1. Why don't you have a search bar at the top of your page? Not having one results in Clicking Hell. You know the kind, where users are forced to click on link after link trying to find what they want without success. Yeah, I've got time to click every freaking one. Clicking Hell was f/k/a Voice Mail Hell, where you got a gazillion choices to press but none of the ones you needed, and you had to listen to the whole message anyway because "their options have recently changed" and they rig it so pressing zero doesn't work. Clicking Hell is way worse because I can go through your whole website and still not find an answer. At least in Voice Mail Hell if I left a profanity-laced message I'd get a call back.
2. Could you change the defaults so the sessions don't time out after three minutes? It's maddening to have to reenter everything I already typed because I didn't click "Yes, I'm still here" in the nanosecond that you asked if I was.
3. Is including working phone numbers too much to ask? Believe it or not, some people still don't have internet access.
4. Don't redirect me to a site that doesn't allow me to use the back button, because (like #2 above), I don't want to make time to reopen a new tab to go back to your site. Such redirection will result in my using a different website altogether. Can you say goodbye traffic?
This is the jerk who broke into my house, stole all my jewelry, pawned it, and was $450 richer. I've been waiting ever since for him to be taken back into custody. Look at all those charges! I'd like to call your attention to the classification as a "violent offender." He's a real gem.
Most likely he's already bonded out, but I'm still going to check tomorrow to see if he actually was released. Law enforcement has a habit of letting this creep out of jail.
One thing is certain: I'll be sending an email to the jail, police, and sheriff's office. :)
I had a clever post all typed out this a.m., and couldn't wait to finalize it and put it up here.
My good mood was ruined when I tried to use my debit card at Walgreens and discovered - AGAIN - that my debit card number was lifted. This time, I bought someone a pair of $599 Gucci sunglasses, and helped them pick out $100 worth of weird foods at some weird food market.
Disclaimer: The word "but" is coming presently.
I've said before........... hate is bad, BUT I'm over people who think it's okay to steal something from someone just b/c there's a hefty chance they won't ever get caught or ever repay the money they stole. I hate it b/c these awful people don't care about the victim's life situation. They have no idea what it's like to have to call your landlord and tell him not to cash your rent check. What kind of effed up person would "assume" that their need for haughty sunglasses takes priority over over me housing my family? Are you kidding meeeee?? I hate that they laugh about it b/c they know good & well they're long gone with pricey merchandise by the time their victims know anything about their money being stolen.
So, the shout-out for tonight is to whoever took my things: please remember me when someone steals something from YOU at a time when you can least afford for it to be stolen. That's only fair, yes?
I've posted this on every social media site except Instagram! I'm about to burst with excitement! I'm pleased to say I have a new micro-fiction story that appears here:
The magazine is run by my journalist friend, Leslie Stone. We go wayyy back, she and I. ;) I'm so thrilled that she's given me a chance to share my writing with a larger audience.
Here's the link to the main page
Look for more shameless plugs in future entries.
Super Harvest Moon night is turning out to be super. The pictures of said moon, not at all. You are spared the agony of looking at moon pictures that look exactly like the last four batches I've taken.
"Often, we ignore the fact that our spiritual condition and psychological state of mind are highly affected by what is happening to us physically. Sometimes depression is simply the result of exhaustion." Tony Campolo
I believe Mr. Campolo is onto something. I know people who think too much sleep is a sign of depression. What if it was the other way around, and sleep helped alleviate depression in some ways? Ooooooo, an alternative that's drug free. Getting a full-time job is a good thing, but I've been spoiled by only working part time in the last year. Now I have less time to devote to my life outside the office. I've not worked out the time adjustments because I've been telling myself that I can stay up late to finish everything and not miss the lost sleep. It's not true, though. I noticed myself having less patience and a shorter fuse since I started working longer hours. I get more pissy when I'm writing and I can't finish the section because I have to go to sleep or do housework or mow the lawn instead. Or I feel guilty when I've worked late and don't get to feed the kids until after 7:00 pm!!! I realized my emotions are more extreme because I'm tired. Just tired, inside and out. No way around it--the obvious solution is making a commitment to going to bed earlier and planning as much of the next day as I can so I can get up on time and get everything done. When I stop hitting snooze. ;)
"The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.”― Joseph Campbell I'm not afraid of the dark, but I do have night lights (nite lites? lmao) strategically placed around the house so when I wake up, I can see a tiny bit of light somewhere. It helps me navigate when I can't always see everything. I've never been in a "real" cave. The closest thing is a huge den that my granddaddy's hunting dogs dug underneath a part of their backyard that sloped upward. The clay was orange, dry, and dusty, and the canine cavern they made was deep and completely dark inside. Roots of all sizes had been gnawed through to make it accessible, even though a lot of them stuck out of the sides of the clay at random angles. I'd walk up to the edge of it and lean my head to see if they were really in there. Every now and again, I'd see their eyes shine for a second. Otherwise it was dark. I couldn't see them, but I knew they were there because when I called their names, I heard their tails thumping on the ground. I would wait for them to stop wagging, and I'd say their names again--more tail thumping. They always went along with it no matter how many times I did it. Right now I'm standing at the foot of the cave, peering in and wondering what treasure(s) are inside. The ones I'm hoping for and ones I haven't thought of or dreamed of yet. I don't have a night light, but it's time to find a flashlight, get my ass up in there, and bring out what I'm meant to find. I'll leave my fear inside the cave, which will give me more room to carry out the good stuff. Sounds like a fair trade-- xoxo
A couple of readers have told me they are unable to leave comments on the blog. I recently deleted the letter verification step because I don't need it. I set it so anyone can post, either with their name, blog name, email address, or anonymously. Email me at email@example.com if the problem persists.
Random photo section
One of the photos I took of myself with my 1st day on the new job suit looks like I'm holding a little ball of light. It's from the flash, obviously, but it still looks like a little crystal ball.
Another installment of . . . musings about minutiae.
The car sticker that says "Salt Life" really looks like it says "Slut Life." I think I might get one just because of it.
I saw some Halloween stuff for sale. On Labor Day weekend, ya'll. I wonder how many people go ahead and buy it as soon as it's put out so they don't have to buy gross candy at the last second, which should be on or before September 23, at which time they'll break out the Christmas items. Maybe I'll do the same!
Which is worse: unfollowed, unfriended, or un-Linked? I've been getting notifications from Twitter about new followers. I thought it was great until I noticed my number of followers is the same, and stays the same no matter how many new people they've mentioned. Odd!
P.S. I have a couple more clever things to post, but I am so tired. Gotta get them up!
(Tweeted by Lotus on Twitter. Follow her if you'd like to read more of her tweets: @Lotus_Heals )
Her mini-poem is the perfect description of how depression can exert so much influence on its victims.Throw in a little mania on a regular basis, and the result is...........me. I'll share some of the special, magical things that accompany my bipolar. On the weekends when I don't have the kids, don't have to work, and don't have rocking plans, I'll sleep in, make coffee, enjoy my daily date with meds until their chemistry kicks in, and then walk Zing. When I get back, I'll lay on the couch. Might write, usually don't, but if I do open the story, it's more reading and editing than creating new writing. Then it'll be lunchtime, so I walk the dog again, set the kitchen timer so I can pretend I'm only taking a 20 minute power nap. Two hours later, I wake up. Still tired. If I feel hungry, I'll drink a coke and maybe eat popcorn. At no time during this brief child-free span do I brush my teeth or take a shower. It's too exhausting to hold my arms up that long. I don't usually do much housework except for dishes. Never could understand why that chore is therapeutic, but it is. Late afternoon, another walk for His Highness, and skim over social media, but don't really engage or absorb. Believe it or not, reading is too exhausting sometimes, too.
Trust me, if I could snap out of it, I would. I feel the disconnect between me and loved ones. At times, I work diligently to maintain healthy relationships; at other times (and sadly, more lately than ever), I isolate myself because I feel like a phony. A poser. A fake. And guilty ones at that. And it's too freaking hard to talk about authentic things than superficial things and try to play it off as if everything's fine and nobody needs to worry. Here's something I saw on Pinterest. "Saying someone can’t be sad because someone else may have it worse is just like saying someone can’t be happy because someone else might have it better." I've had several people tell me people me (in so many words) that my complaints are petty and sweating the small stuff. To someone like me, with brain chemistry issues, it makes me worse when I feel like I should be able to buck up, sissypants. Put on big girl undies. Pick my battles. Realize I'm not the only one with life problems. All of that is reasonable advice. In a manic phase, it's easier to have that mindset. In the down phase, it ain't happening. It's too difficult to manage. The shifting back and forth is why people think mental illness is a lifestyle choice or a lack of inner strength. "Well, you choose to be happy sometimes. Why not all the time?" I know no one who would say to anyone, "Listen here, your eyes are blue. And it's because you're weak. If you really wanted to, you could make your eyes brown. If you were strong enough. So just get over it, concentrate, be mighty, and make your freaking eyes brown." It's not an excuse or crutch to say that my willpower alone can't manufacture brain chemicals. Everybody tries as hard as they can to do it with willpower. It's easier when you summon the courage to ask for help. Scary? Yes. Necessary anyway? Yes. Can you do it? YES. #JustAsk #TalkAboutIt #Depression #Bipolar #BeKind #Understand #iWillWhatIWant
P.S. On a lighter note, I like today's date for a silly, random reason.