January 2nd, 2012
2012
Twenty-twelve.
It beleaguers the imagination.
I’ve been trying to figure out why this particular new year’s has been so devastatingly depressing. I mean…for a long time now, new year’s has been one of those days I try not to think about. Just another day, new date on the checks, etc., etc. You know, the new year…is. It’s just the inexorable march of time. One more year I can’t go back and salvage. And I ain’t gettin’ any younger, either. That’s a huge part of it, I know. I’ll be 60 this year.
60
SIX-ty.
Shit.
That, in and of itself is enough to make me want to jump off a bridge (if I weren’t afraid of heights). Part of the disconnect is that I do not feel 60, hell…I don’t feel 40, mentally. Physically, my body is a disaster zone. Physically, I feel like I’m 90 most days. All this BS about 50 is the new 30 and 70 is the new 40, or whatever…those spinners never lived in my body. 60 is the new 90. Bah!
Instead of chronicling what I feel the issues are (which sounds suspiciously like making excuses), I’m going to try to take a page out of the sunshine and lollipop spin and look at ways to make 2012 a better year. I mean, you know…just not sitting around being morose would make it a better year, right?
First up, I’m decluttering the house. It’s a gargantuan undertaking, but I’m gettin’ ‘er done, by gosh. In that vein, I’ve decluttered Mdme B’s space here. My previous theme mirrored the usual state of my desk (might have even been cleaner…but I’ll never tell), but I’ve noticed most of the well-read sites are simpler, with white backgrounds.
Before you get all mushy and think this is a list of resolutions, don’t. I don’t do resolutions. They set you up for failure. These are things I’ve already been working on or need to do anyway, new year or not. It just seems like a good time to trot out the list since one of the things I’d like to get in the habit of doing is actually, you know, like…USING my web site–what a novel idea. Which reminds me of another one on the list. Setting up a time to write, every day, same time. I might actually get that novel done before I really am 90.
Dump about 80-90 pounds. Didn’t say pounds of what, now did I? (Technically, I’ve already done this: in decluttering in the last couple of days, I’ve trashed, recycled, and donated well over 100 pounds of schtuff. HA!) But yeah…part of the feeling 90 thing is this extra couple of bags of mulch I’m carrying around. Hee. In order to clearly demonstrate what carrying weight on your body is like, I use the following analogy: you know those bags of garden dirt, compost, or mulch? Each one weighs 40 pounds. I can barely tote ONE of those around. And I’m carrying at least two on a small, 5’5″ frame that wasn’t intended to carry more than about 145 pounds at the most. TWO! No wonder my knees are going and my feet hurt so much. (218 when I last weighed myself at work before the winter break, if you MUST know.)
Another thing I’m going to try for is consistency. Juliet said something about the moon’s inconstant orb…but you know, the moon is rather consistent. Each month, she does the same thing, perpetually. I’m not sure I’d want to be quite that predictable–and boring–but one could do far worse than be as consistent as Lady Luna.
Getting back on track being a vegesaur. Several times over the holidays, whether it was just because I was tempted by some yummy-meat thing or because there really wasn’t anything else to eat in the house, I’ve had things to eat which I regretted later. Regretted either because of guilt or because they upset my system something fierce. This goes along with actually planning some meals, doing shopping, and cooking! Gah…I have a teenager, for crying out loud, and I rely on my husband to cook most of the meals, but he doesn’t make veggies and green things, so no one gets the nutrition they should. *slaps own hand*
One last thought on this is time spent on the computer. It is a very useful tool, when used properly, but I spend too much time on FB and playing games, and not enough time doing creative things with it. Posting projects and the like here will be a part of a renewed effort putting what little time I have left on this earth to good use. Believe it or not, I actually go days without checking FB, I don’t twitter, or Google-group…but I still manage to waste an inordinate amount of time on teh intarwebs. I love googling ideas, items, history, pictures, etc. THAT can really eat up time, lemmetellya.
So. I’m off to clean that other catbox, start a back-to-work-and-school washing marathon, finish scanning a kajillion photos for my boss (he’s paying me), bake two more loaves of banana bread, wash dishes and continue sorting and culling 20 years of crap that grew in my house and wonder if clutter is like mold or a fungus…does it spread by spores?
Categories: Self |
Tags: about me, aging, cleaning, clutter, lists, self-pity | Comments Off
November 29th, 2011
Every day, several times a day, I compose marvelous posts. I right the wrongs of the world, chew out ignorant drivers, belittle Christians who apparently have never read a word of the Gospel, and enlighten self-absorbed boobs who think Republicans are human. I chronicle all my various projects (I have projects. Really.), describe with humorous aplomb all the antics of my pets and lanky, truant teenager, and wittily discuss my latest reading adventure.
In my head.
My excuses for not actually writing these posts are legion. I can’t really write that ;way; I’m doing real work, I have no before pictures, so why write about a project if no one can SEE the before and what a magnificent difference I’ve made?
Truth is? I’m lazy. And I suck. There you have it. The Universe is doomed. I could have saved the Universe, but I’m lazy. And I suck.
Did I mention I’m also rather silly?
Categories: Self |
Tags: blogging, Self, self-pity, silliness | Comments Off
August 10th, 2010
I must admit I was a bit self-indulgent tonight. After I went up and registered W for his new middle school (and talked to a counselor there–wow, what a novel concept, a counselor who was actually interested in helping a student, in talking to him! The ones at his old middle school didn’t even return your calls or your emails, let alone give a hooey about a student), I went up to World Market and browsed for about 45 minutes. Got some licorice and a bottle of wine (pinot grigio), strictly for the beautiful cobalt blue bottle it’s in–I hope it’s at least decent, a stocking stuffer for #1 child, a table runner on sale, some orange marmalade, and a pair of wine stoppers in colors I just couldn’t resist. Me-time & money I couldn’t really afford. Dammit.
But you know, lately I keep thinking about the fact that I’m tired in mind, body, and soul…I’ve been working for nigh onto 40 years and quite frankly, there is no retirement in sight. Not unless the BOMITS fairy strikes.* Just knowing I spent almost 50 bucks on things I didn’t really need should be a large enough clue that I don’t handle money well, so it’s no stretch that I have credit up the wazoo that needs paying off. If I didn’t I’d be rolling in extra cash each month. What the hell is wrong with me, anyway?
I’m in too much pain in feet, hands, shoulders, hips, knees, wrists to even think about a second job. I’m dead when I get home from the first one as it is. No energy to do anything but eat some totally unhealthy crap, check email, play a few minutes of some mindless game, write a bit, read a bit (all of which can be done either sitting in a chair or in bed), and then die until 6:30 the next day. I know, I know, better diet, more activity=more energy, etc. I can’t even get to that point. I’m just bloody tired.
Said friend Laura (see below) goes home and knits a wildebeest after work. Now..I admit, I’ve got 23 years on her and carry more weight for my height, but it’s just agravating. There’s so much I want to do. A lot of it is just that my spirit is dead. I’ve been schlepping papers for someone else for so long, I have lost any sort of self identity. All I can do is be a cranky know-it-all. Is that all there is, Alfie?
*BOMITS: Bag of Money in the Street, credited to my gorgeous friend, Laura.
Categories: Self |
Tags: about me, aging, pity-party, questions with no answers, Self, self-pity, Work | Comments Off
June 21st, 2010
It’s quite unsettling when you are not in control of your feelings, but try not to worry if you aren’t satisfied with what you currently have. Trust your instincts, for your ruling planet Venus enters your 4th House of Security, ensuring your common sense in love even if you consider shaking everything up for the sake of change. But be careful of overreacting or your inflexibility can create unnecessary problems. Be open to meeting others halfway or you might miss the love that’s already in your life.
I know there was a very good reason for saving this one…but you know, a week later, if I don’t make any notes, it’s hard to say what was running through my head. I do remember the night before, as I tried to go to sleep, feeling utterly and completely out of control of my life…to the point where I actually, seriously thought about rope and the rafters of the back porch. Two main things stopped me…the first being my children. I would never, ever do that to them. What a horrible, selfish thing to do to one’s children…let alone spouse, parents, siblings, co-workers, etc. The other is the thing that’s always stopped me…if you give in to the long term solution to a short-term problem, you never know what the next chapter is, do you?
I’ve been getting steadily better since then, even though in some ways, some things are worse than they were then. But yesterday I vowed to press on, take control and stop waiting for someone to save me. Only one someone can save me….me.
Categories: Every Now and Then Horoscope |
Tags: about me, pity-party, Self, self-help, self-pity | Comments Off
August 16th, 2009
Apparently, I’ve had my start logic account for a year. They’ll be billing me for the annual fee this month (and probably overdrawing my account in the process): I’ve made five posts and uploaded two pictures in that time, and all of that was fairly recently. The service sat there for months and months while I either forgot about it or dithered about how to do it. The dashboard for it is way above my knowledge. WordPress and my friend Amber to the rescue.
So, along with a renewed interest in actually doing something with my site, my husband’s interest in adding his site to my service, and a need to have somewhere to air my ramblings, I’m back. Or here. Or something.
I used to fancy myself a writer. I’m not, at least not a writer in the sense that my friend LDA is(she has a nom de plume, but I won’t tie her to this post, if she reads it, she’ll know who she is). She’s a real writer, with two nonfiction books published and a novel in the pipeline. (It’s finished, now she’s trying to find an agent.) She has this way with words that I just don’t possess. I’m good technically and used to be able to write a damned good essay, but the prose, not so much. My stuff is kind of plodding…plod plod plod. My daughter has a flare for words, too, if she’d only admit it.
The things I really have talent for, sewing, drawing, creating things with my hands…I can’t do so much anymore. My hands are numb most of the time, making it really hard to do things, and I did something stupid way back in November of 2005. I used to be really near-sighted; I took my glasses off to see things up close. Then I had Lasik and now I can see mostly okay at a distance, but have to have reading glasses to read and work on the computer, and +4.00 lenses to do the kind of thing I used to be able to do “bare-eyed,” as it were. I gave up any sort of desire to do the sort of things I have for which I obviously have no talent for years ago. I’m not athletic, I can’t sing worth doodle and public relations is right out.
What do you do when you discover that you can’t draw anymore and weren’t really a writer to begin with and all the other things you did with your hands are painful to do? You read a lot (but even that hurts because of the hand issues), you watch way too much TV, and sleep and daydream. Or you bore the poor college kids at your office with endless chitchat…I’m sure they appreciate that. There’s confusing the cats, or running the puppy silly with the laser mouse (actually, I never tire of that one; it’s hysterical).
Or, you can stare at the mounds of clutter and crap, knowing you can handle it, but not knowing where to start. You annihilate the laundry amoeba, and hope it never grows back again, you doodle and toss aside your lame attempts at art, where once there was talent. You stare at the wall where the shelf used to be and think, I need to paint and patch that, and keep typing.
I’ve deluded myself for over a year now into thinking that I finally have friends and a life. But the friends don’t call me, they call each other. The life is one big boring pile of wastedness. A house full of fabric, art stuff, craft stuff, nifty stuff that is absorbing dust and turning yellow with age. There are times when I just want to put on the old print muu-muus and admit I’m middle-aged and boring. Dish up that goulash and let’s see what Dr. Whoozen of…egads, I don’t even know the titles of any soap operas.
Perhaps there’s hope for me yet!
Categories: Self |
Tags: boredom, pity-party, self-pity | 1 Comment
