Well, there it is, out in the open. I’m Not Funny. Ergo, therefore, I don’t write much. I wish I was witty with panache and shebang, but I really I’m quite shebang-less at the moment. However, my dear Planet Teenage Boy citizen did write in a construction paper card that not only am I the best mom in the world, I am also magical. Pause for appropriate effect….. So how many of you moms out there are jealous, eh? Not many of them PTB’ers are capable of using such adjectives, much less appropriating them toward the One Who Gave Them Birth.
So I’m not funny, just a little bit magical.
So I saw I hadn’t posted in over a month and took down my “I’m A Part of Post A Day” button, as it seemed rather silly at this point. I need a “I WISH I Was With It Enough To Post A Day” button, that would be more accurate. So what is my lame-o excuse? Depression. Relentless, annoying, can’t “snap out of it”, overwhelming, walking thru molasses everyday, depression. It sucks the life out of you, you can’t remember what it felt like to feel “good”, “energetic”, “happy”, or any of those kinds of words. But you can’t let on to people that you’re depressed, because then everyone takes it upon themselves to a) Become Your Shrink, b) Cheer You Up, c) Tell You What Diet/Exercise/Prayer/Nutritional Supplement Will Make You All Better or d) Tell You They “Understand” Because They Felt Lousy Once When ________.
Really, all I want is somebody to “reboot” my life and possibly give me a mainline IV of Rockstar, Monster, Red Bull, or whatever high energy drink is popular at the moment with all those tired teenagers. Doesn’t help at all that my particular version of Depression Hell comes with an extreme lack of finances or health insurance. So I can’t even afford the shrink, the meds, or the case of high energy drink I need.
Well, at least I can whine about it on my WordPress.com blog for free. 😉
Image by j.gurian via Flickr
I get to be the center of a much sleazier reality show as mom of the Planet Teenage Girl citizen who apparently fell out of bed and hit herself on the head with a sledgehammer…. or whatever is necessary to make a person capable of INSANE behavior. Ahem… After yesterday’s edge-of-your-seat episode with the Planet Teenage Boy citizen and the Old Guy with the road rage problem to mask the Equality Of Immaturity Demonstrated Across Generations problem, I thought perhaps, I might have earned a milder day as a mom juggling the ricocheting Planet Teenager inhabitants. I think God laughed. Instead, things get more epic by the minute, as I am electronically informed that my PTG citizen received an office referral for “Profanity with hand signs” and no, this did not involve any standard form of manual obscenity, but rather the creativity channeled by a child who has a Deaf mom and therefore has taken it upon herself to invent some new, previously unheard of sign language (being the expert with the Deaf mom and all) to express vulgar-ness towards her friend she was mad at.
I was requested to write some “Parental Comments” on the detention form. Best I can come up with so far is “Epic Fail,” although I’m not sure if that pertains to my parenting ability or my Planet Teenage Girl citizen’s ability to attain civilization. Her Life Is Over, by the way. She protested, “But, I still have a life, right?” (big hopeful puppy dog eyes.) I informed her that I Have Canceled Her Life, as she surrendered her rights to said life when she crossed the boundaries to insanity and behaved in a manner unbecoming of someone whom I Physically Gave Birth To.
Planet Teenage Boy citizen jumped in with a well-timed comment about how he felt so “trusted” that I let him drive the car alone, without the hassle of having to bring me along….. oh, wait, he meant without having to hassle me with riding along in the car….. Anybody want some teenagers cheap?
Creatively productive. There’s the holy grail. To express the fullness of my potential as a unique individual and somehow do it well enough and often enough to get paid for it. Which is more important? Caitlin Kelly blogs about this and points out some of the beloved irony of us creative types — she won a Canadian National Magazine Award for humor for an essay about her divorce. Humor and divorce really don’t seem to go together, but that’s probably what made it work. I will spare you all the make lemonade with the lemons of life metaphor (whoops, that didn’t work.) In Real Life we must be productive, but do we put the cart in front of the horse with our focus on quantity? I am fascinated by Austin Kleon’s advice not to wait around until you know yourself to make things. Just make things, which leads to knowing yourself and thus the well of human creativity.
People tend to be amused by my eccentric creativity, but where is it’s value? That’s the big question. What makes a painting created by random slinging and splattering worth thousands of dollars, or not? I’ve got some pretty amazing metaphors and word plays up my sleeve, but what makes it marketable? Austin Kleon’s work, Newspaper Blackout, is a smash hit, but does the monetary value lie in the use of markers on newspaper? Would people value the same poetry if it were just typed out on regular ole paper? People are funny like that. Some things are perceived as wickedly cool, while others are relegated to lame gimmicks. I happen to think Austin’s work is Wickedly Cool, by the way. Does anyone care about the monetary value of Mom-ness? Is my in-depth research on the citizens of Planet Teenage Boy and Planet Teenage Girl significantly marketable? I have lots of creativity, but creating productively is the heaven to which I aspire.
Image via Galerieopweg
The Irony. I just got back on track with Post A Day, and today’s question requires the impossible. Which music act in history would I, a Deaf individual, like to see? At least the question is accurate, as I wouldn’t be able to hear anything. Nonetheless, since I lost my hearing 13 years ago and was not born Deaf, I do have the ability to extrapolate what music I would want to hear — if I could. Very definitely would be John Tesh Live At Red Rocks concert, as in, to be there live, fully able to hear and enjoy. Awesome. I know my music knowledge is de facto dated, but I still remember the fascinating sounds of what seems to be a musical genre of it’s own — “Tesh music.” You can call it whatever you want, but you can’t put it in a box… Classical, contemporary, rock? Yes and no. All I really want to tell you readers is to shut up and listen! Because You Can.
For all my fellow deafies, I think you’ll agree with me that Sean Forbes has the best music to see.
Image via Wikipedia
My tenacity is fragile. Finally noticed today that I hadn’t gotten one of those annoying Post A Day prompts in my email for a while. Somehow I was missing the annoying-ness. Went to the Daily Post blog, and found out I have been out of the loop for 8 days now…. Whaaaat? Could’ve swore I was subscribed to the Daily Post blog, and went to login and There It Was: Incorrect username or password…. Did you forget your password? Click here, you moron….. or something like that. Then it told me my Browser Was Blocking Cookies. I would never block cookies– they might be chocolate chip! Not only was I wrong about my username and password, I also had pending charges of assault against my favorite junk food companions. Life was bad. Considered changing my username to WonderlandAirhead, but was immediately reprimanded by: You Cannot Change Your Username. I don’t know what is worse, that I got cut off from the loop, or that I didn’t realize I was cut off from the loop. Cut off from daily blog post “prompts” (aka Demonic Demanding Arbiters of Anguish (DDAA)), I conveniently just didn’t notice and wantonly participated in vain distractions and……. something. Ask my teenagers, I’m sure they would have noticed my criminal behavior towards baked goods.
The most extreme, risky insane moment of my life occurred Today. With gasoline at $4 a gallon and nary a salary in the house, I live on the edge by pushing the limits of functional capability of a minivan. According to my on-board logistical probability screen thingy, I have been driving with zero miles left on my less-than-a-gallon “filled” gas tank for at least 24 hours now. Brazenly throwing caution to the wind, I once again set out to prove the legendary risk taking of which I am indeed capable. I drove to work…. fully aware that on-board technology had informed me I could drive Zero More Miles on the gasoline in my tank, and work is, uhhhhh, 8 to 10 miles or so away. This type of risk taking behavior can quickly improve your spiritual life (“Help me get there, Lord!”) Seriously, this is white-knuckling, heart pounding, extreme risk taking of epic proportions. Did I make it?
“Anxiety, depression, fear, anger, and joy all emanate from this region.” Third paragraph, second sentence of my nearest book, “Essential Oils Desk Reference” by Essential Science Publishing.
What region is it? The region where all this stuff is emanating from, that is. That would be the limbic system of the brain, which the sense of smell is directly linked with, and the emotional center of the brain. Thus, inhaling Essential Oils directly affects your mood. No hocus pocus, just brain structure. This is why women often put on perfume when they need a little “lift” in their spirits. This is why Disneyland has the smell of vanilla wafting thru Main Street to make the Happiest Place on Earth a little more happier. This is why savvy bed & breakfast places have either bread or cookies in the oven when guests arrive.
I know, I’m a day off on the Post A Day thing, so sue me. “Plan B: What Do You Do When God Doesn’t Show Up the Way You Thought He Would? by Pete Wilson (no, not that one, another one) changed my life because it challenged the idea that somehow we are “suppose” to have easy carefree lives without any troubles, mean people, tragedies or conflicts. While most of us will say we don’t expect life to be perfect, I don’t see a long line of people to sign up for the hard stuff. We don’t deserve exclusive blessings, nor do we deserve a certain quota of tragedies. Why do babies die? I Don’t Know. If I knew everything, I wouldn’t be sitting around blogging. We are simplistic beings, like 2 yr olds whining because they can’t have a cookie, or worse, because they have to eat vegetables. However, God is more like a Rubik’s Cube Kind of God– there’s a lot of complicated stuff that affects other people which affects other people, and so on. Did I want to be in a major car crash with a permanent injury so that my friend could mention the name of Jesus in a country hostile to Christians because he was only repeating what one of those “American people” had told him? Glad it blessed somebody in some other country where it’s way harder to survive than my struggle not to drive across the street to get a soda, but I still really hated physical therapy. This book taught me to stop fighting what’s actually happening and let Someone who actually has a clue about managing the universe handle it. Stuff is gonna happen. Usually it does. Be ready for the “Plan B” and recognize that just because you feel out of control doesn’t mean He is out of control.
This is where all your fancy claymation came from, people. Gumby started it all. If we didn’t have somebody making a zillion Gumby’s in each Slightly Different Pose to create motion, we wouldn’t have had 3D animation at all. If I could have any fictional character come to life for a day, Gumby would be it. I don’t know if it’s allowed, but I’d like his pony pal Pokey too. What would we do? I know I’d love to do that walking into books thing, for sure. Stretching out and then flattening…. Hey, maybe Gumby started shape shifters too! All I know is Gumby is awesome but simple and doesn’t involve any Weapons Of Mass Destruction in his storyline. If only we could have such characters for today’s kids. I’m kinda scared to see what’s on Saturday morning cartoons. It sure ain’t Tweety Bird. Gumby is my buddy. I have him on my CD holder at my desk to remind me that We Can Be Anything we want to be…. I think I’ll take the stretched out taller-and-skinner thing.
He was once a little green slab of clay. Gumby!
You should see what Gumby can do today. Gumby!
He can walk into any book, with his pony pal Pokey, too.
If you’ve got a heart then Gumby’s a part of you.