{March 21, 2015}   Enough Is Enough ~ A Semi-Rant


I’ve run out of excuses.
Yeah, I know, legitimate or not, excuses are just that, excuses. And they’re getting me nowhere fast.
I mean really, I’m resorting to clichés on top of it all. What’s up with that?

I am like the moon.

Not only do I go through phases but I’m also rather loony on occasion. See previous moon comparison, I’m a damn Cancer with an emotional rollercoaster attached to my feet and the very few who know me well enough know I hate the whole moon comparison. It’s a joke actually, only not so much with the funny these days.
I’m scatterbrained beyond belief lately and my brain has more holes in it than Alpine Lace Swiss Cheese. You know, the really tiny holes that lets the mustard seep out onto the bread making it soggy.

My brain is soggy.

My phone rings on an average day anywhere between 10 to 26 times, every single call from my Dad.
No rhyme nor reason, no certain time of the day or night, whenever the urge hits him, he calls me. Don’t get me wrong, I get it, he’s lonely since my Mom died and he’s a stubborn, rigid, sticks-to-his-ways 88 year old Navy Vet. He never knew his Father and doesn’t remember his Mother, she died when he was around 2 years old or so. He won’t really talk about his family or much of his childhood, although he frequently mentions that he was a twin but his twin brother died at birth. When he talks about it to me in the way he does, trying to make a joke out of everything, he tells me it’s his fault because he weighed more than his twin so he must have killed him.

I can’t imagine walking around with that thought in your head every day of your life.

He talks about how he was roller skating when Pearl Harbor was bombed and enlisted in the Navy the day he turned 17. He tells the same stories so many times I can repeat them myself. I don’t need more than one hand to count the amount of relatives who like him, but he’s my Father and that alone is reason enough to fall into his trap and pick up the phone every damn time.

My life would be so much easier if I could ignore him but I wasn’t raised that way. Plus I’m a Cancer and a middle child.

I have a memory of being taught to always hug and kiss my Parents when I left the house, and I never end/ended a phone conversation with either Mom or Dad without saying ‘I love you’. Although there was also a little bit of guilt manipulation when I neared my teenage years because what if something happened and we never saw each other again?
And they wondered why I cried until my Aunt Berta would call them to assure me they didn’t get in a car accident on the drive home when I’d sleep over my then-only girl cousin Chrissy’s house.

Huh, we’re all pretty much fucked up people, aren’t we?
Nah, we’re all just human I guess.


I don’t really have a point to this aimless babble, I think I’m tip-toeing my way back to writing consistently again. Publicly. Because I need something to shake me out of this endless winter – I mean really, a snowstorm on the first day of Spring?
Point: I should be writing. And not just about how I should be writing but really writing.
I have no one to blame but myself at this point, I need to establish a schedule and attempt to get my Dad to understand I can’t write when the phone keeps ringing .


C’mon me! Get your obsessive ass in gear and start re-obsessive writing!

Enough is enough.


This rant has been brought to you by Guilt-B-Gone.



{January 19, 2015}   High School Redux

You. Yeah, you over there. Let go of my Eggo and your Ego.(with a side of fever)

I have a love/hate relationship with Facebook. Yeah, I know, I guess pretty much everyone goes through this phase with the ever-expanding, always-changing, out-of-our-own-control, time-eating cyber-version of high school.
Like most of our high school experiences, it’s a mixture of good and bad but I have to admit, sometimes FB flat out makes me cranky.
I’m happy to be able to talk to Family I haven’t seen since I was in the single digits, good friends I’ve lost contact with as everyone scattered to live their own lives, start their own Families, you know, the good.
Meeting new people I never would have met in real life without Facebook, wonderful people from around the world and sometimes folks who lived in my own town whose paths never crossed mine. Or maybe we never had things in common until we became whoever it is we became.
That’s part of the good.
And then there’s the bad, aka High School Redux, where the same cliques in high school pick up from where they left off and carry on, still forever 17 in their minds.
You know who I’m talking about; those girls who turned their backs on you because you weren’t cool enough to be a cheerleader (somehow it never occurred to them perhaps I didn’t want to be a cheerleader), those same girls stuck in a time-loop as they post pictures of themselves in their cute little Halloween kitty-costumes that are no longer flattering but dammit, they’re divorced and the zillionth class reunion is around the corner and “sigh, maybe he’ll be there and this time I’ll get the football hero…sigh…”.
Selfie-Queens who post pictures of themselves like it’s a popularity contest and they aren’t satisfied until they get 1000 ‘likes’ from 1000 strangers feeding their ego.
As you may have picked up, I’m not big on the whole selfie thing.
Maybe I’m camera shy. Maybe I don’t want to splatter my ‘wall’ with pictures of me. Maybe I don’t have an out of control ego that needs to be fed on a constant basis. (No, I’m not talking about you, I’m talking about you.)
Whatever the reason, I don’t really care to be the center of attention which is a weird thing for a lead singer to say. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, in fact I love seeing photographs of my friends and Family, I love seeing pictures of new people I’ve ‘met’ and learning more about them and their lives.
But it’s just part of my personality to observe, stay in the background and figure things out, fill my mind with stuff so I can spew my own words onto the paper/screen.
My lack of selfies has been commented on (behind my back of course, just like high school) by a girl who was once my BFF until we lost touch. She has decided I put up pictures of myself like “those girls who hide behind their hair so you can’t see their face”. Apparently, this once-former model, who used to worship my every move, has no use for me anymore because she looked at my political leanings and decided I’m scum.
I’ve been stalked, hacked, backstabbed, ignored, you know, just like high school.
That’s the bad part.
I guess in the long run, the good outweighs the bad because I’ve ‘met’ some of the most awesome people anyone could hope to ‘meet’.
Maybe I’m just playing favorites because I rather spend more time here at WordPress than Facebook, or maybe I’m just cranky because my cold turned into bronchitis which translates into a good couple weeks of me being sick.
And I’m cranky because even though I’ve been writing every day I’ve been saving everything to draft instead of posting like I should.
I wonder if the 17 phone calls a day from my Dad has anything to do with my bad moody?
Or I’m picking on Facebook because I sometimes let it eat too much of my time, and I also know that FB can cause a lot of destruction to real-life life when it turns into the high school cafeteria and I’m standing alone with a full tray and nowhere to sit.
Maybe it bugs me to realize someone I once traded secrets with is now as one dimensional as a photograph.
Yeah, I’m a weirdo, an outcast, a rebel without a cause and plain old stubborn. And yeah, I really don’t like to have my picture taken, I prefer to be the one taking the pictures and capturing the moment, not because I’m trying to hide behind my hair, not because I don’t look good in pictures and don’t spend money on cosmetic surgery in a desperate attempt to look forever 17. But because I’m beautiful just as I am, as we (almost) all are, inside and out.
And the fact that I know this to be true will not be rattled by the words of someone who is still living mentally in high school.
I know who I am.
And thankfully, dearest readers, so do you.
And since we’re on the subject of high school and pictures, here’s me when I was a senior in high school, not hiding behind hair. I’d put a ‘selfie’ taken right this very second, but I think that means the terrorist win.
Or something like that.
I was 18, cut me some slack!

Because everything.
Can’t watch the news because it’s full of shit and non-news, editorial views now pass as headline news, journalism is dead and Politically Correct runs the world only it’s running the whole damn thing into the ground instead of letting the happy shine through.
Or as Giles put it in both the first and last episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer, “The Earth is Definitely Doomed.”.
I’ve been writing and writing and not posting, saving everything to draft and hating everything I write between running up and down the stairs twenty times a day to mess with the router/modem/anything internet related since obviously Mars is still in my retrograde. It’s exasperating to stop my flow of thoughts because those stupid white bars keep showing me the yellow triangle with the exclamation point and just as I finally get back online my phone rings again because my Dad wants to tell me what’s on Turner Classic Movies for the seventh time that day so I grit my teeth and pretend I’m really glad he told me and yes of course I’ll be watching it thank you very much and yes I’ll talk to you later.
Of course my train of thought is gone and I forget what the hell I was about to write which, of course, was the most brilliant thing ever written except now it’s gone forever. So I save to draft and pray for a miracle.
I want to write about the fun, the good stuff, my vacation to the shore (including tornado warnings and much rain), the awesomeness of finally meeting in person (even though I arrived fifteen minutes late because the library was so big I couldn’t find the right room – plus I had to pee. Shut up, it’s a long ride from Carteret!)then leaving (too early for my liking) to go to my niece’s baby shower (where I stood for the most part because that’s what I do) while my feet were throbbing from the inevitable sunburn I got down the shore regardless of the number 90 sunblock I used – the fair Irish skin might have something to do with that but it sure didn’t make any of my shoes less painful.
Dental appointments to fix the root canal a previous dentist had botched leaving 3 root tips and a foreign object in my gums weren’t very much fun but at least I finally found the root of that problem and that was totally an unintentional pun.
And did I mention I’m a routine kind of girl who hates when my apple cart gets upset and my usual go-to’s are gone? I mean even the television shows that make me happy are on hiatus and if that freaks me out imagine how freaked out I get when my usual crutch gets pulled out from under me and I’m nothing but a ball of confusion?
See? I’m a lunatic when I don’t write and I stupidly let myself not write.
Bad, bad, me.
I need to get back to my routine of writing every day and stop putting everything in draft and stop putting every damn person in the world ahead of me. I’m going to have to start getting a little more selfish and stop letting every thing else pull me apart like taffy.
That, my friends, is the easy part. The hard part is actually doing it.
The sand is running through the hourglass faster each day. It’s past time to kick it into gear and get on Team Me.
I also want a unicorn.


I’m a big fat selfish pig.
No, that’s a lie. Mostly a lie. Nah, actually it’s all a lie except for the selfish part so let me rephrase that.
I’m selfish.
I think.
Oh! I know! Let’s see what our good friend the dictionary has to say. (if this was a script would there be stage directions here describing our heroine open another tab and bing? that would be kinda cool…)
Ok, let’s take a peek dear reader.
self•ish (ˈsɛl fɪʃ)
1. caring only or chiefly for oneself; concerned with one’s own interests, welfare, etc., regardless of others.
2. characterized by or manifesting concern or care only for oneself: selfish motives

So it seems has it wrong, or, I’m not as selfish as I thought I was. I’m more of a wanna-be selfish than an actual selfish, uh, thing.
Huh. Well that sure took the wind out of my sails. I can’t even get selfish right.
one of those days
I’m all wound up and information overload and how long am i gonna feel this way and nothing will ever be normal again or right and whatever that thing is that’s lodged against my heart is so very heavy and insistent on making it’s presence known and changes unwanted occur at an alarming rate on a day to day basis and it’s black confetti falling fast at the same time all at once and i don’t know the meaning of the word ‘family’ anymore and i’m sure as hell not looking that one up right now because i already know i got that wrong too.
I used to have an angel.

Where does that connection go and did it take a piece of me when it went?

This is why I’m a big fat selfish pig:
Because all this real-life stuff is pulling me away from my own desires and it’s making me cranky.
I’m pathetically easy to please, I don’t ask for or expect much, in fact quite the opposite.
As far as material things i’ll take a pretty weed picked off the grass over a treasure chest of jewels any day.

Any other desires can be counted on two fingers and one of those fingers points right here. (those stage directions, if they existed, would indicate ‘here’ as being here, literally, writing, wordpress blog thingy, you know, this world of writers like you)
That’s why i’m selfish, because all i want to do is write and the Evil Bitch Monster Of Doom also known as Life won’t let me.
We’re not mentioning the other finger right now. Shut up. (there would be stage directions here too, making sure the correct inflection was used on the words ‘shut up’)

Until the day I die I will always put others before me. I can’t help it, and believe me I’ve tried, but I can not stop myself from stepping into someone else’s shoes, then there’s this whole empathy thing that happens and before you know it i’m doing everyone else’s stuff wishing i could do more. I mean for them.

But meanwhile, back in the states(obscure reference to a NY Dolls song* which is now playing in my head), all my previous rants are still valid and now i have to say goodbye to my (sob) beloved comfy car and did i mention how much i don’t love change?

My car.
My car.
My car.

My car.
It’s a whole emotional attachment thing worthy of it’s own Very Special Episode post.

And I just did that rant thing I do and now i feel selfish because i just want to shut the world out and just write. With cups of tea. And cigarettes. And at least one cat. Aside from the whole smoking-is-bad-thing, that’s not really asking for much is it?

Rats. The damn sky just opened up yet again bringing forth a deluge of water and (most likely) the end of my first day alone in what seems like forever. So i just have to add one thing to that little list of selfish wants: i need a goddamn place of my own to write because this sitting at the kitchen table writing bullshit is freaking stupid already!!!
Uh, rant over she said hopefully and (say it with me) apologetically.
rant over

* Stranded In The Jungle~ New York Dolls (See? even the link-gods are against me and are only allowing me to copy and paste and i bet it’s that pesky upgrade thing which i have every intention of upgrading but was trying to hold out until next month when i get my new laptop that I’ve decided i’m giving myself for my birthday and see how all over the place i am?)
stranded in the jungle

I’m going slightly mad.
Now before your get your panties in a knot I am not trying to take credit for that line, the One and Only Freddie Mercury used that line in a song of the same title.
(a moment of silence for the genius that was Freddie Mercury- another one gone too soon)
I could write down all the lines of that song right here right now, but that would be wrong. (Even though the lyrics are an apt description of my current state of mind.)
I could write down all the lines of a song I’ve written myself called ‘Dancing With Dementia’.(And I just may do that in another post.)

Instead I will give a virtual scream as I contemplate the road before me. (insert really loud angsty-type scream here.)

I’ve mentioned before that I have severe time management problems. I wish I could say I’m getting it under control but nope, it’s getting worse.
Somehow, someway, the people in my immediate life seem to think that I’m Gumby.
I am pulled in more directions than actually exist. I am Wonder Women without superpowers which leaves me a woman who wonders how the hell I’m going to juggle everything I need to juggle and still find time for my own damn self.

My phone rings thirteen thousand two hundred forty nine and a half times per day.
That would be a modest estimate.

It’s all “Joanne can you do _____ for me?”, “Joanne can you take me ______ right now?”, “Joanne how do I _____?”, “Joanne did you finish _____ yet?”, “Joanne when will you be able to _____?”, “Joanne why didn’t you _____ yet?” “Does this look clean enough?” “How does this taste?” “What do you think I should eat?” “Did you see my glasses?” “Could you get me a beer?” “Did you/could you/will you/can you/why didn’t you/when will you”, I think you get my point.

I don’t want to bore you with the details (a little late for that, huh?), mostly because the phone just rang again while I was writing this sentence and my train of thought went flying out the window.

See what I mean?

I’m a weird mixture of a Type A personality and a Type B personality.
Does that mean I’m Type A- or possibly Type B+ ?
Is there a whole entire new personality Type, say, a Type J personality as in J for jerk because I am a resentful doormat? A people pleaser? An optimistic idiot? A pessimistic Pollyanna?

I’m in a world of wacky and I still worry about disappointing people.
I wonder if I will ever worry about people disappointing me?

Oh yeah, the public service announcement part; I’m sorry if I don’t get to things around here in a timely manner.
It’s not my usual modus operandi.
It also makes me cranky when I give my word which then gets smashed to smithereens because I’m everything to everybody these days.
I fear it may get to the point where my word means nothing and that, my friends, is one of my biggest worries.
When I say something I mean it.

Unfortunately my life has been abducted and I see no horizon, just endless choppy waves trying to kick my ass and keep me from my own desires, one of which is writing.

Look, this is what it all boils down to: if I don’t get my hands on a Tardis or any kind of time machine and soon, I may start screaming and never stop.
(But if I do get a time machine than ‘soon’ is just relative, right?)

Oh man, I need _______. (because I’m in such a kerfuffle I don’t even know what ______ is.)

Nothing worse than an aimless rant.
Sorry about that chief.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled programing.

{May 26, 2013}   I Rant

Gather ’round kiddies, it’s that time again. Pull up a chair, make yourself comfortable and allow me to indulge myself in a mini-rant.
Ok so here’s the deal: I’m having a really shitty life weekend.
I hate whining, I really do, but sometimes it’s the only way to rid myself of this damn cranky cloud following me around.
It started off on a good foot, a three-day weekend stretched out ahead of me full of endless possibilities, all of them, at least in my head,full of yummy goodness.
Then the winds started whipping up.
Both literally and figuratively.
Don’t get me wrong, I love a good wind storm as much as the next person. But this little thing called ‘the internet’ seems to have a love/hate relationship with weather meaning I’ve been more internet-less than not since Friday night. Makes it kinda tough to do pretty much most of the things I wanted to do which leads to cranky-town.
Then there’s the figurative.
Saturday morning I went to see my Dad. I’m still in the process of going through all my Mom’s stuff which is a lot harder than I can say. I’m an emotional girl on a good day so needless to say there were lots of tears as I continued reducing my Mother’s life into boxes.
Meanwhile my Father is becoming more uncontrollable by the day. He’s the definition of cranky old man and he’s just getting crankier and more irrational every time I see/talk to him.
He now refuses to sign any of the paperwork needed to be signed.
He also said that he’s decided he doesn’t need or want any help when it comes to his three children. He’s independent, he said, he has his ‘friends’ to help him and oh yeah, by the way three children of mine, I’m leaving everything to my ‘friends’ at the bar, said he.
As I sobbed in my Mother’s room at the thought that my own Father considers me disposable, he told me to stop crying.
Gotta love the sensitivity of some men.
I thought of all I’ve done for him all my life, how hard my younger brother and I worked to get that damn house rebuilt after the hurricane knocked it down, how I’ve always been the one on my Father’s side as the rest of the family barely tolerates him.

I’m not looking for a pot of gold at the end of a black colored rainbow but goddamn it if he thinks he’s going to take my safety net away from me in order to make his new-found ‘friends’ feel important, he’s in for a future of nightmares because my Mother may be gone from this world but she will NOT I repeat NOT allow this happen.

I’m grieving and I find that I’m, for all intents and purposes, an orphan now.

The only problem is, no matter what he does or doesn’t do, I can’t help it. I love my Father.
It would just be nice if he felt the same about me.

PS: This is in no way a rant designed to evoke sympathy, to make excuses for my behavior or lack thereof, but more of a spew onto the page without thought. And by the way, it’s really difficult to write any thing of any kind when my only place to write is sitting at the kitchen table making me available to the household to fill any role they decide needs filling.
This is meant to be a Holiday weekend but it’s turned more into a weekend from Hell.
Oh man, there goes my name once again being hollered.
So…still another day of the holiday weekend left?
As someone way more famous than me once said, please kill me now.
And yes that sound you heard was me hitting my head against the table. Repeatedly.

And they wonder why I prefer writing about vampires….
what doesn't kill youi'm fine

{May 23, 2013}   Words Of The Blogging Kind

blog [ blog ]
1.diary on Web site: a frequently updated personal journal chronicling links at a Web site, intended for public viewing
Today has been an endless ride on an evil roundabout that once called Hell it’s home.
I exaggerate. Sort of.
It just occurred to me that this is a blog, you know, like a diary thing where I write down, well, to take the lazy way out, what Bing said up there ^ in the definition portion of tonight’s little presentation.
Meanwhile, I’m over here in my own little world writing fiction more often than not; poetry, a little bit of non-fictiony type stuff, you know, dabbling.
But I really haven’t been making with the actual ‘blogging’ part of the blog thing. (when I start wrangling the English language I know I’m long overdue for a good gut-spewing rant. And a Buffy The Vampire Slayer rewatch. Again.)
Usually I correspond via email and rant that way, but time has become a factor in that not-at-all-little lifesaving tool.
Time is sometimes evil and must be stopped.
Hey, maybe this place is actually some super secret path to a Tardis, or any time machine would do actually.
See what I did there?
I rambled. Babbled. Went off-topic. Shuffled the cards so to speak.
I could list all the psychological mitigating factors as to why I do that but duh, who has time for that?
{bites tongue to keep self from going off on another time rant}

Ok let’s do this.
I not only hate today, but I fucking hate today.
Because it was all the best things ever, sprinkled throughout what’s generally known as a shitty day.

The stupid was too stupid to even whine about and the awesome is too awesome to share until I have (c’mon, say it with me) more time.

But, the dumbest thing of all? Stupid me had to go get all invested in this (insert nastiest curse of your choice here) jodi arias trial (I refuse to use capital letters ever for that convicted heinous disgusting lying murderer.
For the less than 12 people in the USA who don’t know about the convicted killer, she was found guilty of premeditated 1st degree murder; in a nutshell, she drove 3000 miles to stab him 29 times (mostly in the back) slash his throat from ear to ear nearly decapitating him, then shot him in the head after he was already dead. She shoved him in his own shower stall, tried to clean up and deleted the sex pictures she took of him in the shower before she began to stab him, and did a load of laundry of blood covered clothes and the sheets so her dna wouldn’t be on them. She also threw the camera in with the laundry even though she already deleted the sex pictures. Only she didn’t know the cops could retrieve the deleted pictures even though it had been through the wash cycle.
And oops, while she was killing him the camera somehow took some pictures.

It is disgusting.
She is disgusting
Today they finally came back with no unanimous agreement.
Fucking mistrial.

Yeah I know, they’re going to retry the penalty phase but can you imagine if your brother/friend/cousin/whoever was brutally murdered the way Travis Alexander was?
What would you feel if you had been living this nightmare since 2008 to finally have the verdict come in the way it did?

They have been living out of a suitcase away from their lives and family, put their lives on hold and live in a hotel in another state than their own?

I apologize.
What began as something about me turned into a rant about jodi arias. I’m taking that power away from her after saying one more thing; it is the family that I feel for.
I have sent a donation to the Alexander family and will send another one. It is the only way I can help.

See the roundabout that is me?
I just keep on talking sometimes and I am forcibly stopping myself now to go read some things I need to read. I have some reading I must read tonight. And yay me, I get to stay right here in my safe place to do it.

So, that’s blogging huh?
Next time the hell with it, I’m gonna make it all. about. me.

See you out there! 😀

et cetera