I said this already but if I repeat it, maybe I'll remedy it by splurging on a new computer. Elliptical machine please, we need an elliptical machine!!! (wow, just look at all those exclamation points, aye?). Anyway, the limits of this computer (Slowness, 2GB RAM, 32 GB SSD drive, that's it and the space-hog Windows 10) places limits on the blogging I do on this computer and since it is my primary (and best home) computer. As you may have noticed, the blogging has diminished, especially the babble, except for those rare occasions when I have the time to baby the machine and wait for it's slowness, but even then, the delays in page openings and words as well as limits on programs and browser windows I can open make for a dull Babbler, boy, girl, or gender neutral blog experience, as the winds inspire.
In any case, I stop by this morning to say hello and record the early-to-rise morning, picking up the care before 6AM and already having a breakfast of 12 ounces of shrimp. The plan for the day is walk the parks and playgrounds and bridges and wherever else him might take me. If the rains don't come too early. And coffee, I shall stop for coffee today. I probably would drink more of it if I had the coffee maker and added flavors set up here, so I'm better off not, but it does point out that I have not completely made myself at home here in the kitchen and that is partly because the kitchen is seldom kept really clean (hence, the sugar ants, though I have those under tight control) and the eight year old plays in the kitchen a lot, leaving food out and generally making a mess. There's a big bowl of froot loops with marshmallows on the kitchen table and the milk in it is not smelling fresh. Giving an inquisitive eight year old prone to food and other chemistry experiments free run of the kitchen and not requiring any clean up from her makes for a kitchen I am not completely moving into, but it's so much better (as in more spacious) than the last place, I am still a very happy camper and do a fair amount of cooking, though with immediate clean up and separation of my kitchenware.
I suppose noticing the froot loops and slime (she's on a slime-making kick... Tide detergent, glue, and corn starch, I believe... at least there's no sugar in it, though corn starch has been found in the oddest of places) in the kitchen table (I don't use it) lead my pondering why I don't fully utilize the kitchen. The shrimp were clean and delicious and I suppose I cook and eat most of what I want to here, though I am just noticing I do not bring in fresh veggies, fruit, or salad. Not clean enough for that. Though I really must do more salads as the weight loss goal has been set. There is still frosting in the fridge. We shall see how long I can go without indulging. The chocoholic will have to be satisfied with 100 calorie chocolate protein drinks for a while again.
I have no idea why some old entries attract so many anonymous comments. Asking the Anonymous commenters to explain has not provided an answer. If a SPAM-bot, why target an old entry like this with random general praise (and no linkage... unless the linkage is hidden in code and nefariously taking over this laptop... disappointing, aye? lol). Maybe the code is just set up to always respond and have the last word. Perhaps even elementary AI wants attention.
There's more to say, but I want to get out to work (and play some Merge Dragons).
Later, perhaps... especially if you let me know you're here.
Interested in sharing?
Narf :)
Friday, June 14, 2019
Wednesday, June 12, 2019
Higgups
As I mentioned (sort of) in the brief daily life (which isn't as brief or as daily or as life as first intended, but then, there should have been another started due to changes {that keep on changing} if only google did not have limits on how many blogs one account can have), I took a brief stroll down memory lane with half an eye and a few brain cells over the weekend and I still want to understand all of this and a whole lot more, but that has nothing to do with the thought it interrupted except to demonstrate how few brain cells took that stroll and how many other things are floating through the other brain cells as the sugar carb level is as high as it's been in over a year, or perhaps two years, and the agitation in the cranial capacitors is exhibiting signs of advanced stage ADHD, though some might consider borderlining it as some dementia-type disorder. Hey, we all have our crosses to bear, even atheists, babblers, and vegetables.
The will power that reduced weight and all the lab values to much healthier levels has waned considerably in the past month or two and the body is probably approaching 200 pounds, which is completely stupid and not at all comfortable, so I am making this declaration of independence from sugar-fat-carb-mania for the next few weeks or two months, whichever comes first. That is, back under 180 lbs or whatever time frame it takes to get there, then consider that 170 mark. We will not go quietly into the dark of night and fat and diabetic coma and fatty liver and whatever else might come of the typical American diet on steroids.
His majestic glory hole has spoken!
I found ants, tiny little sugar ants, crawling on the paper towels and plate and table next to the recliner in the living room, so I disinfected the tables and recliner and floor area around the recliner and kitchen too because TA said there are sugar ants in the summer here and I said I'll do my exterminator thing and see if I can stop them because I never had them in other places thanks to the science of poison and I'd rather not have them here. Expensive as it can be, I shall purchase the proper chemicals and destroy their habitat and paths into the living space as much as possible (even though my heart isn't really in it) and hopefully not damage my liver or kidneys or any other body parts (what brain?) along the way. Florida, sand, food, sugar ants.
I want attention, so I am uploading words again. Not that attention wants me, or I find any, for that matter, but doing nothing and wanting something is more or less depressing and doing something and buying into the delusion you are getting what you want is a happier place. At least that has been how it's worked for me lo these many years, in case you haven't noticed.
I spoke to Jackson about my method, this method, the method to my madness, babbling to someone I imagine really cares and is reading every word, because she can use some free therapy too and this is the best free therapy I know, babbling, completely open honesty free-association letting the words pour out withing thinking about the their meaning or the consequences, in case you were wondering what I was talking about, as if such an explanation could explain it.
I believe I am quite quantum.
I keep glancing around now and then to see if any of the tiny little ants have returned because, after all, there are several tables cluttered with stuff, papers and non-food items as gradually unpack the many boxes of stuff I pulled out of storage (not talking about the New York storage stuff, which may all be junk after all these years, but still I pay each month for the full 20' x 50' storage unit cuz I always have another excuse not to bring it all down here... some are really good, the excuses, but what a waste that could have paid for a Lexus by now. Waiting for the one or someone who wanted to share the journey of getting to know me through my boxes of memories and stuff and junk.
Will no one stay awake with me?
TA was out late tonight, watching the last season of Game of Thrones with friends. I did not realize what time it was when he walked in (a few minutes ago) and I will resist the late night french fries (Nathan's, no less) and whatever else he is cooking. We share similar eating habits and preferences, few of which are healthy, so I must be the strong one and distance myself from the habits while ot being anti-social or rude or grumpy or bitchy or fuckin Nathan's french fries, dammit!) cuz I will stop this crazy thing, even without Jane.
Speaking of Jane, she's cool and will be in another play soon and I've got to make time to head over there. I went to see her graduation performance from an Improv class she took a week or two ago and that was fun. She would be such a good influence for my health if we lived closer, or I would be a terrible influence on hers, since we do have similar dietary preferences. She just has a whole lot more will power than I do. Me not Tarzan, but she Jane.
I just remembered to put on my calendar the dates that Jackson asked me to pet sit, late July, I may take a five day weekend to enjoy their house and the animals and some privacy and peace and quiet (nt that it's not quiet here, it's very suburban quiet on this small cul-de-sac with just a half dozen houses, but she's got rural quiet which is a whole 'nother level of quiet). I'll send myself an email to remind myself to put the time off on my calendar at work so my boss and others know I won't be there those days. It's a good job in so many ways, mostly wonderful.
I forgot to take out the recycling bins and don't remember which day other than Monday the recycling is picked up and the box is getting really full since TA started putting stuff in it and since it's in my living room and I am not sure how clean the stuff in it is, I am going to put it out tomorrow and see if it goes away. Hopefully I will see others with their green bins out at the curb too.
I hear Dylan playing. TA has been on a Dylan kick lately and he likes his music (and TV) loud. Usually all night long as he falls asleep with either music or the TV on and even with his door closed and his bedroom more than 50 feet away, Dylan's wail is clear. I like Dylan, and music, and I used to sleep with music on too, so I don't mind at all. Maybe I'll get motivated to actually get back into music and (shock!) put together some mix-CDs. All I need is a computer that can burn CDs and a CD player. I have boxes of CDs in the garage and Jackson just game me more. Now where to put them? I suppose I need some sort of CD shelving too). Once upon a time, in storage in New York, there were walls of CDs in wall-unit CD cases. They are still there, actually. Thousands of CDs. Down here I only have hundreds. In boxes. In the garage. I really should move in.
I'd forgotten how much Dylan I've forgotten.
Or maybe that's I've forgotten how much Dylan I'd forgotten, but then, I don't remember much of anything in the moment. Memory is a useful tool that I keep on a shelf in a house in my head that I don't visit much anymore. It's safer that way. Happier too. I don't think humanity is ready for me to come out so I'll just stay inside. It is more of a house than a closet. I couldn't fit all my stuff in a closet, even with two storage units.
So are we there yet?
I've been here a very long time, writing to you and anyone who might stumble past. Giving you everything I've got, whatever comes to mind, and all my love. One day, perhaps, you will start interacting more regularly. Any of you. And the one of course. Inspire me to rhyme again, pour myself out through my pen, leave it all in words and song, how can we go wrong?
I'm going to close my eyes and watch my world unfold before me now.
Nite nite... and narf :)
The will power that reduced weight and all the lab values to much healthier levels has waned considerably in the past month or two and the body is probably approaching 200 pounds, which is completely stupid and not at all comfortable, so I am making this declaration of independence from sugar-fat-carb-mania for the next few weeks or two months, whichever comes first. That is, back under 180 lbs or whatever time frame it takes to get there, then consider that 170 mark. We will not go quietly into the dark of night and fat and diabetic coma and fatty liver and whatever else might come of the typical American diet on steroids.
His majestic glory hole has spoken!
I found ants, tiny little sugar ants, crawling on the paper towels and plate and table next to the recliner in the living room, so I disinfected the tables and recliner and floor area around the recliner and kitchen too because TA said there are sugar ants in the summer here and I said I'll do my exterminator thing and see if I can stop them because I never had them in other places thanks to the science of poison and I'd rather not have them here. Expensive as it can be, I shall purchase the proper chemicals and destroy their habitat and paths into the living space as much as possible (even though my heart isn't really in it) and hopefully not damage my liver or kidneys or any other body parts (what brain?) along the way. Florida, sand, food, sugar ants.
I want attention, so I am uploading words again. Not that attention wants me, or I find any, for that matter, but doing nothing and wanting something is more or less depressing and doing something and buying into the delusion you are getting what you want is a happier place. At least that has been how it's worked for me lo these many years, in case you haven't noticed.
I spoke to Jackson about my method, this method, the method to my madness, babbling to someone I imagine really cares and is reading every word, because she can use some free therapy too and this is the best free therapy I know, babbling, completely open honesty free-association letting the words pour out withing thinking about the their meaning or the consequences, in case you were wondering what I was talking about, as if such an explanation could explain it.
I believe I am quite quantum.
I keep glancing around now and then to see if any of the tiny little ants have returned because, after all, there are several tables cluttered with stuff, papers and non-food items as gradually unpack the many boxes of stuff I pulled out of storage (not talking about the New York storage stuff, which may all be junk after all these years, but still I pay each month for the full 20' x 50' storage unit cuz I always have another excuse not to bring it all down here... some are really good, the excuses, but what a waste that could have paid for a Lexus by now. Waiting for the one or someone who wanted to share the journey of getting to know me through my boxes of memories and stuff and junk.
Will no one stay awake with me?
TA was out late tonight, watching the last season of Game of Thrones with friends. I did not realize what time it was when he walked in (a few minutes ago) and I will resist the late night french fries (Nathan's, no less) and whatever else he is cooking. We share similar eating habits and preferences, few of which are healthy, so I must be the strong one and distance myself from the habits while ot being anti-social or rude or grumpy or bitchy or fuckin Nathan's french fries, dammit!) cuz I will stop this crazy thing, even without Jane.
Speaking of Jane, she's cool and will be in another play soon and I've got to make time to head over there. I went to see her graduation performance from an Improv class she took a week or two ago and that was fun. She would be such a good influence for my health if we lived closer, or I would be a terrible influence on hers, since we do have similar dietary preferences. She just has a whole lot more will power than I do. Me not Tarzan, but she Jane.
I just remembered to put on my calendar the dates that Jackson asked me to pet sit, late July, I may take a five day weekend to enjoy their house and the animals and some privacy and peace and quiet (nt that it's not quiet here, it's very suburban quiet on this small cul-de-sac with just a half dozen houses, but she's got rural quiet which is a whole 'nother level of quiet). I'll send myself an email to remind myself to put the time off on my calendar at work so my boss and others know I won't be there those days. It's a good job in so many ways, mostly wonderful.
I forgot to take out the recycling bins and don't remember which day other than Monday the recycling is picked up and the box is getting really full since TA started putting stuff in it and since it's in my living room and I am not sure how clean the stuff in it is, I am going to put it out tomorrow and see if it goes away. Hopefully I will see others with their green bins out at the curb too.
I hear Dylan playing. TA has been on a Dylan kick lately and he likes his music (and TV) loud. Usually all night long as he falls asleep with either music or the TV on and even with his door closed and his bedroom more than 50 feet away, Dylan's wail is clear. I like Dylan, and music, and I used to sleep with music on too, so I don't mind at all. Maybe I'll get motivated to actually get back into music and (shock!) put together some mix-CDs. All I need is a computer that can burn CDs and a CD player. I have boxes of CDs in the garage and Jackson just game me more. Now where to put them? I suppose I need some sort of CD shelving too). Once upon a time, in storage in New York, there were walls of CDs in wall-unit CD cases. They are still there, actually. Thousands of CDs. Down here I only have hundreds. In boxes. In the garage. I really should move in.
I'd forgotten how much Dylan I've forgotten.
Or maybe that's I've forgotten how much Dylan I'd forgotten, but then, I don't remember much of anything in the moment. Memory is a useful tool that I keep on a shelf in a house in my head that I don't visit much anymore. It's safer that way. Happier too. I don't think humanity is ready for me to come out so I'll just stay inside. It is more of a house than a closet. I couldn't fit all my stuff in a closet, even with two storage units.
So are we there yet?
I've been here a very long time, writing to you and anyone who might stumble past. Giving you everything I've got, whatever comes to mind, and all my love. One day, perhaps, you will start interacting more regularly. Any of you. And the one of course. Inspire me to rhyme again, pour myself out through my pen, leave it all in words and song, how can we go wrong?
I'm going to close my eyes and watch my world unfold before me now.
Nite nite... and narf :)
Sunday, June 9, 2019
All The Babbling, Silent
All the silent babbling continues and some entries are in draft and much more in my head, but the silence is comfortable for the moment, which is indicative of the wonderful comfort and contentment I am experiencing in life these days. Even with the gas. Laughter, yet serious. Enjoying acceptance is a beautiful thing. :)
As I may have mentioned in a previous blog post, the idea that I may not find true love as I know it in this life outside of myself is becoming an acceptable reality. The human race may simply not be ready or I simply have not come near enough to anyone who might be. Luck of the draw or random chance or careful planning by a self-destructive quantum brainwave, its what it is.
A dozen entries were added to blogs tonight, many in the brief daily (in case it matters), as if they were always there, sort of. Another Saturday night without nobody to love brought some unexpected babbling. As if we could travel through time... Anna Faris in Frequently Asked Questions About Time Travel appealed to libido and the heart, though she doesn't today. Innocence is such a fleeting thing in this consumer culture. Why do women get boob jobs anyway? Cultural programming, if you ask me. Sad. Quite unattractive to me. She's still a cutie though and appears to have her head on pretty straight, mostly, from what little I can tell from what I've read.
Even if I could time travel, I am not sure I would for love anymore. It must come to me as it is, I am tired of chasing what isn't and even more tired of trying to teach those not ready for it. Tired of being used and left for dead as well, no doubt. Oh so serious. Real isn't always pretty. Fake is a most never pretty though and usually pretty repulsive to me. I've never met a person who didn't depend on lies, so I've never really trusted anyone with me. Close enough to be devastated a few times and I put my life in others hands a couple or few times, but never trusted completely because I've yet to meet anyone who is completely open and honest which placing harmlessness right next to honesty.
Sigh, moving along now...
Life around here is peaceful and wonderful, though a little distracting with the kids around and they spend a lot of time here when I am here (evenings and weekends). The little one (8 years old chronologically, appears about five or sic physically, behaves about four, and an extremely needy and demanding four at that. Whiny and spoiled and sometimes seems to enjoy being bossy to her dad and provoking her brother.
Blah blah blah.
This should continue...
As I may have mentioned in a previous blog post, the idea that I may not find true love as I know it in this life outside of myself is becoming an acceptable reality. The human race may simply not be ready or I simply have not come near enough to anyone who might be. Luck of the draw or random chance or careful planning by a self-destructive quantum brainwave, its what it is.
A dozen entries were added to blogs tonight, many in the brief daily (in case it matters), as if they were always there, sort of. Another Saturday night without nobody to love brought some unexpected babbling. As if we could travel through time... Anna Faris in Frequently Asked Questions About Time Travel appealed to libido and the heart, though she doesn't today. Innocence is such a fleeting thing in this consumer culture. Why do women get boob jobs anyway? Cultural programming, if you ask me. Sad. Quite unattractive to me. She's still a cutie though and appears to have her head on pretty straight, mostly, from what little I can tell from what I've read.
Even if I could time travel, I am not sure I would for love anymore. It must come to me as it is, I am tired of chasing what isn't and even more tired of trying to teach those not ready for it. Tired of being used and left for dead as well, no doubt. Oh so serious. Real isn't always pretty. Fake is a most never pretty though and usually pretty repulsive to me. I've never met a person who didn't depend on lies, so I've never really trusted anyone with me. Close enough to be devastated a few times and I put my life in others hands a couple or few times, but never trusted completely because I've yet to meet anyone who is completely open and honest which placing harmlessness right next to honesty.
Sigh, moving along now...
Life around here is peaceful and wonderful, though a little distracting with the kids around and they spend a lot of time here when I am here (evenings and weekends). The little one (8 years old chronologically, appears about five or sic physically, behaves about four, and an extremely needy and demanding four at that. Whiny and spoiled and sometimes seems to enjoy being bossy to her dad and provoking her brother.
Blah blah blah.
This should continue...
Tuesday, June 4, 2019
Apple
Ok, so I decided to take an unscheduled break from work and the game (so many entries are in draft state and somewhere in them the explanation of the game will be found, but for now, it's the latest phone game I've become quite addicted to and is the single biggest reason so many entries are in draft mode and so much time has passed without more uploads into the written gardens, but we can get to that and a lot more at some other time so we might actually get an entry {like maybe this one, even} uploaded today, m'ok?) and look at the pending comments for the last daily blog that technically stopped being a daily in 2016 and the first find inspired this (which became a blog post as the ever hopeful realm of real and imaginary communications in these ever-expanding written gardens continues) and now, becomes the babble you see before you (and are about to dive into, perhaps even without chocolate).
I must have been crazy to write that on an unscheduled day home from work.
The food was impulsive and high calorie (after a much needed relative pause, yesterday) and delicious and I might even write about it and link it here someday. The usual pizza, eggplant parm, and added a sweet sloppy je meat parm dish and five strips of bacon with the creme filled chocolate chip cookies I love and iced chocolate cashew milk (and a few double crunch zesty cheese ruffles chips {a new fav} and a bit of dip as an appetizer while cooking). But we won't elaborate on the culinary arts and crafts and the science of taste buds and chemicals in the brain just now, especially since I have at least 25 browser windows open and waiting for their chance to influence the babbling (remember the days when I wasn't working or gave up whole nights of sleep and blathered on and on about whatever popped into view? See links in this one (which is just a sliver of a mention of what used to be, but it was uploaded today so modern love or something like that). The answer is still blowing in some wind somewhere, but with climate change, the answer may not be as pleasant as we'd like it to be.
Anyway, deeper and deeper into the anyways we go as asides are abounding within each other so far along that I've already left at least a dozen loose threads that could have been babbling entries along the way. I hpe not to let the day fly by without getting one full-babble entry into the gardens online because, after all, what are unscheduled days off good for if not deep self-indulgence? Getting the car serviced so the needs maintenance light turns off?
Sweet irresponsibility, of how thy juices invigorate.
Meanwhile, a song is calling me based on a search for a few words from another song that will wait for further elaboration at a later moment but you can find clues in the just previously mentioned and linked as some sort of sliver cuz the first song that came up is one I've not heard, but the lyrics remind me of the deths of despair and loss I've known and while I am very healed in many ways, there are permanent scares and open wounds that will never heal in my heart cuz that's the way I am. The song, once played, was slightly disappointing as the singer is overdoing (sounds a bit like a screamer from a heavy metal band trying to do a sentimental ballad and I've never been into the monotone screamer sound or excessively violent music, though I know there are some very talented people who need to scream a lot more than most melodies can tolerate, but then there are people who prefer music that is not easy to listen to and it is better to release their emotions through that avenue than in some other violent way).
So I decided to listen to the entire album (and I absolutely love youtube and the sharing creativity and inspirations and giving world it can help create, but then, I love nuclear, genetic, and brain science too... and math, so geek this Merge Dragons and the like) and the first song confirms my initial impression and the second continues, but the third song mellows out enough to keep me wanting to listen to the whole CD. Pop music of every genre has become, maybe always has been, quite repetitive lyrically. I supposed not everybody wants to take the time to be Harry Chapin or actually poetic for more than a few lines. When screaming or rapid-firing words in almost every song, how many people are listening to the meaning of the words, anyway? Reading lyrics, however, can really open the eyes to the poets in every genre, including trash, trash, rash (mixing rap in), and all that noise for cash stuff.
Depression and trauma are no places I want to wallow in or even visit much anymore, which is one big reason I got out of the health care field after all those years in psychiatric hospitals (and there too are many long stories, some told, some to be told, and many never to be told to anyone but the one... cuz there's always hope, I know, ya know?). The forth song is almost a commercial for big pharma. I commend Brian for pouring it out into the music.
Sad to think so many think pills are the answer.
I accept they are for some. Just not for me. For me chemicals are recreation, not medication, but then, that does not change the physical processes too much, just the perspective. Though we must take into account that some say perspective is everything.
Isn't it?
So anyway, after a brief impulsive shopping trip and some remind me to insert link for the word "cooking", eating with the TV on (there's a blog title without a doubt), Blindspot, episode 19, season 4... I typed Blondspot at first, Freud would love it, Fred too... have I mentioned Fred lately?... have I even introduced him? Oh, for now, I'll just leave him hanging as a tease and tell you to ask Harpo), indulging the refined sugar-chocolate monster a bit while listening to heavy metal (a longer blog title perhaps... I don't know what Freud or Fred might say, you can ask), and now watching a video called Hurricane which is a great idea - introducing the band... and this heavy metal critic is officially won over big time, with chills, even... almost goose bumps), and the super emo-heavy metal distraction of I Prevail (ironic band name, given it was chosen before their first album and personal crash and burn {literally} and resurrection), where were we?
THIS!
M'ok?
I think.
Yes, so yesterday after vegetating with the video game on the phone for hour after hour until the day was gone and I didn't get the nap I stayed home for and then played a good game of softball, pitching almost lights out and hitting in the winning run which felt good and wired me to write so I went back to the roots of the last ten years, the most recent family experience I've known (and still hoping it doesn't end like every other one has in spite of almost every sign point to it never really began and it was never more than an illusion to begin with, like all the others) and complete an entry in the previous daily blog that began on my birthday (the entry, not the blog, though I think the blog began somewhere near my birthday, though more than ten years ago, but that's another tangent with many more potential fruits... maybe that is why I am enjoying the mindless mental distractions of Merge Dragons so much, but that's another entry, or blog, for that matter) and was finally uploaded late last night, I returned to it because it still doesn't seem near complete enough to let it be and after adding a bit more, was distracted by awaiting comments, which brings us to this entry (omg, finally! aye? lol lam lab laa laa laa).
So the first awaiting comment (there are more than a dozen) brought us to this:
And that brings us to this entry. What was that all about, right? Which that? What that? Who dat crawling under grandma's knickers? What's it all about, Alfie?...
Alf?...
Here, have another cookie.
Narf :)
I must have been crazy to write that on an unscheduled day home from work.
The food was impulsive and high calorie (after a much needed relative pause, yesterday) and delicious and I might even write about it and link it here someday. The usual pizza, eggplant parm, and added a sweet sloppy je meat parm dish and five strips of bacon with the creme filled chocolate chip cookies I love and iced chocolate cashew milk (and a few double crunch zesty cheese ruffles chips {a new fav} and a bit of dip as an appetizer while cooking). But we won't elaborate on the culinary arts and crafts and the science of taste buds and chemicals in the brain just now, especially since I have at least 25 browser windows open and waiting for their chance to influence the babbling (remember the days when I wasn't working or gave up whole nights of sleep and blathered on and on about whatever popped into view? See links in this one (which is just a sliver of a mention of what used to be, but it was uploaded today so modern love or something like that). The answer is still blowing in some wind somewhere, but with climate change, the answer may not be as pleasant as we'd like it to be.
Anyway, deeper and deeper into the anyways we go as asides are abounding within each other so far along that I've already left at least a dozen loose threads that could have been babbling entries along the way. I hpe not to let the day fly by without getting one full-babble entry into the gardens online because, after all, what are unscheduled days off good for if not deep self-indulgence? Getting the car serviced so the needs maintenance light turns off?
Sweet irresponsibility, of how thy juices invigorate.
Meanwhile, a song is calling me based on a search for a few words from another song that will wait for further elaboration at a later moment but you can find clues in the just previously mentioned and linked as some sort of sliver cuz the first song that came up is one I've not heard, but the lyrics remind me of the deths of despair and loss I've known and while I am very healed in many ways, there are permanent scares and open wounds that will never heal in my heart cuz that's the way I am. The song, once played, was slightly disappointing as the singer is overdoing (sounds a bit like a screamer from a heavy metal band trying to do a sentimental ballad and I've never been into the monotone screamer sound or excessively violent music, though I know there are some very talented people who need to scream a lot more than most melodies can tolerate, but then there are people who prefer music that is not easy to listen to and it is better to release their emotions through that avenue than in some other violent way).
So I decided to listen to the entire album (and I absolutely love youtube and the sharing creativity and inspirations and giving world it can help create, but then, I love nuclear, genetic, and brain science too... and math, so geek this Merge Dragons and the like) and the first song confirms my initial impression and the second continues, but the third song mellows out enough to keep me wanting to listen to the whole CD. Pop music of every genre has become, maybe always has been, quite repetitive lyrically. I supposed not everybody wants to take the time to be Harry Chapin or actually poetic for more than a few lines. When screaming or rapid-firing words in almost every song, how many people are listening to the meaning of the words, anyway? Reading lyrics, however, can really open the eyes to the poets in every genre, including trash, trash, rash (mixing rap in), and all that noise for cash stuff.
Depression and trauma are no places I want to wallow in or even visit much anymore, which is one big reason I got out of the health care field after all those years in psychiatric hospitals (and there too are many long stories, some told, some to be told, and many never to be told to anyone but the one... cuz there's always hope, I know, ya know?). The forth song is almost a commercial for big pharma. I commend Brian for pouring it out into the music.
Sad to think so many think pills are the answer.
I accept they are for some. Just not for me. For me chemicals are recreation, not medication, but then, that does not change the physical processes too much, just the perspective. Though we must take into account that some say perspective is everything.
Isn't it?
So anyway, after a brief impulsive shopping trip and some remind me to insert link for the word "cooking", eating with the TV on (there's a blog title without a doubt), Blindspot, episode 19, season 4... I typed Blondspot at first, Freud would love it, Fred too... have I mentioned Fred lately?... have I even introduced him? Oh, for now, I'll just leave him hanging as a tease and tell you to ask Harpo), indulging the refined sugar-chocolate monster a bit while listening to heavy metal (a longer blog title perhaps... I don't know what Freud or Fred might say, you can ask), and now watching a video called Hurricane which is a great idea - introducing the band... and this heavy metal critic is officially won over big time, with chills, even... almost goose bumps), and the super emo-heavy metal distraction of I Prevail (ironic band name, given it was chosen before their first album and personal crash and burn {literally} and resurrection), where were we?
M'ok?
I think.
Yes, so yesterday after vegetating with the video game on the phone for hour after hour until the day was gone and I didn't get the nap I stayed home for and then played a good game of softball, pitching almost lights out and hitting in the winning run which felt good and wired me to write so I went back to the roots of the last ten years, the most recent family experience I've known (and still hoping it doesn't end like every other one has in spite of almost every sign point to it never really began and it was never more than an illusion to begin with, like all the others) and complete an entry in the previous daily blog that began on my birthday (the entry, not the blog, though I think the blog began somewhere near my birthday, though more than ten years ago, but that's another tangent with many more potential fruits... maybe that is why I am enjoying the mindless mental distractions of Merge Dragons so much, but that's another entry, or blog, for that matter) and was finally uploaded late last night, I returned to it because it still doesn't seem near complete enough to let it be and after adding a bit more, was distracted by awaiting comments, which brings us to this entry (omg, finally! aye? lol lam lab laa laa laa).
So the first awaiting comment (there are more than a dozen) brought us to this:
On JANUARY 12, 2019 AT 9:46 AM, Anonymous said...
I'm really enjoying the theme/design of your site.
Do you ever run into any web browser compatibility
issues? A couple of my blog readers have complained
about my website not working correctly in Explorer but looks great in Safari.
Do you have any solutions to help fix this issue?
So then, at JUNE 4, 2019 AT 8:11 AM candoor said...
Hello Anonymous (I'd give you a number, like Anonymous # 724189361242, but I have not been counting, so it would be arbitrary... might be fun though... could be confusing if you are the same Anonymous who left one of the other 7,241,189,361,242 anonymous comments on my blogs over the years... do I exaggerate?... should I suggest you try to find all of them and count yourself?... would it complicate things to let you know that I do not publish them all?... are we there yet?)...
Besides, as this comment posting and reply adequately demonstrates, I do not publish (or even check) comments awaiting approval often and comments from the name Anonymous, aka anonymous comments, are not even permitted in every blog and (as if additional stipulations are needed, or even warranted, no less wanted), email notifications of such comments are filtered into a folder that I rarely check, in fact, I may have opened that folder a few times in the past decade and barely opened a few emails in all that time, so are we back to anyway yet?
The answer to your question is no.
I don't pay attention much to the different ways different browsers present my different formats in my different blogs. I rarely create a template myself, am a hunt and peck, scratch and sniff, copy and paste, ultra basic HTML only web page designer (and I use the word designer without giving it the respect it surely deserves) and almost exclusively use blogger with the tiniest of occasional tweaks for my web world these days. I wish there was a simple answer and hope you find it as you search (did a search for incompatibility bring you here?).
Feel free to introduce yourself to my truly harmless, but occasionally acerbic sarcasm (as I think to myself that Anonymous # 724189361242 is likely more unique than your name, but that's a semantic {not meant in any way as a personal offense at all} laugh we can share at another time if you respond and I find your response {chances are random that I will, eventually} introduce yourself and discuss it and identify and nomenclature and any other topics that might pass through our minds at the time), at your whim.
I'd like that.
What?
:)
Please let me know if you find a solution.
Thanks :)
Noticing a potential point of contusion, on JUNE 4, 2019 AT 8:18 AM candoor said...
I obviously most my way a bit in the secondary parenthetic aside in the last paragraph of the last comment. I apologize for it taking so long. I mean, I apologize if it became confusing.
Naturally, the response you may or may not have been seeking might have been (or still be)...
We could all buy Macs.
Narf :)
Further noticing yet another potential point of confusion and ever endeavoring to communicate precise meaning, however randomly, at JUNE 4, 2019 AT 8:41 AM, candoor said...
wow, perhaps even more obviously, the word "most" was meant to be "lost" in the previous comment.
So perhaps it is even more appropriate now to ask...
Are we there yet? :)
And that brings us to this entry. What was that all about, right? Which that? What that? Who dat crawling under grandma's knickers? What's it all about, Alfie?...
Alf?...
Bueller?...
Fred?...
Here, have another cookie.
Narf :)
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