Two ways to die

November 19th, 2017 | Posted by Mush in Life - (0 Comments)

In which this just popped into my head.

There are two ways to die: suddenly, or expectedly. There are two ways to die: right now, or later. There are two ways to die: consciously, or unconsciously.

Because you ARE old?

November 11th, 2017 | Posted by Mush in Admissions - (0 Comments)

In which I can’t believe this nitwit is the president.

Misspelled?!

Zero chemistry with Putin?!

Russia can greatly help?!

The dangerous North Korea crisis?!

Trump is an imbecile.

Veterans

November 11th, 2017 | Posted by Mush in Introspection - (0 Comments)

In which I wonder.

It’s still fashionable to say things like this:

Veterans used to be those who went out and fought and suffered to protect human rights. It was clear you were on the right and proper side if you were a U.S. vet and fought in one of the world wars.

Now, they fight endless wars of politics and money. The modern vet, after a handful of tours in Iraq or Pakistan or Somalia or Mexico, probably hates hearing “thank you” when they didn’t protect anything but military meddling in foreign governments or corporate wealth.

Fighting for human rights is noble as fuck. Fighting to make some corporation — especially one that hides its money offshore to avoid paying the taxes that will take care of vets when (if) they get home — is not. It’s probably fucking awful, if you let yourself think about it.

War is not beautiful or noble. It’s so awful, in fact, that we have built an entire reality in order to persuade people to go out and die in wars. We have honor and nobility, sacrifice and struggle: all ideas. Concepts. Methods of convincing a heart to convince a brain to convince a body to do shit clearly antithetical to individual survival.

In war, you’re on one of two sides. The side of some fuck trying to take stuff, or the side of trying to keep some fuck from taking your stuff. If you’re the fuck trying to take stuff, which is us in most of our recent and ongoing conflicts, you’re increasing human suffering. You’re not fighting a good fight, you’re a cog in a profoundly ugly, terrible machine.

Suffering is not good. It’s bad. We used to thank vets for doing it to promote the increase of good in the world, but now, I’m not so sure.

Hormones, probably

November 6th, 2017 | Posted by Mush in Admissions - (0 Comments)

In which I’m suddenly freezing!

I don’t know if it’s being old, being fat, being pre-menopausal, or what, but my body’s not very good at temperature regulation anymore.

I’m either way too hot or freezing; either opening windows and taking off socks and running fans, or layered up under a blanket.

Fun with embodiment, I guess.

It’s uncomfortable, but I remain grateful I don’t suffer chronic pain like so many others do.

The Dread

November 3rd, 2017 | Posted by Mush in Admissions | Panic & Anxiety - (0 Comments)

In which there’s The Dread, aka my anxiety disorder.

Had anxiety pretty bad yesterday, and during the night.

Pretty anxious today, too.

I know I’ve said this before, but the problem with anxiety and panic is this:

Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.

In the same way, being deeply terrified that Something Is Wrong with your body and that you’re About To Die does not necessarily mean nothing’s wrong with your body or that you’re not about to die. THere is no law that says you can’t die — from other causes — while having a panic attack.

Which is why it’s so hard to tell yourself that you’re “just” having an attack.

Stupid brains.

Customer service is still weird af.

September 13th, 2017 | Posted by Mush in Soapbox | Weather | Whining | Work - (0 Comments)

In which I STILL don’t understand how people can know so little about the services they use.

If you were the majority of Floridian customers I assisted during my shift at work this evening, you’ve just been through a massive 500-year storm that destroyed tons of shit, you either don’t have power or you’re running a generator, and you’re astonished that you can’t watch TV.

You don’t have power! Why in the fuck do you think your cable and internet should work? Irma was one of the strongest storms in recorded history. It did at least eighteen billion in insured losses damage (not counting crop losses or flood insurance), infrastructure is destroyed, farms are destroyed (Irma took almost half of the citrus crop in some areas), you had to fucking evacuate, and you can’t believe you didn’t return home to functioning internet?

Really?! YOUR CELL PHONE’S OBVIOUSLY WORKING, AND THAT’S A GODDAMNED TECHNOLOGICAL MIRACLE CONSIDERING THE CIRCUMSTANCES, but you’re mad anyway?

I have compassion for you, I do. It must have been and must still be incredibly stressful. But being a dick to customer service reps because you haven’t had internet for four days is just weird. Shit’s broken, my people, important shit, and if your neighbors down the block have cable and you don’t, well, I’m sorry. Life’s not always fair. Go watch TV at their house.

Multiple customers told me it was absolutely unacceptable for an outage to last four days. They demanded refunds, threatened to cancel (which, please, if you could get service from anybody else you’d already have it, and we both know it). It was a 500-year storm! Read a book, be glad you’re alive, and chill the fuck out! There are innumerable people out there working day and night to restore power, internet, cable. It takes time!

One customer admitted she had no power at home and was charging her cell phone at the corner store, but still freaked out about not having wifi in her house. It blew my mind. EVEN IF there wasn’t an outage and WE WERE DELIVERING INTERNET TO YOUR HOME, sweetie, IT WON’T WORK IF YOUR ROUTER ISN’T GETTING POWER. How can you not know that?

Furthermore, how can you not realize that if your house doesn’t have electricity, the node providing your cable probably doesn’t, either? Sure, installations like that have generators, but they only run if you can get to them to put fuel in them. If gas or the generators themselves aren’t accessible, they’ll go down. The network is vast, interdependent, and complicated, and service crews can’t even start working on them until cleared to do so by authorities. Internet service doesn’t just fall out of the sky, for fuck’s sake. Power outages, destroyed equipment, line cuts: there are tons of them because A MASSIVE GODDAMNED ACT OF GOD JUST ROLLED THROUGH.

I’m sorry your kids are driving you nuts without screens to occupy them, and I’m sure it’s a bitch, but your internet and cable will be restored when it’s restored. You need to back the fuck off the ignorant attitude and be glad you’re all still alive with homes to return to. It’s not like your provider somehow fucked up; it was an act of God. And at least your cell phone still works. You may be going over your data plan, but at least you’re online.

Penmanship and cursive

September 12th, 2017 | Posted by Mush in Back To School | Writing - (0 Comments)

In which there are styles of handwriting to look at.

For no real reason, I’m trying to figure out which style of cursive I learned.

I’m beginning to suspect that changing schools so often actually exposed me to multiple systems, because no single script style encompasses how I form my letters — D’Nealian, modified Spencerian, Zaner-Bloser, and New American Cursive all seem to show up in how I think letters should be written and the strokes I use to form them.

New American Cursive

New American Cursive is pretty close, and I feel sure I was exposed to it at some point, but it uses hard angles where I think I learned loops. That’s nearly my capital G, for example, but I’d do loops rather than the hard angles at the NE and SW points of the figure.

My mother was a Boeing draftsman at some point so my print style was definitely influenced by hers, which was a form of block printing I can’t seem to google; possibly what was once known as Architectural Lettering but perfectly slanted, something like this:

Having no pressing need to master block printing, I’d like to learn something super pretty and fancy, like this lovely Ladies’ Spencerian, for example, but probably won’t master it.

Although that capital Z is much closer to the one I use than the New American Cursive one; I think my Z is either Zaner-Bloser, D’Nealian, or the Palmer Method?

Maybe? I really have no idea; it’s been so long and I’ve let my handwriting atrophy so much it would take an expert to figure it out! However, I have a new, cheap, extra fine fountain pen and a tiny ruled booklet, so perhaps I’ll add “practice my letters and listen to classical music” to my list of hobbies-intended-to-get-me-offline.

Combating panic and anxiety

September 5th, 2017 | Posted by Mush in Panic & Anxiety - (0 Comments)

In which I have a morbid new approach that really seems to be working.

I have developed a new litany.

Whenever there’s A Sensation my mind desires to become frightened of, I tell it this:

You have a fatal, untreatable, inoperable disease. You are dying, and there’s nothing anybody can do about it. You’re bound to have sensations. As long as you’re not in pain, there’s nothing that can be done. Let it go.

Weirdly enough, it’s working. Apparently the hook my mind has been using lately to tumble me into hell has been “DO I NEED TO DO SOMETHING? Is this A Real Sensation? Do I need to See A Doctor? Is this just a panic attack or do I really have [heart disease/organ failure/diabetes/stroke]? What shall I DO?”

With this little story, though, the answer to that is “nothing.” It makes the sensations non-actionable (and have the added benefit of increasing dispassion and decreasing attachment). I can just go, oh, yeah, a sensation — flutters in my chest, dizziness, laziness (er, fatigue), shortness of breath, tingling hands and feet, all the shit I have when I panic — and not be caught up in a whirlwind of mental bullshit.

Yes, I tell myself, you are actually dying, we all are, nothing to be done about it. It comes when it comes. It’s working great; I haven’t had a full-blown attack in a couple of weeks!

Being crazy is hard work, but sometimes you manage to hack your own brain just enough to get by.

Things

September 2nd, 2017 | Posted by Mush in Life - (0 Comments)

In which it’s just random vacuous noise about the outer, but in my inner life weird shit is going on. Jai Ma!

We went out to dinner yesterday at Little Tijuana. Tostadas!

Today, I received new bath things!

Before:

(That is a color picture. Honest.)

After:

Way more teal than I expected, but hey, it’s fine.

I attempted to do laundry, but the machines were busy so I just left the basket on the table. That’s been like six hours ago now.

I got a new dress. (It doesn’t make me less fat. It’s super comfy, but I look a bit like a sausage in saran wrap.)

The bed is made!

I got a new keyboard today! It’s a Microsoft Natural Ergonomic 4000. I love it.

I worked 4 hours and 13 minutes. It was a’ight. (Chat is way better than phones, although last night was a shit show due to a botched firmware update. Three chats at a time the entire night, with upwards of 31 waiting in the queue.)

I have just done the dishes.

There is a bowl on the counter filled with ripe, red tomatoes from our plants on the side of the building.

I’m considering dropping cash on a pedi and a cut & color, just so I don’t look completely frumpy at the things — friends’ wedding (which I’m officiating, OMFG), and my aunt & uncle’s 50th anniversary party, and my gramma’s 95th birthday party — later this month. It should look as if one’s at least making an effort, even if she really, well, isn’t!

Those, as they say, are the things!

So, fuck this town, basically.

August 13th, 2017 | Posted by Mush in PSA | Whining - (0 Comments)

In which we’ve been trolled.

In the middle of the night, the apartment suddenly exploded with white dust.

IMG_20170813_015722

It was probably between 2:30 and 3 in the morning. We were still up and the lights were on. There were three fans running, so it was everywhere, instantly.

IMG_20170813_015951

My guess is that some asshat stole a fire extinguisher and discharged it into the box fan in our window, which was facing inward at the time to pull the cool air in.

IMG_20170813_015614

The shit is everywhere, and a lot of it.

Whoever you are: fuck you. You’re not funny. You’re a dick. There isn’t an inch of this place that doesn’t have to be cleaned now, and you’ve exposed us to a great deal of topical and inhaled bicarbonate soda, which is essentially harmless, or ammonium phosphate, which isn’t, for no fucking reason other than you’re a moron.

I was sitting right by the open bedroom window when you did it, too. And had I not turned away because of the odd noises coming from the other room, if I’d looked left instead of right, I’d have seen your punk ass. As it is, I didn’t, and you just walked off quietly while we freaked out because our home was filled with flying white powder.

You’re a punk and a twat and I sincerely hope your dumb unfunny ass woke up in jail this morning. This is not a fucking college dorm, it’s my goddamned home. So fuck you.

I’m basically ignoring the insane amount of cleaning I have to do and hiding out in the bedroom. I’ve ordered Indian food delivery, because it will be hours of cleaning before I can cook again, and I just don’t want to do it. It’s Sunday, it’s my day off, and I don’t want to tackle the sweeping, dusting, washing, wiping, mopping, vacuuming, and multiple loads of laundry YOUR DUMB ASS has caused me.

Oh, yeah, and in unrelated news, some other dumb asshat — one assumes, but I suppose it could be the same one — took the two largest tomatoes off our vines. We’ve had ONE FUCKING TOMATO this year so far. ONE. AND IT WAS NOT EVEN ENTIRELY RIPE.

So, if you’re not starving, literally actually going hungry, then fuck you. I cannot tell you how much I’m looking forward to that first ripe tomato of the year THAT I HAVEN’T HAD YET BECAUSE YOU JUST FUCKING STOLE THEM.

Tomatoes

I mean, what the fuck? Go fucking buy a tomato if you want one. At least it would already be ripe, you asshole. Why steal mine? And if you’re going to steal unripe tomatoes, TAKE THREE OF THE SMALLER ONES, MAYBE. BECAUSE FUCK YOU.

So, for today, at least, my attitude is this:

FUCK this town and fuck this neighborhood. Seriously. You’re all a bunch of bike stealing, dumpster burning, tomato raiding, prank pulling dipshits, PLUS your weather TOTALLY SUCKS.