The Good Stuff

Debunking the Self-Motivation Myths

2011-09-01T14:46:00.001-04:00

Today I sat down to do a littleresearch about self-motivation. I knew I would run across a few websites on thesubject and figured they would be a great place to start. Unfortunately, Ilearned there’s a lot of crap out there. My job, I quickly came to understand, was to come up with some real stuff that can help us light afire under our proverbial hind-quarters.

Myth: Self-motivation > Life’sdifficulties

While self-motivation can help oneovercome trying times and difficulties, I think probably a more important ingredienthere is having half a brain. Maybe things suck right now because yourbrother-in-law talked you into sinking your savings into a “sure thing”investment scheme of composting and subsequent sales of pachyderm manurefertilizer. This caused several difficulties for you, the worse of whichdefinitely was not finding the space to store all of that elephant poo whilethe composters did their thing for a couple of months. Tsk tsk (or tusk tusk, tostay on topic) you sure were motivated to make money, but that half a brain wouldhave come in handy BEFORE you launched yourself into entrepreneurship of thistype.
Sometimes life’s difficulties leadto times of great sadness. I don’t know about you but I’ve had a few good sadsand I don’t care how self-motivated I have the potential to be nothing couldhave changed those sads before I was good and ready to let a little happy in.But, then again, I am sort of stubborn sometimes.

Myth: Having a cause/dreaming big leadsto self-motivation

Nope. Not feeling this one either.There are a lot of things that are very important to me: my family, theenvironment, cooking and eating healthy. These are all “causes”, things tofocus my attention on. But they don’t help me self-motivation-wise.
And dreaming big, well that’s led to morewasted days spent daydreaming than I care to divulge in a medium that may wellexist in time and space far longer than I will. I would hate to embarrassmy great- great- great-grandkids.
Actually, it feels to me like youneed a fair amount of self-motivation to be able to have a cause or dream bigin the first place. I think they’re putting the cart before the horse onthis one.

Myth: Be hungry

Ok. Yes. I get how figurative“hunger” could lead to a semblance of motivating oneself. As I am a veryliteral person, however, this piece of advice just motivated me to go raid thepantry and eat a whole bag of chips, thank you very much. I was trying to savethose chips as a reward for finishing the assignment I’ve been searching formotivation to start!
And now I feel fat, so I’m goingto need even more motivation to go hit the treadmill. Oy.

Myth: Self-confidence leads toself-motivation

Hmmm. I see a connection here, acommon theme, with the whole “self” thing. But that’s about where it ends forme. Screeching halt. Yes.
Self-confidence surely can makeyou believe that the ideas you have are worth trying out. Which might lead toyou writing those ideas down, in detail. It could also lead to you sharing your ideas with friends and neighbors,maybe even business associates. However, your self-confidence may also have ledyou to believe that pachyderm composted waste is the nexteco-friendly product of the year. This would certainly lead to you taking amajor hit in both the self-confidence AND the self-motivation realms of yourpsyche. I believe this is not a good idea. At all.

De. Bunked.

Ok, so I know what you’re thinking“Ok brainiac. If all those other guys are wrong about self-motivation how doyou think we get it?” And now you’re also thinking, “How does she do that?? Getout of my HEAD you pushy broad!” All of which is completely beside the pointand has once again distracted me from my task at hand… momentarily.

My favorite Zen quotation is this:“Seek not to follow in the footsteps of the masters; seek what they sought.”Ah, I love a good, randomly inserted, quote. However I am actually trying tomake a point here, too. Self-motivation is just what it sounds like: motivationthat comes from inside you. As such, I have no bloomin’ idea what motivates youbecause your motivation is yours alone. And anyone who tries to sell you on howto get you some self-motivation is a shyster and should not be taken as anytype of guru. I will gladly accept the cash you might want to shovel into thatother guy’s pocket. Really, I don’t mind!

There are ways you can help buildself-motivation into your life and the things you do, though. Or at least I’vefound this to be true. Here’s a short list:

Make what’s important to you apriority. I like to help people, so nursing is a really great career for me.Maybe you absolutely LOVE the smell of grease and the feel of cold metal inyour hands. Perhaps mechanics is your bag. Whatever, though, if you build yourlife and the things you do around what is most important to you, deep down as aperson, self-motivation won’t be much of an issue. Unless, of course, what’simportant to you is proving that composted pachyderm poo is the very bestfertilizer on the face of our green earth. If that’s the case then this may bea point where you’ll want to do some reprioritizing there Skippy.

Have fun, dammit. Nothing in lifeshould constantly cause unrelieved and unrelievable stress. How are yousupposed to stay motivated in those circumstances? I’m not talking about thingsthat are beyond your control, I’m talking about the choices you make. Theyshould be fun! They should be good for your soul! They should make you laughmadly and wildly and make all your friends wonder what the hell you’re on and wherethey can get them some’athat!

Be easy on yourself (because lifeprobably won’t be). If you failed at least you had some fun doing it, if youwere smart enough to heed suggestion #2, anyway. And failure just shows youwhere the hell you shouldn’t go again. Ever. Like those people who marry thesame person twice? WTF? If it didn’t work the first time what makes you thinkit will a second? That’s just insanity if you ask me.

Take baby steps. And in thisinstance again I, Ms. Literal Thinker, feel I must warn you: Do not try actualbaby steps. Adults who walk like babies generally fall frequently and theincidence of head injury and “Muhammed Ali speech syndrome” may increaseexponentially*. The baby steps I am referring to are the kind wherein you breakyour task down into small parts. Small enough for a baby to step over? Yes.You’ve got the picture.

Self-motivation? In four easysteps? Sure why not? I mean the 10-Minute Workout was all the rage a few yearsago, why can’t self-motivation be attained in four steps? Americans sure are afickle bunch, jeez. However, if you still don’t feel like four steps is enough,go here and you’ll get eight! Yes, two for the price of one! You lucky, luckyreader. And if you’re still not motivated after that, well, I don’t know whatto tell ya. I guess you’re screwed.

*While writing this sentence, mybrain wouldn’t go anywhere else but “may increase existentially”. While Iabsolutely knew that increasing something existentially is not at all what Iwanted for the sentence that concept is STUCK in my head now! Look for anotherpost SOON on increasing existentially. Oh, and, in case you’re wondering, no,it will not be a post about male enhancement drugs. Thanks.
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This Cape, This Point of Power

2011-07-28T09:27:00.001-04:00

The place where local meets global.

This cape is the point where waters flowing down frommountain tributaries merge with the waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Water carrieswith it bits and memories of every element it washed against as it moved intolarger and larger bodies. These elements swirl and mingle together and becomethe history of the water.

Here, at this cape, is the moment those bits and memoriescollide with the combined histories contained in the whole wide and undulatingocean.

The place where thought expands.

The first time thoughts are presented with similar yetspatially different ideas, the potential for sparks to fly is nearlyoverwhelming. Measuring ideas against others, though, is an exercise inlearning, intimidating though it might be. And there is great power in thislearning and great power, too, in the measuring. And as always, wherever greatpower exists, there coexists a possibility of crushing fear.

What if these thoughts and ideas, flowing along a lifetime,are faulty, or smallish, or wrong?

Here then, at this point, the measuring and learning becomethe force and focus to the flow of thoughts from this place onward. There areno limits here. The shores on either side of this expanse are so far off as toseem limitless. Even in the mind’s eye. Boundaries are now gone, and so, thisis the very time to measure and to learn, and maybe to expand or replace theold with updated, adapted or adopted thought.

The place where contained meetsboundless.

Ideas held within a tight space do not grow. They arestill, perhaps stagnant. They are as the silt washing slowly, slowly with thewater. They may change slightly, but not enough to warrant notice or comment.

And suddenly, here, these ideas, these thoughts andtheories experience a sudden state of boundlessness. Unencumbered they judgewhat they were against what they might be, what could possibly be. There aresounds of rushing, swirling, and mixing; all unregulated mayhem in thesewaters. What was once a slow and steady movement now becomes a crashing into,unpatterned flows.

Here again is that power. The dual energies of creation anddestruction are here, side by side. They are meant for this place becausemovement and change is accepted here. It is expected that, here, small becomeslarge, bound becomes free, yin becomes yang.

The place where gentle waves washashore meets crashing waves pounding the sand.

This yin: the gentle washing of waters from the mouth ofthe bay. This yang: the ocean waters pushed along by the moon and the wind and theweather. This place where opposite energies kiss and collapse into each other’sedges.

It is true that yin cannot exist without yang. It is truethat stillness could not exist without movement and change. One simply does notexist without the other. And life is filled with the contrasting colors ofopposites. It must be so.

There is a time for slow restful movement. It is the timefor incremental gathering together. There is also a time for pushing andcrashing ideas. A time to toss out, sweep back, for tumbling together of bitsand memories. Each has its place, each serves its purpose, and each edgesagainst the other.

The place of change.

The place where these two energies collide is the place ofchange. The point of power. Changeeither requires a great deal of energy or releases it. At either extreme, thereis a great exchange occurring at every moment.

And exchange is the stuff of life. Exchange is a mostamazing concept: it conjures thoughts, love, genetic materials. It speaks oflife and death, labor and birth. Change is, in its most basic sense, theintensity of life.

A place to claim change.

Does this cape claim you? At the level of your soul? Doesit call you? Move you? Require you?

This place of change and intensity is a demanding master.It may require your presence, but it requires your presence at your verydeepest and best self. Strength is necessary to stand anchored in the flux andcrashing. Balance is required to keep your head straight and aligned with yourheart and the root of your being. Courage and poise are demanded, which canonly have been forged by right experience.

Is this your place? The demands are great, the stakes arethe highest. The rewards, however, are as expansive and boundless as the verywaters of the ocean.

Note: I meditate, sporadically, but I do meditate. Some of my most powerful experiences have been meditating with the point of Cape Henlopen as my focus. I know this is a huge stretch from what you usually read in this blog, but it's been so long since I posted anything I figured, meh, whatever. It's different, but then again, so am I. I hope you enjoyed this change of pace :)

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A Life In Flux

2011-01-27T22:38:00.003-05:00

FLUX n

Definiton: state of constant change

Synonyms: alteration, change, flow, fluctuation, fluidity, instability, modification, motion, mutability, mutation, transition, unrest

A general sense of change clings to me, more often than not, and for the most part I'm good with that. For example, I've been doing this "project" at work since last March and I've moved offices three times in that short period. Maybe I smell? Or me talking to myself annoys people? Maybe not. I choose to believe I have a happy little vibe that whispers "Spppssst... this chick here? Change keeps her on her toes, keeps her fresh and moving and vital."

I pretty much have a go with the flow attitude about life, especially this little stuff. I mean, I can work from almost anywhere. This constant shifting and packing of pens, files, and a really cool caricature? It's actually taught me a few things about myself:

I prefer company while I work, but not a lot of distraction.
- I work with four women in one office, but it's a big space and, except for the odd gesticulation, we're fairly quiet little worker ants. I adore my office mates.
- When I work in an office by myself, it's difficult to keep my focus and priorities straight. If I spend more than a few seconds (which I obviously just did since I'm typing this epiphany) thinking about it, that makes sense: one who adapts well to change and mutability can easily grow toward scattered and spacey if in the wrong environs.
Flexibility is a wonderful thing, but I prefer mental to physical.
- I was a cheerleader in high school: pom poms, short skirt, saddle shoes, the works... and during those years I would have given my megaphone to have a decent split or super-high kick. Alas that was not to be my strength. Today though, I'm glad. I feel like if life had given me those things, I wouldn't have the same mental flexibility that I enjoy today. In a karmic kind of way. Sort of.
- I really, really enjoy being able to think my way around a problem or situation. I'm not the most intelligent person, in the IQ sense of the word, but I'm pretty damn clever with the off the wall, "Hey! This might just work..." kind of ideas. I sort of like that about me, if I do say so myself. (blech. puke. I hate when I get that way; all full of myself and crap.)
Having this flexibility, in my job, is usually seen as a good thing.

Maybe not as good as having the strength and flexibility of a good pole dancer, but it rates. Or I'll keep telling myself that since I have neither the body nor moves of a good (or even late morning shift) pole dancer.
The only time flexibility is looked down upon is when the person I've just shown up gets a little bent out of shape because of it. "Bent out of shape," by the way, originated from Old English and was used to describe the contortions of one's lips when irritated or embarrassedly pissed.

So, yes, FLUX.

It's a good word. It has character. It contains one of the rarely used, and 8 whopping Scrabble point, letters in the English alphabet. It is short, concise, and to the point. It replaces words like mutability and transition, which is very important if you're writing a blog post and only have a certain amount of space to work wi

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Holiday Slacker Syndrome

2010-12-16T14:25:00.017-05:00

This time of year brings out the best in every one, right? We all magically feel the need to share the holiday cheer with everyone we know, sometimes even those we don’t…. We bake, we wrap, we brighten our homes with colorful lights and usher in the holiday mood with a tree and the scents of Christmastime.

That is, except for those of us diagnosed as Holiday Slackers. I am aware of this syndrome because I suffer in the debilitating throes of Slackery. Syndrome? Yes. Holiday Slacker Syndrome, to be exact. HSS for short, and YES, it really is a disease. It’s not been assigned an ICD-9 code yet, solely because the entire medical coding world is soon to be set upside down with the new and improved ICD-10 code set. HSS is not set to hit the list of approved and debilitating syndromes until ICD-10 debuts sometime in 2011.

Oh, also, in case you are wondering, the ICD-9 code set has been in use since 1979. That’s a whopping 31 years, folks. However, the switch from ICD-9 to ICD-10 is probably NOT the subject of a future blog post here because let’s face it, medical coding is not a very exciting or enticing subject. But I digress.

Unfortunately, WebMD only lists diagnoses that are ICD-9 coded. So, since you can’t search WebMD for the symptoms, diagnosis or treatment for HSS, I will lay them out for you here. I am, as you have discovered, nice like that :)

Symptoms of Holiday Slacker Syndrome:

patient is visibly deficient in holiday wrap, baked goods, and evergreen trappings of the season (the very elements of "Christmas Cheer")
exhibits shuddering and/or groaning at the sounds of Christmas music in various commercial venues, including The WalMart, The Mall, The Grocery store, etc. (palpitations and seizures may or may not follow)
eggnog induces vomiting (I don't think this one requires a parenthetical explanation, but I like consistency)
Christmas light sensitivity (causing headache and occasionally nausea)
scents including balsam, pine needle, gingerbread, etc. cause sneezing and/or asthma-like symptoms (that's no fun)

Correlated symptoms: chronic signs of procrastination, online shopping, and uncontrollable giggling at the sound of “Bah Humbug.”

Diagnosis of Holiday Slacker Syndrome: Diagnosis of HSS, like Fibromyalgia, is based on observational data. If you have two or more of the above symptoms, or at least one symptom and one of the correlated symptoms, you may be a sufferer of HSS. Because HSS can afflict its sufferers in a wide variety of combinations, diagnosis is usually made based on a patient's answers to a series of questions. At a preliminary visit to your primary doctor, he or she will ask a series of questions intended to ferret out your particular expression of HSS symptomology. This series of questions, named The Feisty Survey for its designer, takes approximately 25 minutes to complete.

Treatment of Holiday Slacker Syndrome: Although this is considered a MEDICAL diagnosis, the treatment of HSS more closely resembles that of treatment for phobias. That is, behavioral therapy has been determined to be the most effective treatment for HSS. Based on the results of your Feisty Survey your doctor will develop a gradual behavioral plan to ease you into enjoyment of the sights, sounds, and scents of “Christmas Cheer.”

Following are some of the basic treatment elements most sufferers are prescribed at some point during their treatment:

Santa Tracker (this is used to help suffers understand that truly the end to their annual suffering is near)
People of WalMart (helpful as a means to cause excitement for shopping and therefore enabling marking off several items from the Christmas list)
Christmas Elf Name Generator (most results are entertainingly silly and linking laughter with Christmas helps increase good feelings toward Holiday related activities).

Finally, I personally have used the following link to help boost my Holiday Spirits: Have a Cup of Christmas Cheer! Be forewarned, especially those who are severe sufferers of HSS: Imbibing too much Christmas Cheer can have a paradoxical effect; it may well turn your Bah Humbug into a Bah Hangover. In that case, you’ll need to start your treatment plan from the beginning. And who’s got time for that? It’s Christmastime people!

P.S. There is one thing, and one thing only, that will ALWAYS put me in the mood for Christmas:

©Dorkus vocabularis

2010-12-11T00:27:00.001-05:00

Little Feisty One’s Tips for the Gentleman Online Dater:

Disclaimer: The following comments are based on real people’s lives and profiles as online daters. If you are or have been an online dater and you recognize yourself in any of the following: ~~how embarrassing~~…

Sorry, that didn’t come out quite like I intended, let’s try this instead: these comments are meant to do no harm. And also, PLEASE read on and learn something. Jeez!

There are various and sundry faux pas I have found in the introduction of men’s profiles. I’ve run across such a number of real doozies that I figured it’s the best place to start. So, here we go:

When writing your introduction, please avoid phrases like “no drama”, “honest and decent”, or “lonely guy” … Basically, you’re advertising that the last love of your life cheated and you’re definitely not over it.

Even worse? Here’s a romantic little ditty I found: “Ready to Settle”… Wait, what?! You want some wonderful woman to message you and say, “Hey baby, I’m the one for you. I’m the one I hope you’re willing to SETTLE for! I mean, WOW. I think probably that’s not what the dude really intended, but at the very least he should check out Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style for a little writing help.

And last, but certainly not least, if the best you have to say to set yourself apart is “I’m a good guy”, maybe go out and get a few hobbies before you start looking for someone to “complete” you? Just a suggestion. But seriously… Your life should really be complete on its own, don’t you think? I mean, if that’s what you’re looking for, don’t come bitchin’ to me when you discover that the woman who “completes” you is mostly looking for someone to complete her bank account.

Choose a profile picture that really exemplifies who you are, but PLEASE keep your shirt on. I’ve seen just too many profiles with shirtless men. Believe you me, even if you have a six pack to shame Arnie Schwarzenegger, it still doesn’t belong in my face like that:

I will assume you are a shallow man who spends more time in front of a mirror in one morning than I will all month.

I’ll make a similar snap judgment that you’ve pumped up your ego right along with those abs.

If you’re really that hot, I’d rather discover that gem of information face to face. Because, hey I’m not shy about admitting my own hypocrisy and I’ll certainly admit that sometimes all I want is a sexy, testosterone soaked lunk of a man to rub up against.

Please use correct punctuation, capitalization, and throw in a little spell-check for good measure. You may be the kindest, sweetest, most perfectly suited man for me, but if you write like a third grader I’ll mark you with a giant red X. An online profile is no place to measure real intelligence, but following those long-agreed upon rules of English writing is at least a decent start.

Ummm, if you have fetishy interests, you might want to look for a “special” dating site for just those interests…. Hey man, to each his own and all that, but I really don’t need to know that you “like to explore both your dominant and submissive sides through role play.” Oh. Yes. That’s a real dater’s profile on your average online dating site. I’m not a master web searcher, but it only took me 0.46 seconds to find a list of 11,600 sites just for this person. Bottom line, though? Trolling on a “normal” online dating site is just plain inefficient and I’m all about efficient. So let me put it to you this way: if you’re out doing your marketing for the week, you’re not going to the butcher shop for hummus, right?

When writing the blurb that describes you, what you like and what you want in a romantic partner please don’t include things like “I like to take quiet walks on the beach” and “I like candlelit dinners” or anything similarly meant to pique everywoman’s interest. Come on. Are you for real? If I wanted to date a woman, I’d be batting for the other team in the first place! I want a real man. I want someone who gets dirty, watches the ball game, and can carry the heavy stuff when I just don’t feel like struggling with it. And there’s another thing: what happens a few months from now, after you’ve convinced Ms. Wonderful that you love these things and that’s how she plans to spend every single solitary shared moment? You’re going to keep fake liking this stuff? C’mon! No. We both know what’s coming: you’ll revert back to spending your time doing the things you actually like doing, which quite possibly is more like watching Nascar and playing “Pull My Finger”. Do you and everyone else a favor and make your profile real and genuine. That is, unless it involves whips and ball gags. In that case, refer back to Tip #4. Please and Thank You.

P.S. While researching #4 above, I accidentally ran across a Feet Lickers fetish site…. I really wish I could unsee that, and unimagine the pictures that popped into my head :(

My Procrastinative Nature

2010-12-04T01:32:00.003-05:00

So, I’ve been thinking lately that I might want to start writing this blog of mine again. And by lately, I mean since ohhhh about July or so. In light of that admittedly embarrassing fact, I will write, today, about the great state of Procrastination.

You may say, “Hey! That word has nation in it; how can it be a state?” That’s very observant, Sarah Palin, but no. It is a state of being I’m referring to, not a nation. It’s very pleasant this state of being. Like a really good high, only legal. It is both my best friend and my worst enemy. We have a love/hate relationship me and my procrastinative nature.

My plan, and I do have a plan because I’ve had five months to formulate one, is to go at this with a list of Pros and Cons for Procrastination. I want to determine whether Procrastination is a valid life solution, or just a waste of time between Step A and Step B. Sounds fair and equitable, right? So here goes.

When I procrastinate I:

PROs	CONs
Free up time to do the stuff I actually WANT to do.	Annoy the hell out of those family and friends who do NOT fall in the category of procrastinators.
Get out of doing stuff I really didn’t want to do in the first place because there’s always a non-procrastinator around who feels compelled to just get it done.	Pay bills late… I’ve had my electricity turned off more than once for the singular reason that I put it off just a few hours too long.
Write blogs when I’m putting off cleaning the bathroom, or doing laundry.	Get a little embarrassed calling the electric company to get said electric re-connected.
Work best on a deadline. The closer the better.	Exist in a state of constant high level of stress! There’s almost always something I simply MUST get done, now!
Save money: If I put off getting a haircut for long enough I can skip whole months, instead of getting a cut at the salon recommended every six week mark.	Have toenails that reach embarrassing lengths. Occasionally. Ditto leg hair.
Free up time to think about important things like ending world hunger, and whether Lady Gaga is a dude or not.	Piss off the neighbors who start leaf clean up as soon as three leaves accumulate on the lawn. (Actually, that’s only 50% CON. My one neighbor’s a real jerk)
Catch up on some much needed sleep.	Can’t enjoy a steak on the grill, when I’ve put off getting the propane tank refilled.
Have time for a nice, long soak in the tub with a glass of wine and good book.	Hate being judged, for any reason, especially by the “no time like the present” crowd. So you could say procrastination puts me in a foul mood sometimes.
Improve my relationship with my dog. She likes hanging out, doing nothing. Slacker.	Am forced to eat take out because the fridge is empty.
Watch some really funny stuff on Youtube.	Have been forced to wear clothes that barely pass the “sniff test” because laundry didn’t get done yesterday. Probably not for several days, if I’m honest.
Keep tabs on my friends’ doings via Facebook postings…. It’s so compelling to know that Kelly K. got her laundry done today, and is planning to spend the evening tidying the downstairs closets!	Will never win “Best Looking Yard” award in my town.
	Can rarely pass the white glove test. Now, tannish-brown glove test is more my speed. (Maybe that’s not a CON really, either. I tend toward earth tones, after all.)
	Am also put in a foul mood when I realize that treadmill isn’t going to melt off these pounds by itself!

Hmmm. So it would appear that the CONs have it. That’s not the way I planned for this to work out, at all. Maybe if I’d spent a little more time planning…..

So procrastination is actually a "bad" thing. Or maybe I should take Mr. Franklin's advice and only procrastinate in moderation? That may just work! But here’s the thing (there’s always a “thing” with me, right?): I quit smoking years ago because it was bad. I wear a seatbelt, I eat fairly healthfully, I even meditate to keep myself balanced. So what’s one bad habit unbroken really going to hurt?

Baby steps. Maybe I’ll try baby steps toward IMPROVING my procrastination habit. Maybe I’ll start by trying to write a blog entry on a weekly basis, and paying my bills on time. Or at least I can shoot for paying my electric bill before my lights go out again!

And as far as the blog writing? Who knows? I’m taking a writing class next month, so that should give me a reason to write here, plus I have some not so interesting projects coming up that could actually turn into pretty funny, or at least vaguely entertaining stories. For example, today I cleaned out my pantry and found random food products like Albacore tuna with tomato pesto, a can of mandarin oranges, and some baking chocolate. I promised myself to use each of these, along with all the other weird stuff I don’t remember ever having a reason to purchase in the first place. The recipes I come up with may be entertaining? Meh, we’ll see.

Also! I’ve recently ventured back out into the world of dating. And yes, I have met a couple of really interesting characters. I may blog some of my more colorful discoveries along the way. I just need to make sure my Facebook page is LOCKED DOWN TIGHT before I start making fun of anybody. Men can be so damn sensitive!

Ah hell. It was the Ebola.

2010-05-28T13:14:00.005-04:00

I was sick all week last week and it got me to thinking. I had these just slightly more than irritating, vague symptoms for days: nausea, but not enough to keep me from eating; cramping, stabbing pains in my stomach after I ate; low grade fever and a headache, just a dull one, but a headache; and every day, as the day progressed, I felt crappier and crappier.

So, that’s over now. But one day in the midst of it, a day when I actually tried to rest, my mind started wandering… It seems to me that most of the really bad diseases start this way. You have some vague upset, feel tired and maybe a little achy, but not enough to really stop you from doing what you need to do (work, kids, facebook). Then BAM! Next morning you wake up and your right thigh is missing. It was eaten by the flesh eating disease, Necrotizing fasciitis. Or you wake up one morning with a high fever and a cough and holey guacamole, you got the Swine flu. Or worst of all! You wake up with blood oozing from your pores, OOOOO struck down by the Ebola virus. Immune System FAIL.

So then, I started imagining me waking up and finding:

Ah hell. It was the Ebola. Damn. I really should have called that one better.

I honestly believe you should let nature take its course, most of the time. The way I figure: any parasite, (bacteria, worms, a barnacle) it’s job is to keep the host alive so as to reproduce. Spread the love, as it were. The little fellas don't wanna kill me, they just want a nice warm vacation destination. So, I usually let my body duke it out with the bastard. Oh yes, indeedy I’ve been whipped; I do keep antibiotics as a last resort. In a drawer, behind the tape. I think.

If a parasite is out for the kill, well he’s being a little short sighted. You get me? He’s the James Dean of the parasite world: BIG BANG little fizzle. Some may say it’s worth the ride. WHEEEEWWWWWW! And I’m sure that it is. But I, myself, like to take a more balanced approach, as do most inhabitants of this place we call our world.

I'm much more for the natural order of things: that bug just wants a spot to hang for a while. How can I blame him? I'm told my ileum is amazing. As long as I'm not down, out, and totally delirious, I'll share.

So, yes my new philosophy, of the way things are, is that basically everyone has a job to do (barnacle, neurosurgeon, pizza slinger, Alaskan king crab). All of these jobs fit together to make one big puzzle, because really, what do we really and truly know about how we got here? So, inside of that puzzle, if any one of us is not filling her space, doing her job? There’s a hole there. One that no one else can fill, perfectly. Some may do a decent job of it, but no one else fit’s the space quite as exactly. Like when the garden hose won’t fit snugly to the faucet; you get the job done, but you waste a lot of water, too. I don’t like wasting stuff.

And that, to wrap this up, is a little heavy for that time my mind wandered in the midst of a just slightly more than irritating illness.

Dorkus Vocabularis

2009-11-25T12:25:00.002-05:00

I've been here, Getting to the Good Stuff, fairly consistently for a few months now, so I decided to Google my favorite descriptor, word geek, to see if this blog popped up anywhere. (Before I go any further, let me clarify that I have never Googled myself, as many people do. I do not have illusions of grandeur, and I really don’t give 2 hoots if I have zero, three, or 33 pages full of Google links.) I really like my little blog I have going here, and I know that at least a couple other people read it, and seem to enjoy it (although I never am quite satisfied that they get the jokes as I’ve intended them to be gotten). However, I was curious if my little piece of cyberspace is visible at all, or just floating, vaporous, into oblivion.

Alright, yes, that end is a little overly dramatic. Sorry.

And, once again, I digress.

After the first 20 results on the aforementioned Google search came up with nada, I began to question these other yahoos... Who the hell are they to use my grand, unique, and extremely witty idea first?? Ok. Maybe I do have illusions that I’d be the first person to call myself a word geek, but that’s not such a toxic one is it?

I browsed a handful of blogs from the search results, and what I found is, in its totality, a bunch of geeks who happen to also like words. Now, a geek is no enemy to me, certainly. I’m kind of a geek myself, but probably more of a dork. I guess what I’m saying is, I found that except for the word kinship, I don’t think I have anything in common with any of those other writers. So I may just have to create (what’s new?) another term for word geek that suits me better and maybe is less common.

How about dorkus vocabularis?

YES! That, my dear readers, is a winner. I found absolutely no other entries on Google with this specific phrase, but when I Googled “dorkus” I found several sites, these two here and here being my favorites, for obvious reasons, unless you weren’t engaged enough in the process to actually have clicked those links. And in that case, back it up baby and try it again!

Now that’s a pay-off if I’ve ever seen one! I love the internet, for its comic relief if nothing else.

Dorkus vocabularis© it is. And as of that very last moment, I made it official by adding it to my Microsoft Word’s list of approved, and therefore, real and recognized members of the English language. I’m okay with it only being an associate member for the time being. Certainly the Oxford Unabridged Dictionary hasn’t gotten word yet…

The question remains though: How could someone of my irreverent and witty variety have chosen the same nomenclature as those other, not so much bland, but cookie cutter variety writers? I don’t understand it. Except that here’s the thing. I’ve done my research. And now I’ve played my hand. I am taking my stand, to set myself apart (not above, apart) from those other unoriginals.

Side note: I just looked to see if I could find a better word for “unoriginal” as we all know I am wont to do from time to time, and found these synonyms:

Blah, bland, common, conventional, ho hum, imitative, mundane, musty, pedestrian, predictable, shopworn, stereotype, timeworn, tired, unimaginative, vapid

Although I wouldn’t describe myself as any of these, I think my least favorite is pedestrian. It sounds so “Shit. Any old body could do that!” Of course “shopworn” and “timeworn” both bring to mind another kind of pedestrian, another kind of person “walking the street”, so I’m not all over that one either. And vapid? Yeah, vapid conjures Anne Hathaway for me. That “deer in the headlights” expression. Hello. Hello? Anybody home? Nah. Guess not. And how about that MUSTY! Yeah! Every woman wants to be...... musty.

Anyway, I think I’ve made my point well, ad infinitum, if you will, that I’d prefer to be original, and witty, and unique. Sometimes maybe even bizarre, quirky, and somewhat outlandish. But ya doesn’t has to call me Johnson.

©Dorkus vocabularis

Feeling “Under The Weather”

2009-11-24T12:29:00.001-05:00

I’ve been feeling lazy, lately… unmotivated, dumpy, down-in-the-dumps, slow-witted, slow-moving. I’ve chosen, though, to call myself “Under The Weather” because it has a better “Aw. Poor thing!” factor than dumpy has. And besides the actual meteorological weather has been gray, cold, and damp and it suits my current mood.

In all reality I have not been lazy. I have a job and I work very hard at that job. I also have a side-job, at which I work more sporadically but equally as hard. Add to this the fact that I singlehandedly take care of three pets, a house, myself, and occasionally a big beefy man who shows up at my door from time-to-time. (BTW, I’ve been told if you start feeding them, they’ll never go away. This may have been my first mistake.)

We won’t mention the yard, in this discussion, which has seen the underside of a lawnmower much, Much, MUCH too infrequently in the past 12 months to be called anything less than a jungle. No, we won’t mention that yard in this discussion of how lazy I actually am NOT.

At my ripe old age of – no, never mind. Suffice to say that I am beyond girlhood and by now I have learned that there is a vast difference between feeling lazy and being lazy. I may very well feel lazy, yet still drag my lazy ass out of bed at 5:15 a.m. to go work a 12 hour shift. I, also, might feel dumpy and still get my laundry done, make a wholesome dinner, and bottle a batch of beer. You see, and here is the little chunk of wisdom I have to share with you today: feeling and being can be complete opposites.

But let’s get back to the Under The Weather (UTW for our purposes) portion of the discussion again, shall we? I have this theory…. Now hear me out, we all know that yes, I have some real doozies when it comes to theories, but just listen a sec (read on… whatever, don’t be a bitch about semantics, would ya?). It may change your life!

If you claimed to be UTW at every chance when you actually feel lazy and want to be lazy, not only will you be the collector of various and sundry sympathies, you will also be lauded for powering through, despite being UTW. You (and I because it was my idea, dammit) are brilliant and one damn dedicated [insert job title here]! In other words: YOU ROCK!

Plus, and here’s the bonus of all bonuses: not only are you the most dedicated [same job title as above] but you can also get away with sub-par work! Think about it. You can never get away with saying “Sorry. I didn’t get that project done today. I was feeling sooo lazy.” But substitute UTW, and it takes on a whole new spin! “Sorry. I didn’t get that project done today. I was feeling sooo UTW.”

And for any naysayers in the crowd, chew on this! Just TRY to call out lazy! It can’t be done. Well, maybe once, but only that one time. And you better have a date with [insert hottest and most desired celebrity name here]. I’m saying; make it worth your while because you won’t be asked back to that desk ever again! You can call out UTW, however. It happens all the time. Many people prefer to call this a “mental health day” but henceforth, and now I’m counting on my tens of tens of readers, these days will be UTW days. It just so happens that, sometimes, we like it when we can be lazy on a day that we feel lazy!

Disclaimer: Do not try this at home. The previous discussion is meant for entertainment purposes only. If you attempt to use this “advice” during your wrongful termination hearing, not only will you be laughed out of the witness box, but I will be there, front and center, laughing loudest of all!

Delicious Ambiguity

2009-11-13T22:05:00.002-05:00

I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.

-Gilda Radner

Gilda Radner was a comic genius in a time when being female and a comedienne wasn't common or very well received. If you don't remember her character, Roseanne Rosanna Danna, you absolutely MUST watch this clip:

She was a hoot, to say the least, and maybe an absolute nutjob, but damn was she ever funny. Then she got ovarian cancer, fought it, but died anyway. I'm guessing, although I have no real idea if my guessing is on the money tonight or not, but I think, probably, the quote above was Gilda after finding out that no matter how hard she fought, it just wasn't in her cards to win this round.

Sad that it takes so many of us to come to a point-of-no-return crisis to realize that life is meant to be lived, not planned to the edge of insanity and crammed with struggle and nonsense. I feel fortunate that I can say, I count myself in the group of non-planners. You've heard me say it before: I am in LOVE with the "No-Plan Plan"! This type of life management works well for me for several reasons, which I will enumerate thusly:

I get overly disappointed with disappointment, and if I don't have a plan, then there are none to fall through.
The No-Plan Plan helps me to really see what's in front of me instead of seeing what's supposed to happen and getting all annoyed when something great, but different, comes along instead.
I love the unexpected. And I find there's more room for the unexpected when there are no "expecteds" to get in my way.
A No-Plan Plan helps me to live creatively and eclectically and since creative and eclectic
are two of my favorite self-descriptors, well it just suits. See?

The trouble I have with this way of living is that sometimes I forget how well it actually works for me. I'll get stuck in a rut, or start feeling down and drab and think, I need a plan. I need to work myself through, and out of, this mess I'm in. Then the PLANNING begins.

Shortly thereafter, all hell breaks loose!

I don't do well with the "Plan Plan".

Also, sometimes I feel like such an incredible oddball because all my friends and family are going around, making their little plans, following them through, and they seem to be happy and on what one might call "the right track". With a No-Plan Plan, if there is a track, I can't seem to find it. Plus, when anyone asks me what my plans are... well, let's just say there's a lot of pausing and stuttering that goes on in what is best described as my "No-Answer Answer".

But BIG kudos to Gilda. She's made my No-Plan Plan sound exotic and enticing with those words of hers: Delicious Ambiguity. LOVE THAT!

So. Henceforth, I will be on the "deliciously ambiguous" plan. Mayhap I will coin a new term: delambi-plan. It may cure my stuttering, although maybe I'm the only one who will know I'm not stuttering... delambi-what??

delambi-plan n.
A term referring to a plan in which there is absolutely no planning involved. How was my weekend? It went exactly how i delambi-planned it!

P.S. Ima whore......... myself out now ;)

Please :) If you like this post, leave a comment! Share it with a friend or 1000 of your closest! I am in a race to get my first 1,001 active readers and I'm going. But, as I am poorly endowed in size and girth of my patience, it's going a little slow for my liking :) I'm a pushy little broad, so here's a little push.

THANKS!

Brewing Up Some Good Stuff

2009-11-11T11:26:00.000-05:00

Today I’ll be venturing, once again, into the wet and wild world of beer brewing. Which, I know, sounds very exciting and sexy, but in reality is just good, clean fun. Gotta keep it clean or the brew won’t brew and all you end up with is a bucket of brown piss with a hoppy finish… bleh.

I have two brews to brew today, and when I received the kits, I was less than thrilled. I’ll put that in a more easy to understand formula, for all you mathheads out there:

me < thrilled

The causative factor of the above formula is this: all that was delivered in my much anticipated brew package is two cans of concentrated, and pre-hopped, wort with a couple of packets of yeast. Wort (pronounced like “wirt”, as in “Add the hops, son, or yer wort gone taste like dirt.”) refers to the unfermented liquid extracted in the mashing of malted barley. What I got is like a can of soup… just add water. Or a cheat when you’re playing whatever may be the big online animated game of the season. World of Warcraft is a biggie, or at least that’s what I’ve heard, since I’m not much of a game player. HEADgames, yes, online role-playing games, nah. Couldn’t be further from my circle of interest.

But I digress.

My point is, the cheat, while getting you exactly where you want to be in a shorter and probably less frustrating period of time, is called a cheat because you skip lots of steps in the process and get to a level that you didn’t really earn. So, basically, I got a can of beer cheat delivered via FedEx which now I’m going to ferment.

Ok. Yes. I realize I sound like a total hypocrite here, because yes I will add the yeast and ferment it, and yes I will drink and enjoy it. And yes, if it turns out to be truly scrumptious and incredibly tasty I will boast that I brewed it myself. But I won’t feel good about myself while I’m boasting. I make that pledge to you, dear readers, on this very day.

I blame this irrational need to be completely honest and forthright, on my mother. Or maybe my father. Or maybe on my brothers; they got in trouble all the time and since I was the only girl it was my role in the family to be “the good one”.

Now don’t get me wrong, I can tell a “story” as my grandparents used to call it, but there’s always a stupid little bird sitting in the back of my head chirping

‘liar! liar! you’re LYING! ya big fat liar! liar.’

I’d shoot the damn thing but guns scare me. Plus, my mom always had this rule that “if you shoot it, you eat it” and I’m pretty sure it’s not a turkey or a chicken, so…

But back to the homebrew. A friend of mine gave me an old kit that he had for years and never used, so I have some grains and hops and I may just make a grand experiment of my beer cheat. An ex-BEER-iment, if you will. And, oh man, how can I make “I’m a big dork” sound any sexier than that?

Not possible.

THE END

Ummm... P.S. I tried to work in a "word geek" word today, as I'm wont to do, but couldn't seem to fit it in. So, I've written this post script for just that purpose. Did you spot the word?? Aaaoohhh. Good fa you!

Fantastic, Bombastic

2009-11-04T16:31:00.021-05:00

...or maybe somewhat less so.

Sadly, today, I found a word that sounded like a word I could really get behind. This word, I thought, could very well vie for the title "Favorite Word Ever". I liked it's shape on the screen, I liked it's shape in my brain and in my mouth. It evoked "big" and "explosive" for me and I like powerful words. Unfortunately, instead of big and explosive, like, say, my favorite big and beefy man, BOMBASTIC is more of the pretentious and overly-dramatic ilk.

Don't you just hate when that happens? No, I don't expect that everyone gets the high hard one over words. But, I mean, don't you just hate when you get all excited over something? anything? then find out it's all a bunch of hooey?

For instance, I've only ever been on one blind date, but that's the exact feeling I got about halfway through those excruciating 2 hours, 43 minutes, and 17 wasted seconds. After he'd spent the better portion of that time talking about his ex-wife and what a bitch she was ....at some point along the way, to keep myself occupied, I started noticing (by noticing I mean drooling over and groping) all the long-haired hippy dudes. Yeah, blind-date dude was clean-shaven and crew-cutted. Things couldn't help but go downhill from there.

Point being, I was looking forward to the date! My friends said we had so much in common. "Great guy!" "Really sweet" "Makes me laugh". After that kind of build up, I was expecting my dream date! But oh boy was he ever not dreamy!

I do tend to psyche myself up for things, probably more than is a good choice for my sanity. But I can't help myself! I love that feeling of excitement, of antici........................................................PAtion. I like the passion of things. I do! I love it when something can really get me going. Get the adrenalin rushing, my heart pounding, pupils dilated, I'm perpetually ready to ROLL!

Which is why bombastic sounded like such a soulmate to me. It sounds like an adrenalin rush sort of word, right? Alas, Dictionary.com had this entry filed under bombastic:

Bombastic suggests language with a theatricality or staginess of style far too powerful or declamatory for the meaning or sentiment being expressed: a bombastic sermon on the evils of cardplaying.

Any word that's used as an example for (perhaps) a fundamentalist's sermon probably isn't much of a soulmate of mine. Don't get me wrong though! Far be it from me to trash anyone else's religion. My take on your religion of choice is this: if it helps you make better decisions, or helps keep you honest or forthright, and/or especially if it helps you be a kinder and more loving person, then do it! Just don't expect me to jump in there and start speaking in tongues with you. I'm more of a spiritual person myself (although I understand that men roll their eyes and make that ppfffttt sound - with their lips! - when a woman describes herself so). They say it sounds too new-agey and flakey. Whatever, dude. More likely you know it's a more complicated answer than you bargained for, and it's difficult to maintain eye-to-breast contact when there's a serious discussion in the making.

But I digress.

I don't want this word that implies FIREWORKS but, in reality, is only a couple of 3 year-old firecrackers. I want the bang, not a fizzle!

So, full of woe and wretchedness,

seek and search to agelessness

I'll pack my sack

and pound the dirt

'til perfect word do I possess.

P.S. "The high hard one"? Yeah. I like that euphemism too! :)
P.P.S. With my memory being like it is? Do I really remember exactly how long, down to the second, that date lasted? No. Am I being a little bombastic? Probably.
And P.P.P.S. Meh. I know. That little poem is shit, too. Like the last one. Like PopPop used to say: "Yeah, well."

Always Happens Almost Never

2009-11-02T12:31:00.002-05:00

...and other conundrums.

See? I'm a woman of my word. A blog has come to you that, as promised, will dredge the depths of the very edges of the bell curve. In other words, the shit that happens on the "off chance", the zebra in the herd of horses, the oddball, the weirdo, the sore thumb, the little blond italian boy... wait. No. That one was the milkman. Who suddenly went missing. Forget that one...

But anyhow, you get my drift, right? That stuff that almost never happens.

I always want to have a fantastic day at work, that happens almost never. I ALWAYS want to have multiple orgasms, THAT happens almost never. I always want to stop stuffing my face before I am as engorged as a tick that's been hanging, hidden, inside my dog's ear for three days. Once again, that happens almost never.

Ok, you! Fess up. You know darn well you're guilty of one, some, or all of those same problems. I know I'm not the only one. I'm not the only one sitting 3 or 4 standard deviations from the "mean", the average, the ordinary. I know this, mostly, because if you were somewhere closer to the average, you wouldn't be reading this right now. (I'm not the average writer and this is definitely not the average read.)

As much of a "word geek" as I am, also am I a "science nerd". I absolutely love that there are so many different properties, normal and abnormal, that can be demonstrated as all part of the natural way of the world in a simple chart of two axes (axi? axis'?) I love words and I love the bell curve. It's such a simple and graphic and easy to explain little graph. It almost explains itself. Well, if it could talk it would, but as one-dimensional pictures aren't much for conversation, we'll put that in the "actual" almost never file.

I RULED (once) in a comment war about normal vs. abnormal and how it's not an "either or" but a fact of "if one then the other". But the point that I'm trying to make, and not in such a good or straightforward manner as of yet, is that although we humans, and Americans specifically, make a huge deal over the odd stuff, because it is odd and catches our attention because of its oddness, it is factually and mathematically odd because it simply does not occur that often. Think about it: when is the last time you saw actual siamese twins? Sorry, that's conjoined twins, how un-PC of me. And how many of your friends have 11 fingers? Webbed toes? A cat with only 3 lives? They're all unusual. They happen almost never. And all you have to do is look at the beautiful symmetry of the bell curve to see what I mean. Those things all exist, well all but the cat with only 3 lives, I made that one up. But, although they exist you can see the teeny tiny little part of the curve they occupy. It really is miniscule.... as in, happens almost never :) Damn. I love it when I'm right!

Some of us, though, are more drawn to the odd and unusual than others. I, oddly enough, belong in this category. I don't plan things that way. I actually believe that if I were a little more average, liked things to be a little more run of the mill, predictable, even Steven... that my life would be much easier. Alas and alack. I would be incredibly and miserably bored with that kind of life. I dream of it sometimes, and sometimes I even point my life in that direction. For example: I clean off the dining room table and actually eat there; or I pay all my bills on time, balance my checkbook, and wrap my loose change and put it in savings; I've even been known to tidy up the house before bed so it'll be "nice" in the morning.

But I always come to my senses. That kind of living just isn't in the cards for me this time around. I like to fly by the seat of my pants. I'm a big fan of the no-plan plan. Funnily enough, I just found this guy who believes just the opposite. I am his worst nightmare! But that just brings us back to the main point. I can say, we should never have a plan, but that guy would curl up in a ball and whimper uncontrollably. And if the roles were reversed and we always had to have a plan, I'd run screaming into the forest, never to be seen or heard from again.

(Damn. I wish I was finished now, because that would have been a GRAND way to end this thing.)

Ah! What about those other conundrums, you promised us? Well, here ya go:

How did we elect George Bush, not once but TWICE, into the White House? (Let's say "elect" is a pretty strong word, but we can agree that he lived there for 8 harrowing years, yes?)
Do dogs with cropped tails have tail envy?
How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? Oh, sorry, that's a tongue twister. But it is a conundrum to me why one would want to twist his or her tongue.

I hope that's enough ...and other conundrums for you for the moment. I say for the moment because I will doubtlessly revisit this or a similar line of thinking in other essays in the coming days. I know. I know. You can hardly wait, Right? Bated breath and all that....

P.S. By un-PC I did not intend to infer that I use a MAC. I am nowhere cool enough for those :( My intended reference was un-politically correct.

And P.P.S I hope to continue my verbal revolution through use of such archaic yet endearing words and phrases as "alas and alack". Join my cause!!

And finally, P.P.P.S. Bated breath? Yes, I always thought it was baited breath too, but I was wrong. Gladly so, this time. When I first typed baited breath, it brought to mind fish, then fish breath and then I thought of my favorite bearded canine who has fish breath. Ewww. Who wants to wait for any long or even short period of time with someone who has fish breath?? Not I.

WAIT! WAIT! I'm not done yet! Here, dear readers is an unabashedly brazen piece of propaganda:

You really, really must read the ODD THOMAS series!

It's filled with funny, quirky, and endearing characters.

Quick read. Well written. Love it.

And buy it from this link, it'll be a win-win proposition!

Ode to the Thoughtless

2009-10-29T06:00:00.004-04:00

Thoughtless, crass, rude, mean, obtuse, reckless.

You stupid mother trucker!
Can't you see me pucker?
up my little face?
as tears begin to race,
along my well-used laugh lines?

How can you be so mean!
So vile, obtuse, obscene?
I have a heart!
It's not fine art,
But certainly worth kid-gloves!

Are you so harsh, jagged, broken?
Or do you wish your words unspoken?
To claim them back,
To reverse attack?
Make amends to one you hold dear.

Whenever I can describe anyone I know, and especially anyone I love, as thoughtless... well it hurts me in a place that is commonly known as my "heart" but is more accurately described as the center of who I am. Overly dramatic? Maybe. But I tend toward the dramatic, which most assuredly is not the German in me, but is more likely the girlish, less brassy side of my nature. I'm a tender heart.

Yes, yes.... you may look back at some of the other essays, right on this site, that I've written and think tender? TENDER? Tender my ass! But I will tell you once if I have to tell you a thousand times, I am a woman of dozens, if not hundreds, of faces. Sybil is my third cousin on my mother's uncle's side. In fact, I loath to meet a person whom I can know wholey and completely after one chance meeting. It's like sitting down to a nice dinner, expecting a glass of your favorite wine, and getting Cool-Aid instead. Completely unsatisfactory.

There is a place for one dimensional people, certainly. But if you find that place, please text me, email me, leave me a FaceBook message! Something in the way of a warning. I would like to avoid that particular place. Thanks. That would incredibly thoughtful and kind.

But I digress.

So I'll get back to my main train of thought with a question:

Are some people just naturally more thoughtless than others? Is it an inbred trait, or learned? And if it's learned? Who the hell are these parents to copulate, then raise and release these damn social misfits on the rest of us???

Certainly, we're all prone to a bad day or two during the course of a lifetime. We all say things we don't mean from time to time. This discussion pertains to the chronic misanthrope. The one person who, no matter the situation, can always be counted on to say the most wrong thing, at the most wrong time, and then still come away totally oblivious to the devastation he's left behind. He is commonly found, seconds after the uncalled for callous, foul, noxious comment, looking dumbfounded and asking (out loud I might add), "What the fuck did I do?"

Idiot.

Oh yes I did say HE. Though this person is not always of the male persuasion (I can think of two women I know who just yesterday flew their thoughtless flags) the perpetrator usually has more testosterone than a woman with serviceable breasts and working ovaries could ever have. Not always, no, but usually.

And that brings me to another point, which I'm afraid I will have to expound upon in another essay: rarely do things exist at the extremes. ALWAYS happens almost NEVER. Look for that to entitle my next rant.

Just wanted to prepare you for what's coming next. I'm Thoughtful like that :)

P.S. I invited 'thoughtless' into my life once, so I am biased. And if you're gonna get all Dr. Phil on me and ask how that's workin' for me? It works just fine for me. Thanks for asking, ya tool.

And P.P.S. Mother trucker?? Why yes. I didn't feel the need to start my essay by dropping the F-bomb first thing. Don't like it? Go write your own damn blog. But if you do, link me! It'll help my rankings :) Love youuuuu!

Oh, and finally P.P.P.S If you don't like my poem, you can also go lump it. I usually write prose of the non-rhyming kind. I really could have used a good rhyming dictionary. I'll not apologize, but I will say this... it is a little embarrassing.

No Regrets

2009-10-28T09:33:00.015-04:00

I become, at times, a very sappy/emotional/sentimental/cheesy girl. And today, I'm having one of those days, so I thought it might be cathartic to share.

I'm not sure if it's a female thing that I tend to hang on to things for way too long until I absolutely must purge? Or maybe it's a German thing? We Germans tend to be a frugal sort.... we can't stand to get rid of anything! Waste that good MAD I had going? Shoooot. I grew up in a household where we cut off the moldy corner of the bread and ate the slice anyway, dammit!

For a good girl of strong German heritage, though, I sure am a BIG fan of feng shui, and Rule #1 is Clear Out Your Clutter. So, I go through stages when I become absolutely obsessive about clearing my environment of all the schmutz that's accumulated over a time. But here's the really girly part of it: this process always turns into a self-indulgent, self-reflective, self-creative, self-cleansing process. It becomes a meditation on me, my problems (past, present, future), where I am, where I'm going... basically I get all existential on my ass.

Surprisingly... Never Have I Ever heard a man describe a cleaning day as an exercise in self-examination; and I'm fairly certain that even if I live to a ripe old age, I never will.

So in the interest of time, and since I really don't feel like cleaning today, I will cathart right here and now:

I don't remember signing up to be a friggin sponsor! FOUL BALL, I cry!
My choice to satisfy by gastric needs shall not be commanded by your whimsy.
Frustration = recurrent promises of an unrequited nature + numerous naysayers + flailing attempts to ameliorate. I'm so disappointed! I'm so disappointed!
I am not an interloper. I don't want another booboo. I just bet on the bottom dollar and hope for the best.

What the hell? May very well be your reaction to all that. And rightly so. I am a pretty private person. Air my dirty laundry in a format that could very well last To Infinity and Beyond! Naaah!

But I feel somewhat better all the same. And now I can get back to brooding over the really important things in life: do the dogs really sleep all day when I'm gone; how many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop; if men had breasts, would they ever get out of the shower?

Yes, dear readers, those really are some of the deep and meaningful life questions that occupy my mind. Navigating the depths of me would be like peering through to the bottom of a...................................................... clear running stream. I'm all unknowable and shit. Really.

P.S. If you feel I've mishandled the truth, above, by calling myself a "good" girl, go pound salt! I'm good at lots of things, and since you've just called me a liar, never will you ever be a beneficiary of those goods!

Oh and P.P.S. YES! I know cathart is not a real word! Jeez. How many times do I have to tell you? I make shit up. It keeps me occupied... otherwise I'd have to go clean the house or something.

Deconstructing a Winsome Smile

2009-10-25T09:00:00.012-04:00

At work the other day, a very dear 89-year-old man said the following to me: "I keep asking you all of these questions, but I'm not really listening to the answers. I'm only trying to keep you in the room because you have such a winsome smile."

And now you know why I described him as dear, and it's absolutely true, right?

And after the twinkle and glow wore off my smile, I realized a few things:

I'm a sucker for a nicely worded compliment.
My vocabulary usage is limited and bland.
I've never used winsome in a sentence and therefore only have a vague understanding of it's meaning.

Obviously, I had to look up winsome on Thesaurus.com. Though my little pea-brain usually connects like words fairly well, it is only pea-sized, so I'm not always certain the connections are valid, working, or otherwise correct. I remember thinking: Well. Winsome sounds close to winning so it has to be close in meaning, too. When I found winsome on the aforementioned website, I was happy to know that while winsome denotes "pleasing and charming", winning denotes "pleasing and victorious". Pea-brain Power! At least I was pretty damn close.

It's a shame, really, that the poetic side of the English language is dying out, along with those who remember WWII (first hand) and what it was like to walk over to the TV and manually turn the channel to choose from one of the 3 or 4 channels available. It's poetic injustice, if you don't mind my saying.

So, I'm here today to start a verbal revolution!

Tired of limiting yourself to monosyllabic, slang-ridden language usage?

Join me! Today! I want to help you make a lasting change!

Amaze friends! Entertain family! Impress colleagues!

When you try my innovative program, Snosetta Stoned,

you'll quickly learn how I can help you change the way you communicate

and change your whole outlook on life!

Here are some fantastic examples:

Example #1 Whack: adjective; appalling in nature, unconventional. "Yo, that's whack."

Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of the exchange:

"That's whack!"
"Wickity whack?"
"No. The regular kind."

But whack is plain overused. Here are some of my favorites to swap for whack:

Substandard. Use of this word is not only a more specific way of categorizing your dismay, but three syllables is always better than one if you're trying to impress the ladies!
Fallacious. You know how I know your vocabulary skills suck? You read this as fellatio. No gutter-brain, no one's talking about oral satisfaction here, this is just another fancy way to say whack.
Lousy. Now, you may correctly point out that this word originated as slang. But let me just point out that was a long-assed time ago and so I really don't care. But yes, it's true lousy was originally louse-y, meaning full of lice. So. What's worse than being full of lice?? I can't think of much.
Here are some of the runners-up, the also ran as it were, for favorites to replace whack: godawful, crappy, dreadful, diddly squat.

Example #2 Slut: Refers to a sexually promiscuous person, usually female. "That slut is easy like Sunday morning."

Unbridled. Hmmm, not sure how I feel about describing a woman as unbridled, because that begs the question, "Does she need to be bridled and, therefore, reined in?" and, also "If she does, whose job should that be?" The men reading this will no doubt say "a man", but since men generally like the unbridled women, I think we're in the territory of a circular argument. Men.
Wanton. I can honestly say I have never heard this word ever used in a real, live conversation. Except, of course, in relation to soup, but you may point out it's WONTON soup. But the idea of soup of a wild, steamy sort makes me giggle, so hence forth chinese soup with dumplings will always be WANTON to me!
Licentious. Is it just me? Or does this word just sound dirty and easy and loose? I like it! We'll call this an absolute favorite. Please don't worry about the spelling (is the ssss sound a 'c' or an 's'? and shus might be cous, cious, tous, tious....) you don't need to know how to spell the damn thing to use it in conversation.
Again, here are the runners-up: debauched, fast, indiscriminate, promiscuous.

Example #3 Wasted: To be EXTREMELY intoxicated from the use of alcohol or drugs. "That guy is so wasted, he can hardly stand up."

Befuddled. I like this word. It reminds me of Mary Poppins' Uncle Albert... remember? He's the one who laughed so hard then floated up to the ceiling! He always seemed a little "into his cups" to me, even before I knew what "into his cups" meant.
Tanked. Tanked? As in, he jumped into the vat of beer and came out drunk? Perhaps it was a shortening of an olfactory observation of the inebriated: he stank of the brew. Or maybe like the stock market "tanked" this time last year, it fell hard and fast, so if he's tanked he's a falling down drunk. Pick your favorite. I'll wait....
Inebriated. Definitely the most to the point. But as this word is most likely to appear on some sort of legal summons, we won't dwell on it. It's not a nice or friendly word. Descriptive, but not friendly.
Also rans: boozed up, plastered, tight, tipsy, totaled.

Example #4 Awesome: Something Americans use to describe everything. "Oh wow it's just awesome."

This is probably the most overused word in the American English Language. It's used to describe a dog, a sunset, a lucky beer-pong toss, a favorite song..... I could go on and on, but I won't. I'm almost as tired of this word as I was of the word empowered a few years ago when everyone thought Oprah was the best of the most socially conscious celebrities. Gag. Puke. Hurl. So let us, dear readers, replace this tired word with some others:

Breathtaking. Now. Really? Is there anything more descriptive as breathtaking? If something is so... so... whatever, that it literally takes your breath away, you can't get any better than that, right? However, cornball alert! If a man described anything about me as breathtaking, I'd roll my eyes, laugh at him (not with, mind you, at), and walk my breathtaking ass the other way.
Stupefying. I'm pretty sure this word fell out of favor because next to poor, the worse thing you can be in America is stupid. Wow, that sunset!! I was struck stupid! Mmmm. No. Care should be used when using this word. It's very specific and true perfection, when used in the correct sense. But, IF you are one to let the words roll off your tongue before you think about what you're saying.... stay well clear of stupefy.
Grand. We don't hear this one everyday, now do we? Unless we're talking about a grand piano, or the Grand Canyon. And on that thought: if anything is awe-inspiring enough to warrant the use of a replacement word for awesome, it's definitely the Grand Canyon. It's kind of like God or the Bible. You just don't dare write it without proper capitalization.
Second bests: mind-blowing, magnificent, imposing, stunning.

So, with all that said, I need to give props where they're due: I used one of my favorite reference sites, UrbanDictionary.com, as means to find contemporary definitions of all of the aforementioned words, as well as all of those appearing in my righteous new program SNOSETTA STONED.

For any of you out there whose current vernacular is somewhat bland and dated (you may be this man or woman if you still think knee-high tubesocks, high-fives, and "doin' the bump" are the height of hip), you should definitely visit UrbanDictionary.com and spend a few hours in 2009.

I also visited Thesaurus.com and Dictionary.com to find my alternatives. I find both of these sites to be awesome. Umm, magnificent and mind-blowingly grand, that is.

No ones' feelings were intended to be damaged, hurt, or otherwise offended by this blog or by any officer, writer, or representative of SNOSETTA STONED inc. If you believe you are a victim of this injury, please click here.

Oh, and P.S. If you didn't click that last link there, you might want to reconsider. Here's a second chance: No ones' feelings were intended to be damaged, hurt, or otherwise offended by this blog or by any officer, writer, or representative of SNOSETTA STONED inc. If you believe you are a victim of this injury, please click here. ...it's rather a clever little joke, if I do say so myself.

Winsome Smile - Chris Smither

STOP the H1N1 MADNESS!!!

2009-10-23T11:45:00.009-04:00

Ok, already people. Can we all just get over the H1N1 HYPE?? Influenza viruses have been part of our viral landscape for eons. Of course this is a new one, but... soooo?

Check out this little piece of information:

As of 17 October 2009, worldwide there have been more than 414,000 laboratory confirmed cases of pandemic influenza H1N1 2009 and nearly 5000 deaths reported to WHO.

That's just over 1% kids. You might think, "What're you nuts?? I don't wanna be that 1 in 100 to croak (or do the 'terminal snort' if you prefer)!" I can see your point, definitely, but now you have to check this out... in an average year, flu kills about 10% of its victims. Yes, TEN PERCENT. So now, you tell me... who's shysting whom?

And, interestingly enough, according to that same WHO update, "the U.S.A. is still reporting nationwide rates of Influenza-Like Illness (ILI) well above baseline rates." I find it hard to believe we are less healthy, more congested (in as much as mass of people in a certain area), or less health conscious than elsewhere in the world. I would say, if you're interested to know, the sheer fact that we are so incredibly and compulsively riveted to any information available about the swine flu that anyone with any of the several signs/symptoms of this illness runs, ney JETS, to their family doctor, pediatrician, or emergency room to be tested, and this is why we have higher rates of swine flu than anywhere else.

The idiocy of this last is obvious, to me, at least, and I'm not really all that smart: swine flu, like any other flu, is caused by a virus, and because of this there is little the medical community can actually do for a patient who is sick from it. There are antivirals available, but the problem with these are if you don't take it at the very beginning of symptom onset, it's not going to do any good! Flu is generally self-limiting, except in rare cases, and you'll be miserable in the middle of it, but most likely you're not gonna die. (And THAT, dear friends, is the only news report I'll be happy hearing on CNN, FoxNews, ABC, NBC, CBS, etc. etc. etc...)

So, with that all said, I will share this little personal fear with you... If by chance I do contract the dread swine flu, I'll probably die. I say this because, I'm pretty sure that if there is a hell, there is probably a very special place reserved for people like me, who dared to mock H1N1.

Oh, and also? I am at higher risk than most of getting the swine flu because I'm an ER nurse. I come in contact with lots of sick people every day. The sheer mass of those who have come in with aches, cough, and fever lately is mind boggling. I don't want to call them 'idiot', or 'scaredy cat', or 'zealot', but I can't help myself, at least in my head I can't. Besides, in a big picture kind of way I'm not all that worried about myself, because while H1N1 may be contagious, STUPID is not. I feel pretty safe :)

Oh, and P.S. In regard to the "not that smart" confession: I can hang, but I'm definitely not MENSA quality smart.
And also, P.P.S. Yeah, right! I just threw FoxNews in there for shits and giggles. I don't call that news, I call it the mouthpiece of the uber conservative, Limbaugh loving, closed-minded, minority party.
Finally, P.P.P.S. My personal opinion about the hype behind the H1N1 hype is this: our country is so economics driven, so if we SCARE everyone into getting the flu vaccine and H1N1 vaccine, it'll save lost time at work. Coercion of the unsophisticated masses. Plain. And. Simple. Aren't you glad I stayed off my high horse until now? Me too.

On Loosening Up…

2009-08-27T12:40:00.012-04:00

There are times in my life when I become what I like to call “wrapped too tight”. You see, I love the adrenaline rush I get at work when things are clicking right along, but that rush can turn into overload so easily. Like it has been lately. Whew. So I have come to the conclusion that what I need is to Loosen. Up.

A large part of my loosening up incorporates this newly re-found love of writing. It certainly relaxes me. It also gives me the creative outlet I completely lack in the ER. There are very few things I want to get out of bed for, but I’ll get up to write. And a really cool bonus of writing is I don’t even have to get out of bed to do it, if I don’t want. Now that’s my kind of multitasking!

I have a contest I’m entering, that’s also part of the loosening up plan. Although it doesn’t, at the surface, seem like a contest one might enter while unwinding, just hear me out:

I heard about this 72 hour novel writing contest. So I brainstormed with my favorite stormtrooper and came up with a really solid idea for a writable story in that timeframe. I’m working out character portraits now. And I am pretty excited about it. Especially since I finally found my schedule and confirmed that I am, in fact, scheduled off Labor Day Weekend. Sept 5, 6, and 7th I will be writing my tushie off!

So, no, it really sounds like anything BUT a relaxing Labor Day Weekend, I realize that.

However, I need a project to do so I can motivate myself to write. I guess it’s an exercise in loosening up my writing hand :) so to speak.

I have a kitschy idea for some stuff I plan to work on next. Actually, I have a lot of short-ish projects planned because my memory and attention span both work best when set on “short-term”.

In summary, the benefits of writing are several and varied:

it loosens up my ten upper phalanges.

it takes the edge off.

it gets the creative juices flowing.

Be Et.

P.S. Apparently, creative juice is like WD-40 for my tensions!
P.P.S. Ten points to whoever knows what phalanges are without wikipedia or otherwise searching :)
P.P.P.S. Kudos if you are one of the few who understand what "Be Et" means.

Lost and Found

2009-08-22T21:18:00.005-04:00

I have recently come to believe I have completely lost my mind. The last time I remember having it, I think was around early July, or so. That means the search area is probably somewhere between Dover and Bethany Beach, and as far west as Seaford.

A good description might help someone recognize my mind if it's wandering around looking for me. Or looking for shells, along the beach, like I did for a few hours when I was five or so. My mind and I are both good at wandering, apparently.

My mind is probably thinking something creative, but doubtful it's complicated. Simple is good. It has less steps.

I'm not sure how to describe what my mind looks like. I could say it's inside a smallish sized head. I don't know how much my mind "weighs" but one night at a friend's house we weighed everybodys heads. I don't remember how much mine weighed, but I think the heaviest head was around 10 lbs. It was a strange crowd. I think we did this because none of us knew how much a head weighed. It's been such a long time ago I don't remember :/ My mind has a really bad memory for details.

Hmmm, what else? The hair on my smallish head is dark brown, with only a couple strands of gray here and there. The hair is cut blunt. The cut suits my thin hair recognizably well: I've been told my hair looks thick. It must be the cut though, because I'm heading the way of my Grandma. She had just enough hair on her head when she got older to make a gray haze of hair. But my hair is still nice yet.

My mind is lots of other little things, but I think that's a good starting point. So, just do me a favor? If you happen across my mind, stop and tell me: "I'm allergic to everything but that di..di.. that really strong stuff." You'll know it's me if I snap my head around and give you a "cynical" look.

Oh, and P.S. After re-reading this, to see if it was even slightly entertaining, and also to check my spelling and that kinda crap, I've come to realize I miss my mind. Maybe I'll check to see if I Facebook messaged me.

And P.P.S If you're wondering how the weight of a human head could have come up in a casual "shootin' the breeze" kind of conversation? Yeah, I don't know how that kind of conversation always tends to surface.

Perspectives... skewed? or skewered??

2009-08-15T13:47:00.017-04:00

Did you ever meet someone who, no matter what he said, did or thought, his viewpoint was THE ONLY valid perspective? I once married a man like that... man was that fun. I was always wrong.

You may disagree, but I have to say.... OH NO! I was wrong. I really was. Still am. Wrong. Always. About everything. I have not one true or valid thought in my little dented head!

Even before that, though, peoples' perspectives always fascinated me. We all have our own personal, and very important, internal dialogue going on every second of every day. It's really not surprising that we come at life from such varying places on the spectrum of thought. Let's face it. We each are truly the center of our own little personal universes.

For example, and I have to call myself out on this one... I have a ridiculous case of road rage. Almost every single time I get behind the wheel of my "little blue jeep," I NEED anyone who is in front of me to understand the absolute importance of my time and let me by! Slow drivers drive me freakin' bananas. Drivers who don't pay attention to what's going on around them drive me CRAZY! Mostly because they obviously don't see that I'm ridin' their ass (hard) because I NEED to get by so I can be on my way and out from behind their slow-driving, road-hogging, idiot, minivan driving selves! (whew. I'm glad I got all that off my chest. And imagine... I'm not even driving right now!)

But that just goes to show you... I have a tiny space I occupy, but to me it's the most important space in the world. Happily, driving is one of the few things that turns me from little and fiesty to an absolutely ballistic personality!

Truthfully, though, I do try to put myself in other people's shoes purposely so that I can be a generally understanding and accepting soul. (ALWAYS remember this is NEVER true when I'm behind the wheel!) No, my parents weren't hippies, but they are both very accepting people.

My mom is accepting, I think, because of the environment she grew up in, which was very nontraditional in the ultra-traditional 1950's. She was always a little different and it made her gravitate toward those who were also. She became comfortable there and hence comfortable understanding and embracing the unusual. Besides, if you look up the definition of compassion (which is a major ingredient of acceptance) in the Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary, you will find a full-color glossy picture of my mom.

My dad is a little more difficult to understand, but in a nutshell, he is a scientist. Scientifically, for one entity to exist it must be true that it's equal and opposite must exist too. Yes, we're talking the old bell curve theory, which, if we're talking science, is really my favorite theory!

But back to my point: while my dad mostly exists somewhere in the middle of the bell curve, he understands that there are the "weirdos" who belong on the polar opposite ends of that same curve. I know "weirdo" is not overly politically corrrect, but I had to pick between that and "retard", which is my dad's other favorite descriptor for the "outliers." Anyway, dad thinks it's dumb to fight against the inevitable, so he just goes about his business, while accepting all the weirdos and retards of the world.

I am, actually, a pretty good conglomeration of my mom and dad and, therefore, I'm also generally accepting of differing ideas and perspectives and ways of being. I'm laid back and nonjudgmental with people, for the most part, because I like to be myself without worrying what someone else thinks about me. I try to do the same for other people too.

I do have a confession to make, though. Recently, I've come into contact with some characters who've deeply tested my acceptance of such a wide variety of perspectives:

The first was a patient of mine who came in to the ER because he woke up in EXCRUTIATING pain. This schmo rolled over in his sleep the wrong way and got a friggin crick in his neck. He also believed this "health problem" of his was severe enough to warrant emergency services. Now. Before you go thinking I'm a heartless bitch, let me explain. I recently had the same problem myself and, so, I know that YES it's miserable. However, I did not go to the emergency room to be fixed. NOR did I proceed to complain LOUDLY when I had to wait to be treated while my nurse and doctor treated 3 chest pain patients first. Oh yes he did! It was all I could do, as his nurse, to refrain from telling him to suck it up and quit being such a pussy!
Then there was the man who came in short of breath, oh and also in pain, because he'd missed his dialysis. Not once, but twice. Of course, he needed dialysis IMMEDIATELY, plus because his pain was also excrutiating (I'm pretty sure he rated it "f**king 20 on a scale of 1 to 10") he needed some dilaudid. And let's not forget that although he reached our ER around 3 p.m. he hadn't "f**kin' eaten anything all day" and called the hospital restaurant (mmm, that would be the dietary dept.) and ordered himself up a burger! Really. Yes. This honestly happened.
The patient who actually got me to thinking about perspectives was a lady patient who came in talking about Jesus and how he and her husband had devised a very intricate plan to kill her. Now that, dear friends, is a perspective that I have much compassion for, but of which I thankfully have NO real understanding. Poor thing was just beyond, beyond and way beyond any reality you or I could or would ever want to understand.
Finally, lest you believe that I only come into contact with "unusual" perspectives at work, here's one we can all relate to: How could Michael Jackson believe he still looked HUMAN, let alone like a brotha, strong black man, african american dude (however you choose to refer to brown-skinned men) for the last 10 or so years of his life? His nose was literally falling off his face. Talk about skewered perspectives... he could have used a skewer to pin his nose back on :)

Those examples aren't exactly a ringing endorsement for my open-mindedness, huh?

At least I never claimed to be perfect. I used to say I'm "practically perfect in every way" like Mary Poppins. I never got that flying with an umbrella trick down, but I have learned to be a little less obnoxious, so I don't make that claim any more.

Although I know it's not very Zen-like to try to be more accepting, because I should just be accepting, I will take this stance: I am a work in progress. I do my best. I know what's important to me in my own little self-important universe. I know I don't always live up to my goals. But I figure falling short helps me be more accepting of everyeone else's retarded, less-than-perfect perspectives.

Post Script: If you are wondering (1) why I have a dented head, (2) why I would publish that information in a blog, and last but certainly not least unusually (3) why I have a favorite scientific theory... you may want to stay tuned. I'll likely go into all that at some point in the very near future.

Post Post Script: On a MJ related note, I am lobbying the LEGO's corporation to produce and distribute for sale black and white only "Special Edition Michael Jackson" Legos. Color-change technology for the black pieces is one of the negotiating points I'm still working on, but we've all agreed that the set will be sold in glitter glove-shaped bags. I think it's a fitting tribute...

Cause? Or Effect?

2009-08-09T08:00:00.000-04:00

A good friend of mine, who writes a very funny blog by the way, has a theory about alcohol. It has mostly to do with the avoidance of brown liquors. At all costs. According to his own, very personal, research: brown liquor always brings out a mean drunk, or as he puts it "It doesn't get me drunk so much as it gets me arrested!"

Now, with the name Big Dirty, and with the years of intensive, and international, research Big Dirty has put into this project, I tend to believe this theory. But it got me to thinking:

Do different liquors really have different physiological effects on their drinkers? Or do the drinkers simply choose their poison based on a current mood or state-of-mind? To wit:

A couple of Fridays ago I left work after a long and exhausting day. I needed to kick back and unwind! So, I met Big Dirty and a couple of his buddies out for drinks. When it was my turn to "buy the next round" I got a couple of pitchers and then treated myself to a brimming shot of tequila! That's the kind of day I'd had. And, yes indeedy, it was just what the doctor ordered. (SIDE NOTE: I have my own theory about tequila, and it goes like this: tequila in general and frozen margaritas in specificity are NEVER a bad idea! Mmmmm.)

Yesterday, though, I got home after two painfully exhausting work days, which had followed the even more horrendous weekend before. Angry and frustrated were my best descriptors after all that... so, yea baby, I mixed me a Captain 'n Coke! If you ever happen to see me out and about, and I don't seem to be the pleasant, Pollyanna character I claim to be? Don't even bother to sniff my drink. It'll be Captain Morgan for sure!

Extremely fiesty? Argumentative? Chip on my nicely tanned shoulder?? Rest assured, I certainly had a Captain kind of day. It is, as Big Dirty would point out, a brown liquor after all.

Melancholy and emotional? Pinot Grigio.

Feeling sexy and shapely? That's Merlot!

Silly and funny? Sangria! (I'd do a cartwheel to prove it, but it's already been done. And far be it from me to heist someone else's schtik!)

Lastly, and by far not leastly: Beer. I lean toward ales myself. Ambers. Browns. On the lighter side there are tasty wheats...mmmm. But what I love most about beer, aside from the plethora of styles, is the variety of moods that it suits!

Bad ass and hangin' with the boys? Beer.

Social and chatty? Beer :)

Funny and quirky? Beer!

Girly and grinning? Yup! That's Beer too!

And after all that, is there a lesson? What exactly, kids, have we learned here today? I'd say there's probably a lot hidden between the lines, because I am a very deep and complicated soul. However, that's probably more bullshit than I'm willing to peddle today, so let's put it all in a nutshell like this:

The jury is still out on the cause or effect question. (Please add comments I'd love to know everyone else's thoughts and theories regarding this most important debate!)
I should maybe re-evaluate the importance of alcohol in my life.
Alcohol may not be the answer...but tequila and beer are always your best bet!

Post Script: I realize I didn't mention vodka in the above discussion. That's mostly because it's not a big favorite of mine, but I will drink it. So, I guess if I had to name a mood to suit vodka? It'd have to be a let somebody else pick kind of mood. Is that mood easy to get along with? Or just plain easy? Maybe Big Dirty has another theory on that one :)

Captivating

2009-08-07T10:05:00.002-04:00

According to the most recent Facebook quiz I've taken, the meaning of my name is "captivating".

Now, you should know up front: I am a geekiest of word geeks. It explains a lot about me and who I am in general and also in some very particular and unusual ways. I love words. I love the subtle nuances of words. I love the sound and shape of words. I, unfortunately, have a horrible vocabulary.

I'll blame this, like I blame many things, on my poor, poor memory. It's one of my two standard ducks (as in duck and run) when I fall short. The other, "I can't help it - I grew up in a houseful of boys!" may rate as an appropriate excuse for limited vocabular knowledge, but that one doesn't quite jive this time. Besides, my brothers get blamed for so many other fails on my part, I have to take responsibility for some of them.

Obama would be really proud of me.

But I digress.

As a word geek, I honestly did know the general definition of captivating, but I wanted to dig deeper, so I went to one of my most visited websites, Dictionary.com, to find out a little more.

I did this for several reasons:

The aforementioned geek in me yearned to
I really like to research stuff
I do know the general meaning of the word, so I figured I'd get a nice ego boost
Finally and probably most importantly, the word captivating brought to mind other related, but somewhat different, words: capture, captive, hostage, ransom...

This is how my mind works. Mysterious? Maybe not so much mysterious as enigmatic, perplexing, weird...

But I thought it was funny that a word that evokes women like Audrey Hepburn, and natural phenomena like the crash and rush of waves at the beach can also evoke such diametrically opposite images. How do you do that, English Language??

It's probably one of the reasons it's such a difficult language to learn. This fact is evidenced by the 14% of Americans who can't even understand it. It's not even a second language for them, for god'sake, unless, of course, you rate hick and redneck as languages unto themselves. But that is a discussion for another day, perhaps.

Back to captivating, though... Here's one more thought that popped into my mind: I'm quite sure I'd hate to be a hostage in any situation. I can't fathom being stuffed in a bamboo box for days, or being held at gunpoint and forced to do things I wouldn't ordinarily do, not to mention the lack of personal freedom of movement from place to place, thought to thought. It must be an excruciating existence. But, maybe. Just maybe? I might not so much mind it if I could really be such a captivating figure as Audrey and be captive while bodysurfing at the beach!

Nah. Probably not. Nevermind, universe.

Post Script: Kudos to you if you actually went to Dictionary.com to find that vocabular is, in fact, not a real word. I went there too, before I even finished that sentence. But I didn't really care because it described what I wanted it to describe quite rightly. Besides. Admit it. You understood exactly what I meant, didn't you?