I’m watching a strange show on Netflix called Switched at Birth. It feels oddly familiar. Like Seventh Heaven with alcohol and a kindly Puerto Rican gramma.
I expect transexuality to come up in Season 3 when the traditional social commentary gets stale. I hope they give it to the older brother.
All relationships end, even the good ones. Continue reading Social Gadflies
Time spent driving east is when I prepare for the stares. Part of my battle with anxiety, a BIG part, is constantly remembering that no one gives a shit about me. Left unchecked self-absorption engulfs my consciousness. Like a teacup poodle, my ego sits trembling on a satin pillow. Perpetually expecting the judgement it was created to receive. 99% of the time, it’s true for everyone. No one is thinking about you – they are too wrapped up in themselves.
I’m not truly that odd-looking, until I visit certain places from my past life. Then I get the looks. I consistently spend time in places where I don’t get looked at so now I can tell when people are really staring. Out here on the edge of East Memphis, there are people that openly stare. And then, inevitably, one old man HAS to comment on my tattoos. It’s cultural, generational, racial, and gender-derived patronizing at its worst. The same person is not compelled to ask a biker dude with a snake tattoo about whether “that hurt”.
I am crazy, but not about this.
Windows 10 gives you a button called Tablet Mode. It provides a clear delineation between the laptop/tablet duality of the Surface. My sister really likes it and I can’t help but agree.
I’m a minimalist. I miss that succulent time when my Surface was amorphously both items at one time. Based on advertising, I think consumers still crave a solid line between portable device functions. 2 is always better than 1, right?
Awake.
Vast expanse of page, time.
Fun had before.
Fun yet to come.
Not much to say about it.
I did install X-COM, however.
See ya on the flip side.
Finally alone. It takes a while to appreciate. Snuggled in a pile of clean laundry, flanked by cats. Today, is just for me. I could sleep but I don’t NEED to. That’s progress.
Taking a step back, I wonder what all the fuss is about. Incorporating new perspectives like sponges in a body cavity. Dead friends are still dead. Living on within parts of me. Real estate investments for the afterlife. Just in case, take a little piece of my heart. After all, it’s dangerous to go alone.
Bad habits die hard. No habits is suspicious. I’ve lived long enough to just know things and not get excited about it. Learning things gives me a much better high. Remembering too much drags me down. The knowledge that sticks is either interesting or applied.
I can confidently walk into almost any situation with little to no anxiety these days. Mostly because I get to choose my own paths. Fall weather is almost here. Time to get some new shoes!
Winners are boring.
Losers are sad.
Middle class is a swampy mass of challenges
Sharp
Unforgiving
Sometimes fatal
Living in the middle
Keeps blood pumping
Ideas churning
Connections
Detachment
Floating through time
Learning to choose the moment
Before it chooses you
Not thin
Never fat
Caressing egos
Stroking thighs
Collars chafe more than cuffs
Now about those hemorrhoids
Classy
Sassy
Kinda gross
We all have to eat!
Dare you
Shake the peach tree
Succulent
Fleshy
All grown up
Not ready to settle.
I don’t participate
Standing Sitting
On the sidelines
Tacit smiles
Forcing expression
Into my face
Defenestrating
Emotion, as eyes
window the soul
Thoughts slide in
My mind open
Chasing dreams
Tangled in hopes
Repressed ambition
Boiling away happily
Evaporates guilt
and sinus congestion.
I wait placid
Not caring
Not interrupting
Patient, smiling
Less interestedIn your memories
Made before me.
Chronic nostalgia
Indicates discontent.
I didn’t use Pandora until 2015. Just another casualty of my Luddite lifestyle. I probably would have enjoyed it the free days. Playing games with playlists just to see what effect they have on each other. My music taste is broad, but in my head it all fits together. Pandora’s algorithm only plays with the safe associations between artists and genres. I glom onto the sound of the music. After that it just comes down to performance quality.
A band that can’t play live loses my interest quickly. Musical talent is tactile to a point. I can feel it when I dance. I want to feel it when they play. I want to reach through the music and run my hands along the fingers creating that sound. I want to dance and sweat and feel the heat of passion when the music plays. Every sweaty hug I get after a good show just adds to the experience. I crave that tangible connection to the sound itself.
Of course, my thoughts and feelings are irrelevant until I’ve secured rights to my own vlog. So there’s always that.