Category Archives: Random Thoughts

Love is…

Know that cartoon?  Well, I’ve got a new, slightly oddball one.

Love is…changing your toilet paper brand to the same brand she uses, after she comments that yours pretty much sucks.  (Seriously?  Single Ply?)

Yep, actually happened.

Little bit in love myself.  But I have the good toilet paper.

Toilet paper

Image via Wikipedia

 

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I should be blogging

I should be, I really, really should be.

I even have a rare free evening tonight.  No plans with friends or with The Beau.  No working late.  Most evenings, when I’m not busy, I work out, which for some reason takes far more time than it should.  Get home, feed the cat, do a couple things around the house, then it’s 7pm and I finally get on the treadmill.  An hour there, then stretch, cool down, wind down, and it’s already 9pm.

But no workout tonight, since I had a laser treatment today and am not supposed exercise afterward.

What to do, what to do…

I could blog!

Or, I could make Bacon Caramels!

Okay, Bacon Caramels are done, now I can blog.

Or, I could finish sewing an eyemask!

Okay, done with that, now I can blog.

Or, I could watch the Bacon Caramels set!  (Hurry, set, hurry, so I can eat one.)

Oh, crap.  It’s after 10.

Maybe I’ll blog tomorrow…

A loaded blog

As in, filled with bullets (over Broadway!).

  • You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life.  See that girl, watch that scene, diggin’ the Dancing Queen!
  • My brain has been all over the place lately.  Blogging has been…beyond me.  I have all kinds of thoughts, but I can’t quite munge those thoughts into…much of anything…
  • Super trouper lights are gonna find me, but I won’t feel blue…
  • I had a huge interview this past Monday.  Like, the fact that I even got the interview was a huge deal.  “Among thousands of resumes…”  There’s a catch, but…it’s not necessarily bad, it’s just not great.
  • Money, money, money, must be funny, in a rich man’s world.
  • I turned on the heater the other day, and three hours later realized it was still running and was not any warmer.  Hmmmm…..  I turned on the hot water tap and let it run for a while…nope.  I wondered if the pilot light had gone out, but didn’t know how to check it.  (My heater runs off the hot water heater.)  A friend of mine called and talked me through it – good to have him on the phone, so he could call 911 if I, you know, blew up.  But everything worked out well, and I have hot water again.
  • I can still recall our last summer, I still see it all…
  • I bought wine at Aldi yesterday.  Not bad, actually, a pretty good Tempranillo for $5…
  • Honey, Honey, how he thrills me, uh-huh.
  • I used pearl onions last night, for the first time ever…will blog about that later (part of my 2011 goals)…
  • Don’t go wasting your emooooootion, lay all your love on me.
  • I had a fourth date with a guy a couple of weeks ago.  It was…weird.  More on that later….
  • Gimme Gimme Gimme a man after midnight, won’t somebody help me chase the shadows away.
    Sexy Devil who is actually a nurse in real lif...

    Image by everyplace via Flickr

  • I noticed the other day that I’ve got a lot of new hair growth, especially around the top of my forehead.  My friend geauxgirl noticed it the other night, and said it looked like I have devil horns.  Awesome!
  • If you change your mind, I’m the first in line, honey I’m still free, take a chance on me…
  • I never saw the movie Mamma Mia!, but happened to catch the first half of it on cable a few weeks ago.  I thought it was cute, so I ordered it on Netflix so I could watch the whole thing.  I now cannot stop singing ABBA songs.  Curse you, ABBA!
  • Mamma Mia!  Here I go again, my my, how can I resist you?

You’re blogging wrong!

I love my blog.  It’s kind of my baby.  I admit to getting a little thrill from seeing my words in print.  But more than that, my blog is my release.  It’s my therapy, my way of getting my emotions and thoughts out of my head.  I love if people read it.  I love if something I write touches someone, makes them think, makes them feel less lonely.  And I love it even more if someone comments on my blog.  It gives me some validation.

I wouldn’t say my blog is “successful.”  I get plenty of hits, most of them random, hitting posts that I happened to keyword well.  I’ve looked at all the ways to get more people to my blog, to get more hits, more regular readers, more comments, more publication.  I’ve read numerous articles on how to blog successfully, and I know what’s “good” and what’s “bad.”

Doesn’t mean I want to do it on mine, and it especially doesn’t mean I want to annoy people with the things that annoy me.

For instance:

I know that when linking, it’s best to have a parent link – that is, a link that opens a new window (like this).  This is best because it keeps people on your page.  If you have a blank link – one that opens in the same window (like this) – the reader has to use the back button to get back to your blog.  Obviously, you want to keep people on your page, not drive them away from it.  But it annoys me when that happens to me, so I rarely do it.  I evaluate each link, the likelihood of a reader clicking on it, of coming back to my blog, and I will do a parent link occasionally.  But usually, I don’t.

The best thing to do is have a limited RSS feed.  You give the reader a little sample, but force them to view the full page to read the full post.  Obviously, it is easier to get comments on a post if the person is on your page, rather than reading on a feed.  If they can read the full post on a feed, it takes extra effort to come to the blog and comment, so it has to be something they really want to comment on.  I get it.  But it annoys me when I can’t see the full post in a feed.  I’m actually less likely to come over to the blog.  So I don’t limit my feed.

Every “Blog Success” article I read says “Have a niche.”  SewingSouthern PeopleDatingMotherhoodLegal mattersPhotography.  And while at times my blog could be classified as a Dating Blog, it’s really not.  It’s my life.  It’s what I’m thinking now, today, about this, or that.  It’s how I feel, and more importantly, it’s how I think.   I admit, I’m scattered.  My brain is usually in twenty different places at once.  I sit down to meditate, and I’ll have words coming out of my mouth, but I’m thinking about what I saw on TV last night, and I’m wondering how the cat is doing and if his new food is working, and I’m conscious of the fact that the neighbor is doing laundry and there’s a stray cat walking by outside, and will my cat see him?

I saw something the other day that said most blogs fail because all you talk about is yourself.  But…that’s kind of the point, right?  I mean, yes, there are great blogs out there that are as informative as CNN, Wikipedia, and Youtube put together, with quality, usable information.  But the whole point of a blog is an online diary.  That’s kinda how it started.  This is my life.  Deal with it.  Of course I want you to read it, and obviously I expect you to enjoy certain posts more than others.  But I don’t want to “niche” myself, why would I “niche” my blog?  I don’t have a focus in my life, why would I have one on my blog?  Which, of course,  begs the observation, “Maybe if you had focus on your blog, you would have focus in your life.”  Yeah, whatever.  Bite me.  😉

Crack in a box

So….I guess it’s Girl Scout Cookie time?

Girl Scout Cookies

Image by Marit & Toomas Hinnosaar via Flickr

Another perk of being unemployed and rarely leaving the house – I have yet to be sucked onto the Girl Scout Cookie Train.

I’m sure I’ll be accosted on my next trip to the grocery store.

But here’s the thing. (There’s always a thing with me, isn’t there?) I’ve never been a huge Girl Scout Cookie fan. I usually end up buying a box of thin mints and a box of whatever the Peanut Butter ones are called, but only because I’m guilted into it. I don’t crave them. I can survive without them.

What about you? Are you a Girl Scout Cookie Addict? What’s your favorite kind?

 

Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights – The Movie

I just read Wuthering Heights, and I hated almost every minute of it.  I also watched the 1970 version of the movie, with Timothy Dalton, and found it…equally as painful, and not much like the book.  I read that this version of the movie was “generally accepted,” and since I found both this movie and the book painful, I could agree with that.

For some reason, I was eager to torture myself further, so I ordered the 1992 movie adaptation, entitled Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights, starring Ralph Fiennes and Juliette Binoche.  According to wikipedia, this version “is notable for including the oft-omitted second generation story”  of Cathy Linton and Hareton.

Watching it, I was reminded that I was incorrect in my original review of the book.  I said that the only character I liked was young Cathy, but I was wrong.

I loved Hareton.

I forgot about Hareton, in my original review.  I felt sorry for the poor kid, throughout the book, and toward the end, I had a little soft spot for him.  It was quite obvious he was infatuated with young Cathy, in the way that the kid who pulls a girl’s pigtails is.  He wanted so much to please her, to make her like him, and when she rebuffed him, he reacted as if he didn’t care.

But he did.

Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights captured that, and reminded me:

I *heart* Hareton.

Screw Heathcliff.

If Wuthering Heights had a redeeming quality, it would be Hareton.  He’s the early 19th Century version of Lloyd Dobler.

Identity Loss?

I have some crazy a$$ dreams, just ask anyone. And I remember quite a bit of detail most of the time (see also, this post). I have a dream dictionary, and while I don’t take the dream interpretation to the bank, I certainly put some stock into the symbols.

Have you ever had one of those dreams where you wake up sad? Like, you are literally crying when you wake up, and it takes you a while to snap out of the sadness? I’m having one of those mornings.

I had this dream that me and a couple of my friends were staying at my parents house. When I woke up (in the dream), my mom and my friend geauxgirl were scurrying around the room, putting things away, getting ready for the day. My mom left, and geauxgirl was griping about her husband, how they had already had breakfast at the house, then they went to this diner and he ordered this whole second breakfast. I got up and went into the kitchen, where my mom was mixing something in a mixing bowl. “Whatcha doin? What’s going on today?” I asked. She said, “Making a cake.” I waited a few seconds and said, “Aaaand?” “And what?” she asked. “And what’s going on today?” I was trying to figure out what to wear.

Silence. She didn’t reply. I sighed and gave up. I saw that my friend was wearing gray slacks, just like a pair I have, so I figured I would wear mine, since it looked like we were doing something a little nicer than jeans. I went back into the bedroom to get clothes and toiletries so I could shower and get ready.

And there was nothing left in the room. All of my stuff had been removed. And now, I could tell that there were guests in the house, and all I was wearing was a robe.

I was incredibly pissed, like, “what the hell, where the hell did all my stuff go?” and I couldn’t go out to ask because of the company, and I was so mad. I started spelling out all the reasons I was mad with those magnetic refrigerator letters for kids – for some reason there was a huge box of them in the room.

I woke from this dream very sad, for some reason. And it’s stayed with me. I looked up what I could in the dream dictionary. There’s a whole section on nudity, but I wasn’t naked, I had a robe on. So I looked up clothes, instead.

Clothing represents your idea of how you look to others, both your appearance and your attitude.

There was no interpretation for missing clothes, but it would be logical to take “missing” or “stolen” at face value and apply that to the clothing symbol.

Do I feel that my appearance, my attitude, how people see me, is gone?

Well, I have lost some of my identity, not working and being home all the time. So, maybe that’s where this is all coming from.

Anyone have any thoughts, insight?

Ghosts of boyfriends past

Photo by katmere

I got a call yesterday on a job I had applied for last week.  I had a brief phone interview with a woman who I think was HR, because she said she was going to “resubmit” my resume to the hiring manager, and I may or may not get a call back for an interview.  Great news, right?

Here’s the bad news.  The office is literally directly across the street from my ex-boyfriend’s house.  You could probably see his house from the office.

Why do we attach so much emotion to things like this?  Like, where we met someone, or where we had our first kiss, or what we ate on our 49th date?  Why do we have places we can’t go to because they remind us of that person?

ABC Restaurant is just a restaurant.  I’ve been there a million times.  In fact, I’ve been there with at least 5 different guys.  So why is it that whenever I go there, I think of Mr. X?  I’ve watched XYZ TV show for years, since before Mr. X and I started dating and broke up.  So why do I think of him every time I watch it?  I’ve tied my shoes by myself since I was 6 years old.  Why does tying them now make me think of Mr. X?  (These are basic example, people, not necessarily my specific experiences.  I don’t actually think of my ex when I tie my shoe, okay?)

And it’s not even that everything makes you think of your most recent ex.  I think of my college boyfriend any time I go to the zoo.  I think of Colorado Boyfriend every time it snows.  I think of one of my high school boyfriends every time I eat fortune cookies.  I think of Soccer Guy every time I see his college’s emblem…which is the same college my last ex supported, so why would I attach it to a guy I dated 6 years ago and not to the most recent one?

We attach memories to things, places, foods, smells, songs, thoughts.  Then those memories haunt us.  Why?  Why do this to ourselves, why let these things have that much control over us?

And it’s not just exes!  It’s parents, and grandparents, and siblings, and kids, and friends, and jobs.  Some memories are good, some are bad.  Some make you smile through tears, of either joy or sorrow, and some make you want to rip your heart out so you can just stop thinking about them.

Yeah, a little Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind wouldn’t be so bad, on occasion.

What things have memories attached to them in your life?  Do the memories make you smile or cringe?  What have you done to get past those memories?

Age has nothing to do with being an adult

I recently spent the day with a friend of mine, a friend who’s been having some boy troubles.  Her boy troubles are not similar to mine, but they are.  I don’t want to get too far into her problems, because it would be a horrible betrayal of confidence, but let’s just say her “boy” doesn’t want to be monogamous, but he keeps dragging her back into this nasty little storm of his making.

So we spent the day together, shopping, going to the Farmer’s Market, having lunch, and she asks me to stay for dinner and a movie.

lars and the real girl

Image by mandyseyfang via Flickr

We were watching Lars and the Real Girl, and there’s this part where Lars asks his brother how he knew he was a man, an adult.  And his brother, Gus, says, “Well, it’s not like you’re one thing or the other, okay? There’s still a kid inside but you grow up when you decide to do right, okay, and not what’s right for you, what’s right for everybody, even when it hurts.” Lars asks, “Okay, like what?” And Gus replies, “Like, you know, like, you don’t jerk people around, you know, and you don’t cheat on your woman, and you take care of your family, you know, and you admit when you’re wrong, or you try to, anyways. That’s all I can think of, you know – it sound like it’s easy and for some reason it’s not.”

I blinked at the TV, floored.  I started to say something, but stopped myself.  And three seconds later, my friend says, “Wow.”

You grow up when you decide to do right, not for you but for everybody else, even when it hurts.  You grow up when you don’t jerk people around, and you don’t cheat on your woman, and you take care of your family, and you admit when you’re wrong.

It sounds so simple.  But “for some reason it’s not.”

Aries! Pisces? Both! Neither?

Astrological signs

Image via Wikipedia

Facebook was “abuzz” with the news that the zodiac sign we’ve been living with our whole lives is not correct, because the earth’s axis has rotated since the zodiac signs were named.  Friends claimed “I’m a Leo all the way” and “I’ll never be anything but a Virgo.”

I’ve always been an Aries.  Many of the Aries traits apply to me, but I’ve never felt like I was a true Aries.  I’m not as fiery, not as Out There as the Aries sign has always seemed.  So maybe I really am a Pisces.  Let’s take a look, shall we?  (All sun sign description came from about.com.)

Aries

  • courageous (yeah), pioneering (eh), brilliant (well of course!), adventurous (sure), dynamic (hmm), straight-forward (sometimes)
  • willful (can be), dominating (not so much), selfish (yes and no), ruthless (definitely not), insensitive (I suppose I can be, sometimes), impatient (Hell Yes)
  • Aries are gifted with a direct, fiery nature that makes them one step ahead of the crowd. (?) They take charge of a situation, and their sense of certainty usually makes others fall in line. (??) This makes the Sun in Aries a born leader. (???)
  • Often larger-than-life, they can light up a room with their charisma. (Really, not so much)  If a gathering is dull, they’ll quickly move on – and they’re among the ones with the stamina to party ‘til dawn. (Rarely) Aries craves excitement and their restless spirits seek out the next big thing. (Yeah, kind of)
  • Aries can rise to the challenge of any battle. Sometimes they go too far and scorch those they love with hurtful words said in the heat of the moment.  (It’s been known to happen)  They quickly forgive and forget (Big Fat No), but often deal with the fall out of their brusque demeanor.
  • Aries wants to achieve great things, and is propelled by an inner drive that is a force to be reckoned with.  (Not so much)  Their bright minds and ability to initiate can make them trailblazers in their careers. (eh)
  • At times, the rush to action can cause them to take unnecessary risks, or forge ahead without planning out crucial details.  (no, I’m kind of a planner) Some say the Sun in Aries learns the hard way, by leaping before looking. But being an active sign, the Aries learns best through experience.  (That’s VERY true)

Pisces

  • compassionate (I can be, sometimes), creative (I’d like to think so), mystical (not so much), sensitive (yes), romantic (mmhmm), dreamy (sure)
  • escapist (oh yeah), lazy (yep), self-indulgent (often), overwhelmed (occasionally), impressionable (not really)
  • As the last of the twelve Zodiac signs, Pisces is said to contain aspects of them all. This makes the Pisces Sun so changeable as to appear not to have one singular identity. It’s as if they’re just touching down in this human reality, and light enough to try on a few personas.  (Is this saying I have multiple personalities?)
  • Pisces can be so dreamy as to seem “somewhere else” half the time. They’re tuned into the spiritual side of things, and this gives them an otherworldly air. It can seem that they’re always sensing the emotional currents that run between people, as well as those connecting us to the great beyond.  (No, no, not so much)
  • The Pisces Sun leads with a compassionate heart, which can be both a blessing and a curse. Many are remarkably wise and self-sacrificing when it comes to helping the vulnerable or those down on their luck. (Not me)  But this noble trait can take them down a path of being used and abused before they learn to set strong boundaries.
  • This is the sign of the mystic poet, and a creative pursuit gives Pisces the motivation to be disciplined. And bringing structure to the vast imagination and shades of emotion flowing within the Pisces nature is a great achievement. Through art, they can bring a bit of heaven down to Earth for the benefit of everyone.  (I can hope!)
  • It’s important for Pisces Sun to find a sense of purpose to avoid just drifting. Their sensitivity makes them also a tad more vulnerable to escapism through addictions or personal dramas. (I don’t have an addictive personality at all)  Finding a sense of worth, self-definition and purpose seem to be some of their life lessons.  (Big Mm-Hm)

So, maybe I’m a little of both.  Heck, I’m probably a little of every sign.  I think we all are.  Does it matter if our signs have changed, if they’re not what we thought they were?

Then again, the story could be blown way out of proportion.  The media has a knack for doing things like that.