Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Hola!  New day.  Finally starting to feel conscious.  Daylight savings making consciousness occur later than normal.  Daylight savings making me pull ninja moves on the alarm clock at 5:30 a.m. because it is actually 4:30 a.m. (!!!!) and 5:30 is bad enough.  Daylight saving making me talk French before I talk English in the morning.  Not nice French words like s'il vous plait or merci.  No, no, no.  These are not nice French words at all. 
As you can see, now that I am fully conscious, I have reverted to friendlier Spanish words.  Por favor.  Gracias.  Aren't I much more pleasing now that the sun is high in the sky and coffee has made the trek from lips to brain?  Is this not an argument that the springtime version of Daylight Savings is actually evil?  That it opens a small window of homicidal behavior in normally agreeable and pleasing individuals?  That anything could happen, particularly in the early morning hours of the first week or so after they STEAL a precious hour from innocent (and normally agreeable and pleasing) Americans?  Sure, they give it back in the fall (which I am totally in favor of) and technically call it borrowing, not stealing, but, well, I still protest.  I never gave anyone permission to "borrow" that hour... (grumble, grumble, mutter...) and I certainly was not homicidal prior to this abuse of my inner clock.  Well, not much.  Okay, I may not make the best poster child for this...
On the bright side, there is the proximity to spring...  Bienvenido de nuevo, spring!  Yeah, I don't actually know Spanish beyond the basic basic.  You know, taco, burrito, cerveza...  I had to look up "welcome back". 
I need a nap.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

In theory, I am too old for childish behavior.  In reality... yeah, I apparently still have my moments.
Yesterday I whined (whined!!) to my mother about my adult daughter.
Now, let's preface this by saying that there is no act that my daughter could visit upon me that I have not visited upon my mother tenfold.  As a teenager, I drank, I did some drugs, I snuck out of my bedroom window, I lied, I got into trouble.  My mother spent an afternoon or two in the principal's office discussing my "behavior".  I was rebellious.  And I was even worse in college!  That said, I believe that I had some legitimate provocation.  Extenuating circumstances, if you will.  I had a sociopathic father.  He was a narcissist and a bit of a sadist and I was, what's the word?  Miffed?  Yes, I was a wee bit peeved for a decade or so.  My demeanor was often garrulous, my nature tempestuous and my mother was caught in the proverbial cross-fire.  Yeah, mom dealt with a fair amount of shite that she did not have coming.
Okay, so now, fast-forward a couple of decades and you find me, petulant and brood-y (Buffy-speak) because my daughter selfishly (prepare yourself - this is horrific) does not pay enough attention to me.  Sure, she is a full time college student, carrying 18 credits this semester, which entails probably an additional forty plus hours a week in homework.  Sure, on top of that, she works a thankless job in the service industry, earning less than minimum wage, dependent on the generosity of strangers in a crippled economy.  But this little bitch (BITCH!) can't lavish a little of her spare time on her mother?  What a piece of work!  Fruit of my loins.  Milk of my... whatever.

Yeah, I know.  I suck.


Okay, but, in my defense, it wasn't simply her neglect that prompted my sniveling session with my madre yesterday.  You see, this child, with her inhuman level of narcissism and straight-up, broom-riding bitchery, had also directed a couple of mildly callous comments towards me at a family gathering.  This child of mine had rolled her eyes and accused me of pressuring her to have chilluns.  No, not chitlins, chilluns.  Offspring.  Like I was a stereo-typical parent of a grand-motherly age.  Me.
Uh... ICK.
Sidebar:  Did I mention this was perceived, not actual, pressure?  Saying "when you have kids" is no more an expectation that you start reproducing immediately than "when you are old and grey" is an expectation for you fast-forward through a few decades.  Just sayin'.  Uh, end sidebar.
But whether or not her argument had a single, itty, bitty granule of truth to it, the real point of the matter is, she accused me (at least in my head) of neediness.  Of mediocrity.  Of being the mother that has no life outside that of her children and subsequently, her children's children.  That I am an empty-nester that needs to live vicariously through my child's nest.  ME!
And so, because of our lack of quality time and the ensuing lack of quality in our time together, I reverted to a wounded five year old and cried to my mommy.  Oh, the cruelty, mummy!  Jae (code word for the little monster) was grumpy with me.  Jae accused me, in a roundabout way, of being typical and rather frumpy-minded, of having mundane expectations.  Oh, the sorrow!  Oh, the pain!  Kill her, mummy!  Eat her, mummy!  ...(but not really because I luff her).
So now, I feel shame.  Shame that my daughter thinks I am common.  Shame that I became so freakin' weird about NOTHING.  Shame that I was a ridiculous woman in front of my daughter.  Shame that I threw a temper-tantrum in front of my mother.  Shame that I do not know how to manipulate the time-space continuum and make this all NOT have happened.  Not at all ashamed that I am a sci-fi nerd who threw "time-space continuum" into the equation.  Shamed that I am still making a big, friggin' deal over this stupid ordeal.  And shame because I realize that said stupid ordeal does not seem significant enough to actually warrant time travel.  Abuse of time-space continuum.  Time-space continuum fuckery.
Abuse of grammar.  Over-use of potty mouth.  Sorry.
Shame (hanging head).

Monday, March 5, 2012

Okay, so here we go. I don't really know what I am doing. There is no plan. I am looking across the face of the deep and it is without form and void and yes, I am paraphrasing Genesis. It seems appropriate for big beginnings somehow.
Not that this blog is anything big. And not that I am religious. Quite the opposite, in fact. I am an atheist. I don't believe in gods. Now, I'm not saying that my mind cannot be changed. I just don't believe in any gods at this point and pretty much won't unless one of them decides to pull an abracadabra and pop in to show me some I.D.
Speaking of disbelief, there has been some debate lately as to whether or not atheism is a religion. It is not.  Some people, though, some religious people, seem desperate to hang said moniker on we dastardly disbelievers. I, personally, think it is simply a case of "well, if I'm a big stupid-head, so are you". It's a shit-flinging, no-leg-to-stand-on response from the bat-shit crazy zealots that are getting so much attention in American politics right now.  I mean, we all know bat-shit crazy zealots have been screwing things up world wide from the first time one knuckle-draggin', Cro Magnon raised a hairy finger to the sky and said, "I been talking to the guy who throws those lightening bolts..." but, if America has crests and troughs of religious crazy, well, I'd say we're peaking. 
Anyhow, I did not intend to start this particular debate. I just wanted to drop a line and get started. Mostly I just wanted a forum that was uncensored for me. A place to rant.  I'm sick of the sheer gooey-ness of those social networks. I need a place I can just talk, say what I want to say and not worry about everyone's sensibilities.  Or how to condense what I am thinking into a one-liner with a punchline.
So, here we go.