Suppressed – Theme Friday

I feel suppressed and wound tightly into a knot of unsettled flesh – jittery synapse – chattering teeth. Folded over myself and fused into the mold of anonymity. Friends aren’t friends and enemies make odd overtures – like music out of time, steps out of sync.

We all have our own strange process for coping. The multi-leveled mirror that looks funhouse to others but logical to us. Chocolate cake. Road rage. Kick the cat. Clean the floorboards. Smile without mirth, grin with depression and mock those who look happy on the outside.

“It’s not forever.”  My mantra – and it leaks out of the side of my mouth when no one is listening. Pacing, my aerobics. Cigarettes and coffee my reassurance that I still exist.

And I fall to troubled sleep and dream of disaster. I wake to harsh sun and dread for breakfast. Still, I put one foot in front of the other as Mother taught me. I keep my head high to hide my low heart. I speak with confidence I do not feel but know will come back to me. Some day.

I was not made to obey a master. To punch a time clock. To travel with commuters en masse toward a dismal work-a-day life. I worry that people see that in me. That my secret is out. I strive to push me further down into my soul so I can continue to pretend until I don’t have to be a me that I am not.

Until then, I walk quietly with open ears and carry a big notebook.

What is suppressing Christine?

You Know You’ve Gotten Too Fat When…

Way back when I wrote this post, “You Know You’ve Gotten too Fat When…” It was very popular (go figure). Due to technical difficulties, among other things, the original post was lost. I try here to recreate it:

You know you’ve gotten too fat when:

1. Your closet is divided into fat clothes and skinny clothes and the skinny clothes are pretty dusty.
2. All your jeans have elastic in the waist and even those you can’t button.
3. The dishes rattle when you walk into the kitchen to get a snack.
4. Your room mate has put a padlock on the fridge and won’t give you the combination.
5. The lady at the airport check in counter gives you two boarding passes – one for you and one for your ass.
6. Your ass has its own zip code
7. When you attend dinner parties, the hostess always waits until you leave the table to offer seconds.
8. Your nickname is Godzilla
9. Cleveland won’t allow you entrance anymore because they are afraid you will eat it.
10. You’re ambidexterous – also known as a two-fisted eater.
11. Your ‘baby fat’ could supply enough fat for ten babies.
12. As soon as you get into your car it becomes an instant ‘low rider.’
13. At the last 5K run you registered 2.5 on the Richter Scale.
14. When you wear your yellow dress, people mistake you for a school bus.
15. The employees at Home Town Buffet cringe when you walk in the door because they know they don’t have enough food.
16. You’re on the McDonald’s ‘watch list.’

As usual, feel free to add to the list.

Writer Chick

Letters I’ll Never Send

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve found that writing down things that troubled me, helped. Something about the process of putting my worries, fears and thoughts to paper gave me perspective. Like opening a box whose contents you fear, once you actually lift the lid and see what’s there, it’s not so scary anymore.

Sometimes my life is very calm and smooth and that’s my preference – I’ve never liked conflict. I find it unsettling and disruptive. I like to be creative and enjoy life, especially the ordinary things that one would consider simple pleasures – the smell of blooming roses, the warmth of the sun on my arms, the sound of little children giggling, puppy dogs, kittens, a great cup of coffee – you get the picture.

Other times, life is a dark storm hovering over the horizon, threatening and bruising the sky with doubts and fears. It gives me such aches and pains. That clutch in my guts, the dread of opening my eyes in the morning, the fear of sleeping at night because I know the next day will be worse than the one that has ended. Not a pretty thing. Horrible, in fact.

When it gets really bad and I can’t still the noise in my head, I write. Sometimes I write a lot. I write down all the tempetuous conversations that rattle inside my head. I write letters to people who I need closure with, that I can’t get otherwise. And sometimes it works. Sometimes just the act of putting it all down and then shoving it into a drawer makes it settle down. I don’t know if other people do this or if I’m just the oddest of ducks, but for me – it works.

Rarely (if ever) do I send these letters, because these letters are for me. They are for my perspective. For my edification. For my clarity. Little boxes to put my demons into I guess you’d say, and I find that once I have them there I don’t need to release them upon the world. And that’s a good thing.

Posts I Never Did

 

When I first started blogging, I had so many ideas for posts floating around in my head that I started keeping notepads everywhere. My bag was packed with little scraps of paper that held true brilliance for the blogosphere. Now, not so much.

I don’t know, maybe it’s that I’ve been doing it for a while and I’ve said all I have to say – or life gets in the way – or the pressure is just too much. Hard to say. Though I usually come up with something to write about.

Sometimes though, you come up with ideas that just go nowhere – or refuse to let you write them – or are just too damn stupid to actually publish them on the Internet.

Here are a few that never made it to the post buffer and never will. And I’ll leave it to you and your imagination to figure out what the content of these posts could have been: 😆

1. Generally Freaked Out and Homicidal
2. Dead Cat Casseroles
3. Pimples – The New White Meat
4. Smut Among the Daffodils
5. Telemarketers I Have Loved
6. I Hear That – And It’s Pissing Me Off
7. Born to be a Prison Bitch
8. My Night With Mel Gibson
9. Zelda’s Academy Award Party
10. Daughtry – Bald, Bag of Angst or….Rock Star?
11. The Loser Gene
12. Bubbles in my Pants
13. Ten Things to do With a Dead Spouse
14. My Favorite Diseases

Now, I know that many of you out there have a few titles of your own. So…give. 😉

WC

Ode to the Bots

 

(apologies to Simon & Garfunkel) 

Hello spamo, my old friend
I’ve come to rub you out again
Because your numbers softly creeping
Sent your bots while I was sleeping
And the garbage that was planted on my blog
really clogs
Within the bounds of comments

In cyber space I walked alone
Virtual streets of big orange cones
‘Neath the halo of my desk lamp
I turned my eyes from the crap you stamp
When my site was stabbed by a flood of a teen delight
That piqued my spite
And breached the bounds of comments

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand spamo’s, maybe more
Hackers talking without speaking
Goobers hearing without listening
Losers sending links that bloggers never share
And who’ve declared
You can’t disturb the bounds of comments

“Pigs,” said I, “You do not know
Askimet will not let the cancer grow
Read my posts that I might teach you
Take the hint so I might reach you”
But my words, like silent cowpies fell
And echoed
In the wells of splogdom.

And the losers bowed and prayed
To the porno gods they made
And the filter flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, “The words of the slimeballs are written on the bathroom walls
And loser’s balls”
And cannot enter the bounds of comments.

Let’s All Do The Rant

 

When I was a kid and for much of my adult life, I was shy. I know, nobody ever believes me when I tell them this but it’s still true. In fact, when I was a kid I was just shy of being afraid of my shadow. I hardly ever spoke, certainly not to people outside of my family and my few little friends.

I don’t know why, my family wasn’t particularly quiet or reserved, we didn’t have butlers and grand aunts commanding particular modes of behavior. Perhaps I just preferred to sit back and listen. Make myself invisible and watch, like a spy on a secret mission.

I’m certain it is one of the things that sent me in the direction of writing. Because despite my lack of verbosity (is that a word?), I had thoughts…millions of them, ideas, images, dreams. Yes, they were all there and not being spoken. The blank page became my best confidant and may be still.

As I have lived life, had some experiences good and bad, grown more confident in who I am, all that good stuff, I’ve become much more verbal. Not much of a surprise, eh? And thanks to blogging, I have learned the fine art of ranting. Now, this is not to say that I didn’t rant before I became a blogger, sure I did. But I really didn’t have the technique and discipline down. I was all over the place. I was here and there and every fricking where. Also, my voice would rise higher and higher as I reached the all important point. To be honest, not too impressive.

But…in my little dive of a blog I’ve learned to keep my voice level, make my points, use humor and even anger (sometimes) and even edit to drive my rant home.

But I see other friends/bloggers who are in the place I used to be. Not wanting to say the wrong thing. Somehow tarnishing their image as the nice person or considerate person or the one everyone likes because they are just so very kind. The ones who are just dying to rant. Dying to scream at the top of their lungs. Let out all the complaints, real and imagined. Bitch, moan, harp, cry, whine and drama-queen, without fear of rejection or reprisal.

So, here’s your chance. Want to rant? Yeah? Go for it. Right here. Right now. Whatever is on your mind. I don’t care. I give this space to you, my friends and fellow bloggers. Let her rip. Have a ball. I promise you’ll feel much better afterwards.

WC

An Answer For Everything…

 

When I was a kid, my mom used to say I always had an answer for everything, which was code for ‘you’re such a smart aleck’ but I enjoyed nonetheless.

Well, this isn’t really a post about that though.

Debi of Ms Crankypants has posed three questions for me to answer -an off-shoot of the whole Alabaster Crippens meme – and I decided to answer them here.

So here goes:

1) What event from your childhood or teen years still has a lasting effect on you to this day?

This is a tough one because it is quite personal. But what the heck… When I was about 12, I was very excited because I had managed to save a good deal of money for Christmas gifts. I really wanted to buy something special for my mother. So, I really budgeted the money for the other gifts on my list so I’d have enough left over to buy her a real gold cross on a chain. She had mentioned many times how she had wanted one and I was thrilled that I was going to be able to give her one. I bought the cross, tiny though it was and on a very delicate chain, it was still 14k gold and I couldn’t wait for Christmas day to arrive.

After weeks of agonizing waiting Christmas day arrived and I gave her the gift. Beside myself with anticipation. When she opened it, she cried and I was elated that she was so touched. But then she said, ‘It’s so small. Is that all you think of me, to give me something so small?’ (or words to that effect). I was crushed of course and disappointed. And I think I tried to explain to her but honestly, it’s a bit of a blur what was said after that point.

At the time, I thought she was being mean. Or maybe that she just didn’t love me very much or less than my brothers and sister. And I vowed I would never buy her anything that would ever enter the area of ‘special’ again because I couldn’t bear that kind of reaction from her again.

But in retrospect, I don’t think she was being mean. I think that she had many insecurities and self doubts. And that for some reason that necklace reinforced those insecurities and doubts. That in her mind, it validated her fear that she didn’t matter. And to me, that is even sadder that my mother wouldn’t know how much I was trying to please her and make her happy.

It has always affected my relationship with her and I’ve always felt tenuous with her and worry whenever I have to buy her a gift or send her a card. I try to pretend that it doesn’t matter but it does. She has a birthday coming up and I spent days trying to find something to send her that I thought she would like. I settled on something but I have little hope she’ll like it. I know she’ll say she does but…

Anyway, that’s the answer to that one.

2) What is the purpose of imagination and where does it come from?

I believe the purpose of imagination is to bring about the future. Without imagination, we would not have any of our modern technology, music, art, literature – artists are the dreamers of our society and they through their art dream and bring into reality products of their imaginations.

3) What book would YOU want to have written, and why?

Without question I would have wanted to write Atlas Shrugged. There are several reasons why. I strongly identified with Dagny Taggert, a true individual who did not care what others thought of her and was guided by her own conscience and values, despite incredible influences to act otherwise. She would not compromise her beliefs or ideals. Also, I believe it is one of the most important books ever written because it makes the case that we are each responsible and accountable for our actions or inactions and that no one is owed a living, wherewithall, possessions, or status that is not earned. To me, a definitive text of the 20th century and modern society. And probably most importantly, because it was an elegant and flawlessly written story that continued until it was truly over. Rather than ending on a specified page count.

Well Debi, there you have it. That was interesting… 😉
WC

What Would the World Be Like Without You?

 

As I’ve said probably too many times – I love the movie, It’s a Wonderful Life. Because I love the premise – What would the world be like without you? To me, that is a fascinating concept.

I mean, think about it – how many lives do you touch during the course of your life? How many times have you intervened without giving it a second thought – and possibly saved someone’s life? Stopped someone from doing another harm. Made someone laugh and change their mind about taking some dark course. Encouraged someone so much that they went on to succeed at something they might not have ever tried?

Like the lady I saw looking at peanut butter at the grocery store. I didn’t know her, I’d never seen her before in my life. Yet, I was compelled to say ‘make sure that isn’t one of those brands they found with semonila  (sp) in it.’ Now why did I say that? Was there some perception on my part that the food would hurt  her? Did I instinctively know she shouldn’t eat the dang peanut butter? As it turned out, she didn’t buy it and thanked me for saying that.

Or the kid I chased down the street to give a sandwich to because I knew he was living on the street and was hungry. Maybe he didn’t try to steal money from an old lady later that day because he didn’t need to. I don’t know and I’m not trying to make myself out as some sort of hero – not at all. I’m just an average person who tries to live as a decent human being, despite my rants and the things that aggravate me. I try to help people. To encourage people. It’s so much easier to give love than to withhold it. To help than to harm.

I don’t know what the world would be like if I weren’t in it. I don’t know if anyone would notice that something was missing. Maybe so. Maybe not. But I wish I could be like George Bailey and get a 24 hour period where I could see my life without me in it. I suspect it would make me much more grateful than I am, for all the many things in my life that I take for granted. And perhaps there’d be a few surprises that would make me feel differently about me.

I guess my point is that we all (too often) feel small and powerless in the world. And maybe even feel as though our efforts don’t matter in the greater scheme of things. But I think they do. I think that the aggregate of our small acts of kindness, love, help and awareness are part of the greater scheme of things. And without them, the world is a smaller place. We are all special and important in some way, to those we know, those we encounter and even those we don’t know.

So, what about it? What do you think the world would be like without you? I really want to know.

WC

Is Blogging Meant to be Therapy?

 

You know I haven’t been at this blogging stuff for very long – a few months – though it seems more like years. Or really it seems like something I’ve always done. Perhaps it is, in a way, as a writer I’ve always had these sort of running dialogues ripping through my mind and occasionally they ended up on paper or computer screen.

They are often seem endless. Non-stop, going at the speed of light thoughts that are questions, ponderings, annoyances, wonder, shock, stupor…you name it – it’s in there. Then suddenly…nothing. Yep, it all stops and I feel a kind of statis. As though my mind simply went on vacation and really I’ve said or thought every thing there is to say or think and well stick a fork in me cuz I’m done.

Still, even when I’m in that empty-headed state I still feel the urge to express thoughts, ideas, points of view. Is it arrogance on my part? That I believe that my thoughts are so important that I must commit them to paper and publish them on the Internet, or (so the dream goes) in books and magazines, newspapers? I mean, really, what is so special about me that I  have the irrepressible(sp) urge to force my views on others? Am I forcing or am I simply looking for a meeting of the minds across the great spatial divide of cyberspace? Am I looking for understanding, agreement or just a safe, warm place to rest my weary head? Could be all of the above or none of the above.

Are bloggers really just writers who have turned to technology to get their message out? Or are we all just a bunch of losers who need to air our problems, concerns, insecurities and little life tragedies just to feel okay about ourselves?

 I wonder, I really do wonder about this stuff. Particularly on days when I don’t feel especially funny or witty. See, in case you missed it that is my thing. Don’t know why but really I live to make people laugh. I would go through just about anything to put somebody in hysterics. Do you think that is a sterling quality or a character flaw? I don’t know. Do you?

During my short adventure as a blogger I have read and visited many blogs. Many more than I ever would have thought I could or would want to. Initially I think it was curiosity. Like, gee there are bagillions of blogs out there and there must be something to this stuff, you know? I mean jeez everybody seems to be doing it – maybe if I read enough of them, I’ll know why.

But despite my research and reading and following and discovering of the many blogs I’ve found and stumbled upon, I still am no closer to answering that curiosity than I was the day I started.

When it comes to blogging it seems there is something for everyone – knitters, political junkies, writers, poets, dancers, artists, musicians, geniuses and idiots alike. But in the greater scheme of things does it really contribute to the oneness of the allness of the human community? Or are we all just trying to vent enough to get through the day without committing murder and mayhem? Trying to get by the things in our lives that disappoint and baffle?

I know in my case sometimes the only thing I had to look forward to was blogging later in the day. Or at least responding to comments from readers. That little burst of joy I felt whenever I saw I had a comment on something I’d written. But why? Do I need that validation from readers? Is it important? Is it silly?

If I pulled the plug tomorrow on my blogs would it matter? I mean truly – would it change a thing other than for me? LOL – I’m just totally lost on this topic. Cuz I really don’t know.

And  honestly, I don’t have a big bang up ending for this entry – so I guess I’ll just leave you guys with the questions for now. Hopefully somebody has some insight or at least a couple of funny come-backs.

Later kids.

WC

Really Stupid Shit Part Deux

I know you’ve all been out there waiting with baited breath for a sequel to this really popular post because when you get right down to it, you just can’t get enough stupid shit. But I like to change things up lest I end up in a rut, so rather than favorite stupid shit – I think we’ll go with annoying stupid shit this time out.

Ready? Good. Here we go

Stupidest remaining Idol Contestant: Tie. Sanjaya the bad singer with the good hair and blindingly white smile – who couldn’t sing if his life truly depended on it. He is only still on the show because weeping pre-teens can’t tell the difference between love and their impending hormones. It’s sweet in a real icky kind of way. But I hate to break it to you folks, he is one of the Top Ten. Any arguments that maybe they should have stopped at season 5?

The other ‘idol’ vying for the title is Chris Sligh (Sly? Are you kidding?) who is the self-appointed “Taylor” contestant for this year. He acts like a dark horse (he thinks), sings the same songs/material as Taylor (tries to Christ-i-cize it?) and just goes off key and nasal, does the fro thang, strolls through the crowd but looks like he wants to slap them out of his way rather than interact. Oh and his fans are calling themselves the Fro-Patrol. Excuse me while I puke. This kid is about as sincere as Paris Hilton while she is hanging out with her girlfriends’ boyfriends unchaperoned. He is the biggest phoniest jackass of a contestant I’ve seen on the show. I’ll bet the voice isn’t really his – he probably pipes it in through his ass from some high tech Ipod mike accessory. Pass the barfbag.

Stupidest Title for a movie – Mimzy or some shit. I don’t CARE if it is good. You just don’t call a movie Mimzy if you expect anyone over the age of three to go see it. Hey Joe, see any good movies lately? Oh yah Marge and I saw Mimsy – it was really fabulous. Jeez – come on!

Stupidest Talk Show Host: Rosie O’Donnell. What her producers seem to be missing is that talk show hosts are supposed to encourage the guests to talk. Not to slap them, gag them and force feed them their personal, commie, leftie, eco-whacko, insane-o views. Or am I missing something?

Stupidest TV Show: Oh there are soooooooo many but let me pick one from the new batch of shows. Now, mind you I am not going after any reality shows since in my mind they really aren’t tv shows but more like amatuer contests that are televised. No, I’m going after real, shows that are supposed to be real. Okay – Studio Sixty. I mean, hello? What the frick are they thinking here? First of all is Amanda Peet really going to go for Bradley Whitford? The guy has a huge head, it’s even a little scary. Imagine that coming at you ladies for a little good night smooch. Oh yeah. And then Matthew Perry is so schizoid he needs at least 10 offices for all his personalities and the girl he is supposed to be in love with is just too normal to ever really be attracted to a malignant narccissist like him and all his self-righteous spewing crapola. And remember folks, this is supposed to be a comedy, which means funny, right? While really all they are doing is tripping over themselves to spout whatever political ‘message’ is cool and p.c. and see who can talk the fastest. In a phrase it SUCKS!

Stupidest Rock Star: Hands down Bono: Where oh where do I begin? Okay, first of all is he really even that good of a singer? He is ugly as sin – so ugly in fact, he has to wear sunglasses everywhere he goes so the ugly rays do eat the flesh from his face and that of his fans. But what really makes him suck is this pompous, sanctimonious world peace faux world leader act of his. Does he really think anybody (who doesn’t want to get free tickets to rocks concerts populated by other pompous egotistical rock stars) is even remotely interested in his world plan? Sorry bub, but you actually have to get elected by people who know they are electing you, in order to have a say in what my country is going to do about anything. And by the way champ, get the hell out of the U.S. and U.S. affairs, who the hell asked you? How do you get off even hinting at what my tax dollars should be spent on? How dare you take my tax dollars and take credit for what they buy. Kiss my grits, dude. Big time.

Stupidest shit people do to their kids: A picture                             

is worth a thousand words. It’s not bad enought that this child is probably going to be raised by some doped up biker dude and biker chick, they have to turn him into some sort of mini me before he can even learn the words to protest. This mirror image approach to child rearing is just another disease of the yuppified self-absorbed. They don’t want to have children for the joy of having them and raising them to be their own man or woman – but rather they want to raise little clones of themselves so that they will be immortal.

Stupidest phrase: Politically Correct. What in the hell is correct about talking gibberish. I mean under what set of rules, grammar or otherwise does any of this doubletalk even begin to be correct? As for politics – we all know politics are lies and run by the lying liars who lie to get into office. So if something is politically correct isn’t the translation something like perfect lying?

Stupidest Shoes: Those sneakers that are really skates, no they are sneakers no they are skates, no they are sneakers that are skates – they are two, two, two shoes in one. What they are is an accident waiting to happen. It’s bad enough some fool came up with the idea but people are putting them on 6 year old who barely have enough sense not to play in the street much less navigate skating shoes down shopping market aisles . Which of course they don’t and they run smack into you and glare as though you are the cause of all their unhappiness. Between junk food, computers, Ipods and the fact that poor little Johnny shouldn’t have to actually walk to anyplace in the world (not even bed) this ain’t helping in the fight against adolescent obesity.

Stupidest Disease: Again, sooooooooooooooooo many to choose from but let’s go after restless leg syndrome. I mean, come on is this really a disease? From what I’ve read it’s just a magnesium deficiency, which I’d guess you could fix by taking magnesium. Why does every little thing that happens have to be a disease or a genetic defect? Why in the hell isn’t there one damn thing that people are supposed to be responsible for?

Stupidest News Story: The paternity of Ana-Nicole’s daughter. Come on folks, is this really news? I mean are things out there in the big, wide world, so easy going and calm and uneventful that who fathered an aging sex symbol’s daughter gets the headline banner. Not just once but for weeks? Really? So, like world hunger, world peace, tornados, beheadings, none of that takes precedence? Just what I thought all journalists are pussies and idiots who didn’t get their parents’ moneys worth on those fancy prep schools they all attended.

Other things that are just plain stupid pisser offers:

1. People who are too afraid to drive their cars. These are the folks who cause accidents and claim to be in them.

2. Claiming the price of gas is all because of the evil oil companies, with no mention of the taxes, initiatives, regulatory fees and every other little piece of garbage that is added to the price of gasoline which is hidden. No…let’s not tell the truth, let’s blame the guy that provides the goods.

3. Property taxes. Explain something to me, if you own something why would you pay someone else a tax for owning it? What Einstein thought this one up and why the hell does anyone pay it?

4. Giving anyone too young to pay for one on their own, a cell phone. What is the matter with parents today? They give 8 year olds cell phones and Ipods and then wonder how they get hit by cars. Aren’t kids absent-minded enough, you really have to give them things that will completely blot out the world around them? Why not just invest in that Matrix Condo Development now?

5. That cashiers can’t count. You know a bagillion years ago I worked as a waitress and often had to take money at the cash register. So if the bill was $2.26 and they gave you a five so you would count their change back to them like this: 27,28,29,30, 40,50,75, $3, $4, and $5. These days, they take the receipt and pile the bills and the change on top of that and jam it into your hand while peeking at the register to see how much they gave you. Not to mention the fact that they expect you to get the hell out of the way because the guy behind you is about ready to explode because you want to put your change back in your wallet before you grab your bags.

6. Restaurant workers who don’t speak english or have such a difficult time speaking it you cannot understand a word they say – especially at the drive through window. Sorry, but if you’re in America I believe you must speak English well enough to be understood – because if you can’t speak my language do you really think I’m going to trust in the fact that you’ll get my order right or my change? Get real.

7. The cigarette police, the fat police, the second hand smoke police (take your pick) they are the self-appointed assholes who must save society from itself while getting a whole of power for themselves too. Personally, I’m holding out for the bullshit police. I’d love to have some yahoo come along and save all of us from the bullshit that we’ve had shoveled on us from day one. I mean, have you ever asked yourself why it is that despite the trillions of dollars that have been donated and funded into heart disease, cancer, AIDS and so on that there is still no cure for any of it? Don’t you wonder why? Seriously? I’ll tell you why – it’s because they are now cottage industries that hire tons of people who would actually have to find work if cures were found. Most of that money never gets to the level of those who honestly want to find cures or solutions – it gets stuck at the administrative level. Please go save someone who needs saving and leave me alone. I am willing to accept responsibility for my actions.

8. Social Security and Medicare: Is there anyone of my generation out there who has any dillusions that they will collect one cent of the social security and medicare we have funded over our working careers? Anybody? Cuz if so, I have a bridge in Brooklyn you might want to take a look at.

Alrighty then, that’s about all my wee brain can come up with today. Feel free to add to the list.

WC