fill your sails. Don't forget to write.
Good night, and have a great week.
Minute Maid makes a most excellent Cherry Limeade. Poured over crushed ice from my fridge, it's as good as a Sonic Cherry Limeade.
Tina Turner's CD All the Best is great. Highly recommended if you like the lady with the best legs in the music business.
It's such a shame that we don't have passenger blimps today. It's so cool to look up and see that huge object in the sky, floating there in seemingly full defiance of gravity.
Talyn still hasn't arrived. I checked my local Wal-Mart for any of Holly Lisle's books as I think I read that Wal-Mart was carrying them, but no luck. Our Wal-Mart doesn't have many books, but does have hundreds of hip-hop and rap CDs. The country and rock racks are always nearly empty, but they never expand those sections. Curious stocking policy.
If someone says he/she has no ego and is willing to do whatever is best for an organization, don't ever ever ever believe it. He/she has an ego as large as the Hindenburg and twice as volatile.
Ego-driven people will hurt others around them and then claim they are the injured party. I saw that repeatedly this weekend. And I think a reckoning is being planned. I intend to avoid being there when the boom is lowered. People have long memories of insults and slights, and it's going to be real ugly. I can't do anything to stop it so I think I'm just going to get out of the way. Life is too short to subject yourself to bad things that you don't have to, and I have conflicting feelings on this person, anyway.
Wal-Mart will eventually own the world, at least the part that Microsoft doesn't. I just wish they'd get it over with so that we could assume our slave duties.
I added new scrollies and a new Quote of the Week. I also fixed two links that had changed and deleted one that didn't work anymore. I added Word Verification to the Comments. I was getting blog spammed for several comments a day. Word Verification is a good solution until we can find the spammers and subject them to torture and endless pain -- make them watch "The Real World" over and over. Well, maybe even they don't deserve that.
$3 gasoline. Wow. Makes me sick to my stomach as I look at what the high prices are doing to my budget. It's going to be a lean Christmas.
I wish my local library stayed open later on Saturday. It closes at one. You'd think they'd stay later on Saturday and close sooner on a weekday, but maybe they tried it in the past and it didn't work. It's probably hard to find people to work on Saturdays.
The post office has some really cool stamps. Don't just choose the regular flag stamp that comes in the rolls. Ask to see what else they have. They all cost the same, and you might as well spend your 37 cents on stamps that feature flowers, planes, clouds, artwork, ocean life, famous Americans, historical American flags, etc. It's a small pleasure, and we all need more of those.
I want to go to the gym five times this next week. At least that's the plan.
People who cheat on their spouses will lie about other things, too. You can count on it.
Chocolate-covered strawberries really are the food of the gods. Easy to make with chocolate that's made to melt in the microwave. Chocolate-covered banana chunks are good, too. Apples slices aren't good dipped in chocolate.
We fall in love with the people we fall in love with, and that's that. Doesn't matter who is perfect for us or who would be better for us. Our wayward hearts choose, and we have to go on from there. We can waste our lives on a wrong love or choose to walk away and find a different love. Or live alone. And the last two choices aren't as terrible as they sound. They're really not.
Too many people are unhappy in this world. They need to try to change that. Motion is almost always better than staying in an ugly room simply because it's familiar. Life is risk. Harbors are good places to rest, to learn, to heal and to relax, but life takes place out there on the boundless blue. Cast off, and let the winds fill your sails. Don't forget to write.
Good night, and have a great week.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Paper
Whew! What a day at work. Busy without much chance to take a break. I'm hoping tomorrow will be calmer. I'd like to reduce that pile of paperwork on my desk. It's amazing how much paper we generate. I remember when magazines and business pundits said the era of the "paperless office" was upon us. You don't hear much about that anymore. It went the way of the idea of having a federal balanced budget.
Paper continues to be ever present. In fact, it seems we generate more paper every day. Eventually we will be buried under reports and forms. But we're a hardy race. We'll dig tunnels through the paper and learn how to digest cellulose and ink. We'll ride giant bookworms and battle ravenous silverfish … Oookay, I probably need to get some rest.
I have a busy weekend planned: housework, publishing the family newsletter, catching up on my budget, going to the gym, attending a play, writing, writing, writing, etc. As always, I probably won't get it all done, but it's a plan. Oh, I need to go to the library, too. I'm trying to cut down on my overdue fines. I hope they budget for that. I’d hate to think some aide would lose her job because I was timely.
I received an email saying they had shipped Talyn. I've read a few reviews about it, but have tried to stay away from spoilers. I like to approach a book fresh. One review mentioned that author Holly Lisle switched from first person to third person throughout the book. I've toyed with that with Dragons Gather (my fantasy novel) but I haven't committed to it. I'm curious to see how she handles it.
Time for bed. I've been sleeping strange the past few days, probably because of the cold and the meds I'm taken for it. Odd dreams wander through my night. I'd like to have a good night's rest. And maybe tonight I'll get one.
Good night!
Paper continues to be ever present. In fact, it seems we generate more paper every day. Eventually we will be buried under reports and forms. But we're a hardy race. We'll dig tunnels through the paper and learn how to digest cellulose and ink. We'll ride giant bookworms and battle ravenous silverfish … Oookay, I probably need to get some rest.
I have a busy weekend planned: housework, publishing the family newsletter, catching up on my budget, going to the gym, attending a play, writing, writing, writing, etc. As always, I probably won't get it all done, but it's a plan. Oh, I need to go to the library, too. I'm trying to cut down on my overdue fines. I hope they budget for that. I’d hate to think some aide would lose her job because I was timely.
I received an email saying they had shipped Talyn. I've read a few reviews about it, but have tried to stay away from spoilers. I like to approach a book fresh. One review mentioned that author Holly Lisle switched from first person to third person throughout the book. I've toyed with that with Dragons Gather (my fantasy novel) but I haven't committed to it. I'm curious to see how she handles it.
Time for bed. I've been sleeping strange the past few days, probably because of the cold and the meds I'm taken for it. Odd dreams wander through my night. I'd like to have a good night's rest. And maybe tonight I'll get one.
Good night!
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Thud
That's the sound of my head hitting my desk. It's been that long a day. I hope I get some rest tonight. I've been fighting a stupid summer cold, and it's draining all my energy. I really needed to get to the gym tonight, but couldn't bestir myself to go. And tomorrow promises to be just another such day. My desk is loaded with mind-numbing and soul destroying paperwork. Sigh. When is my ship going to come in? Or am I going to have to row out there, board the blamed thing, toss its crew overboard, and sail that sucker in the harbor myself? Probably.
I finally had enough money to order Talyn by Holly Lisle. It's a hardcover, and I've been so broke that I couldn't spring for it. But today I got it ordered from Amazon. I hope it comes in soon. I can't afford the Next Day shipping or the Two Day shipping. I have the free It-will-get-there-some-time-before-you-die shipping. Apparently it's being delivered by a pack hamster. With a limp. But it's nice to know it's on its way.
Hey, I think we need some good news. As you know, I've been working on a debt reduction plan for the past several months. Well, this month, I paid off my first credit card! I've been waiting to announce it until they send me a statement with the zero balance, but why wait to share? I appreciate all your support. The next payoff will take pace in August of next year. Slowly but surely, I'm heading for debt free land. Hope to see you there.
I'm going to call it a night now. Y'all take care, and catch you tomorrow.
I finally had enough money to order Talyn by Holly Lisle. It's a hardcover, and I've been so broke that I couldn't spring for it. But today I got it ordered from Amazon. I hope it comes in soon. I can't afford the Next Day shipping or the Two Day shipping. I have the free It-will-get-there-some-time-before-you-die shipping. Apparently it's being delivered by a pack hamster. With a limp. But it's nice to know it's on its way.
Hey, I think we need some good news. As you know, I've been working on a debt reduction plan for the past several months. Well, this month, I paid off my first credit card! I've been waiting to announce it until they send me a statement with the zero balance, but why wait to share? I appreciate all your support. The next payoff will take pace in August of next year. Slowly but surely, I'm heading for debt free land. Hope to see you there.
I'm going to call it a night now. Y'all take care, and catch you tomorrow.
Original
This is the original of the photo below before it had Photoshop applied to it. It would have been a cool shot if it had just been in focus.
Copyright 2005. All rights reserved.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Little mysteries
One of the more curious pieces of mail I received is a handwritten postcard. It refers to me by name and was sent from Oklahoma City. It reads:
(Tech)
The Lord bless and keep you; The Lord make His face to shine upon you, and be gracious unto you: The Lord lift up His countenance upon you, and give you peace. Numbers 6:24-26. May God bless you for all that you do.
It's not signed, and I've not been able to figure out who the handwriting belongs to. I thought it was nice, but I'd like to know who sent it. I have it penned up on a shelf beside my computer.
Pinned beside the postcard is the fortune from a fortune cookie I cracked open a few months ago. The fortune reads: "Beware the black dragon in your life for he is untrustworthy." I'd never got a fortune like that before and haven't since.
A little further down on the shelf is a hook on which hang several keys. I don't know what the keys open. I think one is for the gate in my backyard, but the others have slowly accumulated over the years. I'm positive at least three of them are for cars I no longer have. But I could be wrong. Does anyone else end up with orphan keys?
And finally in my little gallery of mysteries, I have a painted card that I think might be a Tarot card. I found the card in an old, deserted house that a friend was thinking about buying but didn't. The house had been empty for years and was in sad shape. The carpet was falling apart, and you could actually see through the roof. In a back bedroom, I found the card stuck in the baseboard. The face of the card shows a tree with animals and human faces in its branches. The back of the card is a red and green interlocking grid. I've always wondered where the card came from and how it came to be stuck in that baseboard. I look at it and make up stories, and this imagining keeps my muse primed when I'm writing fantasy.
I think everybody should have their own little mysteries. They fill our lives with everyday wonders. Sometimes it's better to have the questions than the answers.
Good night, and hey, surprise everyone by having a great day tomorrow.
(Tech)
The Lord bless and keep you; The Lord make His face to shine upon you, and be gracious unto you: The Lord lift up His countenance upon you, and give you peace. Numbers 6:24-26. May God bless you for all that you do.
It's not signed, and I've not been able to figure out who the handwriting belongs to. I thought it was nice, but I'd like to know who sent it. I have it penned up on a shelf beside my computer.
Pinned beside the postcard is the fortune from a fortune cookie I cracked open a few months ago. The fortune reads: "Beware the black dragon in your life for he is untrustworthy." I'd never got a fortune like that before and haven't since.
A little further down on the shelf is a hook on which hang several keys. I don't know what the keys open. I think one is for the gate in my backyard, but the others have slowly accumulated over the years. I'm positive at least three of them are for cars I no longer have. But I could be wrong. Does anyone else end up with orphan keys?
And finally in my little gallery of mysteries, I have a painted card that I think might be a Tarot card. I found the card in an old, deserted house that a friend was thinking about buying but didn't. The house had been empty for years and was in sad shape. The carpet was falling apart, and you could actually see through the roof. In a back bedroom, I found the card stuck in the baseboard. The face of the card shows a tree with animals and human faces in its branches. The back of the card is a red and green interlocking grid. I've always wondered where the card came from and how it came to be stuck in that baseboard. I look at it and make up stories, and this imagining keeps my muse primed when I'm writing fantasy.
I think everybody should have their own little mysteries. They fill our lives with everyday wonders. Sometimes it's better to have the questions than the answers.
Good night, and hey, surprise everyone by having a great day tomorrow.
An interesting mistake
Obviously I applied too much Photoshop to this photo
of carnations, but I think it's an interesting mistake.
Copyright 2005. All rights reserved.
Monday, August 22, 2005
A day like today
I was reading Downtown Guy today and discovered that I had been nominated for an award! I or rather 51313 Harbor Street has been nominated in the Best Writing Blog category in the OkieDokie awards. I didn't even know the awards existed. Probably everyone else did, and I'm just behind the curve. I stay behind everyone else, but just remember as you walk in front of me that I'm giving your figure the once-over ... and leering.
Anyway, the nomination was a nice surprise, and I appreciate whoever did the nominating. Thank you. I would send you money, but I realize that is too crass for someone of your discriminating taste. I'll make a donation to a museum in your honor. Someday.
I needed a nice surprise today as work was particularly grueling. It started with a customer yelling at me and ended with a different customer yelling at me. There's a symmetry in that, but somehow it's not the Zen feeling you might suppose. If you suppose such things, and if you do, then I wonder about you and all the time you have on your hands. Maybe you need a job. Take mine.
It's always interesting to me -- well, not really, but curious nonetheless -- when a customer begins with yelling. It basically leaves them nowhere else to go unless they resort to violence, which so far, thank God, none of them have. It's better to start out reasonable and calm, and then later go into your impression of Jack Nichelson in The Shining. More effective that way.
Another curious thing to me are the customers who threaten my company with a lawyer. I actually like it when bad customers get a lawyer because then it goes to our legal department and I can no longer speak with them. Unfortunately a lot of them just threaten even though I anonymously mail them the membership list of the Bar Association. More people need to follow through on their word these days. Particularly Congress.
I happen to like lawyers, which is odd, I know, but I think everyone should have a lawyer of their own. Properly prepared by a skilled taxidermist, a lawyer makes a good coat rack or hitching post (if you have horses or a more active dating life than I want to hear about).
Just kidding! I love all people, including lawyers. One of my best friends is a lawyer, and someday I'll have him over for dinner when I move out of this restricted neighborhood. Or maybe I'll just give him a gift certificate for Wendys.
As you can tell by the babbling, it's been a long day. And on a day like today, I like to gather my friends together and head off to the islands for a frolic in the sun and surf. Wouldn't that be nice. Ain't going to happen any time soon, but we can imagine. As I see it, the beach is long and curved and has white sand. A cool ocean breeze refreshes us as we sit in loungers under huge umbrellas and sip drinks in coconuts brought to us by half-naked waitresses ... Sigh. Someday, my friends, someday. But until then, have a good night and a good tomorrow. I'm rooting for ya!
Anyway, the nomination was a nice surprise, and I appreciate whoever did the nominating. Thank you. I would send you money, but I realize that is too crass for someone of your discriminating taste. I'll make a donation to a museum in your honor. Someday.
I needed a nice surprise today as work was particularly grueling. It started with a customer yelling at me and ended with a different customer yelling at me. There's a symmetry in that, but somehow it's not the Zen feeling you might suppose. If you suppose such things, and if you do, then I wonder about you and all the time you have on your hands. Maybe you need a job. Take mine.
It's always interesting to me -- well, not really, but curious nonetheless -- when a customer begins with yelling. It basically leaves them nowhere else to go unless they resort to violence, which so far, thank God, none of them have. It's better to start out reasonable and calm, and then later go into your impression of Jack Nichelson in The Shining. More effective that way.
Another curious thing to me are the customers who threaten my company with a lawyer. I actually like it when bad customers get a lawyer because then it goes to our legal department and I can no longer speak with them. Unfortunately a lot of them just threaten even though I anonymously mail them the membership list of the Bar Association. More people need to follow through on their word these days. Particularly Congress.
I happen to like lawyers, which is odd, I know, but I think everyone should have a lawyer of their own. Properly prepared by a skilled taxidermist, a lawyer makes a good coat rack or hitching post (if you have horses or a more active dating life than I want to hear about).
Just kidding! I love all people, including lawyers. One of my best friends is a lawyer, and someday I'll have him over for dinner when I move out of this restricted neighborhood. Or maybe I'll just give him a gift certificate for Wendys.
As you can tell by the babbling, it's been a long day. And on a day like today, I like to gather my friends together and head off to the islands for a frolic in the sun and surf. Wouldn't that be nice. Ain't going to happen any time soon, but we can imagine. As I see it, the beach is long and curved and has white sand. A cool ocean breeze refreshes us as we sit in loungers under huge umbrellas and sip drinks in coconuts brought to us by half-naked waitresses ... Sigh. Someday, my friends, someday. But until then, have a good night and a good tomorrow. I'm rooting for ya!
First, an apology and then the bloodletting
First, let me say right now that the majority of women are great creatures. I love them completely, particularly the ones who comment on my page. So I want to apologize for what follows. Because there are some woman -- one in particular -- that I'd like to shake until her teeth rattled. So please know that what follows is for her -- not for any of my commenters or regular readers -- even though she will never read this, and even if she did, she lacks the self-awareness to realize that I'm talking of her.
To the whiney weasel woman:
Shut up. Yes, that's what I most want to say to you. Shut up! Give us some peace and quiet, would you? Can you for once stop being so moody and whiney and self-absorbed? You could be a decent person if you'd stop thinking the whole universe revolves around you. But you can't do that, can you? You're just a child in a woman's body, and like a sugar-crazed toddler in a glass shop, you wander around shattering things and thinking that somehow we shouldn't blame you.
I'm tired of you. Tired of your amazing ability to turn everything into a discussion about your life. Hey, I don't care what men have done to you in the past. I don't want to hear about your countless boyfriends who didn't recognize what a delicate flower they held. You were the only constant in all those many relationships. I'd say the problem was you. Got that? Let me repeat: YOU ARE THE PROBLEM.
Stop lying. To us. To yourself. HAVE A BACKBONE! We all know you lie. The first thing out of your lips is a lie. You lie even when there's no reason to lie. And you've told us so many lies that you can't keep track of them, and we've stopped trying. Couldn't you stop by the truth once in a while? But no, the truth is too hard to face. Here's one truth for you: If you are unloved, it's because you are unlovable.
Here's another one: Need isn't love. You're lonely; isn't that sad? You're depressed; isn't that terrible? Why is that anyone's problem but yours? The rest of us have crappy things that happen to us, too. The difference is that we don't stop our lives so that we can wallow in the ruin. We make it through it. We survive. We go on.
I don't have much sympathy left for you. If this were an island, you'd be beaten up and voted off. If this were a jungle trek, you'd be tied up and left as a gift to the hungry natives. If this were a starship, you'd already be pushed out the airlock where we couldn't hear you whine.
The worse part is that you know better. YOU KNOW BETTER. And you can run from it, you can drink until you forget, you can pop those pills, you can sleep with all the men in the phone book, but when you get done, when you're finished, you'll still be left with you.
The best thing would be for you to grow up. You have a lot of things going for you. You could be a lovely, decent, talented, smart, wise woman whom anyone would want to love. Of course, pigs could fly, too.
But until the day when we see pork in the treetops, I have only one request of you. Shut. Up.
To the whiney weasel woman:
Shut up. Yes, that's what I most want to say to you. Shut up! Give us some peace and quiet, would you? Can you for once stop being so moody and whiney and self-absorbed? You could be a decent person if you'd stop thinking the whole universe revolves around you. But you can't do that, can you? You're just a child in a woman's body, and like a sugar-crazed toddler in a glass shop, you wander around shattering things and thinking that somehow we shouldn't blame you.
I'm tired of you. Tired of your amazing ability to turn everything into a discussion about your life. Hey, I don't care what men have done to you in the past. I don't want to hear about your countless boyfriends who didn't recognize what a delicate flower they held. You were the only constant in all those many relationships. I'd say the problem was you. Got that? Let me repeat: YOU ARE THE PROBLEM.
Stop lying. To us. To yourself. HAVE A BACKBONE! We all know you lie. The first thing out of your lips is a lie. You lie even when there's no reason to lie. And you've told us so many lies that you can't keep track of them, and we've stopped trying. Couldn't you stop by the truth once in a while? But no, the truth is too hard to face. Here's one truth for you: If you are unloved, it's because you are unlovable.
Here's another one: Need isn't love. You're lonely; isn't that sad? You're depressed; isn't that terrible? Why is that anyone's problem but yours? The rest of us have crappy things that happen to us, too. The difference is that we don't stop our lives so that we can wallow in the ruin. We make it through it. We survive. We go on.
I don't have much sympathy left for you. If this were an island, you'd be beaten up and voted off. If this were a jungle trek, you'd be tied up and left as a gift to the hungry natives. If this were a starship, you'd already be pushed out the airlock where we couldn't hear you whine.
The worse part is that you know better. YOU KNOW BETTER. And you can run from it, you can drink until you forget, you can pop those pills, you can sleep with all the men in the phone book, but when you get done, when you're finished, you'll still be left with you.
The best thing would be for you to grow up. You have a lot of things going for you. You could be a lovely, decent, talented, smart, wise woman whom anyone would want to love. Of course, pigs could fly, too.
But until the day when we see pork in the treetops, I have only one request of you. Shut. Up.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
Blue carnation
I "photoshopped" this blue carnation from a red
carnation. I think it looks kinda eerie.
Copyright 2005. All rights reserved.
Saturday, August 20, 2005
The long haul
I can't claim to have much wisdom. It's obvious that I make mistake after mistake in my personal, financial and spiritual life. However, I do know one thing: True loves stay with you for the long haul.
It's easy to have that first rush of passion, that glorious feeling when your beloved can do nothing wrong, where every single thing that she/he does is perfect. So she peppers her speech with profanity? So he eats with his mouth open? So she cries enough to start a flood? So he wears clothing that the homeless would discard? None of that matters because she/he is so wonderful that all the imperfections blur in your beloved's glory.
But let's give it a few months. Let's get to that point where you can't stand her cat, you can't tolerate his mother, you can't stomach another one of her wholly organic dinners, where you dream of holding a pillow over his face to smother his snores. That's the beginning of the long haul. If it's truly love, you'll make it past that. You'll learn to accept the faults, and hopefully your love will learn to accept yours.
But then you discover your beloved has cancer. Or MS. Or a thousand other diseases that reduce their victims to unlovely wrecks. No quiet wistful dying as on TV, but a gut-wrenching battle for survival where you clean up vomit and bedpans and hold grimly on, where a single laugh is a hard-fought victory.
That's the long haul. Some people make it through it. Some people don't.
Friday, a middle-aged man came into my office wanting to talk about my company's product. As we talked, he told me that his wife was in a hospice. She'd been fighting cancer for a couple of years now. Because I have that kind of face and maybe because I was a total stranger, he started to share their battle for her survival. He told of long hours at the hospital, he told of struggling to care for her at home, he told of losing their house because they had no health insurance and he couldn't get help from the government agencies unless he was destitute. He had tears in his eyes as he talked. I gave him a box of tissues.
And then he told me that the doctors said her cancer was terminal and that they said all they could do was help her die less painfully. But then he stopped for a long moment.
"I don't believe it," he said. "She doesn't believe it." They chose to keep fighting. "I can't live without her," he said. "I know people think that after she's gone, I'll be able to go on with my life. What they don't understand is that she is my life."
We finished our business. He didn't buy my product as our price was too high. He thanked me for listening. He shook my hand and left, going down the street to his truck, heading back to the hospice and his true love, returning to the long haul.
It's easy to have that first rush of passion, that glorious feeling when your beloved can do nothing wrong, where every single thing that she/he does is perfect. So she peppers her speech with profanity? So he eats with his mouth open? So she cries enough to start a flood? So he wears clothing that the homeless would discard? None of that matters because she/he is so wonderful that all the imperfections blur in your beloved's glory.
But let's give it a few months. Let's get to that point where you can't stand her cat, you can't tolerate his mother, you can't stomach another one of her wholly organic dinners, where you dream of holding a pillow over his face to smother his snores. That's the beginning of the long haul. If it's truly love, you'll make it past that. You'll learn to accept the faults, and hopefully your love will learn to accept yours.
But then you discover your beloved has cancer. Or MS. Or a thousand other diseases that reduce their victims to unlovely wrecks. No quiet wistful dying as on TV, but a gut-wrenching battle for survival where you clean up vomit and bedpans and hold grimly on, where a single laugh is a hard-fought victory.
That's the long haul. Some people make it through it. Some people don't.
Friday, a middle-aged man came into my office wanting to talk about my company's product. As we talked, he told me that his wife was in a hospice. She'd been fighting cancer for a couple of years now. Because I have that kind of face and maybe because I was a total stranger, he started to share their battle for her survival. He told of long hours at the hospital, he told of struggling to care for her at home, he told of losing their house because they had no health insurance and he couldn't get help from the government agencies unless he was destitute. He had tears in his eyes as he talked. I gave him a box of tissues.
And then he told me that the doctors said her cancer was terminal and that they said all they could do was help her die less painfully. But then he stopped for a long moment.
"I don't believe it," he said. "She doesn't believe it." They chose to keep fighting. "I can't live without her," he said. "I know people think that after she's gone, I'll be able to go on with my life. What they don't understand is that she is my life."
We finished our business. He didn't buy my product as our price was too high. He thanked me for listening. He shook my hand and left, going down the street to his truck, heading back to the hospice and his true love, returning to the long haul.
Friday, August 19, 2005
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Long day
It's been a long day. I worked at my regular job until 1 p.m. and then took off the afternoon so that I could work at the theater cleaning it and setting up for the patron party this evening. Then I worked the ticket booth and oversaw the party tonight. My feet ache, my back aches, my arms are tired, and my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. But tonight officially ended the patron drive. We ended up with 46 patrons, 13 more than last year. That might not seem like much, and it's four less than my goal, but it means more money for the theater and more people in the seats. So it was finally a success. And the party tonight went well. I got a lot of compliments about it. It's something to build on for next year.
I still have to update the web page and do a few other things, but the majority of my tasks are finished for a while. I intend to be firm in saying "no" for the next couple of weeks.
By the way, y'all should go over and wish Michelle of Soul Patches a happy birthday. I always feel that everyone deserves as much humiliation ... uh ... recognition on their birthday as possible. By the way, look at her photos while you're there. They're quite good.
And now I'm going to call it a night and lay my weary bones down to sleep. Have a great night and a wonderful tomorrow.
I still have to update the web page and do a few other things, but the majority of my tasks are finished for a while. I intend to be firm in saying "no" for the next couple of weeks.
By the way, y'all should go over and wish Michelle of Soul Patches a happy birthday. I always feel that everyone deserves as much humiliation ... uh ... recognition on their birthday as possible. By the way, look at her photos while you're there. They're quite good.
And now I'm going to call it a night and lay my weary bones down to sleep. Have a great night and a wonderful tomorrow.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Sunshine finally
This morning we have sunshine! It rained again last night, but the clouds are rolling away. I am completely a child of the sun.
I got to go to the gym yesterday. Not as long as I would have liked as I had to be down at the theater again, but ... Hey, isn't that weird? I was disappointed at how short my gym visit was. I worry about me sometimes. Anyway, it was good to go as much as I did, and I intend to go there again today. I think it's helping to burn off some of my stress. Or something.
Jean likes the recombinant bike at her gym. (Read her blog for more on recombinant/recumbent.) I think it's my favorite, too. I just get on and peddle away, listening to my music. I can't say that I don't notice that I'm exercising, but it doesn't seem as hard as some of the other machines.
Like the SkiTrac machine which duplicates the motions of cross-country skiing. Uphill. In a blizzard. While stalked by hungry bears. And telemarketers. Most people don't know that the SkiTrac was developed by the Chinese communists to break the will of political prisoners. Five minutes on it and I'd be willing to tell all.
As I walk around the track in the fitness center, I walk past the aerobics room. One side of the room is a glass wall. Last night I noticed a heavyset woman at the back of the class. She was waving one arm in the air in an attempt to duplicate the gyrations of the bouncy instructor. As I walked and watched, the woman brought her arm down in a dismissive wave, made a disgusted face and then marched wearily to the door and left. She passed me on the track as she headed for the elevator. At first, I thought it was funny. Her face expressed exactly what I've felt many times when attempting to fight the battle of the bulging belly. But the longer I thought about it, the more sad it became. I hope she's not so discouraged that she gives up and doesn't come back. I've certainly given up many times before and have only got this far through the help of Weight Watchers and good friends. So if you're out there and reading this by some weird chance, try again. And keep trying. I'm rooting for you.
I got to go to the gym yesterday. Not as long as I would have liked as I had to be down at the theater again, but ... Hey, isn't that weird? I was disappointed at how short my gym visit was. I worry about me sometimes. Anyway, it was good to go as much as I did, and I intend to go there again today. I think it's helping to burn off some of my stress. Or something.
Jean likes the recombinant bike at her gym. (Read her blog for more on recombinant/recumbent.) I think it's my favorite, too. I just get on and peddle away, listening to my music. I can't say that I don't notice that I'm exercising, but it doesn't seem as hard as some of the other machines.
Like the SkiTrac machine which duplicates the motions of cross-country skiing. Uphill. In a blizzard. While stalked by hungry bears. And telemarketers. Most people don't know that the SkiTrac was developed by the Chinese communists to break the will of political prisoners. Five minutes on it and I'd be willing to tell all.
As I walk around the track in the fitness center, I walk past the aerobics room. One side of the room is a glass wall. Last night I noticed a heavyset woman at the back of the class. She was waving one arm in the air in an attempt to duplicate the gyrations of the bouncy instructor. As I walked and watched, the woman brought her arm down in a dismissive wave, made a disgusted face and then marched wearily to the door and left. She passed me on the track as she headed for the elevator. At first, I thought it was funny. Her face expressed exactly what I've felt many times when attempting to fight the battle of the bulging belly. But the longer I thought about it, the more sad it became. I hope she's not so discouraged that she gives up and doesn't come back. I've certainly given up many times before and have only got this far through the help of Weight Watchers and good friends. So if you're out there and reading this by some weird chance, try again. And keep trying. I'm rooting for you.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Complaints
I discovered something irritating last night: All the work I did Sunday night designing a program for the local theater group's production this weekend was wasted because the director had already made a program. It ticked me off. Not so much that my program was better but that I wasted three hours of my time. Time is very precious to me these days. If I'm having to take time away from my personal projects, I want it to be worth the sacrifice. It didn't help either that everyone's attitude about it was hohum, big deal. Made me grit my teeth, but I didn't blow up. They're in dress rehearsal now and will open Thursday night. No reason to make a stressful time any more stressful than it is. However, I won't do a program again unless I'm certain that my efforts won't be discarded. Life is too short.
Mikey started school yesterday. The pre-K program. He doesn't like it. Sigh. I was hoping he would take to it from the start. I'm sure he will grow to like it. He likes other kids, but he's not too keen on their lessons or how they order him around. He gets that honestly; I was the same way.
It has rained, rained and rained here. I know we need the rain, but it makes it impossible to get out and enjoy the remaining days of summer. My internal clock says autumn is coming, followed by the dreaded winter. Man, I hate cold weather, absolutely hate it.
I didn't get to go to the gym yesterday. Didn't feel like it, actually. My IBD flared over the weekend, but I'm back on my meds for it, and it's better. There are a lot of things I hate about IBD, but I think the time it steals from me is the one I resent the most.
Okay, enough complaining. It's time to start the day.
Mikey started school yesterday. The pre-K program. He doesn't like it. Sigh. I was hoping he would take to it from the start. I'm sure he will grow to like it. He likes other kids, but he's not too keen on their lessons or how they order him around. He gets that honestly; I was the same way.
It has rained, rained and rained here. I know we need the rain, but it makes it impossible to get out and enjoy the remaining days of summer. My internal clock says autumn is coming, followed by the dreaded winter. Man, I hate cold weather, absolutely hate it.
I didn't get to go to the gym yesterday. Didn't feel like it, actually. My IBD flared over the weekend, but I'm back on my meds for it, and it's better. There are a lot of things I hate about IBD, but I think the time it steals from me is the one I resent the most.
Okay, enough complaining. It's time to start the day.
Monday, August 15, 2005
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