Happy Dumbass Holiday for Sheep

If you are in a good committed relationship, or good marriage, do you really have to be told once a year how and when to be appreciative and romantic?

If you don't know what you want, aren't in a specifically committed relationship, do you need a ridiculous commercial holiday to force you to either lie, which may falsely lead people on, or do nothing, which then hurts feelings? Lose/lose.

Unless others, who may be potential targets of your lies, refuse to sucker for the manufactured, peer-pressure-foisted-upon-the-public-by-those-who-sell you diamonds, flowers, chocolate, cards, and overpriced dinners, holiday, you will end up disappointing people. Especially if you do not go the lying route. But then, even if you do play along and lie, you are buying trouble.

Trumped up days of recognition and appreciation are an aberration of modern civilization. It is a subtle attack on nature and the free market as it exists in nature. If you are worthy of appreciation, you usually know it. If your kids show no appreciation of you without the stupid Mother's or Father's day obligatory observance, then either your kids are ingrates and lack something in their upbringing, or you are a pain of a parent undeserving of kudos, or you simply gave birth to a defective unit and it is not your fault.

The trumped up days only allow sociopaths, psychopaths, and other emotional phonies to hone their skills. Sincerity cannot be forced anymore than affection. These days bring up a disgusting mix of guilt driven pretense and confused conformity in all but the few who actually feel like showing the affection and appreciation anyway, and have the time and money to play the game happily on the assigned day.

Those few have no need to be told.

Maybe this is why I am not attached. Of course, some people are not alone solely for that reason--can't be alone, so they partner with first willing candidate. They in no way like their significant other; certainly do not love it/him/her. I'm unable to commit if I don't believe it, and if I am not sure being with me is the best thing for the crazy woman. Although I have resolved to learn not give a damn if it is any benefit for the other or not.

These guilt trips put out in ads are not good. That is the way charities and government agencies sell themselves, too. As if it is your fault that little Jimmy has perfuddledipophobiaginitis and lives in squalor in a remote corner of Uganda and drinks dirty water. It is nice to help people out. But the tone and usual implication that it is your fault when someone starves or dies of AIDS in a remote land, or even across town, is garbage. It is highly unlikely that it is your fault, and if it is, you already know it.

The fear of not going along with the crowd, of being weird- of being judged cold, heartless, and a misfit-is a tool used to manipulate people. It is a tactic so effective that people can be manipulated to actually cooperate with their own destruction in subtle (and not so subtle) ways.

So, Happy Spend Money and Get Lucky Day. (As if spending money wouldn't bring that kind of luck anyway). Shhh. We are supposed to pretend that is not the case.
Just like we should pretend that looks have no influence on our mating choices.

Another Movie

The Rage in Placid Lake, an Aussie film--independent, I guess--was another HULU offering. A pretty good flick about misfits and strange parents.

I'd see it.

Oh. I did.

I like the science chick. She was the coolest of people.

At the very start, I didn't know what was up. Very quickly my fears were put aside.

Hulu movie review: White on Rice

This odd movie is about Japanese Americans, with a Korean or two thrown in. Most of the people were sane and good looking.
That is everyone except Uncle Jimmy. He was Japanese and I think they should have shot him and dumped him in the river at the start.

It is one of those films about the errant but lovable incompetent divorced uncle. Only in the case of Jimmy, lovable does not apply. What a stupid, selfish moron. It was painful because the other characters were somewhat likable.

I admit to that stereotypical view that Asians are brighter than that, and less tolerant of complete jerks who freeload. They were overly tolerant of this dimwit. Maybe they were trying to smash some of the typical assumptions by not only having a complete moron in the mix but also putting up with his self pity and projected guilt. I wanted to tell the family in the movie that it is OK to kick him out and beat him mercilessly, since they appeared unwilling to do the world a favor and just waste him.

Maybe they could have thrown him in the ocean. I'm not sure where they were. I know one girl was from Southern California, so it was out this way somewhere.

Then I started thinking, "Oh my God, I'm the divorced deadbeat uncle in my family". I hate that. No way I am like Jimmy and torture my relatives with my unwelcome presence. I have generally lived far away from family most of my life. At first it was because they made me feel like jumping in front of a speeding bus on a regular basis. Then it was because I felt ashamed of my lack of something; money, accomplishment, ability not to be how I am.

Even though I am no Jimmy, this movie caused me to think I had more in common with the useless dimwit than with the people who seemed to have it together. That made me angry and sad and angry.

Don't see this movie. It will only piss you off or bore you.

Almost Heaven..

.or one of those places. I'm not sure what was up. Almost bought the farm. I guess I was doing something besides driving. These roads near me have bluffs on one side, drop off the edge on the other. No nice shoulder at all on many stretches.

And I was on just such a stretch when I looked up to see I was already off and heading toward an outcropping in the bluffs, and a very nasty bunch of holes or craters in the bit of shoulder. There is not even space to pull over so if you are partly off the road, you messed up.

I swerved left to avoid collision and hopefully not let the wheel be swallowed by the crazy, craggy dip. It caught part of it and when the wheel made it out the car went waay left. Good thing no one was coming the other way. Had I been in one of the old Jeeps it would have rolled. I got back on the right line without further over-control issues. I'm not sure I had a choice about swing to the left lane. I needed a radical change of angle to best avoid bigger trouble.

Unfortunately this car has wheel covers which I hate. I need to get the steel spoke wheels. I don't want the fancy alloys. I like the basic steel with four or five spoke things. Simple and less easy to ruin. My old car had those and I meant to switch them off to this car, but by the time I figured out how, I would have to go to some border town and bring jack stands, jacks, etc. and do it myself so I put it off and forgot. Dumb choice.

The stupid wheel covers are there but a bit the worse for wear. What really troubles me is that this is what you are supposed to do drunk, and I'm not drunk. Another milli second and it could have been nasty. That was the kind of terrain that can cause a flip, a dead stop into the side of a cliff, or worse. And I could have careened into an oncoming car or truck. I was lucky.

Actually I was amazed that I was able to get it back on the road at all. I thought it was too late and no way I could miss that ugly dip.

It is not usual that I am that careless and distracted. I hardly ever answer the phone while driving. If I do I slide it open to speaker and leave it on the passenger seat. So, it wasn't phone foolishness.

I think it was because I was on the way to do some work and I was preoccupied with the blues. I'm pretty sure I will one day not be so lucky, and that will be that. Hopefully I can get something worthwhile done before then. I'd hate to leave a useless mess behind.

I'll pay better attention from now on. It was a close one and quite surprising.

Thank you song

Now I'm a guitar man. Like my new ax? Even has valley girl comments from the wang bar.

And another from back in a previous life at the King Biscuit fest. I like this one because the videographer didn't aim the cam too much at the pavement or port-o-lets on this one. I do remember I was just getting over a cold or the flu and felt less articulate than usual but I had fun that day. Articulate works best on a blues harp. I also like ths because a couple of photographers took my picture. That makes you feel important even if they usually get 86'd.

Blues

Strange color, blue.

Blue skies= good

Got the blues = sad

Blue {things I won't mention] = somewhat frustrating but fun getting there, in a perverse sort of way.

Blue is considered a cool color and some shades are soothing.

It seems like a hue full of contradictions.

The End

Wax and Wane is an Uncomfortable Lifestyle

That does it. I'm certain that there is a pattern here; up and optimistic followed by lost and sure the walls will crash in at any second. Knowing it is all internally generated helps not take it too seriously, but it doesn't prevent the problem of getting nothing done or not knowing where to start.

This routine truly sucks, I tell you. Maybe massive doses of omega 3 in some form would help. No doubt it is due to too many blows to the head from an early age. Or maybe it is just what happens when one is not smart enough to know better.

What kind of idiot can turn Paradise into a prison? You are not allowed to answer "Janet Nepolitano", or similar thing. This is all speaking in terms of the personal small picture.

Another added note; Never ever get your hair cut by anyone in Alpine. I gave it another shot at another untried hair cut place. This one seemed like it might work out. It was run by women and I thought would at least be better than the biker who has never had a haircut himself. NO.

That makes maybe four attempts to find a decent haircutter in this small town. We are talking really bad. I could have given any of my friends a pair of scissors and come out better.

Vain, you may say. Possibly. But it is clear that the ony safe bet is to pay more money and go to Notorious for Hair in Point Loma. I don't care if hardly any men ever go there. I'd rather pay the money, have nice smart aleck chicks do the job, and come out not feeling like Moe in the Three Stooges.

I may let it grow this time for a year. Being grateful to still have plenty of hair at this age, why not?
It was my hope to help the failing businesses in Alpine. Apparently I am only enabling gross incompetence.

What's even more stupid is that I usually leave saying, "That's great, thanks a lot". In my defense it is partly because I can't tell what they've done at that point. I discovered so many stray strands of wrong length that I used my sharp kitchen knife to even it up slightly. (couldn't find my scissors)

Maybe I should wait until my mood chemistry is on the upswing before I make any decisions like get a haircut, fix the car, etc. When I'm down I make irrational and poor choices. That is why it is so hard to get the needed things done. I either forget what they are, mix up the priorities or get them done in an unacceptable fashion.

It is probably a more painful existence than it should be, and more of an agony than it sounds. I'll bet it is possible for it to be much better.

No Wonder Half of America is Drunk and the Rest on Drugs

OK, that is a stretch. I think half plus the rest equals everyone. There should be some allowance for those who are not drunk or on drugs. That probably covers a good 2% of the population. Most likely they are the most frustrated group, and the group least likely to hold public office or do anything which requires a lot of reading of government documents or listening to those who create them those who shuffle them.

Believe it or not, I actually have an uncommonly high reading retention ability. I do very well when it comes to reading something and catching the details, and recalling the details. I believe the truth of this is recorded somewhere on my Permanent Record, or in the Library of Congress. However, when it comes to government documents my brain fries.

That is how it is. I cannot stand reading any government document, sign, letter, nothing. Almost always, I either can't make sense of it, or the tone irritates me to the point where I dive into an irrational frenzy. This results in a poor reading experience and one not characterized by good recall of the material.

Part of the jury summons siad you could do the deed two weeks ahead of time or after. However, another part says if you don't show on the exact day that you have to contact them and reschedule, and to reschedule you have to pick a day not less than six weeks in the future and not more than six months in the future. What is the 2 weeks thing about? I have no idea and am unwilling to continue my path into the bowels of government rules and language to figure it out.

I'm cutting my losses. I called and talked to the nice machine lady, since the office people are only there from 9:52 AM until 3:25 PM. I did not make that up--9:52. It is on the machine that talks to you when you call.

It is one of those systems which asks you to say "yes", "Jury duty", "postponement", among other things. Then she says, "Let me see if I have this right; you said 'yada yada yada..' Is that correct?". Then you say yes or no and she says, "Did you answer yes?"

It took me less than an hour and fewer than ten times to the main menu to reschedule. I was not home and had no calendar, so I had to guess at a day six weeks from now which fell on whatever weekdays she said were acceptable. After a few tries I ended up being rescheduled for March 29th. I see now, looking at my icalendar on my ilaptop that March 29th is a Tuesday.

As much as I wanted to get this out of the way, I think I will just hope I don't have some big important thing going in late March. That talk of the two week option still bugs me, but I could tell when I re-read the jury letter today that I have not outgrown my complete abhorrence for the way government offices communicate with those they (erroneously) allegedly serve.

I was thinking, it is far easier to handle that world drunk or on drugs. It certainly was easier for me back when I was in circumstances run by nearby bureaucrats and things governmental. Another of life's little tricks. If I'd kept up my habits, I could accept these things with a more numb emotional aspect, but I'd have ended up under their care in some sort of institution, providing I survived. Then I'd have been stuck in the belly of the beast full time.

Yea. I think cutting my losses and leaving it the way Machine Lady negotiated things is the best move. She's probably as close to the A team as I'll find.

Disorderly Sleep

It has been a thing of concern ever since I was in my early twenties. They even confined me to a sleep lab for a night one time. I gave up on testing soon after, so never went back.

Neurological things often don't fit into neat categories. You be surprised how little they know in many respects regarding brain function. Even the drugs prescribed are often not understood. They theorize regarding the mechanics of how they work, but half the stuff was designed for one thing then it was discovered they work well for some other symptom.

In my case they concluded it was some form of narcolepsy but not the classic type which makes you fall asleep in the middle of a game of pool or standing there talking to someone. It just sometimes happens so that I'd hit a strange kind of sleep at last minute and blow through alarm clocks by two to four hours, regardless of how long I'd been asleep already.

We went the ritalin deal on and off for years. The off part was because I got tired of it and felt almost like I developed and immunity to it. So, I'd lay off for maybe a year. I eventually lost contact with any doctor who knew the story so I had no source of it. It would be good once in awhile, but overall I'd rather just compensate some other way. Nothing is with some side effect.

When I was working a job that often required being there at 5 AM, sometimes earlier, I spent all night drinking water. A big glass before going to sleep so every couple of hours it was up to pee, then drink more. That has been the only really reliable method I found. No combination of alarm clocks and bright lights on timers ever proved dependable. You just never know.

Lately it hasn't been critical most of the time, and I have gone long stretches waking up with the sun. But more recently that has changed around a bit and the sleep thing is all over the map. I must not have drank enough water because I overshot the time I needed to be up to make jury duty. I'll try again tomorrow.

It gets old--trying to fit. The trick is to avoid letting the things that are tough to change or unchangeable, induce a reaction which becomes spiraling depression. Much of life is a series of subtle and not so subtle compensations. People tend to move away from their weaknesses whether they think about it or not. If you have a sore knee, you tend to take up the slack by letting the other one carry the load. It works in all kinds of ways. You can't add well in your head, yu do math on a calculater, your phone, whatever. That is compensating.

The trap is when you think you should be able to do a thing, or ought to do it a certain way that is not natural to you and you force yourself to do it the hard way. I have done a bunch of that. That's the kind of thing that makes you crazy. It is not so easy to sort out because life naturally demands doing a lot of things you don't want to do, but you have to. And most of the time you are glad you did whatever it is. Separating that from the directions which are simply not a fit is what separates the happy and successful from the riffraff like me.

At least I no longer wake up cursing and screaming at myself when I miss the mark. I spent many years letting the frustration turn into intense self hatred and rage. That is where the testing helped. Finally someone convinced me they could document the fact that it wasn't because I am stupid and weak. The tests covered a lot territory beyond a sleep lab because some other things going on were interrelated.

Fortunately the jury duty allows turning up any day within a two week window. Otherwise I would have to throw myself on the mercy of the court. Not the sort of mercy I would want to depend on.

Welcome to the fog where I dwell.

Mysteries from Somewhere Other

After seeing Interstate 60, the movie, I am wondering what this I-59 situation is. As far as I know there is no I-60.
Maybe no I-59

It would have to be a north-south thoroughfare.

Also, I am not sure who sent this. I have an idea, but I could be wrong.

So, this could mean I am being drawn to a mystic highway by a ghost or other force from another dimension.

When you live as I do, you seek drama wherever there is a drop or two to be squeezed out.

Cool card, don't you think? I thought so.

I guess it doesn't matter where it comes from, as long as it isn't like getting a horse's head. Don't they do that when the mob is going to waste you?

See, the drama thing again. Oh good my life is getting interesting; they've put a contract out on me. You know you need to step up the game when you find yourself thinking like that.