No, I don’t know what I’m doing. Thank you for asking.

I started a blog a long time ago. A long long long long time ago in the general scheme of internet time. When I first started it, I loved it. Adored it, enjoyed planning things out to share, and felt so happy just writing out silly things and seeing them on my screen.

Over time it became difficult to enjoy because there were a lot of people reaching out and telling me to find a focus for my blog, turn it into a money-making enterprise instead of just a stupid thing to put my thoughts on for no reason.

Eventually, I petered out because I knew that I would never make money on a blog about the random ass shit that passes through my brain.

There is a lot going on with folks talking about what they want to change, what they want to do differently in 2020 and the new decade, I just want to remember what it is like to have fun writing out the stupid ideas that pass through my head.

No grand sweeping promises or vows to write anything good, just trying to keep in mind something that I read on twitter recently, that this is for me.

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Just a Thought

Sandy gave her mother a look of secret ferocity which meant: you promised to leave us all on our own, and a promise is a promise, you know it’s very bad to break a promise to a child, you might ruin all my life by breaking your promise, it’s my birthday.
—Muriel Spark/The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie

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romantic portmanteaus

Who makes the decision about couple names?

Is it always based on sounds, pronunciations, and morphemes? Is it a desire to be clever, or just to make sure that words don’t sound ridiculous?

I look at celebrity couple names, and I wonder who the hell thinks of these stupid romantic portmanteaus?

Why Kimye? Why not Westian?
Why Billary? Why not Rodhinton?
Why Tomkat? Why not Hocruise?

Does it always have to be first names? Are the majority of them first name squished in with first name?


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Just a Thought

Flying feels the same whether the engines are working or not.
—Bernard Schlink/The Reader

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Reboot, Reload, Reblog

Every year I pay for all the various things attached to my blog.

Every year I wonder why.

Why am I paying for this service when I barely blog anymore? There was a time when I was posting every single day. It was one of my favorite things to help me sort my thoughts and keep myself up to date all the time. It isn’t as though this blog has a giant amount of followers, and it has almost always just been a thing for me.

I look at all the different social media platforms I am a part of and in truth all of them are pretty much an easier way to have this blog that I used to keep on a regular basis. But with more interactivity. There are more people with whom to share and have them see what I am doing on Facebook, Tumblr, Instagram. There are more people to read and comment and like or dislike what I have to say.

That has a very strong appeal. But it is also exhausting some days and doesn’t serve the purpose that I originally had for this blog, for this idea of having an online presence. It was initially a place for me to write. For me to think. For me to just be okay with being me no matter how boring that me was on a daily basis to others.

I want to say I am going to pick right back up and just jump into the deep end and start blogging every day, but I think that all the time in my head and it never turns out that way in reality.

But I want to see what happens when I try.

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Just a Thought

One of the men told me he was a policeman, but he wasn’t wearing a uniform, which I thought was disappointing: if I were a policeman, I was certain, I would wear my uniform whenever I could.
—Neil Gaiman/The Ocean At The End Of The Lane

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Just a Thought

It had never occurred to him until now that a hero would sleep on the ground.
—Lloyd Alexander/The Book of Three

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parking lot exotic


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Just a Thought

I have dreamed of that song, of the strange words to that simple rhyme-song, and on several occasions I have understood what she was saying, in my dreams. In those dreams I spoke that language too, the first language, and I had dominion of the nature of all that was real. In my dream it was the tongue of what is, and anything spoken in it becomes real, because nothing said in that language can be a lie.
—Neil Gaiman/The Ocean At The End Of The Lane

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drama e’ry day


I’ve worked in customer service a long long time.

I’m tired.

Tired of being nice, of smiling and nodding, of caring about everyone’s problem before caring about my own.

Years ago I worked with a really good friend at a call center and she said that there was drama every day at a call center, so all call centers were dromedaries. Another good friend that works where I am now, in another call center, drew me some cubicle camels for me to enjoy. It makes me very happy to have fun and silly people in my life and at my workplace. It makes me very happy to be able to help people. It makes me very happy to be doing something now that is paying me well enough that I can pay 65% of my bills without any panic.

But I’m tired.

I’m tired and unsure and unclear what I need to do next, if anything. Maybe this is it. Maybe my legacy for the world is just training and monitoring quality and nothing else. I mean, I am aware that my wonderful son is my real legacy in the whole something is living on beyond my death kind of way. My son is amazing, but a lot of what is great about him comes from him and some from his father. But, sometimes, I wonder if I can do something that only I can take credit for and have people continue to care about what I’ve created after I’m dead and gone.

I want the whole idea of a simple life to be enough, and that the simple life I’ve led can be enough for me.

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