Ponderings and Musings

I hate to admit this but I start feeling a little achy in my shoulders when there’s rain on the way. I know that makes me sound incredibly old, and at 44 I don’t think my warranty has expired yet, but nevertheless, when it’s looking like it’s going to rain I can feel it in my bones. Earl says it’s because I try to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. He could be right. He almost always is.

For those reading this from the Central New York region, there’s rain on the way. At least I’m not like Mrs. Ziffel, claiming that lumbago means we need to plant corn this year.

My sister and I always knew when dad wasn’t happy with us. He never showed his anger by yelling or raving or anything like that. His approach would be more subtle. He would get very quiet. It wasn’t his usual quiet nature, you could tell these instances were different. Conversation would be reduced to the essentials and he would spend time alone in the basement building a bookshelf or an airplane or something. He’d come up for meals and sleeping and other required family interaction, but otherwise he’d retreat to his own space, be quiet for a while and get his head where he needed it to be, coming to his own terms via his own space. We would rarely talk about whatever he was upset afterwards. This has probably made me ask folks on their current well being a lot over the years.

I inherited this quiet approach from him, but to keep it all interesting, I also inherited my mother’s more demonstrative ways. I kind of have this hybrid approach. If something upsets me and it’s something fairly trivial or minor on the hysteria scale, I’ll rant and rave about it, slam a few doors, throw a boot and consider the matter resolved. It’s out of my system and let’s move on to the next thing. But if something really disappoints me or bothers me, I’ll take like dad and go quiet and build a computer or edit music or something. And because I analyze the crap out of stuff, I compare, contrast, weigh symbols and scrutinize between every line to the point of what may seem trivial to someone else ends up being a big deal to me. I believe that most everything means something even if it falls into the nature of a Freudian Slip.

Did I ever mention that I was complicated?

These traits of mine are not something that I am proud of. Earl keeps telling me that I shouldn’t have expectations when it comes to people because folks rarely live up to our own expectations. My rosy view of the world is often clouded by reality and that’s because it’s MY rosy view. I know I have control issues and I know I have expectations but even after 44 years I’m still learning to let these things go and once in a while something disappoints me and I can’t help but go silent and figure my own way through my feelings. This is how I get through it.

I guess one of the days I might get it all figured out.

So last night, as I drifted off to sleep, as my mind went into that weird in-between sleep mode, I started thinking about books that I have read in the past. I don’t know why my head went there, but the thoughts triggered some memories of these novels I read as a young adult. This got me to wondering as to why these particular books influenced me in some way to be remembered 30 years later, but it made my head hurt so I stopped trying to figure out the reason.

The first book I remembered was “Killing Mr. Griffin” by Lois Duncan. I don’t remember when I read this book but I’m pretty certain that I read it more than once, though I don’t know that I would have chosen to read this book on my own. It had to have been a reading assignment for a high school class. I’m guessing that the assignment may have come along in my sophomore year, but I have no way to be certain. I remember being able to visualize the story very well while I was reading it. A little searching this morning made me realize that it was made into a TV movie in the 90s. I’ll have to see if the movie matches what I visualized.

Another book I remembered was “Danny Dunn, Invisible Boy”. This book was about a young man who could make himself invisible through the use of a robotic dragonfly that he controlled through a helmet and other sensory providing hardware. He wasn’t literally invisible, but rather, he was able to be in a room through the senses of this robotic dragonfly. I remember the story involving espionage, an organization called the ISIT and that the Russians were definitely the bad guys. I must have read this earlier on and I’m guessing I might have chosen this for myself because it’s definitely the type of book I would have read as a kid. Danny Dunn had his own series of books, but this is the only one I think I read.

There is a third book that I vaguely remember but the title and author’s name escape me. It had something to do with two identical houses in the woods; one was fully renovated and wonderful, the other was dilapidated and used as a hangout or hideout by a group of teenage kids. Other than that, the plot escapes me.

I read a lot as a kid. I loved the third incarnation of the “Tom Swift” series that took place in space. That version of space travel seemed very plausible to me. My favorite novel of all time is a space novel called “The Demu Trilogy” by F M Busby. Lots of sex, lots of action and it was alien enough to make it seem real. I reread that book from time to time.

The internet and technology in general has kind of taken me away from reading novels and the like. I think I need to make a shift back to reading for the enjoyment of reading. I loved escaping into a good book. Perhaps my sanity would be easier to find if I allowed myself that luxury again.

When I got up this morning I saw a waving motion standing in the corner of the room. All I could see was a hand going “wave, wave, wave” in my direction. It was a gentle, yet effective way for my husband to say “good morning” to me. Saying anything to me at six in the morning can be a dicey proposition, so it’s best to proceed cautiously.

The waves of “good morning” were also appropriate because my husband was standing behind the mound of clothes that have accumulated around the clothes hamper in the Master Suite. Long gone are the days when clothes would actually fit in the hamper, so we have resorted to piling clothes up around the hamper. Earl has been living out of the dryer for the past few days when getting ready for work; said clothes have been in the dryer since the beginning of the month.

We are a little behind on laundry.

I always have high hopes of ending a weekend with all of the laundry neatly folded and put away and the hampers empty, but this didn’t happen last weekend because of my idea to wash all the bedding on our bed. Most would think that might be two or three loads of laundry, tops, but in reality, we like a LOT of blankets on the bed. We like to be pinned right down tight by a sheet, four blankets, the ripped up remains of a comforter from 1996, another blanket and then our fancy looking comforter on top of it all. Sometimes Tom helps out by laying across the bed and adding an extra 10 or so pounds. It’s all quite comfortable though admittedly it can be rather stifling when it’s 90 degrees outside and there’s only a fan blowing hot air around.

Washing all of the bedding turned out to be a bigger chore than I wanted it to be because I had to beg and plead the washing machine to actually spin again. If there is a chance that not everything is in complete alignment when it’s time to ramp up to 1,100 RPM, the expensive piece of electronic infused plastic will refuse to do anything than toss the contents of the drum around a few times and run it’s pump. It’ll do this for hours on end. I miss the days when the washing machine would just walk across the floor, reach the end of it’s cords and hoses and bang against the wall until someone intervened. We should have never put brains in a washing machine. It’s too smart for its own good.

Since it took ten hours to wash six loads of blankets on Sunday, we didn’t get a chance to finish the rest of our clothes and when you’re a power couple like we are (we like to talk big so that people think we have a big ego), there’s just no time to wash clothes after a long day’s work. We are too busy wining, whining and dining. Power couples seriously need a houseboy.

So today I washed some laundry before starting my day at the office and then I just folded a couple of loads for the frivolity of the first half of my lunch hour. We are going to go into the weekend with empty hampers, at least until Jamie gets back from his camping trip and then we’ll try to wrap up everything on Sunday night so we can wine, whine and dine again on Monday.

In the meantime, I am hoping and praying that the washer is in a good mood.

I can be an emotionally responsive person. I usually don’t realize how emotionally responsive I can seem because it comes naturally to me. I don’t know that I fly off the handle at the drop of a hat, but when my mood is in a certain space and the circumstances are in a certain place, I can get loud. I usually try to restrict this sort of behavior to my alone time but my family occasionally gets to see the best of it. It’s not something I’m proud of.

I never used to swear. I don’t remember my father swearing that much; I think my mom would occasionally swear around us kids. I didn’t really pick up the habit until I worked at the radio station where you needed to drop a few f-bombs to get anyone’s attention. Screaming and yelling and swearing was the normal course of action for speaking at any sort of meeting while I was working there, so I adopted the tendency as a matter of survival. When you work at a place where people throw knives (wish I was making that up), you sometimes need get rowdy. Again, not something that I’m proud of.

As I was going through my work email this morning, I found myself yelling out loud in my office. “What the F^!K did you think, numb nuts?” Now I don’t know if this person has numb nuts. Since the email in question was from a woman, I kind of hope that she doesn’t have nuts, period, but that’s her business. To each their own. I started firing off a snappy email when I decided to just close my eyes, count to 10 and then reassess the situation.

It really wasn’t worth raising my blood pressure over. You see, after I counted to 10, I realized that the world was still spinning and that nothing had changed, other than my blood pressure subsiding a bit. This prompted me to send out a simple tweet this morning:

I should probably stop calling other drivers “flea-bitten whores.”

Now I wasn’t driving at the time and actually the thought was completely random (that happens a lot with me), but it is something that I am going to remember via a sticky on the dashboard of my Jeep.

Since counting to 10 worked so well for me this morning (and my day has been just fine since), I decided to see if there was a way to remind myself that I should just take a deep breath. Of course, there’s an app for that.

Introducing CalmDown. Now when I get a bit riled up, I have the little ying-yang symbol in my menu bar to click on and remind me to calm down just a little bit. Yeah, it costs a buck but sometimes you have to invest in yourself. If this will help me lower my blood pressure and be a little more rational about things, then it’s worth it.

Now, if I could just stop the fucking swearing. Jumpin’ Mice.

One of the things that amazes me about getting older is how much time seems to be speeding up. I feel like I have kind of lost track of time a bit; it seems impossible to me that Earl and I have been together for over 16 years. It’s funny to think that I graduated from high school over 25 years ago. Heck, I can’t believe that I’ve been in my current job for 2 1/2 years already. I still feel like one of the new guys.

I guess there’s a part of me that wonders what it’s going to be like when I grow up. I still feel very much a kid at heart. The other day I watched an episode of “Maude” and Walter, Maude’s husband, mentioned that he was 48 years old. What? That’s only four years older than I am today and I don’t think I look or act like I’m only four years from looking or acting that worn out (no offense to Bill Macy).

Where on earth is the time going?

I ponder this because I am working from home today and I realize that it is nearly three in the afternoon and I feel like I just started my day. I then realize that I feel like I’ve just started my life and here I am at 44. Hell, I could be at my halfway point already.

I feel like I’m just getting through the warm ups.

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‘Stache On-‘Stache Off Update: ‘Stache On is ahead right now with some nice contributions to the Ali Forney Center. If you wish to contribute, please see this blog post and/or click ‘Stache On to vote for me to keep my mustache or ‘Stache Off for me to shave it off.

‘Stache On-‘Stache Off Update: ‘Stache On is ahead right now with some nice contributions to the Ali Forney Center. If you wish to contribute, please see this blog post and/or click ‘Stache On to vote for me to keep my mustache or ‘Stache Off for me to shave it off.
~~~
So as I write this, I have been on a conference call for work for 5 1/2 hours. We are waiting for people in Ft. Wayne, Indiana to get where they need to be so we can figure out why the light is going up the glass tubes otherwise known as fiber optics. Surprisingly, I’m not cranky about this.

The reason I’m not cranky is because I am on-call this weekend and I have just accepted the fact that it’s going to be a weekend of uncertainty and not knowing what I’m doing. I have very little in the way of plans. I kind of like this idea of coasting through a couple of days. Even though I’m on call, I’m hoping that I will find time to relax. I just want to chill.

I’m still feeling the effects of my cold but I’m did much better today. It seems like it was one of the 24 hour bugs. The one dose of cold medicine did the trick, apparently, because I haven’t taken anything further. Perhaps that’s why I’m so mellow.

So it’s been a very hot summer thus far. This big mustache of mine has been creeping in my mouth, sticking out all over the place yet garnering a few stares in everyday life (which I enjoy). As I looked at myself in the mirror this morning, I contemplated trimming it back or shaving it off completely. It’s been a while since I’ve changed up my look a little bit.

With trimmers in my hand, something in the back of my head told me that I had to do something special. After all, this mustache has been described as “epic”. “It’s huge!” “It looks like he has a small country sitting under his nose!”

I couldn’t bring the trimmers to my face. If it’s going to go, it’s going to go in style.

So I have decided to keep the mustache for the next three weeks and let the masses decide it’s fate. If this “epic” mustache is going to go, it’s going to go in an epic way.

So here’s the deal. I have started the “‘Stache On-‘Stache Off” campaign to raise money for the Ali Forney Center, which provides housing for Homeless LGBT Youth. I’m lucky, I have a loving family and have had the support of my relatives for as long as I can remember. Others are not so lucky and find themselves on the street with nowhere to go. This happens way too often and if there’s something I can do to help, even if it’s this little thing with this mustache I have, I’m going to do it.

So, this is what I need you to do. If you want the mustache to stay, donate to this campaign:
‘STACHE ON-‘Stache Off.

If you want the mustache to GO, donate to this campaign:
‘Stache On-‘STACHE OFF.

The bucket with the most amount of money at 2359 ET on 24 Aug 12 will determine the fate of this mustache. If it stays, it hangs around through the end of the year. If it goes, though I hate being clean shaven, I will shave it off completely and then probably grow a little mustache of more reasonable proportion after a few weeks. And of course, all proceeds go to the Ali Forney Center.

Please help me help those that need a safe, secure way to find their path in life.

Thank you.

So there’s a third season episode of “The New Adventures of Wonder Woman” called “Time Bomb”. In this episode, guest stars Ted Shackelford and Joan Van Ark play time traveling scientists from 2155; Joan wants to cash in on the capitalistic opportunities of late 1970s America and Ted is the inventor of time travel and needs to stop her. Of course, Lynda Carter’s Wonder Woman does most of the stopping and there’s a bit of an attraction between Wonder Woman and Ted’s character. It always happens.

Aside from the fact that computers are apparently going to be very noisy in 2155 and decorating schemes are obviously going to go all to hell (see photo above), I bring up this episode because there’s an interesting bit of dialog that I have always kind of agreed with. Joan’s character is relaying how technological advances are slowed down because “The Council” (whatever happened to a Presidential figure in the future?) has deemed that no technology would be introduced to society if it was determined that it would have a significant impact to social norms. Once the cultural and societal ramifications were studied and determined, then new technology would be released to the masses.

I think that’s a groovy thing. I wish Joan and Ted were around when cell phones were being invented.

I just stood in line at the local Subway in an effort to order my lunch. In front of me was a young lady. I know that kind of wording makes me sound old, but she had to be only 16 or 17 years old. She was dressed seductively with shorts similar in cut to Wonder Woman’s 1970 costume shorts (less stars = more ass). Up to her ear was a smartphone. It looked like it was a Blackberry, appeared to be well worn and was decked right out in all sorts of bedazzlement.

The folks at the area Subways have put up signs that say “Please don’t talk on the cell phone while you’re ordering.” It’s politely worded. The font is friendly. There is no suggestion of reprimand, just a reminder of what folks should find to be standard manners.

Apparently the young lady can not read and does not comprehend standard manners.

As she giggled and carried on on her bedazzled Blackberry, she barked out things like “a foot long turkey!”. When the Subway assembly man asked her as to the type of cheese she would like, she clicked her tongue on the phone, said “hold on” and gave a stare at said Assembly Man before saying “American”. Luckily, she was able to indicate that she wanted her sub toasted before resuming her important giggling on the phone.

When it came to vegetable assembly, she continued barking out random items from a garden while talking on the phone before bringing the whole process to a halt and declaring, “oh! I want avocado!” Now if she had been paying attention to the matters at hand instead of talking to the remote, tinny, giggling sounds coming from her bedazzlement of wonder, this would not have messed up the assembly line, where subs were then rearranged, backtracked and reassembled.

All because she couldn’t put her phone down.

While I was observing all this merriment, I felt my phone vibrate it’s “text message!” pattern in my pocket. I did not bringing everything to a screeching halt to read said message, I waited until I had paid my money, assembled my large, unsweetened iced tea and sat down in the Jeep before proceeding.

Little Miss Short Shorts was still talking on her phone as she tried to carry her sub and drink on a tray. She almost ran down a woman in a walker but by god she was able to continue on her conversation.

Joan and Ted need to travel here from 2155, pronto, and show the world how much better it can be if we at least consider the societal impacts of technology before implementing it. Until that time, I fear that it’s only going to get worse.

I’m writing this to remind myself of this woman’s behavior, because I freely admit that there are times that I have had messed up priorities when it comes to using my phone.. As I try to better myself each day, a reminder of why I try to better myself is always a good thing.