Monthly Archives: January 2008
Time is ephemeral
Fleeting at best
Slipping through fingers
That wrinkle with Age
Live life to the fullest
Smile as wisdom flows
Through your veins
The best is yet to come
Fretting about things not done
Is futile and self defeating
Take cheer in accomplishments
And learn from failures that hurt
I’m taking a week off to recharge and focus on my job. I will still read blogs, so expect more comments than usual from me.
Unlike General McArthur, I shall return.
I lost 5 pounds in two weeks. So what did I do to celebrate? I had a grilled cheese sandwich with curly spicy fries. It was great, but I probably over did it. Here I thought I wanted to lose weight.
Yes. I know. I blew it. Blew my diet and clean livin’ right out of the water. Clean living is boring anyhow. Right?
Honestly, I’m not beating myself too much over my diet blunder. I still eat a lot of veggies and fruit when I get a chance. I eat red meat, but it’s not as heavily processed. I lay off the salt too, as much as I can, and flavor my meals with herbs.
In other words, I pretty much gave up fast food. I had to. The grease and preservatives make my intestines rebel. Even that grilled cheese was almost too much for me to tolerate–ok, it WAS too much for me to digest. I know it isn’t lactose intolerance, I’m fine with milk and cottage cheese, so I’ve narrowed it down as not being able to deal with grease anymore.
I’ll not get into the details of the inner workings of my delicate and choosy digestive system.
But I am happy to announce I’m on my way to a slimmer me!
My druggie half-sister is battling mental illness, either from biological or chemical causes. In fact, it’s probably a little of both. I’m not sure if the drugs were more to blame, but that’s neither here or there. (My dad seems to have a touch of mental illness too, but it’s harmless.) Every faithful reader knows I’m slightly neurotic.
My dad would really, really like to commit her. She is constantly calling him with all sorts of paranoid thoughts. She doesn’t love herself–and has 12 cats that she can’t take care of. She collects a disability check every month–and does nothing but watch TV. Or rant. Or cry. Or fight with her just barely grown up kids.
Her daughter is out of control, sleeping around like a hoochie-mama, lying and stealing food and money from the guys she’s with. She was diagnosed as having a personality disorder by a psychologist. (It’s so nice having a certified sociopath in the family. Really. It’s great fun at holiday get togethers! Oh yeah, I don’t celebrate with them. Whew.)
I think I’d like to send both my sister and my niece to the psych ward for a few years. Of course, there’s no cure for sociopaths (Can’t teach someone empathy. Normal people already have that emotion in them.), but there might be some treatments for my sister that could help her break out of her cycle of self defeat and misery. And my niece hasn’t killed anyone yet, so she can’t be locked up just because of her “defiency.” If we locked up every sociopath, we’d have to dedicate entire hospitals to their care. Seriously. There are a lot–but not every one of them goes around and slaughters people.
I may not particularily care for either one of them, but I just want them to get help.
I have been just so busy lately with overtime and trying to exercise and eat better…..so here is a blast from the past. It’s one of my favorite posts, I have to say. And I added some of the comments. Feel free to pick them apart.
Truth is a matter of perspective–a thought I always keep in the back of my mind whenever I read anything. (I was born suspicious.) Whether it’s U.S history textbooks (history is written by the winners), Newsweek or religious literature.
Let’s say two people take this plate and notice two things about it.
1. It has two chips in it.
2. It is round.
1. It’s blue, brown and white
2. It’s shiny
They’re both right, but they draw upon their own experiences and psychological make up to decipher what the ‘truth’ is to them. Put them together and you have a semblance of what the truth is.
Same with everything else. I see a seed of truth in most of the popular religions…(though I notice a great deal of hypocrisy in ALL of the Big 3) put them together and I see what ‘God’ is–a Someone who cannot be defined by one religion alone.
I think I’m wandering off the subject…I don’t think there are any absolute truths because there is always an exception to a rule, some factor that may compromise what you believe to be right.. Speaking for only myself, naturally. An example: If a person believes in absolute, non compromising truth, they can’t turn around and say, in the case of abortion, that it is ok to perform it even if the mother’s life is in danger. According to absolutism, it’s either right or wrong no matter what.
So no. I don’t believe in absolute truth. Life would be simpler if absolute truth did exist, but there are too many variables, too many areas of grey in the world to live in terms of good and evil. I’d rather live according to what is right or wrong.
Here’s some comments: Read the rest of this entry
It’s an evocative word, conjuring primal instincts and the drive to procreate the next generation.
I know it’s something that I want…but not enough to let someone in. Not enough to let down my guard. Of course, it’s not like I hang around with a lot of “potential” mates, but even if I did….I doubt I’d actually want to get in a physical relationship.
It’s not like I have a bunch of Adonii knocking down my door. Heck, if I were a guy, I wouldn’t find this body very sexy or desirable either. I know, sex isn’t supposed to be about the body, it’s about the person. But I am not the easier person to get along with; I’m a little high maintence, but not overly so. I do tend to test even the patience of saints.
Sure. I’ve played around, gone to a base or two and had fun…but I think I’m happier without sex in my life. At least casual sex.
I don’t know. I’m fairly confused about this; I do desire companionship, but not the risk of having someone do the ol’ touch and run routine to me. How can I both want and not want sex at the same time?
I happen to think that if the paparazzi do not leave Britney Spears alone, something Bad is going to occur. Like she’ll either hurt herself or others to get away from their intense scrutiny.
I don’t happen to be a big fan of her music, but I know when I see a person in trouble. And boy, is she in trouble–and it isn’t the kind I’d wish on anyone.
She’s sad. She needs someone to take care of her, to be a real friend to her so she can get back up on her feet. But everyone is just feeding off her, feeding off the revenue she makes for them. It’s disgusting and immoral. Many of her so-called friends just used her money and poofed–leaving her drugged out and panty-less. It’s no wonder she doesn’t want to trust anyone. Everyone wanted a slice of that Britney pie.
Magazines and paparazzi only care about what they can get from her….the more outrageous stuff she does, the more people want to read about her, the more tabloids make a profit and the more photographers pursue Ms. Spears.
Honestly, people should just leave her alone so that she has a small chance of getting her life back together. And maybe, just maybe, be able to see her sons again.
Sometimes, the exploitative side of human nature kicks me in the crotch.
My original thought when I saw this picture was, “Who on earth would let Steven Seagal make another flick?”
Then I noticed the skull. My second thought was, “Why in hell would they cast the ever so untalented Mr. Seagal as the Punisher? Oh God, WHYYYYY???”
I’m sure that my wounded cry echoed far and wide through the trailer park in which I reside.
THIS is how Frank should look. Humph.
I believe I can see the future because I repeat the same routine
I think I used to have a purpose and then again that might have been a dream
I think I used to have a voice now I never make a sound
I just do what I’ve been told I really don’t want them to come around
–Trent Reznor, Everyday is Exactly the Same.
I gotta love Trent. Whatever he writes, I find that I can identify with the topic. Either that means I suffer from Depression like he does or the general malaise that permeats his music is a societal influence. My opinion is that it is probably a little bit of both choices.
The new system at work keeps me busy typing and reading all sorts of documentation. I don’t mind that, of course, but it does take a toll out of my desire to write/blog. Plus, I’ve been working a buttload of overtime, and I’ve been left drained. A shell of the creative force I used to be–I’ve given up so much of my time to earning that next paycheck. I almost feel like a sell-out.
But I like eating too much and keeping a roof over my furbabies and my own head to stick to my Bohemian ideals of being a starving artist.
I’ve been too tired to even write for my snarky fake advise column. I’ll get back to my alter ego in time though. I will, I feel a world weary sort of crankiness rise up, but forget what I was going to get bitchy about when I get home.
Still, I grow weary of that feeling, that sense of Every Day is Exactly the Same.
I love the stillness in my house. It’s quiet and soothing–it lets thoughts creep in and nourish my intellectual curiosity. It also restores a sense of order to my soul.
Every day is full of noise, of life, of work. All the time I hear the clackity clack of my fellow workers feverishly slaving away, or I even hear it above my “loud” and “raucous” music. I listen to the sounds of the city, horns honking, people yelling, as I travel between work and home. There are times when I’m annoyed by the braying of idiots on the Boob Tube, especially news anchors.
I get weary of being immersed in sound all the time. I lose my way in all the noise; it really disrupts my thought process and disconnects me with my inner voice.
Silence restores my peace of mind. Silence is good in moderate amounts; until I catch my wind and am ready to take on the world again.