Saturday, May 14, 2016

Shhhh...tsk.tsk.tsk.scratch.tap.tap.tap.

This is an ASMR post.
If you don't know what ASMR is then search the term on YouTube and watch one of the videos, preferably when you are suffering from insomnia.
I have become quite addicted to the brain tingles of ASMR. Its like brain sex.
Recently, as I relaxed to the sound of whispering and crinkling, I realized my whole life is based on unknowingly searching out the ASMR experience.
I love libraries and books. The turning pages, the soft low voices: asmr
I like to write longhand. The scratching of the pen: asmr
I work in an office. The tapping of keyboards, people snacking at their desks, files & faxes & phone sounds muted by cubicle walls: asmr
I am devoted to my pets. Dog chewing on a bone, cat purring & kneading the blanket: asmr

Ayn Rand wrote something about all people being selfish and that everything is done for one's own needs (that's the boiled down version of her beliefs)
I am kind of beginning to believe her. I mean, if my love of books was really about me unconciously getting my jollies from the sound of a turning page, then how can I trust my motives for anything? How can any of us?

***

Thursday, February 11, 2016

rme

Bernie Sanders says he will impose a 52% tax on the super rich and Donald Trump says he will exclude all Muslim immigrants.
OK, I will build a bridge from New York City to Los Angeles. It will be made of saran wrap and there will be no speed limits.
Wait... I am being told this is not in fact "spew a stupid idea" day. So, I withdraw my saran wrap bridge idea. (I was going to name it the Bicoastal Slip & Slide & it was going to be fun but never mind). I will just sit in the corner and roll my eyes instead.

Speaking of rolling my eyes, I once got called out by a supervisor for rolling my eyes in a meeting. This same lady once texted & answered personal email in a meeting she was leading so I take her criticism of eye rolling with a grain of salt.
But, for argument sake let's say she is a perfect person & my eye roll was offensive to the serious spirit of our meetings. Even then, I still defend the eye roll. It is one of those involuntary moves that humans make from our deepest primal self. Perhaps an eye roll is snarky or passive aggressive but it is at least genuine. It is difficult to pre-meditate an eye roll. It just happens.
In my opinion a genuine reaction is worth more than a polite or politically correct reaction.
So 52% tax or bigotry against immigrants...yeah that gets ya an eye roll from me. My eyes are rolling like a slot machine in Vegas.

Sunday, February 7, 2016

I used to be afraid of elevators

My mother is afraid of stairs and I am afraid of elevators. We never can move far together. I remember once at a mall she took a small service elevator to the second floor and I used the escalator. We were so far from each other we never did meet up again until we both had finished shopping. It is a metaphor for our relationship.
Now my mother has cancer and one way or another she is certainly dying. I do not feel any closer to her but I feel closer to the early pure moments of the mother and child bond. I feel the memory of love but I don't feel the love. It makes seeing her difficult.
I like to say it is like adding cayenne pepper to chili after you cook it. Sure, you can taste the cayenne but it would have tasted better had the cayenne been added at the beginning & left to simmer.
What does this have to do with elevators?
Well, today at work I realized I wasn't afraid to take the elevator. Usually on a Sunday I am loathe to use it because I am afraid I will get stuck on it for hours and end up being in aYouTube video called "employee pees in elevator".
Today, though, I actually wished the elevator would get stuck. Then I would be exempted from having to visit or not visit my mother. I would be exempted from having to deal with the consequences of my choice to visit or not visit my mother.
I am no longer anxious about elevators. I am anxious about life outside the elevator.

Thursday, January 7, 2016

Cry baby, Sigh baby

I think I cried harder when my cat died than I will ever cry for a human. And that makes me sad, but not sad enough to cry.
I am not sure why I cry for a pet. Contrary to the slight ammonia scent & not so slight gob of cat hair on my person, I am not really that much of an animal lover. I have pets because they are easy to have; they keep me company; they guard my house. Most of the time I am irritated with one or all of them.
Over the past 20 years I have had 4 cats & 2 dogs(not all at the same time). I don't think that is an unreasonable amount. And apart from buying too many toys I don't treat them in any special way. I don't dress them up at Halloween. I don't buy them Christmas gifts. But, damn, I blubber and hiccup and wail when one of them gets old and has to be put down. Actually it is not the dying that makes me sad, it is decline of health prior to the dying that really gets me. One of my cats had a tumor and margins removed. It was as if half his body was removed. OMG. I cried.
I tell myself and my friends going through the same experience: the relationship with your pet is the only one where you will come to terms with death because it is inevitable. When you adopt that kitten or save that dog from the SPCA, you know, most likely that animal will leave this earth before you. So, prepare yourself!
Still, knowing that doesn't make it easier.
The same can be said for parents, except you are just born with those. Eventually you figure out that most likely they will leave this earth first. (Prepare yourself!) My mother is sick. She had surgery. I compare my feelings and I realize I was much more emotional with the cat. Sounds harsh, but it is true. Human relationships are so much more complicated. I don't think crying covers the complexity of feelings one has with an estranged parent. Sadness is in the mix, but not at the forefront. Instead I feel relief. When my mother dies I think I will sigh more than I will cry.

Tuesday, January 5, 2016

I would name this post Hello but Adele stole that title

I am still lurking about the internet but mostly on Twitter still under@mmmarystweet
Becoming a bit disillusioned with the tiny thoughts that 144 characters provide. My 2016 resolution is to write more so hopefully I will be back here more often.
I don't have a computer so I am still dependent on telephones, tablets or the library. (How soon modern technology has devolved into its most unusable form!)
I think about buying a typewriter to spite the electronics industry but then I think about alot of things.
I think about this time 20 years ago when I applied for a job at a University & I was given a typing test. A clerk sent me to a room to take the test. I was alone. The clerk didn't even make eye contact with me on the way in or out of the testing room. I jammed out a perfect super fast page of words. I mean p.e.r.f.e.c.t!
I had never typed so well. I usually could type slow & good or fast & full of mistakes. Never fast & good. I was so proud of myself but there was no Mr. Primavera(H.S. typing teacher) to praise me. There was no acknowledgement from the University clerk then or ever. In fact, later I was told the results of the typing test were thrown out because the next day they changed their rules & typing tests were no longer needed. (& the clerk who sent me to take the test didn't know that?)
Anyway, that is the way life is I guess. You can do something perfectly & the next day it is irrelevant.
So. I am not sure which irrelevant way I would like to write this blog: phone, laptop, tablet, typewriter or library computer. Hopefully I will pick one & stick to it & write more often.

Monday, June 9, 2014

another damn poem

Poetry is difficult with the TV
blaring sitcom repeats
advertising creeping into my thoughts,
halting the flow of creativity, create tv---
See what I mean?
The best part of waking up is not Folgers in my cup
and I don't need to go Krogering.
If I kill this screaming box with the universal remote
the silence will be unbearable
and if I kill this silence with the universal remote
the screaming box will be unbearable.

Sunday, September 29, 2013

dandelion in the grass

nothing sadder
than one lone
dandelion among the blades of grass.
if you asked
i could tell you what is sadder
than one lone
dandelion among the blades of grass;
but you don't ask,
you don't notice one dandelion
or loneliness.
you stand in the grass
and you think you see everything.