Just Give Me a Couple of Days...It'll Get Better

Tonight I feel tired, old and useless...like I'm just "running out the clock." I have no dreams anymore, no aspirations, no hopes. I am conscious of my mortality and sometimes I think "good, I don't want to live much longer." What's the point? I attempt little, and accomplish less. My life has no significance. I am just one molecule in the vast swarm of human life occupying an overburdened planet. It's time to...

IT'S TIME TO EAT SOME CHOCOLATE!

And drink some COFFEE!

And listen to some good SALSA MUSIC!

And wake up hubby...

M-M-M-M-M...Life is good.

True or False?

What difference does it make? If I tell a story, and claim it's true, but only I could know for sure, it doesn't matter whether it's true or not. For example, if I tell you that I witnessed a murder when I was a child, but I don't name names, you would have no way of disproving my claim, and no reason to try. I have not incriminated anyone, and it could explain some of my odd behaviour as an adult. But if I told you that yesterday I witnessed my neighbor killing his wife, but today his wife is outside raking leaves and looking quite healthy and unscathed, my story could have any number of unfortunate consequences; not the least of which would be you suspecting that I have gone over the edge.

So...I have decided to re-write some of my life's stories, and give them happier endings than they had in the first telling. Then I will repeat those new, improved stories to myself, over and over, until they, effectively, become true. I'll start with my childhood. Mama didn't abandon my sisters and me when we were little; she stayed with Daddy and we had an idyllic childhood. The plastic surgery on my harelip was a big success, and I looked "normal," and kids didn't make fun of me any more. When I was sixteen and went for a walk with a neighbor boy and he lured me into the woods, where four of his friends were waiting, they didn't rape me, because I fought like a tigress and they ran away like frightened rabbits.

I'm feeling better already! And it doesn't matter whether these renditions are technically "true" or not. Mama and Daddy are dead. My sisters will never read my story. My schoolmates are scattered and would not remember me anyway. And those five boys are burning in hell, I hope. Oops, I'm getting away from the mission. THEY DIDN'T RAPE ME, BECAUSE I FOUGHT LIKE A TIGRESS AND THEY RAN AWAY LIKE FRIGHTENED RABBITS! That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Tomorrow I'll perform some "plastic surgery" on some other unpleasant "falsehoods" and convert them to pleasant "truths."

Things I Like to Do in the Dark

1. No, not that, you naughty people! I want the lights on for that.

2. Stand in front of a mirror and pretend that I am beautiful.

3. Stand in front of a mirror and, seeing no reflection, wonder if I am a werewolf.

4. Solve complicated calculus problems in my head.

5. Pretend that I am still in my mother's womb, and will be able to start my life over again, knowing what I know now.

6. Sing "You are my Sunshine."

7. Enjoy knowing that it doesn't matter if I am wearing my glasses or not.

8. Stand naked, in front of the living room window.

9. Pretend that the house is all clean and dust-free.

10. Swoop around the house, pretending I am a bat.

11. Catch mosquitoes with my tongue.

12. Sample different bottles of wine and try to guess which ones are red and which are white and wonder what the hell difference it makes if you can't see them?

13. Wonder if it's true that "all cats are grey in the dark."

14. Read "Black Like Me."

15. Try to remember where I put the remote control, so I can turn on the TV if I get tired of enjoying the dark.

Coffee, Tea or Espresso, Ma'am?

Okay, I'm totally revved up on coffee and am going to post something on here about the joys of caffeine. I used to think I should give up caffeine, because it made my heart "race." Now, after having given up giving up, I have decided that a racing heart is better than no heart at all, which is what I felt like I had when I was dragging my ass around with no chemical enhancement. So now I suck up coffee like I used to do with coke, and while it's not nearly as good, it's the best LEGAL high I can get, so fuck it all, I'll have my tiny high with no regrets, at least until my racing heart crosses the finish line.

No Thanks, I'd Rather Listen to Dr. Dean

Yesterday, I was reading Cunning Runt's cunning rant about the gaseous right-wing commentators dominating the radio airwaves in today's hell-bound America. He focused on Rush Limbaugh, which is appropriate, I suppose, because he's been around the longest and is the best known, but I don't think he's the worst of the rabid pack. Granted, Rush is a loudmouthed, obnoxious blowhard, and I am distressed by the amount of influence he exerts. But, I believe he is intelligent, and knows what he's doing, and he's doing it for the money. In other words, he has no soul and no heart, but he does have a brain.

Now...let me mention the loudmouthed, blowing asshole whom I would like to banish to the hinterlands. SEAN HANNITY! I'm pretty darned sure that this man actually BELIEVES what he says. He excoriates the "Liberals" and "Democrats" as though they are the spawn of Satan. EVERYTHING the L's and D's say or write is stupid and/or evil, in his opinion. And so much of what he says is so blatantly hypocritical that I cannot understand how he doesn't realize it. e.g. "The Libs want absolute power. They want to force their beliefs down our throats. They're so convinced they're right that they won't listen to anybody else." (These are not literal quotes, but summarize the essence of his diatribes.) Substitute "ultra-conservative' religious-right-wing nut jobs" for "Libs," and you and I can see that those characteristics apply even better to that camp. Of course, Rush makes equally hypocritical statements, but at least he injects some humor (though not as much as in his pre-druggy days) into his blather.

Does anyone here know why the Right Wing dominates the airwaves to the extent they do? The only liberal viewpoints I’m exposed to are here in the blogosphere.