My Poor, Abandoned Blogger Blog

After trying out a bajillion blogsites on the web, I've settled on these:

My site where I toss stuff I like

Live Journal, which I've neglected lately

Six Sentences - challenging fun for writers!

What Does It Mean To Be a Romantic?

Every now and then I hear or read something that I first take for granted, but then stop and ask myself:

WTF does that mean, anyway?

Well, I don't actually use acronyms inside my own head but I think you get the idea.

Such was the case yesterday. I was half listening to an interview or something and heard the interviewee say, "Yes, I think so! But then again, I'm a romantic." To be honest, I am not even sure what they were talking about. Anyway, this comment was followed by a little chuckle shared by him and the interviewer, in the way that people do when they think they both get it.

I went about my business.

About an hour later, driving to work, the interview snippet flashed into my head. And I realized - I don't really know what people mean when they say they are a romantic.

I think it's one of those expressions that we ASSUME has a common meaning, but might actually vary greatly, from one person's perspective to another. And it's said here, often, and not always in the context of romance, per se.

So I'm wondering...

Do you consider yourself a romantic?

And if so (or if not) WTF does it mean to you?

I'm not looking for the Webster's definition. I'm just wondering what that term means to you.

Painting: Idealist by Smadar Livne

Just Call Me Sybil

All right, let's review:

I've been blogging on another website for over a year now. I love the folks that are there, but am looking for something more mainstream.

In the quest for this, I now have various degrees of Blog-in-Process on four (count em) four different sites.

And at the moment, I don't really have time to devote to developing a cohesive thought on any of em.

Why?

Gliding right past the lack of cohesion in my thought process in general, I will blame it on what I consider my annual Hell Week.

I am the sole staff for a college outreach facility in a very rural area and this is the first week of Fall Semester. During this week more than any other, I morph into someone from the I Love Lucy episode where the old couple quite literally wear all the hats in their small town - Police officer, Jailer, Attorney, Judge, Gas station attendant, Cook, you get the picture. Anyway, this week I am Counselor, Registrar, Cashier, Clerk, Coordinator, Site Manager, Technician, Spring 07 planner, etc etc etc. Whew...I'm exhausted just writing it.

In addition to all that, I am also on a mayor-appointed committee that sponsors a huge Women's Health Fair that falls on the last Saturday in August. So I've also spent the week dealing with that.

Why am I telling you all this?

I have no idea.

In other news...

Using soy milk in coffee takes a great deal of effort and practice.

Know how slightly curdled milk looks in coffee (altogether now: "Ewwwww") Anyway, soy milk SOMETIMES does that, although it does NOT mean it's spoiled. And I finally figured out why--

If the coffee is too hot, it basically cooks the soy.

Whaddya think of that?

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When Obstacles Are Just Too Big

We can’t find the remote.

What that means is that, if my kid wanders away without turning off the TV, then whatever program comes up next wafts its way into my left ear while I work on my computer. Yes, I could actually get up, walk over and turn off the TV. Often I do, but sometimes it simply doesn’t occur to me. Then I end up with all of this data that entered my subconscious, almost subliminally.

Last night was one of those times.

The program following whatever a 13 year old boy would watch was a brief documentary on the Duke of Windsor and Wallis Simpson. You know, the guy who abdicated the British Throne in order to marry the woman that he loved, an American divorcee? Anyway, as is the case with semi-subliminal crap, I didn’t really pay attention at the time, but woke up thinking about it. Two things struck me:

1. How ridiculous it is for that to have been such a big deal and how much times have changed for the monarchy. Yeah, huh?

2. (And this is the point. Finally) What, exactly, would you give up for the person that you love?

Now don’t go all Starry-Eyed Idealist on me. I mean, really, be PRACTICAL with this.
Whether we like it or, outside circumstance DO affect relationships. And sometimes, they are simply too great for the relationship to survive. Running with the pop culture thing for a bit here…

Circumstances can be negative (think Brokeback Mountain and I promise I’ll never mention that movie again) or for the greater good (think Casablanca). Both are valid and a part of reality.

So this is what I think, in the form of an equation.

IF:

(Person 1's Love) + (Person 2's Love) > (Obstacles) + (Outside opinion)

THEN you have a decent chance of making it.

And like it or not, outside opposition, though not as intense as in previous generations, is alive and well. Regardless of how we feel, the opinions of friends, family, community, government, etc DO affect a relationship.

Some of the areas I can think of off the top of my head are when the two people are different in –
religion, race, political beliefs, age, generation, national origin, handicap, physical appearance or size, economic background, social standing, same gender, opinion of family, and so many more.

What I’m wondering is…

Have you ever had to deal with my equation, on a large scale? Where do you draw the line? Are there specific issues where you know you would reluctantly have to step away from (possibly) the love of your life, for these or other reasons? Don’t worry too much about being politically correct – if you are respectful and your heart is in the right place, you can answer honestly. PC comments will probably be kinda boring, anyway.

The older I get, the more of a “screw ’em” attitude I am acquiring. But to be honest, this has come about more recently that I’d like to admit. Heck it was only a few years ago that I had enough confidence to date a man shorter than me! And now, I think – what a ridiculous standard. There have been more smashed standards since then, but that's a whole other post. I digress.

I think for me the key would be having faith in the LEFT SIDE of the equation. Traditionally, I’ve had a difficult time believing the other person is as “into” a relationship as I am. But when and if I can accept that, I’m pretty sure, with the exception of how it will affect my minor son, I would grit my teeth and fight those battles.

I don’t know. It’s just theory.

btw...
Does anyone have an extra remote?

Okay Now...Be A Good Little Human

Maybe I’m turning into an old fussbudget but lately I’m getting a little tired of machines “doing” things for me. Although there are a number of areas to which this applies, I seem to get particularly ticked of as it relates to cars and bathrooms. I’ve already learned how to navigate each, thank you very much. And one, at a very early age, in fact.

It all started with a seatbelt.

Okay, who all remembers the first time they got into a car, and the car ‘seatbelted’ them in, without their help? Did you think, “Awww, what a sweet thoughtful car this is!” Hell no. I thought, “Help! This damn thing has me trapped!” I hated that. Hated it. And when the fake lady’s voice reminded me that my door was open? It was like, “No shit? Really? Is that why the left side of my body is exposed to sun, wind and rain? Damn. Thanks, car.” Okay, granted I got used to some of it. SO used to it that, whenever I’d get into someone else’s less-smart car, I’d try and try to get out and couldn’t, only to realize I have to first UNDO my belt. (I know that whenever this happened, my car was back home, smirking)

Then came the bathrooms. Remember the first time the toilet flushed for you? Shit (bad word choice) – I nearly jumped into the next stall. This is great for the five year old who forgets to flush. But for those of us who have been potty trained a bit longer – I prefer to have control over this operation. I want to know it’s done before I leave – without having to find a way to escape the motion sensor in a 1’ X 1’ impossible space.

The “I’ll tell you when the water is gonna start” sink is kind of a good thing. I like not having to turn it off. But of course that’s assuming it’s paying attention to my wild hand flails and actually turned it on in the first place.

Paper towel decision maker? Don’t EVEN get me started. There I stand, Oliver Twist-like, begging for another little scrap of paper. “Please, mister, may I have some more? I’d like to dry the pinky on my right hand, too.”

But these are mostly inconveniences, some silly things that I can get worked up into a good crochety grumble about. At worst, it feels like the beginning of a sci fi movie where paternalistic machines have taken over in order to do what they think is best for us. Wait! (wahine frantically tries to remember the end of 2001 – A Space Odyssey; was HAL really destroyed? – before nervously refocusing on post). But the one that drives me freakin’ NUTS is the one I had to deal with this morning…

A car that locks its doors whether you want it to or not. FFS, what’s up with that?????
I don’t mean the driver’s door – it, in its undisputable auto wisdom (heh) has probably already factored in the probability of us crazy humans leaving the keys in the ignition.

I mean, when it takes it upon itself to lock the OTHER doors.

Why am I experiencing this and why is it driving me nuts?

Because my car is sort of off limits until the guy who does brakes comes back to town. So I rented a car for a couple of days – to go to other side of island, buy groceries, drop off used clothing to giveaway place, deal with packages from post office, etc. - all chores that involve opening and closing non-driver doors. And of COURSE the freaking doors were always locked.

It’s like playing a bad game of Mother, May I with a gawddamned machine.

If we can’t figure out the door thing, then we probably shouldn’t be driving in the first place. Maybe that needs to be added to the driving test, kind of like the ADA thing – “True or false: I am capable of locking or unlocking my car doors.”

Anyway…the car is returned, my little meltdown that involved screaming obscenities at a big inanimate object in public is over, and I’m safely back to work – harrumphing to my friends about it.

So I just thought I’d loop you in as well.

Relative Humidity

On that unbearably sultry day in July, the woman smiled while she folded the last towel. “Humid. They don’t know from humid. 85 degrees with 71% relative humidity…they couldn’t handle this.” Weather to melt by, that’s what she called it.

Finished with the laundry, she moved to the other project – cleaning out the luggage, the closet and the memorabilia folder – alternating among all three. She found, remembered and then tossed each item into one bag or the other. Goodwill or Garbage; no in between. Nothing was going to make the cut today.

Catching a glimpse of herself in the bedroom mirror, she paused to survey the reflection. The pile of clothing on the dresser partially blocked her view. Well, it saved her, really, from the reality of the middle age upper arm waddle that she so hated. Instead, her eyes were met only by a direct and purposeful gaze and well sculpted tan shoulders that strained at the olive green tank top that her eyes decided to match in color today. Having a generally awful reaction to mirrors, she was surprised to note that this glance was actually pleasing. “Thank you, pile of clothing” she thought. Her Too Humid Today Glisten only added to the illusion of fitness. She smiled at herself and winked, then returned to the task at hand.

By now her project had taken on ritual proportions and she wouldn’t stop until she was finished. She couldn't.

Tomorrow she would hit life running. Work, community, kid – would all be clamoring for her time and attention. Order would come from the chaos, and life would continue, as though never interrupted. It would be rather pleasant and generally upbeat. If all went well, she’d have renewed drive, cobwebs would be shaken off and she'd be ready to plan out the next phase of her life.

But today she knew where she wanted to be and why. And it wasn’t here. .
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