Semi-Daily Scribbles

From Camels to Humans

Thoughts are ordered in No Particular Order. It's .. they are like reading a book by landing on random pages "and just going with it." Timeline? A logical sequence of events? THEME! All are about as useless as peanut butter without bits of said legume embedded within. Or like ... please explain to me the narrative thru-line of your life, why don't you? No easy feat, that. Our brains flit from factoid to face to that tingling in one's feet to what's her name to ... what was the subject again? We slosh about in our thought soup daily and still we're able to hold down jobs and pack the kidlets off to school and pray to whichever Belief System we are the most comfortable believing in that one of these days we (the entire world's population, I'm thinking) don't just wake up one morning to the news that this novel-bugger-this-or-the-other carries with it a 40.3% case fatality rate.

Stories We Tell Ourselves

Storytellers and makers of beautiful things sometimes deal with the downside of creativity. Maybe this next bit will come off as triggering, but artists don't always have an easy time on this rock. For some, these trips around the Sun are white-knuckle rides. One way or another, we all stick around for as long as we can, so it's best to focus on the joy and memories and stories and beauty that's been left for the rest of us to hold in our hearts.

Dogged Determination

Ditch the rose-tinted spectacles because clearly, as a society, we are failing one another. We can do better, yeah? Doesn't seem we want to, friend. Therefore, goals for 2018:

1.) Stay in my lane.
2.) Harm no one.
3.) Count myself lucky to have Brown Earth Dog as my co-pilot.

Oust About

Dudes are getting in trouble for being dudes. The rest of us are scrambling to fill the  positions from which said dudes (Tastemakers!) get ousted. What will the world look like when power is shifted? We are still humans, after all.

Can I raise my hemline and my vibration at the same time without inciting a sense of ill ease? Live & Let Live doesn't come naturally when fleshy needs scream to be soothed. Our little lizard brains will keep us chasing tail until the day we die.

Testing in Progress

Happy New Year! Here's what needs some meditation thrown at it: Why is life unfair? I asked a pal to show me the silver lining on a day (yesterday) when one privileged bitch (me) was having a challenging moment (inconsequential office shenanigans.) With disaster smashing the planet, I do not have a right to feel put-upon and bunchy. Even so ... Life is Not Fair. Why is that? I have EVERYTHING and yet I complain. Those less fortunate than I am get hammered and trampled in myriad ways. Many have lost what little they had, or are dead, as I scribble these words in a notebook I found on the sidewalk in front of my house. Yeah - I own a house. Grateful, I am, but man if I don't act like a self-absorbed ass half the time. And all the while life is still unfair. There is Sense and Meaning behind the headlines, right? Or are we merely existing inside Virginia's Silver Globe?

No Good Reason

A bromide that sets my teeth on edge is Everything Happens for a Reason. It's insensitive to use that phrase in the aftermath of Hurricane Harvey, but it's because of this deadly storm that I'm thinking about why we tell ourselves the things we tell ourselves. If we say a sentence, do we understand the meaning? Do we believe the message that comes from an innocuous string of words? How do I process Everything Happens for a Reason after I've read this?

Thursday's Ponderous Thoughts

Is Height-Weight Proportionate a thing anymore? I'm curious because I've been called out for my shape-size-stature (all 160 centimeters of me) in recent years. I never heard comments regarding my shape-size-stature back in the days when ... well, more people were HWP. I'm not even sure I understand what Body Positivity means. I am positive I have a body (which is a cumbersome thing, by the way), but I reckon the term means self-acceptance. I do believe you need to love yourself because humans are flimsy creatures and to whom/what they claim loyalty frequently shifts. Just because you refrain from berating yourself, however, doesn't give you license to kill yourself with kindness. Want to make changes in how to navigate this life? You know what to do.

 

Anyway, back to me. I've decided not to feel guilty anymore when I wear my size S clothing. I won't get defensive when called Stick Woman, or when my boss comments on the fact that I "obviously don't eat." I have more important things with which to be concerned. And so do you.

Oh, beautiful ...

Trump.
Not my first choice, let me tell you.

If you have your shit together and house in order, whoever occupies the Oval Office will have minimal effect on your day-to-day. If you struggle to put food on the table, Trump will have minimal effect on your day-to-day.

We are all plunged into a stupefying alternate reality / parallel dimension / bizarro world / episode of The Twilight Zone.

Pray to the old gods and the new, and *don't touch that dial, America.

*<insert old fogey reference as desired>

xxxooo

Gen X here and I'm not grumpy. I'm happy we're no longer a hot topic of conversation, although I understand many of my compadres are now referred to as sandwiches. The way I see it, there are lots of people older and younger than I am who do a bang up job of chasing after spotlights and seeking relevancy. I wholeheartedly support their choices. And now we've come to it: Choice. I choose simple and less. I choose oatmeal and books. I choose to be thankful as I type these sentences and feel at peace that today's little riff is mostly nonsense. The fact that I am incredibly lucky to have a roof and loved ones and a small furry mammal is never taken for granted. Gratitude isn't sexy but it keeps my head screwed on properly. It doesn't matter what letter or label is pinned to your chest. Gloom just isn't part of the deal.

Hot Potato

What Edwina did was write a 19th century-style novel praising the CTW and readers never noticed or didn't care. The easily impressed and highly enthusiastic masses cried: This book is amazing! However, when one's main character is emotionally dependent on others, intellectually incurious, and ill-equipped to think critically, we may as well root for the potted dieffenbachia in the corner of the protagonist's living room. Meaningful, thought-provoking narrative does a body good, but it also seems to be an acquired taste. Life's bitter moments often teach us a more valuable lesson than the sweet and quick fix of a happy ending that goes down smooth as butter. But what defines 'happy?' What is 'The End' and how does one get there? Why the hell, in 2015, do we cling so tenaciously to gender stereotypes? Don't bother asking Edwina.