Situations to avoid:

Created by Oatmeal

Remind me to stay away from the velociraptor/bunk bed combination.

Inspired by Mel @ Cabezalana.

Various things

The week began well. I was in a very good mood for two or three days. That doesn't happen often. I saw some things that made me laugh. On January 25th I saw a formerly live Christmas tree that had been put on the curb for the garbage guys. One month after Christmas. I was amused.

I saw the name "Felicia Patto" and at first glance my brain saw "Fellatio." I was amused, but I also blame you. You know who you are.

Earlier in the week, I forget which day it was, we had clear skies and cool wind. Most people around here were uncomfortably cold. I loved it! Before class I went to the hardware store. Oh my goodness gracious! What fun! I was pushing a cart through the wind in the parking lot and spontaneously let out a whoop. Inside, I looked at shelf after shelf of levels, screw drivers, drill accessories, and saw blades and laughed out loud.

On Thursday I tanked. I had an exam in Social Psychology that I didn't adequately prepare for (when have we heard that before?) and I did not do well. I'm not so motivated as I was before. Am I tired? Can I really do this? Should I really do this? I know that I can if only I will.

I know in the greater scheme of things, a low grade on a Social Psychology test isn't the end of the world. But it's important to me. The professor has posted the grades. I made a 73.5. She also sent out an email to the class. She's going to give us another opportunity to do a couple of the short answer questions. I guess I feel OK that I'm not the only one who choked, but honestly I could have done so much better if I'd applied myself to studying. I'd be more inclined to study if I like the subject better. Social Psychology can be kinda bogus sometimes. They study some interesting things, but often go about it in stupid ways.

I've been tired. Well, OK, that's my fault too. I stayed up way too late Tuesday night. I got what would have been sufficient sleep on Wednesday had I not gone into the night with a sleep deficit. By Thursday evening I was lower than a snake belly in a wagon rut. I had a good cry, and that helped a little bit.

Since Thursday I have felt not-of-this-world. I am not sane, in the sense of being like "normal" people. I may be feeling that artistic otherness, but without the ability to express myself in art. All I can say is that I'm not well. Or, as Matchbox 20 sings, I'm just a little unwell.

There is supposed to be some purpose to my life. I seem to have forgotten what it is, as if it slipped my mind. The harder I try to remember, the more elusive it gets.

This town is suffocating me. This state is suffocating me. * There is a remote possibility that I'm suffering "the grass is greener" syndrome, that these particular problems will follow me no matter where I take them. Of course some of my issues are stuck to me (literally, like a 150 lb tire around my midsection). Perhaps, though, if I get out of The South (TM) and find a culturally diverse, more populated area where the general intelligence quotient is a few points higher than here, perhaps that will give me something more to work with.

I'm disheartened.

Light is out of school for a brief break. She just finished the intense "Jan term" session, and her Spring semester begins on Tuesday. She and Superman left this morning for NW Georgia. They're visiting his parents, showing off some of her more recent artwork. I'm left here with Diva until tomorrow evening. It's so hard to relate to this girl. I don't trust her, not only to not steal my stuff, but I don't trust her with my heart. Whenever I make an effort to connect to her for some genuine mother/daughter time, she hurts me.

Superman's dad is not in good health. He had a kidney removed last year, and his remaining kidney isn't functioning very well at all. The nutritionist they consulted told him that he was fine eating his normal diet, which is a bald face lie. They saw his nephrologist last week, and he blanched when they told him what the nutritionist said. So his diet is now grossly restricted. Dad is seriously questioning his quality of life right now. How much is it worth to go on living without the pleasure of pecan pie? That might sound trite, but it represents a larger question. He has said he refuses to undergo kidney dialysis. If his kidney fails, he'll just go to sleep and not wake up. He asked the doctor about the nature of a death from kidney failure. The doc says it's one of the easier ways to go. I think he's looking forward to it. As much as I dislike Superman leaving me here, especially with the children, I realize it's important for him to visit his dad now. He won't have many more chances. Although I do not get along well with his parents, I nevertheless have a great deal of respect for them and value the relationship they have with their son.

* I assume you've all heard about our Lt. Governor, Mr. Andre Bauer. He stuck his big foot in his mouth this week, saying in essence that we should not subsidize the lunches of underprivileged school children because those poor dumb people breed like stray animals. If we don't feed them, they'll go away. Yesterday he apologized for his unfortunate analogy, but stands by the message. I don't know what he really means, but I think he's a dumb f#<%. He is currently running for governor, as the illustrious Mark "Appalachian Trail" Sanford is in his final term as governor. If Bauer is elected, I'm going to bail on this state, I swear. If the soon-to-be-former Mrs. Sanford were to run for governor, I might vote for her. She seems the sanest one of the bunch, though her politics are a bit too much on the conservative side for my taste.

I'm a Liberal Airhead

What are you?

How receptive are you to fascist propaganda? Take the F Scale personality assessment and find out for yourself.

Quote and thoughts

"Seek out that particular mental attribute which makes you feel most deeply and vitally alive, along with which comes the inner voice which says, 'This is the real me,' and when you have found that attitude, follow it."

-- James Truslow Adams

I think this is a particularly apt quote. Still haven't quite figured out what I want to be when I grow up, though I'm closing in on it. The time for decisions is fast approaching, and I want to hit close to the mark, as I don't have the leisure of time that I did 30 years ago when I began to pretend to be serious about making these decisions.

"Will you love me just a little, just enough to show you care?"

* I tried to post this Friday evening but Blogger was uncooperative. *

Empty promises are lies wrapped in ribbons and bows.

Superman discovered his credit card missing this morning. He last used it Wednesday night, and that is the last charge on the account. He called the company, and card has been cancelled, so we're good there.

I immediately suspicioned Diva. After lunch I went to her school, where her guidance counselor brought her up from class to the resource officer's office. He's a deputy Sheriff. I looked all through her purse and book bag, then we looked through her locker. No credit card. I poked around the house some but still haven't found it. Superman did a thorough search of the car. It's still missing. Diva says she didn't do it, of course, and she might be telling the truth. She has been known to tell the truth occasionally. She has also been known to steal things, including credit cards. I still suspicion her.

In other news, Sproing is home for the weekend. So far, so good. He goes back to the facility Sunday afternoon, when we will have a family therapy session. He is eager to discuss moving back home. He's made good progress, but I don't know if he's ready to come home. We'll talk about that with his therapist.

Right now I'm deflated. It's one thing after another with these kids, particularly with Diva now. She's an emotional black hole, sucking that kind of energy from me, telling lies, plotting revolt. I'm tired and I have had a shitty day. (about 70% shitty, it hasn't been totally horrid) Today I got so damned depressed. I just want to go to bed.

The title of this post

There is a point in the metaphysical universe where what we know as reality ceases to exist and all that's left is Blogdom. Or, more generally, the Interwebz. Alas, I have been absent from Blogdom of late.

School started. I went to class. Life goes on. The beginning of a new semester, new classes, new instructors bring new perspective. To wit, I have a physical education lecture course, required for graduation, called Fitness and Wellness. This class will force me to face some facts about myself and my life that I do not want to admit. I'm squirming, feeling panicked. Reactions of this nature seem to indicate deep-seated emotional disturbances. So far I have been challenged to live "a special lifestyle that promotes a full, productive, and enjoyable life." I am not on board with that statement of purpose. The problems begin with the idea of living.

For balance, I have a course in Death and Dying. I'm quite excited about this one. It's a topic that has interested me for a very long time. In my first college experience a hundred years ago this course was offered, but I never had the opportunity to enroll. I'm glad to be in this class now. I am the oldest person in the class, including the professor. He's 35 or 36. He's the fellow who taught my Research Methods class last semester. Most of the rest of the students are 20 years old, give or take a year. There may be a few who are in their late twenties or thirties, I'm not sure. But I am definitely the oldest. I'll hazard a guess that I have contemplated the subject of death more than most anyone else in the class with the exception of the prof. I think (I mean to ask him) he's done some research on the topic.

I'm taking The Really Hard Research Course, Part II. It's being taught by a different professor, not the fella' we all got used to last semester. This prof is a woman, but I'll try not to hold that against her. She allegedly knows her stuff. I also have her for another class this semester, a general Social Psychology course. So far it's not very inspiring. Updates as warranted. (I love that phrase.)

But the really BIG school-related news: I'm taking an art class! I know! It's an advanced sculpture class, and our first assignment is to make a display box with legs. It is much more complicated, but that's the gist of it. This is going to be so cathartic for me. My box base is a wall mounted medicine cabinet with a mirrored door. The theme explores aging, body image, cultural standards of beauty, and not wanting to look at myself too closely.

The art class is my motivation. It is my love. I wonder why in the hell I'm majoring in psychology when there's ART!! OK, money might have something to do with it. Also, I seem to have a gift for relating to people, particularly people who are hurting. Thistle says I am good at loving broken people. Perhaps through psychology I can refine that gift and make a living using it. Oh, but ART!! Art feeds my soul. I don't feed my own soul very often.

I've been putting some brain energy into the gender identity question. I remembered today that when I was a yout' my mother allowed me to pick out a new bed for myself. I chose the bed designed for boys (wood that looked like wood) over the girls bed (painted white with "gold" accents). When the truck came to deliver my bed, they had the wrong one. They brought the girls bed. I told Mama to just leave it. It didn't matter. So I had that white bed frame, but I felt like an impostor using it. Well, when I bothered to think about it, which wasn't often. I chose a gender-neutral bedspread for it. That helped.

I like wearing skirts or dresses. They are more comfortable to me than pants. I'm glad I'm a woman so that I can wear skirts without causing a social ruckus. I'm glad I'm a woman because I really like guys. It's easier for me to be het. On the down side, I don't trust women. It's hard being friends with straight guys because of the sexual tension. Watch When Harry Met Sally. Harry is right. It's hard for me to form friendships with women because they are women. There are exceptions. I like some people who happen to be women. Generally, though, women drive me crazy. I'm sort of embarrassed to be a woman.

Enough for tonight. It's very late. Again. I miss you when I don't post, and it's been nearly a week since my last post. Hopefully I'll use my time wisely this week and be able to post more frequently. It's all about using my time wisely. I flunked "uses time wisely" in elementary school. I did pass penmanship, just barely.

Monday morning blatherings With UPDATES!!

My first class starts in an hour. I need to go find a parking space pretty soon. I'm not looking forward to this class. Thankfully it only meets two hours a week. It's something about "Wellness" and involves some kind of healthy lifestyle instruction. I think. Lame. Important, maybe, but lame. I've already had this class, actually, but they call it something different here, so the prior credits didn't articulate. Blah blah blah.

This afternoon I have The Really Hard Class, Part II. I can't remember what it's called, but it is the research method stuff with math added. Statistics. Or as my dad says, Sadistics. I did pretty well in the statistics math course I took last summer, and that was a prerequisite for this class. I'm going to pretend that it will be fine. I have never had this professor before, and was nervous about being in her class, but I've sense heard that she's quite a good instructor and I have nothing to fear. I'm gonna go with that until I learn otherwise.

My knuckle is doing much better. It looks kinda gnarly* but is healing well.

Superman came home yesterday. I think I told you that he was out of town over the weekend. It's good to have him back. It's good to snuggle under the covers with him. In related news, I'm loving this cold weather. It makes snuggling so much more comfortable.

Alright, time to go engage academia. Wish me luck.

*I love the word "gnarly." It's so visceral.

UPDATE: So I went to my first class today. All is good. It's a big class. I don't like that much, being the introvert that I am. I got a seat in the back. I'll be OK.

I got there a little early and went to see the instructor. I've heard good things about her. I talked to her about my need for and fear of exercise. There are some possibilities. What I can do, if I'm ready and willing, is to get a log sheet from her, the kind she uses in her "activity" classes, and do my own walking thing, or whatever seems appropriate. I could swim, I suppose. That's kinda nice because I get to float and feel somewhat weightless. As big a whale as I am it's rare for me to feel weightless, you know? Anyhow, I could do my own thing, keeping a log, and check in with her a couple of times a week. I'd be accountable to her, but it'd be a private, off the books thing.

She also teaches a walk/jog class that would be good for me. It's a 2 hour course, meets twice a week, but it interferes with another class I'm taking so that won't work. I don't need the credit, per se, I just need the exercise. This wellness course I'm taking discusses motivation and other healthy lifestyle kinda stuff.

I am afraid. Don't know what scares me so. I suspect there is more than one cause of this fear. I should talk it out. I suppose I could write it all out here, but I don't know if I want to do that. For one thing it would be ugly, boring, and whiny. Who wants to read that crap? I dunno. I'll ponder the issue for a while, see what happens. Stay tuned. You never know what sort of craziness will show up in this space.

Hey, my Mon-Wed afternoon class has a textbook that is optional! In the syllabus the prof says the book might be useful for additional understanding, but is not required. Hells no, I ain't buying it! I looked for it in the bookstore last week, and they don't even carry it. Can order it if I want it, but they don't have it in stock. How cool is that? I did have to buy a statistical program for my 'puter. It's a student edition of SPSS and cost $100. The bitch of it is that it is only valid for 13 months. I guess the full edition costs many times more than $100. Eh. It's a program for statistical analysis in the social sciences. Are you asleep yet?

Yada yada... I know this is boring. I need to write. There's something bothering me, but I'm not sure what it is. (Sound familiar, Tobey?) The exercise thing sparked some panic. The previously mentioned gender identity discomfort is stewing. I feel emotionally vulnerable. I have been on the verge of tears for a few days. I started leaking (tears) during the visit with Sproing yesterday, actually. So the whole emotionally-disturbed-children thing might be part of the mess.

Oh, Superman brought home a book from the conference. It was a freebee even. It's titled The Sociopath Next Door by Martha Stout, Ph.D. On the cover it says "1 in 25 ordinary Americans secretly has no conscience and can do anything at all without feeling guilty. Who is the devil you know?" This book is currently adding to the clutter on my desk and my general sense of anxiety. The thing is, the sociopath is living under my roof, not next door. I speak of Diva. She seems so sweet sometimes, but in reality she's a sneaky little bitch who will turn on you in a minute if it suits her purposes. It sounds horrible for a mother to say that about her child. But who better than the parents really know the child? I know this child. She scares me. Superman talked about her with some of his new friends at the conference this weekend. Every one of them said "Why is she not institutionalized? Why is she still living at home with you?" We don't really have a good answer to that question.

I'm off to do some errands and other miscellaneous useful things before my next class starts. TTFN.

Oh Look!

I'm writing another post! I've been itching to write, though I don't know what to say. That of course won't stop me from rambling on and on about all manner of random stuff. Hang onto your hats, girls.

Random thing #1: I chopped a chunk out of my knuckle with a hatchet. Funny, I can't remember if it was last night or this morning. I was trying to make a small piece of wood into lots of smaller pieces of wood. We've been heating with wood this winter. Not exclusively, we also use electric space heaters here and there, but we're trying to use the fireplace insert to do the general heating. Superman, one of his good friends, and Twitch have been working independently and cooperatively to gather much wood. Right now, thanks to the good friend, we have a very large stack of wood on our back patio. It's almost all pine. Pine burns fast and hot. It's good for starting fires, but hardwoods are much better for maintaining a fire. We have pine. The fireplace insert is a good one, and it burns everything completely and efficiently. We have to feed it more often if only using pine.

I got off track again.

Superman left me this weekend to go play with Light and some of her friends (including a few lesbians!!! :) ) at a conference in Atlanta. He's the one, of course, who takes care of the firewood and fires and warming the house and other useful things like that. He brought in a big stack of wood before he left Friday evening. It has been unusually cold here in South Carolina, as it has been in much of the nation, so having a good supply of firewood is a good idea. We hadn't built a fire Friday morning, as no one was here to need it. After Superman left, Diva and I went out to run a few errands, and when we came home it was really cold in here! So I proceeded to lay out a fire. The thing about that is we didn't have any good small tinder pieces to lay a good base. We had a decent bit of kindling and other fuel wood, but you need both kindling & tinder* to build a good fire.

Superman keeps a hatchet beside his tinder bucket. When he left me alone the week before Christmas I was chopping kindling into tinder and accidentally dropped the hatchet. Without thinking, I grabbed for it as it fell. I caught it, which was not such a good idea because I caught the blade with my left palm and cut a big gash in the side of it there .** Actually, it wasn't too bad, just a cut, but was sore for a couple of days.

So he leaves me with Diva this weekend, and it's colder now than it was before Christmas. We need a fire, and I need tinder. There I am, using the hatchet, and by golly if it didn't slip again! I was holding the stick of wood in my left hand and the hatchet in my right (being right-handed as I am). I'm not a very good aim with that sort of thing. No sight, you know.

I should have been wearing the work glove on my left hand, but I wasn't. The hatchet glanced off the side of the stick and slipped right onto the knuckle of my index finger. It shaved off a piece of the skin. Stung like an s.o.b., especially when I washed it off. I put ointment and a bandage on it, and it's not so bad now. I think I'll survive.

Random thing #2: I can lay a really good fire when I put my mind to it.

Random thing #3: I had a lovely visit with Monkey this afternoon. Monkey is Light's roommate at college. She was in town today and came by to interview me for a class she's taking. She needed to get a birth story. I find it amusing that her mother wasn't willing to tell her about her own birth story. The class is about child and family development and such, or something like that. I really can't remember exactly what she told me, though I did ask. She needed to know my experience giving birth, how that affected my sexual relationship, and how it affected my perception of myself as a woman (or something like that). I love to tell stories! Perhaps you noticed. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. She seemed to have a good time, too. She's a precious young woman and I am blessed to know her.

Recurring theme that I mention occasionally but never really explore #1: Just exactly how do I feel about being a woman? What is my perception of myself as a woman? Why in the hell am I a woman??? It's a very big topic, and a sore one at that. It needs its own post, or series of posts. I always say that, but never write that post. Let's nutshell it: I don't feel like I embody the concept of "woman" very well. "Woman" doesn't fit me. I don't like it much.

Random thing # next: My classes begin on Monday. I have already started reading the first chapter in my social psychology book. I looked at the class website and the prof has the first assignment posted. It isn't due until Thursday, but heck, I'll get an early start on it. I'll have a few other things to do by then, I'm sure. I want to do well this semester. I want my 4.0 back, dammit. Anyway, back to social psych; it's a strange discipline. I'm not sure about it. I've only just begun, of course. Part of what I've read sounds like so much b.s. From a different angle, though, it might make sense. We shall see.

Random thing # after that: Cats!! Cats are funny. I have a couple, you know. Thursday night it was wet and icy. We had a very slight bit of snow flurry, then we got some sleet. There wasn't much precipitation at all, really, but it was cold and nasty. Samhain, our sleek black cat, wanted to go outside. He's the only one who goes out. Scheherazade is a totally indoor cat, though she's not always happy about it. So anyway, Samhain wanted to go out. He was in the bedroom with Superman, who opened our bedroom window to let him out. It's a common route of ingress and egress for Samhain. He hopped up on the windowsill and stopped, sniffing and watching, then turned around and jumped back into the room.

Superman came out to the living room and Samhain followed, and went to the back door. Superman opened the back door for him, but Samhain wasn't pleased with what he saw. He gave Superman that look that says "What's this? You've made it wet and nasty through this door, too. What's wrong with you?" He then turns and runs to to the foyer, up to our front door. So Superman followed and opened that door for the cat. This time Samhain looked up at him with disgust. "We are not amused," he seemed to say. Every exit available for the cat led into cold, wet darkness. He obviously blamed Superman for this sad state of affairs.

There are many other random things swimming around in my brain. A minute ago I thought of one I wanted to write here, but it swam away before I could catch it. It's late and I am tired. Before I leave you, though, I'll share with you what I've been listening to as I write.

*That's a cool site. It has nothing to do with starting fires. Go check it out.

** from 3:15 - 3:25

Acknowledging the Eagle

Monday seems to have slipped passed the radar somehow. Here it is, Tuesday afternoon, and I have only a vague idea of how I got here. It's turning out to be that kind of week, I'm afraid.

On Sunday afternoon my dear son Twitch received his Eagle Scout honors from his Boy Scout troop.

Here he is, standing in my study, humoring me while I take his picture before we go to the ceremony.

Another scout leads him in the oath. I think this is the official presentation of the rank of Eagle Scout. They mumbled, much like boys in their late teens tend to do.

As his Mama, I had the honor of pinning his medal on his left breast pocket flap.

Yep, that's me and my fat ass. Ugh. Gad I hate posting these pictures of me.

Then Twitch gave me my Eagle Scout Mom pin,

and gave Superman his Eagle Scout SuperDad pin.

After the ceremony: here's my boy, the Eagle Scout, with his merit badge sash and Eagle Scout pin. I'm kinda proud of him. Kinda a lot.

Twitch shakes hands with his Scoutmaster. This man has been a great leader and mentor for my son and a bunch of other youngsters over the years.

When we got home I sewed the Eagle Scout badge (or is this a patch? The terminology confuses me) on his left breast pocket.

And now my son is officially an Eagle Scout.

The End

Safety Tips

Amusing

Twitch emailed this to me, thinking I would like it. Does that boy know me or what?

'round here at the end of the year

Heard around the Java household:

Twitch, yelling, as he walks past my office: "After I take a wiz!"

Superman, yelling from the kitchen: "TMI!"

If I carried my camera with me, I would have a couple of pictures to share. The first would be the huge display in the grocery store, many feet of shelf space, of all manner of Valentine goodies. I saw that sight on December 29th. I was disgusted.

The second picture would be an old (probably Ford) station wagon from the '70s, a light brown original paint job that was probably marketed as "bronze" or something. It wouldn't have been significant if not for the wide rims.

It pulled up to the convenience store where we were getting gasoline, parked beside the store, and two Bubbas got out. Driver Bubba was tall, used to be skinny but was carrying around his waist a spare tire bigger than what was on these rims. He was graying, with a long beard down to the second button of his red flannel shirt. Passenger Bubba was younger, bedecked in camouflage. They seemed the type to drive an old pick-up truck, but the old station wagon wasn't out of place. The rims, though, were just wrong on so many levels.

Here's the thing. Rims only look good on a very narrow category of cars. Unfortunately, I have seen these rims on a much wider variety of vehicles than they have any business adorning. Is it a Southern thing? Or do those of you in other parts of the world also see these travesties of auto accessorizing?

I have been trying to gather cheap and easy recipes for Twitch. He lives in an apartment with three other guys. The only meal plan the school offers is lunch three days a week, so he's on his own for everything else. He has a small income and horrible budgeting skills. We've been working on this. I've been drilling good sense into his head (for years, actually) and he's been steadily ignoring it. I could go on and on about that, but I won't. Back on topic, his meals and food budget: I have a recipe for a home made Bi$quik mix, and I went to the Bi$quik website today and got almost a dozen good main dish recipes using the mix. I'll make a large batch of the mix before we take him back to school next week. This afternoon we went shopping, stocked him up with some staples and a few other odds and ends.

One of the recipes I printed off for him today was French bread pizza. I got that recipe out of my head, actually. I recall Stow-fers used to make a frozen French bread pizza that wasn't all that good, IIRC. At the store this afternoon I picked up a loaf of Italian bread ('cause I couldn't find any French bread) and a loaf/flat of ciabatta bread. It's what I could find, folks. This evening we cut the loaves in half lengthwise along the equator, separating the top from the bottom. Superman lightly toasted the bread. He opened a can of prepared spaghetti sauce, I had an shredded Italian cheese mix from the grocery, and we gathered various pizza toppings. Included among the toppings were black olives, sliced mushrooms, pineapple chunks, bacon, kielbasa sausage sliced thin, and maybe something else. I forget. OH, onions! Everyone topped his or her own pizza as desired. We baked the pizzas at 400 F for approximately 15, maybe 20 minutes. I don't know exactly, as Superman did that part. This is what mine looked like. It was very tasty.

****Happy 2010 Everyone! I started this before 8:00 last evening, just after I'd put the pizzas in the oven. I've puttered around a lot since then, and it's now after 2:00 a.m. I watched half an hour of TV, from 11:40 to 12:10. I watched the ball drop in Times Square. I did not see Maddog, but I saw Jennifer Lopez prancing around in something egregious. I'd rather have seen Maddog. I saw some kissing, but it was boy/girl kissing, not boy/boy or girl/girl, so I wasn't impressed. I have my standards, after all.

Enough of my rambling. I'm tired and it's way past time to go to bed. I wish you all a good New Year, today and for the next 364 days as well.