Don’t Look So Shocked, I’m Just Thinking


I’m truly uncertain where to begin.  Lots of things dinging about inside my cranium, some of them, perhaps, worth further thought.

Logan was all giddy last night about the Screen Actors Guild Awards.  He sounded more like a little girl than a 26 year old man, with his giggling and “oohing” and “ahhing” over who wore what, how much it cost, how they arrived, blah blah blah.  I don’t like such progs, so I did my own thing in my room with my popcorn.

I mentioned it to a coworker this morning and got royally trounced!  “Do you KNOW how many gazillions of cash is spent on such affairs?  The facilities, all the fancy autos, sparkly gowns, tuxes, pampering, and not to mention all the hair “product” just for a bunch of spoiled, overpaid, entertainers who want to “boo hoo” about the predicament of the poor but aren’t giving up their lifestyles to help. NO, they just expect their opinions and status to sway the ignorant buffoon masses to pay for everyone else INCLUDING their smug lives.  Think about this, these are “ACTORS” giving “awards” to “ACTORS” and taking the opportunity to spew their own political agenda worse than any politician.”  I was more than a little taken aback, because all I said was my brother seemed to get a kick out of watching the show.  WOW!  People are SO touchy and don’t really seem to have any interest in working together to get along.

Okay… thought: What is is about women’s breasts that is SO fascinating to men?  I mean they are simply part of the female anatomy yet women who have hooters, tits, mams, sweater melons, gazongas, floating funbags, muffins, call them what you will, are used to sell products and/or services.  These women seem to thrive and use the fact men are hypnotized by these “toys for tots”.  What is it about them that are so fascinating to men and make them go all stupid?  And heaven forbid if a nipple is apparent or visible!

Don’t be stunned.  Please sit down for this one.  I went to church yesterday for the first time for actual services.  Was NOT what I expected!  It wasn’t Sister Thomasina’s church either.  It was a little unassuming place.  The people were so nice and friendly and accepting.  The pastor was interesting and even funny and made me think.  And, yes, I checked them out…they are NOT on the list of cults.  Our courtyard neighbor invited me when she saw me in the garden with my coffee.  I’ve read and heard a lot about churches, but have never been and I am open to trying new things.

I will say, I was embarrassed, during the opening prayer not because I didn’t know what was happening, but I had an itch on my elbow and pulled my sleeve up to scratch it and the person sitting next to me saw the scars from my cutting.  I was so ashamed that I wanted to run out, but decided THAT would create more of a stir than just pulling my sleeve back down and being as unobtrusive as possible.  After the service, the person who sat next to me made it a point to come tell me not to be embarrassed because we all have our struggles.  I liked that.  Made me feel a little less like a complete psycho-loser.  Then she said she’d like for us to have dinner sometime because she would like to get to know me better. I thought that was rather pushy, then I wondered how she would react if I told her my WHOLE story.  I ended up thanking her and telling her perhaps another time as this was my first time.

Cooking Class……I HATE COOKING!  I prepared the cake as per the instructions….EXACTLY per the instructions….and the cake was crunchy on the outside and slimy gooey on the inside.  I tried to bake a chicken pasty and somehow the pasty was perfect but the inside was quite crunchy too.  I GIVE UP!!!  I was not cut out to be a chef!

Therapist Update:  We seem to have FINALLY found a med that works for anxiety more times than not.  And another one that seems to help me with depression more times than not.  Therapist said depression CAN BE cyclical and the meds that would stop the cycle would make me more like a zombie than a human, so I opted to work through the cycles.  Logan said the meds have made me a bit of a chatterbox and then the crash at bedtime he finds hysterical.  He said he heard me in the shower when he had gotten home after my bedtime so he knocked on my door to see if I was okay (and make sure I wasn’t cutting) and he said I was sound asleep in the shower leaning up against the door.  So I’m guessing I need to pay more attention to timing so I don’t turn into a pumpkin whilst perched on a park bench or in a shoppe.

I’ve blathered on for now.


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