Quicksand

I can't seem to get anything accomplished lately. My life appears to be a series of abrupt starts derived from good intentions that fizzle out more quickly than a cheap sparkler on the 4th of July. I'm even terrified to create a "to do" list because I'm just not strong enough to deal with that kind of disappointment right now.

I'm completely unmotivated and worn out but there are things that MUST be done. Things with deadlines attached to them. Things that, if left unfinished, will have serious repercussions.

Yet, here I remain. I sit and I think. I plan and I plot. I try to generate some energy, determination, something, ANYthing that will pull me up off my ass. I'm so slow molasses could lap me in a race. Congress would laugh at my work ethic. But I remain here in my quicksand without the slightest desire to pull myself out.

In the event you are unable to comprehend my current state of lethargy, here's a little song.  Want to hear it?  Here it goes:

Lazy Bones

Today is March 24th

She distractedly tears off pages on her daily calendar, something she hasn't even glanced at in at least two weeks.  Through the foggy vision of fatigue, she glances at today's date: March 24th.  A slight intake of breath makes its way through her raw throat and into her aching lungs.  Is it really March 24th?  How could it have arrived so quickly?

But it doesn't matter at what speed time has chosen to travel, it only matters that it is now March 24th and no matter how she is feeling, this date can not be ignored or brushed aside.  She knows she has little ability in her current physical state to properly honor this dearly loved day but honor it she must.  Her body groans in protest at the thought of any action, having been grossly overworked by the slavedriver better known as Sickness.  She pays no attention.

Her brain, heavy with medication, stutters to life as her heart whispers softly to it, "Hurry, today is March 24th.  It is an important day."

She thinks back to other special days and smiles.  She has not always done everything in its proper order but somehow things find a way of working themselves out. 

She smiles as she feels her heart flutter in excitement.  There is just no way this day could pass without being acknowledged. 

What is March 24th?

It is not the day she found the other half of her heart.  The half that filled an emptiness that she was unaware even existed until she felt the fullness within her.  No, it isn't that day...

March 24th is the day that other half of her heart was born.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HUBBY...sorry I got you sick.

A Cure for What Ails Me!

I received an award from a great Blogger.  Who, you ask?  The award comes from Nubian whose blog consists of the type of humor and wit I strive for but rarely accomplish with the same skill.  Check it out HERE.

http://nubian66.blogspot.com/

 It comes with rules of course but I must beg off since I am just too damned sick to abide by anyone's rules at the moment.  Here are seven random things about me from a prior award HERE.

I am supposed to forward this to 15 bloggers but I just can't handle that right now so here's 1:

1)  The most versatile Blogger/ Human Being I know is Nikki.  She worked the race car syndicate, she lives on a boat (a boat!), she is a roller derby girl, she blogs, she vlogs, she does it all.  I'm sure you already know her, she's much better known than I but if not, check her out.

No one else fits the bill as well as she does so...here's to you Nikki, the most versatile Blogger in the blogosphere.

Please, some water?

The young woman rides along in a flashy convertible that leads the motorcade through the crowded streets.  She sees her fans as they surge forward, trying to get a glimpse of her.  She waves and smiles and thinks, "I am famous."

_____________________________________

She steps out of a limousine onto the red carpet.  Cameras flash all around her and people shout her name, hoping to get her attention.  Her peers applaud as she makes her way into the theatre.  She smiles and poses and thinks, "I am adored."

______________________________________

The giant doors open at her arrival and she enters the palace.  Royalty and heads of state are there to greet her.  Servants scurry about to take her wrap and hand her a champagne flute.  The room is full of some of the wealthiest and most powerful people in the world and they are here in her honor.  She smiles and nods and thinks, "I am respected."

______________________________________

The explosion hit as she was leaving her home. It blew her into the street.  She wakes up to flashing cameras and people crowding around her.  She smiles for them and tries to speak but her throat is full of smoke and ash.  She lifts up a little and beckons one of the photographers closer, steadying herself on his arm and manages to whisper hoarsely, "Please, some water?"  The photographer shakes her hand off, straightens and continues to take pictures.  She looks around her, at the hungry faces of the photographers and the eagerness of the crowd as they clamour for a closer look at her.  She rests her head on the sidewalk, closes her eyes and realizes, "I am alone."

It's happening again. Thieving Bastards!

I am trying my best to be understanding and flexible about this. Really.  I swear.

Okay...not really.

Every single year this happens.  Those bastards steal what's rightfully mine and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it.  I can't fight the government.  Well, I could but I would most likely lose and I'd much rather bitch to all of you.

This is a very short post because, well, I simply can't afford a longer one.  I'm sure you're all fully aware of the problem as most of you are fellow victims:

That's right folks...DST starts this weekend.  An hour of our lives will be stolen from us.  We'll be older, delirious from lack of sleep, and for the next few days, we won't be sure if the clock we're looking at is correct or not.  (Did I change the clock over the stove?  What about in my car?)  All in all, there will be mayhem and confusion for all as we try to figure out time zone adjustments even with the knowledge that we are an hour closer to death:

 

I can prove it's a conspiracy.  If it were to our benefit in some way, wouldn't this time change occur at around three or four pm on a Friday so we could enjoy leaving work an hour early?  Nope, this is done over the weekend.  They come like thieves in the night.  Stealing precious moments from our lives.  An hour from each of us. 

How much total time do they collect and what do they use it for? When they return it in the Fall, it's not the same.  We give them a brand new hour and they return a used one.  Shouldn't we get two hours back, for depreciation alone?  How about an hour and a half?

Okay, I'm done now, seeing as how my time allotment has already been exceeded by at least five minutes.  Sorry about that.

Loved but Lazy!

Guess what?  I have discovered that my style is greatly admired throughout the blogosphere.  How do I know this?  Well, I'll tell you.  The Style Diva better known as Vicki at Glitter Frog has presented me with my second, that's right SECOND, stylish blogger award:

Very fitting, don't you think?  Since I received this just recently, here's a link meeting all the rules:  My First Stylie.

I guess I can forward it now but there is no way I can come up with 15 bloggers so I give this award to someone who isn't new but who I have recently come to enjoy reading quite a bit: Trooper Thorn.  He actually has four blogs which I find absolutely bewildering but I enjoy this one in particular.  Go read him, he's hilarious.

A Guide to Lent: Fat Tuesday, Ash Wednesday and Fasting

Happy Fat Tuesday everyone!  For those of you that weren't aware of this, Fat Tuesday is the day before the Lenten Season starts.

Lent is the time of year when we are supposed to prepare ourselves for Holy Week, which of course includes the celebration of Easter.  We are supposed to prepare our souls through prayer, alms giving, penitence, fasting, and self-denial.  It's a very religious time for most Christians...

...so, guess what we do the day before all of that starts?  That's right, Fat Tuesday!  A day of pure decadence.  We're supposed to eat food high in fat, drink heavily, flash our boobs, make out with and/or fight with random strangers in the street.  It's kind of like the last chance to get some sins in before we have to behave ourselves (at least for the next 40 days or so).  For those of you that don't practice Lent, you don't know how long 40 days is when you're behavior is restricted.  I don't know about the rest of you but I usually flash my boobs at least once a week!

Anyway, a friend of mine has decided to help me with a Public Service Announcement to help you from over-indulging this Fat Tuesday:

Thanks Tuesday!  I owe you one.

Once you've made it through Fat Tuesday with some measure of decorum (You can thank me later), it is then time for Ash Wednesday.  On Ash Wednesday, as a sign of our repentance, we go to church and receive ashes on our foreheads in the sign of the cross and we leave the ashes on all day, without washing them off.  Since I attended a Catholic school through most of my childhood, this didn't really affect me a whole lot.  Everyone had dirty smudgy foreheads and everyone knew why.

That is not the case when you're out and about in the real world.  I discovered that although many people love to celebrate Fat Tuesday; Ash Wednesday is not quite as well known, nor is it as well received.  Because of this, I found it a lot easier to go to evening mass on Ash Wednesday so I didn't have to explain my dirty forehead to every person I encountered that day.

Now that I'm not as easily influenced by the opinion of others, I prefer to use Ash Wednesday as a "dirty day".  What's a "dirty day", you ask?  It's a day when I purposefully allow my face to get as dirty and smudgy as possible, without washing, rinsing or wiping away any of the residue.  That way, when I'm asked what's on my face, I have a whole array of items to choose from depending upon my mood at the time.  The effect looks similar to this:

The end result on my face wouldn't be quite as cute as it is on his face and I try to be considerate of my readers.

So, as Fat Tuesday burns out and Ash Wednesday rises, Lent has begun.  It will be a time to give up my wanton ways (at least temporarily) and it is also a time to fast.  Since I am a connoisseur of junk food, this is the hard part for me.  I am more likely to shove a burger in my mouth and then, with my mouth still full, say, "Oh wait, is this Friday?"  (Tip:  During Lent, we don't eat meat on Fridays.  Fish, but not meat.  Why do you think McDonald's came up with the Fillet O Fish?) 

So for me, the dilemma is, To Fast or Not To Fast.  Either way, Lent comes upon me way Too Fast and so I will try my best and hope to get through it this year with flying colors...hopefully, it goes by quickly:

It's going to be a bumpy ride, folks.  (This picture came compliments of my Hubby and one of my favorite E-friends ever, Ms. Whine.)

Frozen

You don't know me.  My tears fall silently, in the dark.  As they run down my face, I can feel their warmth and I try to take some comfort from it.  I fail.

Those warm tears can't help me.  They are insignificant as either a comfort or a symbol of my grief.  They are just an overflow of my pain.  They work as a release valve when the feelings move too close to the surface.  They are just a means to relieve some of the pressure and weight of unpleasant emotions.  They gather in my tear ducts until they come bubbling up and spill over.  It's really nothing more than a bodily function.  Meaningless.

But there are other tears.  The ones that fall from my heart.  Unseen tears.  Cold tears.  Those are the ones with power over me.  They fall within me, a constant and steady drip of ice cold water, running down my heart, leaving frozen trails on its journey to my soul.

I used to fight it.  Refusing to accept my fate.  Seeking out any little piece of happiness I could find to try to warm myself.  There had to be something I could do to change things.  What had I done to deserve this suffering?  Surely there had to be a way.  I tried to seek out what was missing within me.  I failed.

I can't fight it.  The icy crystals formed from my own cold tears will not melt.  I can barely move much less fight.  I am tired.

You don't know me.  But during a time of need in your life, if you look into my eyes, you may recognize me.  You may recognize my pain, my grief as a reflection of your own but don't reach out to me.  I can't help you.  Turn away.  Run.  Don't let me pass this affliction on to you.  I won't chase you.  I can't.  I am frozen.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

This sign was placed at the beginning of this post as a warning to the stupid.  Note the word WARNING strategically placed at the top of the sign and presented to all in the accepted color of caution signs everywhere.  (Hint: If you just looked at this and said, "huh"?  Go away, these aren't the droids you're looking for.)

Okay, for everyone else, please proceed.

I work in a pretty quiet office environment, with the occasional spurt of busy occurring at predictable moments throughout.  Rarely does anything happen that would be worthy of mention to anyone.  Today was no different, except for one thing:  



It's true.  The stupid were out in full force today.  It was alarming.  I have no idea how this happened.  I'm pretty sure there's some kind of regulation that prevents this from happening.  I think someone must be organizing them.  But how?  (Personally, I suspect Google.)  Did they all receive a cartoon drawing a letter directing them to descend upon my office en mass today?  This mystery remains unsolved *growls in frustration* and I fear it will remain so.  (I added a motive for my growling just in case any of them were still reading along.)

I don't mean to come off as unfeeling but I'm talking about stupidity: the absence of any common sense whatsoever.  I was severely traumatized by my experiences today.  I may have to go to counseling.  What are the signs of PTSD?  If you've ever tried to argue with a fool than you have an inkling as to what I endured.  Just picture the verbal juggling that surely must have accompanied that experience and multiply it by a room full of fools; a fool room so to speak.



It's an exercise in futility.  The problem for me being that this wasn't an exercise, this was my job.  I had to get this endless parade of mental midgets to understand me and I had to do it in a professional and courteous manner.  This task was becoming more and more difficult as the day moved on.  I wanted to scream at each one individually:



I wonder if I can wear that shirt to work tomorrow.  After all, it is casual Friday.

I leave you with this final point.  The foolish need not waste their time attending college.  A moron with a college degree is like a work of art on a piece of toilet paper, though it's something you can put on display, I can still wipe my ass with it.

* I found all these pictures HERE.  Thanks Google!  Sorry about the finger pointing earlier.

Mrs. Beckham aka Stylie Spice, Lady Gaga aka Sir Gaga...Eat It!

Guess what? I got another award!  I know they're kind of like chain mails, what with all the forwarding going on but that is not the spirit in which they are given.  At least, it's not the spirit in which I give them and I happen to respect and value this particular blogger a great deal.  You probably already know her but if not, well, then you're probably new so...hurry up and go check her out right here -> Caterpillar!!  (oh and by the way, for all of you Doubting Thomas' out there...if you read my previous blog: I plan to follow Charlie, then you would realize why I received this award because...uh, winner!)

http://musingsnconfessions.blogspot.com/



As with all good things, this award comes with strings although they are very stylish ones...I must write seven random things about myself and then forward this to fifteen other bloggers, that's right...15!

Here are the seven random things about me:

1)  I can hula dance.  (not the really fast Tahitian stuff but the slow, hip tilting, hand flowing Hawaiian way)  I grew up in Hawaii and you just pick that kind of thing up or else how would you participate in May Day at school?  I miss it there.  What other place is there where muumuus and flip flops are formal wear...oh-oh, am I going to lose my "stylish" award now?

2)  I'm double jointed.  I am not, however, double jointed anywhere that would allow me to become one of Mr. Sheen's "goddesses" though.  (You can relax Hubby.  I'm not going anywhere.)  I am only double jointed in my fingers and elbows which is not very useful at all, except to gross out the overly squeamish.  I mean, try pressing a sticky button, when you're finger is about as strong as a wet noodle.

3)  I sell insurance...zzzzzzz.

4)  I used to have the best 80's hair ever!  I mean it.  I will post the picture someday so you can all bow down to the Heavy Metal Video Vixen Awesomeness that was my hair.

5)  Great "man hands" turn me on.  That was the first thing I noticed about my Hubby.  (I am talking about hands belonging to men-I do not enjoy large masculine hands on women.  In fact, that really freaks me out.)  I can't explain to you what I mean but I'm hoping you'll just know.

6)  I am incredibly lazy.  It's actually pretty bizarre and when I was a teenager, I was convinced I had some sort of Laziness Disease.  (I capitalize the term because I'm believe one day I will be diagnosed with this particular ailment...maybe they will name it after me!  Hmmm, hopefully that won't require any effort on my part.)  I am so lazy that I dream of how nice it would be to live in a nursing home.  Seriously.  I dream about it.  *sigh*  If only.

7)  I'm lactose intolerant but I'm in the denial stage and spend a lot of time eating and drinking dairy products.  I spend the rest of the time complaining about gas pains and upset stomachs.  (This is how I know my Hubby loves me.  Although he's the one who ends up taking care of me, he never stops me.  He just deals with it...maybe he's just scared of me.)  Either way, Yay Me!!

Okay, I'm done...oh wait, fifteen bloggers?  I can't do it.  You understand, don't you?  I just told you how lazy I am.  I will forward this to Bella because it's a stylish blogger award and I love the profile picture she uses and if you want to see it, go over there.  I also thought it was really great when she posted messages from a friend of hers living in Egypt at the beginning of all that turmoil.  This is the first one in the series Musing is being taken over.

That's it.  One forward...Ha!  I'm tired already...zzzzzzzz.

I plan to follow Charlie because I plan to win

Do you remember this face?

This was the face of many of my young fantasies.  This clean cut boy with the devil's glint in his eye.  But now...

EEEEEEEWWWWWW!  He looks like he's turning into an old lady.  A spooky creepy one.  When I heard CBS had canceled his show, I wasn't really shocked.  The bad, often criminal behavior was one thing, it fit in with his character but...when his face started to deteriorate, well, no one wants to see a wealthy partying playboy who looks like crap.  That's no fun at all.  We don't want to see the consequences of extreme alcohol and drug abuse. 

But then things changed for me.

Charlie was all over the morning show circuit.  He announced that he only needed us to trust him and if we did, we would win because he's a winner.  Ah!  Why hadn't I realized that?  It could have saved me so much time and so much trouble all these years.

But alas, my new leader helped me with this as well...his brain is "not from this terrestrial realm".  He explained that he "probably took more drugs than anyone could survive" but he DID survive so...you do the math.  I mean, how can you not acknowledge the "bitchin' rock star life" that is Charlie.  Who else do you know of that can "make Sinatra, Flynn, Jagger, Richards all of 'em just look like droopy-eyed armless children"?  That is quite an accomplishment.  He has chosen to embrace his life, "Wrap both arms around it and love it violently.  And defend it violently, through violent hatred."

*sigh*

What a guy.  Um, I mean warlock. (is the "w" suppose to be capitalized?)  What with all that Tiger's Blood running through his veins, (I wonder if that's anything like Tiger's Milk.  I love those energy bars.) it's no wonder he's the only one able to do the drug that is 'Charlie Sheen', not even making it available to the public:  "cuz if you try it once you will die. Your face will melt off (huh, refer back to the second picture on this post... just sayin') and children will weep over your exploded body."

He's certainly reached out to the masses, per his own words, "I exposed people to magic.  I exposed them to something that they otherwise would not see in their boring normal lives.  And I gave that to them!"

So, I'm sure you can see why I have chosen the Guru Sheen to lead me through life but in case you need any more convincing, in Guru Sheen's own words..."Uh, Winner!" ...'nuff said.