It’s Time to Cut the Crap

<Repost ‘cuz it’s still super accurate>

living a lie

We are all living a lie, and I’m not going to be quiet about it any more. This week, I was asked to do something unconscionable, and I wasn’t alone. Everyone in the U.S., except the residents of Arizona, is complicit.

We unquestioningly moved our clocks forward and handed a precious hour of sleep over to some dated convention. Something about crops and light conservation — look, I don’t know, I’m tired, don’t bug me about the facts.

For those of you saying, “Oh, but we’ll get it back in the fall!” Piss off. I don’t want it back in the fall, I want it now. I want that hour and all the other ones I’ve given up over the years.

I am not a morning person. The fact that so much grown-up life stuff happens in the morning is, in my estimation, one of the biggest bummers of adulthood. I work in an office, and we have electricy, folks! I don’t need to be up with the sun. On the list of things that make it sucky for me to be an adult, it easily beats menstruation and the fact that candy is unhealthy. (It ties with the rescinding of summer vacation; holy hell was I unprepared for that.)

“Oh, but mornings are beautiful,” you might say. (Who are you, anyway? Why do you keep interrupting my blog post? Crazy morning person.) Look, I’ll admit the fresh, cool air and the sun’s golden glow sparkling on dewy blades of grass is lovely, but only when experienced rarely, once a year or so…ideally when I’m on my way back to bed.

It already should be illegal for me to operate heavy machinery (like a Scion) without proper caffeination. I should have one of those breathalyzers that won’t let me start my car until I’ve blown at least a 3.0 blood caffeine level (or whatever my safe minimum is determined to be). And now I have to start an hour earlier? This is a safety issue.


If time is arbitrary, as this sadistic convention suggests, why can’t those of us who aren’t morning people set our clocks back a couple of hours and call “morning” that glorious time when the sun is in the dead center of the sky? “Look at that beautiful sunrose,” we might be heard to say, shading our eyes against the glare.

You morning people can make it whatever time you want. It can be like time zones for individuals. We already do it for you lazy Californians who don’t get up until 3 hours after those of us on the East Coast.

I’ll get a petition going first thing in the morning: 9 A.M. Night-Owl Time (Noon Morning-Person Time)

Now, for putting up with my rant, I give you:

Coffee Porn

Source: Imgur





This one has muffins




I am a redoer. A rereader, rewatcher, relistener. You pretty much have to trick me to get me to experience something new. Honestly, I don’t know how I ever did anything the first time. Maybe it was in my wild youth. Maybe I tried stuff willy-nilly. At some point, though, I found what I liked and said, “This is good. Really good!”

Once I love something, I love it to death. I wear it out with my love. I roll in it and make it threadbare. I love how things become softer the more they are enjoyed. Pages of books, images in film, my blanky.

When Jeff and I were first together, he used to ask me when I was going to get sick of him. I said, “I’ve slept under the same quilt for over a decade. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.” Sadly, that quilt finally fell apart from rewashing a few years back, and I have yet to find one I love enough to replace it. (Thankfully, Jeff still has plenty of washings left in him).

Many people would be horrified by this way of living. I believe it would make them feel trapped and bored to the point of madness. These folks feast on adventure and need the new and different to keep them feeling alive.

I imagine them shuddering and saying, “I could never do that! I would be too afraid of missing something.”


Me too!
That is exactly why I do what I do.

What if I miss a cool transition or a secret little lyric slipped into my favorite songs? What if I miss the chance to belt out the words (with authority) and feel like I’m right there with the band? What if I miss a clever joke or camera trick in a movie or show?

And books. Oh man.

As an author, I’m my own worst customer. We need people who read lots and lots of books to keep us in ink and paper. If everyone was like me, the business would go belly up.

But I like to think my beloved authors would appreciate the way I read all the same. First, I read the story. If it captures me the right way, I go back. What did I miss about these characters? Ahhh… Don’t I just love her. Okay, brace myself, here comes the scene where my heart gets ripped out. But now, weeee! here comes that part where we all fall in love. Wait – go back again. Hey! There’s a tiny tie-in from chapter 4 to chapter 34. That sentence. Can I just look at that sentence again? She could have picked any word to go there, but that one was just magic. Well, of course, I have to read it again.

Every few seasons, I’ll take inventory of my hoarded beloveds and make adjustments. “Ok,” I’ll assure something, “I will always love you, but you need a rest.” And I’ll set it aside to (tentatively) try some new stuff. I always feel a little panicky when I find something new to love.

“Dammit!” I said, with my eyes glued to Sherlock. “Where am I going to find a month to rewatch this forty times??”

I used to be sheepish about this aspect of me. I suppose I am a little still. I know there’s so much out there to discover. Shouldn’t I feel a little ashamed for not wanting to get out there? But mostly I’m fine with it. There is also so much right here to discover. I think it just makes me feel like part of a world team. Some of us see the most stuff. Some of us see stuff the most. Let’s work together so we don’t miss anything.



Back to the Roots of This Thing

Do blogs have roots?

I initially started this blog because all my friends were doing it. I admit it.


No, I wasn’t peer pressured or any pressured, really; I was inspired. Holy crap, do I know some creative people. It has been so fun being part of the blogging community, and I’m telling you, that kind of inspiration is intoxicating. And I have written some really earnest stuff, that people like – ok, my husband likes it (bless him).

Lately, though, when I’ve opened my mouth (so to speak) to say something, nothing happens. There are a bunch of reasons why: The world seems to have gone mad. Politics are lunacy. It’s hard to tell the good guys from the bad guys.

I’m finding myself trying to put in black and white (or brown and sepia) what isn’t black and white (or brown and sepia). Writing usually helps me understand, but when every single answer is a continuum, what is there to write? People are weird. Shit is crazy. Carry on.

Besides, there are these voices out there that just wow me with their words. And what’s wild about it, is so often it’s not some published article or even a blog post, but a random thought shared on Facebook or a tweet, of all things.

Honestly, if you want insight into truth, spend some time on Tumblr (where I am an old lady). These young people blow me away with their observations and their stories and their open hearts. I’m not even wanting to shake my cane at them or tell them to get off my lawn. I love how these brilliant thoughts are jotted down with no concern for regular punctuation or capitalization, because goddammit they need to be written RIGHT now. And you get that – the breathlessness of the idea, “hey fuckers – listen up…” And yup, I just got schooled by a 16 year old. Plus, the swearing is exquisite. How I have relished the chance to entreat someone to “eat my entire ass.” (Generally in traffic).

With that kind of beauty in the world, what can I possibly add?

The point of my blog was to talk about things that make me smile. And things that make me cry. And I am moving back toward that. Frankly, I need more smiles, things being the way they are in the world. And I need more weepy, “holy crap that’s beautiful” cries.

I’m going to follow the sage advice of my father who would shout (generally from behind one of his five slow-moving children), “DO SOMETHING EVEN IF IT’S WRONG!”

So, to kick this blog rejuvenation off, I will FINALLY complete the assignment given to me by my beloved Hedgefriend over at the Hedgeblog, with a list (hurray for lists) of 10 things I love.

  1. My son’s laugh. He is developing a delightfully twisted little sense of humor, and I love it when I make him laugh.
  2. Talking big talks with my brilliant supportive husband. I am a lucky woman.
  3. The really wonderful, amazing people in my life. I am so very fortunate to have these zany, special, hilarious, caring people to call friends and family.
  4. Visits home to see my family, and games of Cards Against Humanity with my siblings (who are all my good friends). I won, by the way. My favorite winning hand: “Fuck off! I’m literally  finger painting   right now.
  5. Coffee. Oh, coffee, I love you so. And I just want to tell you, coffee, and the world, that sometimes you are the reason I get up in the morning.


    My latest coffee making gadget. I’m thinking of asking it to go steady.

  6. March days that are soft and perfect. I can forgive Florida a lot on a gentle March day.
  7. I was ABOUT to say cats, but then our newest addition almost sent our television crashing to the ground. Now, I’m not so sure… Ah but he’s cute, though.latest kitty
  8. Books, especially ones that have magic in them. And really, most are just made of magic.
  9. My bed. You have no idea.
  10. My favorite “scruffy minstrals,” as the Hedgeblog proprietress calls them. Big love to Frank Turner, Andrew Hozier, Will Varley and To Kill a King.


More soon. And more frequently.