Monthly Archives December 2012

Random Rooms, Random Thoughts

When you stay in a hotel room, do you ever wonder at who has been in the room before? I mean, you’re sleeping in a bed where other people have slept, made love, passed out drunk, been raped, cried, laughed, eaten, masturbated, watched TV, pissed (or worse), or perhaps even died. When you use the shower, you are taking a shower where a really good-looking, beautiful woman was once naked, or maybe where a chubby man with lots of hair on his back and gold chains around his neck soaped himself up, too.

Your butt sits on a toilet where someone else’s butt has been.

Honestly, if you let yourself really, really think about it, it can get a bit creepy.

I think peo...

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Negativity, Books, Holidays

asdfThere is only one thing that gets me feeling negative and that is negativity. Go figure, right? But really, let me explain. I stay pretty upbeat most of the time. I try to laugh every day. I try to find joy and abundance in even the smallest of things, and most of the time, I’m fairly successful at this. I used to be much better at it. There was a time, about four or five years ago, for a couple of years, when everything was pretty upbeat and positive in my life. It showed in my writing. It showed in my appearance. It showed in my life.

Then my health took a turn for the worse, and I have to say, when you’re battling an ‘invisible illness’ that even doctors don’t know what it is, boy can that wear you down fast. Then the typical, it’s all in your head, maybe you’re depressed, well, you’re almost middle aged, and so on and so forth… stupid, but yeah. Then your body changes, and your mind changes and your life changes. And it’s hard to stay positive, but I tried.

Then I almost died. Twice. Maybe three times. Multiple lengthy hospital stays, multiple painful and torturous procedures. My body has changed so much I don’t recognize myself any more. I can’t look in the mirror and see anything that reminds me of me. And that’s tough. Tough, tough stuff.

And yet, I still try to laugh every day. You can read more about my health adventures of living with a terminal illness on my blog Dying To Live. (<—just click there).NEGATIVITY BREEDS NEGATIVITY

But that’s all beside the point now...

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Describes My Age?


Seriously, this is me at 16… the baby is my daughter, who is now 25. I’m the tall one with the funky hair in the back. I sure felt like I looked a lot older back then than this picture makes me look now!

I was taking a survey today, and there was an interesting question on it. It asked: What number best describes your age?

It didn’t ask me how old I was. It didn’t ask when my birth date was. I asked me what number best describes my age. What an interesting way of putting things. I mean, I am 41 years of age right now. I’ll be 42 in about 3 1/2 weeks (January 13th for those who want to mark your calenders or something, ’cause we all know my birthday is a freakin’ national holiday now)… but it asked me to pick a number that best describes my age.

Well, I guess that changes depending on the day...

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Fickle Mistress

Over the years, I’ve met many, many people on the internet. I used to date through a local online dating/personals type place (NEVER again, and as I type, I can see the Doc’s head nodding in agreement, figuratively, of course). At that point in time, though, I had 19 dates in 21 days.

It was really quite comical. My own personal variation on speed dating I guess. The funniest part of it was that I wore the same dress about 17 of those times, because I really looked good in it, and it’s not like they knew I’d worn it before.

But, if you want a laugh, each time and went to the same restaurant all but two of those dates.  And the funniest part is, I didn’t pick the restaurant–they did!

Of course, at the time, I lived in a small town and there was only one real ‘fancy’ restaurant here, and I guess they were all trying to impress me. For those of you who knew the area or know me from the area, it was Harrigan’s, in  case you were wondering. The two who didn’t take me to Harrigan’s, one took me to IHOP at 2am (’cause nothing else was open) and the other took me to Red Lobster. I liked the IHOP guy. He was one that got a kiss, but that was the end of it for him, I’m afraid. Coffee was good, though.

I would have been impressed by some originality… what happened to a ball game, a picnic at the duck pond, bowling even! Something, anything! Hell, take me roller skating. Okay, not so much now, but I was better looking and healthier back then–I would have skated. I know I would have! A park? something, anything other than a fancy restaurant fall back. Be creative, guys!

Of course, the hostess at that restaurant must have been thinking I was some kind of high...

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A Better Generation or the Good Old Days?

I was talking to a friend of mine the other night while online and she had never seen the last episode of Roseanne, in which we as viewers learn, in essence, that everything we had been viewing for all those years was not really the story, but rather a book Roseanne had been writing, and while based in her life, it was not, in fact, historically accurate as to how things happened.

Writers do that, you know. We take the things in our life, aspects of our experiences, and we put that into our words. Sometimes I write things the way they should have been, the way I wanted them to be, and other times I take my worst nightmares and extend them out to make my writing be that which happened.

In the end, it’s all fiction.Anyway...

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A Blog About Ice?

Yes, a blog about ice, of all things…

Sometimes I think my mind dwells on the strangest of things. No, not sometimes. All the time. I think I’m… no, I know I’m crazy. I’m definitely not nermal.

Anyway, I was thinking about ice, and how ice is one of those things that is a man-made item that is us trying to control the elements. We learned how to intentionally make fire, and we learned how to intentionally make ice.

Think about the diverse uses for ice.When you injure yourself, you ...

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Too Scared to Go Outside!

Shame on every single reporter who interviewed a child today at the horrific scene of this school shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary. Shame on every reporter who interviewed a parent waiting outside who didn’t know if their child was alive or dead or missing. Shame on the media. Ratings mean nothing when lives are at stake. Shame on the media.

On a personal note for me: How do you ever go outside again? I mean, kids slaughtered. Movie-goers mowed down like they don’t even exist. Shoppers at a mall going for Christmas presents taken out. Throw in drunk driving, drugged driving, texting and talking while driving, road rage, rage in general, and and and… it just keeps coming and coming and it shows no signs of slowing down.

How do you even walk outside of your house without that little somethi...

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All Ya Gotta do is Dream, Dream, Dream

I was not feeling well last night, so I took my meds and fell asleep around 8pm. They woke me up at 10 to take my meds and I fell back to sleep. They woke me up again at midnight to take my other meds, and I fell right back to sleep and then I slept straight through until 7 this morning, when it was time to take still more meds.

I think I was tired.

I know I’m sick of taking meds! Had some at 7, 8 and again at 10 this morning (coming up soon!), then at noon, then at 1, then at 4, then again at 10 and midnight and we start all over again… blech.

Last night though, around midnight when I was drifting back to sleep, I came upon this idea for a blog post I wanted to write to you guys.

It was a perfect idea.

I remember ...

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My F’ng Brilliance

I wanted to write something brilliant this morning.

I wake most mornings wanting to write something brilliant.

There are days though when I simply would hope to write something with words in an order the somewhat resemble English and make a little bit of sense.

But this morning, I wanted to write something brilliant.

And so I sat here, staring at the blank text field, waiting for brilliance to strike me.

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Do You Believe in Fairy Tales?

I want to know why Humpty Dumpy was on the wall. Do you realize they never did tell us why? He’s on the wall, he falls, no one can put him together again, but you know, if you’re an egg, and you’re on a wall, you know the slightest breeze might cause you to roll… I’m thinking you don’t get on a wall, right?

Was he suicidal? A bad egg? Perhaps he just wanted attention?

“Lullabye, and goodnight… When the morning is near, I will wake you my dear…”

Do me a favor, wait until the morning is HERE to wake me, okay?

“Rock-a-bye baby in the the treetop… when the wind blows, t...

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