This was one of the more-insightful tests I've come across on the web so far...it described me very well!
Click here to take the test...my results are below!!
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Please Watch This
(From PostSecret)
I don't think it's any secret that I've been through some less-than-stellar times during the life of this blog. Though I never came out and said it, there was a while there when I wasn't sure how much longer I was going to be able to keep it all together. Thankfully, the chances for an unhappy ending seem to have plummeted; the meds are working (I can say that confidently now) and this particular episode of depression seems to be :::knocks wood, crosses fingers, whacks self in head with horseshoe, eats 4-leaf clover::: over.
There are a lot of people in this world who are nowhere near as blessed and lucky as I have been. There are a lot of people who still need help; people who are on the edge, people a hairsbreadth from ending their lives, who desperately need someone to talk to. To my way of thinking, it would be a shame and a sin to leave these people to the tender mercies of our Federal Government; however, if people don't support Hopeline, that's exactly what may happen. I have friends who have been dragged through the "compassion" of the government's mental-health treatment system; suffice to say that the alleged cure can be far worse than the disease.
Please--support Hopeline. God forbid that I ever find myself in a place so dark that I would need them...but the whims of chemistry are unpredictable. Faced at some future time between putting myself into the hands of the existing government systems, or taking the leap into the Abyss...I can't say for sure that the Abyss wouldn't come out on top. It's a terrifying thought. And right now, Hopeline needs our support. Please help. Thanks.
I don't think it's any secret that I've been through some less-than-stellar times during the life of this blog. Though I never came out and said it, there was a while there when I wasn't sure how much longer I was going to be able to keep it all together. Thankfully, the chances for an unhappy ending seem to have plummeted; the meds are working (I can say that confidently now) and this particular episode of depression seems to be :::knocks wood, crosses fingers, whacks self in head with horseshoe, eats 4-leaf clover::: over.
There are a lot of people in this world who are nowhere near as blessed and lucky as I have been. There are a lot of people who still need help; people who are on the edge, people a hairsbreadth from ending their lives, who desperately need someone to talk to. To my way of thinking, it would be a shame and a sin to leave these people to the tender mercies of our Federal Government; however, if people don't support Hopeline, that's exactly what may happen. I have friends who have been dragged through the "compassion" of the government's mental-health treatment system; suffice to say that the alleged cure can be far worse than the disease.
Please--support Hopeline. God forbid that I ever find myself in a place so dark that I would need them...but the whims of chemistry are unpredictable. Faced at some future time between putting myself into the hands of the existing government systems, or taking the leap into the Abyss...I can't say for sure that the Abyss wouldn't come out on top. It's a terrifying thought. And right now, Hopeline needs our support. Please help. Thanks.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Wow. Just....Wow.
And the award for Absolutely, Unquestionably Most Pompous, Self-Inflated, Holy-Crap-We're-Talking-About-A-One-Word-Description-of-a-
Character-In-A-KIDS'-Show Award is.....
...this guy.
/ˈsɪli/ Pronunciation Key - [sil-ee] adjective, -li·er, -li·est, noun, plural -lies. –adjective 1. weak-minded or lacking good sense; stupid or foolish: a silly writer. 2. absurd; ridiculous; irrational: a silly idea. 3. stunned; dazed: He knocked me silly. 4. Cricket. (of a fielder or the fielder's playing position) extremely close to the batsman's wicket: silly mid off. 5. Archaic. rustic; plain; homely. 6. Archaic. weak; helpless. 7. Obsolete. lowly in rank or state; humble. –noun 8. Informal. a silly or foolish person: Don't be such a silly.
Example: This pompous ass should be slapped silly.
Character-In-A-KIDS'-Show Award is.....
...this guy.
/ˈsɪli/ Pronunciation Key - [sil-ee] adjective, -li·er, -li·est, noun, plural -lies. –adjective 1. weak-minded or lacking good sense; stupid or foolish: a silly writer. 2. absurd; ridiculous; irrational: a silly idea. 3. stunned; dazed: He knocked me silly. 4. Cricket. (of a fielder or the fielder's playing position) extremely close to the batsman's wicket: silly mid off. 5. Archaic. rustic; plain; homely. 6. Archaic. weak; helpless. 7. Obsolete. lowly in rank or state; humble. –noun 8. Informal. a silly or foolish person: Don't be such a silly.
Example: This pompous ass should be slapped silly.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Happy Birthday To Meeee....
Okay, maybe not completely happy. Not miserable--it would have to go a long way to win the Worst Birthday Ever award...but...Meh. Not so hot.
The not-so-hot-ness was largely contributed by the total absence of recognition from two people from whom I would have hoped for...a phone call. An e-mail. Something. Anything.
Both Tim (to a lesser extent, as he's sorta expected to be a nitwit) and Debbi (totally amazed by this one) are on my "People Who Have Made Me Sad" list.
From Tim, it's expected. He'll call in a couple of days and toss out some excuse, and honestly that's sorta okay, because I forgot Squeaky's birthday last week and I never, ever get the exact date right for Tim's, and so if he calls within the relevant WEEK we can count it as "a birthday call". But from Debbi...wow. That stings. Cowgirl sent me an e-card, which was cool...that's how Cowgirl and I do, e-cards and text messages and the occasional non-sequitur sent in an unmarked envelope via US Mail...but from Debbi, my oldest friend...nada.
And I don't want to feel like I'm keeping score, but this is AFTER I made a special effort to get to her birthday party, full of people I didn't know, which ramped my social anxiety up to, like, a billion...and after I went out of my way to make sure she knew that I appreciated her, because she was going through some rough times right around her birthday.
Of course, shortly afterwards, she and her current guy got serious-er, apparently, and I haven't heard from her since....
I've done it myself--gotten involved with Some Stoopid Boy and let everything else go--but not in the past ten or twelve years...not since CR, anyway. And there were some friends who were always exempt from that kind of dumbness--like Debbi, for example. Oh well.
Overall, though, I'm not as upset about it as I would have been say, three or four months back. I'm not crushed--just annoyed. We'll see what her explanation is, when she calls.
(HUGELY-belated note, added 6/29/08: When I finally found the charger for my cell phone, then finally got both the charger and the phone in the same place, and FINALLY finally remembered to actually plug the doggone thing in and listen to the 17 voice mails--there it was, on my birthday, midafternoon, like clockwork: Debbi's message, complete with off-key birthday song. I should have known better than to even think for an INSTANT that she'd forget.)
I'm in a very strange place in my mind right now, one I don't like very much; I feel like there are a huge number of enormous changes I need to make in my life, and that's always a scary thing. I'm trying to write it all out, list and summarize and break things down, but it seems like there's no page big enough to fit it all into. If I could cover a wall with paper and climb a ladder and paint myself a new life, maybe everything would fit...
I'm middle-aged, now; there's no going back. I don't feel old, except that I've always, ALWAYS felt old--even when I was six, seven years old, I'd get all teary over thoughts of when I was younger. Seriously--I was the only six-year-old on earth who'd get weepy when she heard "The Way We Were". There was always some past behind me, even when there wasn't enough behind me to MAKE a past. When I was six, I felt old. When I was eleven, I remembered nostalgically the summer I was ten. My entire first year of college was spent wishing it was still junior and senior year of high-school; when I was 21 I told myself it was time to settle down and quit wasting my life.
It's seventeen years later--long enough, if I'd had a child, for that child to make me a grandmother. But now, unlike then, there's a very real chance that I -am- wasting my life, that I -have- wasted an irrevocable chunk of it. The hard part is, the longer I worry about what I've already wasted, the more I'm wasting. I feel sometimes like every move I can make is the wrong one, that it's safer to make no moves at all....but then again, that's what I've been doing, isn't it?
I can understand the attraction of belief in an all-knowing God, I think; someone to put you on the Right Track when you don't know what to do next. Like picking up a stuck toy car as it drives into the wall and goes nowhere, someone to pick you up and turn you around and show you which direction to go in. I can understand it; I just can't believe in it. It seems like cheating...and anyway, I haven't yet found an all-knowing God I can live with.
Then again, I haven't found a self I can live with either, yet.
(See, that's why birthdays suck--not because you're getting older, necessarily, but because they make you think about big Serious Important Issues. Better for me to think about Kasey Kahne's hot streak, or something equally fun.)
The not-so-hot-ness was largely contributed by the total absence of recognition from two people from whom I would have hoped for...a phone call. An e-mail. Something. Anything.
Both Tim (to a lesser extent, as he's sorta expected to be a nitwit) and Debbi (totally amazed by this one) are on my "People Who Have Made Me Sad" list.
From Tim, it's expected. He'll call in a couple of days and toss out some excuse, and honestly that's sorta okay, because I forgot Squeaky's birthday last week and I never, ever get the exact date right for Tim's, and so if he calls within the relevant WEEK we can count it as "a birthday call". But from Debbi...wow. That stings. Cowgirl sent me an e-card, which was cool...that's how Cowgirl and I do, e-cards and text messages and the occasional non-sequitur sent in an unmarked envelope via US Mail...but from Debbi, my oldest friend...nada.
And I don't want to feel like I'm keeping score, but this is AFTER I made a special effort to get to her birthday party, full of people I didn't know, which ramped my social anxiety up to, like, a billion...and after I went out of my way to make sure she knew that I appreciated her, because she was going through some rough times right around her birthday.
Of course, shortly afterwards, she and her current guy got serious-er, apparently, and I haven't heard from her since....
I've done it myself--gotten involved with Some Stoopid Boy and let everything else go--but not in the past ten or twelve years...not since CR, anyway. And there were some friends who were always exempt from that kind of dumbness--like Debbi, for example. Oh well.
Overall, though, I'm not as upset about it as I would have been say, three or four months back. I'm not crushed--just annoyed. We'll see what her explanation is, when she calls.
(HUGELY-belated note, added 6/29/08: When I finally found the charger for my cell phone, then finally got both the charger and the phone in the same place, and FINALLY finally remembered to actually plug the doggone thing in and listen to the 17 voice mails--there it was, on my birthday, midafternoon, like clockwork: Debbi's message, complete with off-key birthday song. I should have known better than to even think for an INSTANT that she'd forget.)
I'm in a very strange place in my mind right now, one I don't like very much; I feel like there are a huge number of enormous changes I need to make in my life, and that's always a scary thing. I'm trying to write it all out, list and summarize and break things down, but it seems like there's no page big enough to fit it all into. If I could cover a wall with paper and climb a ladder and paint myself a new life, maybe everything would fit...
I'm middle-aged, now; there's no going back. I don't feel old, except that I've always, ALWAYS felt old--even when I was six, seven years old, I'd get all teary over thoughts of when I was younger. Seriously--I was the only six-year-old on earth who'd get weepy when she heard "The Way We Were". There was always some past behind me, even when there wasn't enough behind me to MAKE a past. When I was six, I felt old. When I was eleven, I remembered nostalgically the summer I was ten. My entire first year of college was spent wishing it was still junior and senior year of high-school; when I was 21 I told myself it was time to settle down and quit wasting my life.
It's seventeen years later--long enough, if I'd had a child, for that child to make me a grandmother. But now, unlike then, there's a very real chance that I -am- wasting my life, that I -have- wasted an irrevocable chunk of it. The hard part is, the longer I worry about what I've already wasted, the more I'm wasting. I feel sometimes like every move I can make is the wrong one, that it's safer to make no moves at all....but then again, that's what I've been doing, isn't it?
I can understand the attraction of belief in an all-knowing God, I think; someone to put you on the Right Track when you don't know what to do next. Like picking up a stuck toy car as it drives into the wall and goes nowhere, someone to pick you up and turn you around and show you which direction to go in. I can understand it; I just can't believe in it. It seems like cheating...and anyway, I haven't yet found an all-knowing God I can live with.
Then again, I haven't found a self I can live with either, yet.
(See, that's why birthdays suck--not because you're getting older, necessarily, but because they make you think about big Serious Important Issues. Better for me to think about Kasey Kahne's hot streak, or something equally fun.)
Friday, June 13, 2008
Thoughts on June 13th
In the interest of the universe continuing to run rightly, I would like to propose a ban on any and all legal activities related to celebrities coming to a conclusion on the 13th day of June in any year.
Look at the evidence, ma peeps.
13 June 2005: Michael Jackson acquitted in his child-sexual-abuse case (which he totally was guilty of and which, if he was Joe Blow off the street, would have been found guilty in a HEARTBEAT)
13 June 2008: R. Kelly acquitted in his child pornography case (which he totally was guilty of and which, if he was Joe Blow off the street, would have been in jail for YEARS ago)
(You might wonder how I remembered that both these things took place on the same day...both of them are/were on my birthday. So...yeah.)
Look at the evidence, ma peeps.
13 June 2005: Michael Jackson acquitted in his child-sexual-abuse case (which he totally was guilty of and which, if he was Joe Blow off the street, would have been found guilty in a HEARTBEAT)
13 June 2008: R. Kelly acquitted in his child pornography case (which he totally was guilty of and which, if he was Joe Blow off the street, would have been in jail for YEARS ago)
(You might wonder how I remembered that both these things took place on the same day...both of them are/were on my birthday. So...yeah.)
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