Hola Friends!

Doctoral Dreaming. It’s a thing…

I thought it was about time I made a blog entry! I have been knee-deep into this doctoral school stuff, and on most of my days, my brain is pretty fried. I had not realized it would be similar to a full-time job, with overtime. Non-paid overtime. In fact, non-paid anything. Oh, wait! They get paid, not me. I just get the loss of sleep (from assignment deadlines), droopy eyeballs (from all the reading! So much reading), arthritis (in my fingers from all the writing. So much writing!) But someday, I will get that Doctorate Degree, and it will have been worth all the effort, to be quite honest. I love it, even if I do tend to whine, drool, curse, pull my hair, gripe, flip other drivers off, talk to myself, scare kids off my lawn, and eat my feelings. Worth it all!!

But I digress…

So, what have you been doing? I miss the blog. I really need to visit more often. I began writing my third book, also, but that ended badly. I had a nice outline, but trying to switch between creative writing on the book, and academic writing for school was near impossible. The two styles are so unique to their respective genres and require completely different structures, I just could not manage the time or patience it would require juggling both consecutively.

But the book will get written. The storyline is compelling. The characters are fun. It will happen when I am once again, fun, and compelling. Well, fun. I do not know about the compelling part. Tired is probably a better adjective for me at this time. I need to color my hair. I need to buy some clothes other than sweatpants, pajamas, and T-shirts. I need to leave my house occasionally. I need to get some sun. In fact, my Vitamin D is low, and the doctor put me on supplements. I think she wonders if I live in a gopher hole. Back to the things I need. I need a lady friend. Not a lady who is a friend, but a lady friend. If that does not make sense to you, then you probably do not want to know. Trust me.

Wow, 373 words ago I started this post, and I have virtually said nothing. My apologies. Next time, I promise to deliver something that will either make you laugh, make you think, or make you move on to the next blog. It is all good…

Have a great Mother’s Day, all you moms. If either of my sons read this, I love you. And I need a coffee maker (preferably a Keurig), a vacuum, and/or gas money, chocolate, or a good historical fiction novel. Or a lady friend, if you happen to see one. Just ship her on over.

Thank you for visiting my blog. I hope you return again and again, as I need the company and I love attention. Please feel free to leave a comment if you are so inclined. Kindness, please. We do not do hate on this blog. We are lovers. Of kindness.

February. Not my best look.

February. I am not a fan. February has it out for me. Every year, I wait to see the hammer drop, or however that old saying goes, and something always happens. This year, I want a boring, uneventful February, please and thank you! Less is more. We need to focus on less and sleep more. Or at least climb into our beds and hide from the mean, cruel, unforgiving universe. Who’s with me?

Damn, I sound like I am on some serious downers.

But I do not partake in downers; I am not even sure what they are. I just wanted to sound cool. Failed again. Eating one’s feelings can have that effect. I had pork chops tonight for dinner, with a hamburger chaser. I just couldn’t decide. I seriously only wanted something on which to apply a splat of ketchup. I had a craving. Don’t judge. You could be a dork, too, and just have not realized it yet.

I married both my husbands in the month of February. Not at the same time; however, that might have been more interesting, and maybe more fun. Middle age was banging on my door by the time I fully realized I belonged with women. I did procure two fabulous sons from the marriages, though. And thank god, neither were in February.

I was in a bad rollover when I was 38, on February 13th. Yes it was a Friday. I was in a van with seven other workmates, headed to Vegas for the long weekend. We were about four hours away and the woman driving at the time overcorrected on some black ice. It was an ugly day, and nothing to joke about. I did lose a shoe in the wreckage, though. I went into shock after we crashed, and was told later that I wandered around the crash site, hobbling on one shoe, until the ambulance arrived. The paramedics cut my favorite jean jacket off me. I would have taken it off for them. I guess they assumed I couldn’t move, but I was just tired from all that shoe searching. And my foot was frozen. And I was in mourning for not being able to go to Vegas. I had a coffee can full of quarters with me, just waiting to be fed into those glorious video poker machines! I felt robbed. Now I would have to roll those damned quarters and take them to the bank.

I had two takeaways from that accident: 1) I saved money, because I was a gambling addict and would have hit the ATM 30 minutes after arriving, and, 2) My paramedic was a hottie.

Turned out I had three compression fractures from the ordeal and ended up in the hospital, and then home from work for months. There was nothing funny about that either, but our two dogs loved having me as their couch mate. After a few weeks, however, they just considered me their snack bitch, and ignored me the rest of the time.

The struggle is real, people.

A few years later, I was in intensive care with a blood pressure spike. Also February 13th. Also a Friday. I had only been seeing my new partner for a few weeks when it happened, and I was told she was really frightened for me. I didn’t notice because I was serving up my guts to the gods, via the floor, the bed, the bathroom, and my partner. She must have really felt sorry for me because she stuck around for 21 years. Happy Valentine’s Day in heaven, Joan. This crazy post is for you. I’m being careful, so don’t worry. After all, it is February and, even though shit happens in February, I know you’re looking out for me.

Oh yeah, one more thing. I just started my second doctoral class, and they gave me a different professor. It just about broke my heart. But that was actually in January, so I guess it doesn’t count. But I miss him. He had more patience with me than anyone should have with an old lady. I already feel sorry for my new professor.

Three Things I Stole

Today’s post is brought to you by the Number Three.

Three is a significant number for me, obviously, in that three, or a sum thereof, was the number of things I stole from relatives while they were providing me with a much needed place to stay until I got my shit together. It’s time to come clean. I am nothing if not blatantly late at confession.

To those family members involved, I have no remorse, but I do have three fabulous items in my home that now belong to me. Don’t judge me. I had an excuse. I always do. And you love me anyway. Don’t forget that.

Three Things I Stole from my Relatives over the Past Six Months:

I never knew this about myself, but I attach inanimate objects with people I love. It’s a thing. Last June, as I was packing up and preparing to leave Boise and my son and his family behind, I stole a Tablespoon of theirs right out of the drawer. I stole it like a boss. I didn’t feel sleazy. I didn’t feel guilty. I just felt for the spoon, grabbed it, and hid it in my Broncos bag in my room. That spoon is now in my drawer, in my little apartment, and every morning, I eat my oatmeal using my spoon. I would apologize to my son and his family, but I am not sorry. That spoon represents them. I hold that spoon and feel closer to them. It probably makes zero sense to anyone but me, but so be it.

My spoon now!

The second thing I stole was in September at my Dad and his wife Donna’s house in Georgia. I am sure you know the story if you are a regular reader of my blog, and if you’re not, you should be. It’s the third most popular blog around. Okay, I made that up because I am stuck on threes. I can’t help it, just like I couldn’t help stealing an old towel from Dad’s house. I had been using it to dry my hair, and got really attached to it. I stole it like a boss, throwing it in my dirty clothes basket, and stashing it in my van while Dad and Donna went to town. That old towel is now in my linen closet, holding a very special place in my heart….displayed in the center of the shelf, and perfectly folded in (wait for it) thirds. I love that towel. I love Dad and Donna. They won’t mind. I swear I didn’t steal anything else.

My towel now!

That brings us to my sister. My sweet, short, sassy and fabulous little sister. She has more patience with me than should be allowed, and does not deserve a thief in her home. I lived there for two months while waiting for my apartment to come available. She made me coffee at least ten days in a row until I finally learned how to work the coffee pot. She gave me countless directions on how to get to town, and I am still not sure how to get there. She took instant naps right in the middle of my stories about the old days. It was during one of those naps, I stole a cereal bowl right out of the dish drainer. I stole it like a boss, walked right past her while she was snoozing in her chair, and hid it in an old bag I used for my toiletries. I love that bowl. I am not sure if it is a cereal bowl because it might be a small mixing bowl. It is one of a kind, and so is my sister. That bowl now resides in MY dish drainer, and hasn’t been used since I moved in to my little place. Sorry not sorry, LIL Sis. You snooze, you lose.

My bowl now!

Thanks for visiting my blog. I hope you return again and again. I promise more craziness, but I can’t promise I won’t steal your heart. GOSH, that was sappy. Forgive me. Everyone knows I will do anything for more readers.

Worldviews

With the holiday break almost over, I resume my doctoral studies later this week. I am actually pretty excited to get back to it, as I have thus far thoroughly enjoyed my return to academia. That being said, there is an upcoming assignment that has me thinking.

And I still have four days left before I am required to do this thinking stuff. But here goes…

The subject of a person’s worldview has me intrigued, and I am indeed….thinking. My original idea about worldviews only encompassed the raw definition residing in my head, which was, “how one sees the world through one’s own eyes.” Okay, I also realized that a person’s upbringing, beliefs (religion, spirituality, or lack thereof), geographical location, philosophy of life, family, and academic knowledge also aid in shaping their worldview. After doing quite a bit of reading and research, I realized I did not know there are a vast amount of defined and an endless amount of undefined worldviews in our, um, world.

News Flash and chronic understatement follows:

We are not all the same!

I know, Lucy! It boggles the mind!

If only that were the end of my thinking on this. I told myself, “Self, just accept it and move on.” And I did, for the most part. And then that little irritating part of my brain that won’t let me “move on,” so to speak, just kept slapping me with questions and emotions and heartburn (that last thing was actually from the BBQ I ate for supper).

But the questions and emotions kept coming….

So, since we are not all alike, why are there so many freaking people in this country opposed to others not exactly like them? If it is a well-known fact (and it is) that we are not the same, that means we are not supposed to be the same, doesn’t it? And, if your religious beliefs are that we are made in God’s image, then that makes ALL of us the same, even though we are not the same. Seems clear enough.

Ah, but if only that really explained everything.

What about all those people who are not religious? Are they all going to hell? Do you have any idea how many people in this world are not religious? I don’t know exactly, but there is a shitload. And what about those people who are spiritual but not in the Christianity way, such as Buddhism, and Native American tribal beliefs. Are those people all going to hell?

Hard to send them to hell when they don’t believe in it in the first place. And the fact that sending people to hell is totally out of our paygrade. It is just too ridiculous to fathom.

All the research I’ve done so far has been fascinating. I am a person with an open mind, and I accept that our world is not mine alone, and I am but one very lucky human to still remain above ground, enjoying this wondrous miracle called life. My religious beliefs are private, and you will not hear or read me shouting them to the world. However, I firmly believe in the shouters, the worshipers, and yes, the non-worshipers, as well as those enlightened by science and our ecosystem.

We are the same, in that we are all not the same. It’s quite beautiful, when you think about it. Can’t we celebrate that, instead of…..well, you know as well as I do that we need to do some work in this area. I just ask that we all do some thinking. Couldn’t hurt. Oh! And did you know you can actually have more than one worldview? In fact, you can have lots! Boggles my brain, I tell ya. I love this stuff.

Thank you for visiting my blog. Sometimes I am funny. Sometimes I’m informative. Sometimes I’m just reflective, as we all are. I hope you will return again and again, as you are ALL welcome here, whatever your worldview! (Unless, of course, you choose to spread hate. If that’s the case, please move on.)

Jingle Balls

Have you ever been to Walmart two days before Christmas? If your answer is no, then honey, you ain’t lived a full life!! Oh!…The people, the cheer, the smells, the music, the lights!

But not quite as you might envision…

Let’s begin with the lights, shall we? Oh, there are lights, but the only ones left are either on the trees nobody wants, or in a package of 25 teeny tiny lights. Just one package. That’s all that is left. So good luck stretching that around your 9 foot tree for which you spent all day yesterday searching in the woods.

As for the music, everyone is aware of the piped in elevator-type Christmasy stuff they provide. But sometimes, if you’re very lucky, you’ll be in there to do some lengthy grocery shopping, and the music will be caught in a loop, and “Grandma Got Ran Over by a Reindeer” will become your earworm for life. Such fun!

Let’s talk about the SMELLS! Oh Mylanta! When you first walk in, you might be lucky enough to catch the aroma of MacDonald’s fries. But, let’s face it, you’re no luckier than I am, so you will probably smell some serious body odor as half the population of anywhere USA tries to cram through the door to get that last coveted pair of reindeer boxers. As you proceed through the store, you are infused with people from all walks of life. There are soiled baby diaper smells. There are bad breath and farts aplenty. There are soiled grandparent diaper smells. And let’s not forget Junior’s stinky feet! By the time you get through all of that, everyone is staring at you, wondering why you stink!

It’s a journey, people.

Ah, but there must be good cheer, right? After all, it is almost Christmas! Not to worry, because Uncle Max will be stumbling through the aisles, wreaking of beer, and other good cheer, and mumbling something inaudible, but strangely familiar. You forgive him because you’ve probably done something similar, or your best friend has. He knows not what he smokes. Somebody call him a cab, please.

Last but not least. The people. Because that’s what it’s all about, anyway. We are social creatures. We gather. We gather for holidays. We gather for celebration. We gather outside the smelly restrooms, waiting for Aunt Agnes to pee. We are hoping she made it to a stall, but we don’t dare to enter the restroom for fear of the dreaded poop smells.

I can’t seem to get away from those smells.

Ah, but the pièce de résistance is what actually made Walmart famous! You will witness men’s butt cracks shining out from those britches, and women’s bosoms loaded into undersized t-shirts. Kinda makes my eyes bleed. I’m pretty sure it is a Walmart thing. It’s part of the customer’s uniform. If you don’t show what you got, you’re just un-American!

So if you’re out and about today, this Christmas Eve Eve, and you’re looking for a little entertainment, head on over to Wally World and get yourself some holiday spirit. But, might I suggest popping a quick gummi bear edible about 30 minutes prior to your arrival. Just call it your contribution to the culture.

So, Here is my Why

Several of my friends and a couple of my relatives have asked me why I have decided to pursue a Doctor of Education Degree, which is quite an undertaking and will require three or four years of my time. Below is a personal, somewhat lengthy, and at times, confusing explanation as to my “Why.” I hope it clears some things up and gives a bit of insight into the enigma that is me.

The last fourteen months have been a wild ride for me. And by “wild” I mean akin to one of a giant rollercoaster. As you may or may not know, my life-partner of 21 years passed away in 2019, and the following year (October 2020, 14 months ago) I had to move from the condo I had been renting from my son because they wanted to sell it. I have always been on my own, never dependent on anyone else. When I was married or with a partner, we cohabitated, but I very well could have handled things on my own if needed. However, there were no available apartments in Boise at that time, so I agreed to move in with my son temporarily.

I was not happy about it, as I knew from listening to others and being observant, that families moving extra family into their homes could cause a multitude of annoyances and issues. Turned out, I was correct with my assumptions. Without going into private details, things were not working out. I am independent and I’m not accustomed to being under anyone’s thumb. I need to govern my own life and do so under my own roof. After nine months, it was a mutual agreement that I would move on.

But where was I to go?

In previous weeks before leaving Boise, I had been watching YouTube videos about nomads, and people living in their vans and RVs on purpose. Nomads are a whole sub-culture in and of themselves, and, quite frankly, the lifestyle appealed to the romanticist and dreamer in me. I thought it would be the perfect solution. I could travel like a snowbird, south in winter and north in summer. I could write to my heart’s content and visit places still on my bucket list.

I made lists of everything I would need by watching the videos, and began my search for a late model used van. The idea morphed into a dream that further fueled my vision of being on my own without a care in the world.

Two obstacles stood in my way:

  1. I have a disability in that I cannot walk very fast due to a spinal injury. I currently use a cane, but was using a walker for a long time. That did not deter me, as I’d heard that a lot of disabled people live as nomads.
  2. I was completely unprepared. I had saved money, but used it to buy the van outright so I wouldn’t owe anything on it. That left me with very little expendable cash. The list of items I would need and the alterations I would need for my van in order to make it livable for me, especially with my mobility issues, were expensive. However, that did not stop me from leaving Boise on July 2nd, headed for points east, specifically Yellowstone National Park. I was excited…

Although my excursion through Yellowstone was breathtaking, my new life soon brought me to my knees. My first night upon exiting Yellowstone was spent in a KOA Campground, one that was over-crowded and definitely not as advertised. I tried to climb in the back of my van when it was time to sleep, but I was so exhausted, I could not climb in. Due to my spinal injury, I was also unable to climb from the driver’s seat to the back of the van. As a result, I spent the entire night sitting up in the driver’s seat of the van. It was cold and I was pretty miserable, to put it mildly. Two more nights went by during my travels, and although I was able to climb in the back and get in my bed, everything else I did became increasingly difficult.

I was quickly becoming disheartened about my choice to live in a van. I called my stepmom in Georgia, who I was supposed to be visiting the next month, and asked if I could come early, and she said of course. On the way to Georgia, I contracted a fungus on my feet (no idea why or how) and also became depressed and lethargic. By the time I arrived, I was getting sick. I ended up a few days later in the ER, had a toenail removed, and antibiotics for an infection. I was sick for awhile. I threw up a lot, and even wondered if I had COVID, even though I had been vaccinated.

I did improve, however, and spent three months with my Dad (who is suffering from dementia) and his wife Donna. They were wonderful to me, and it was three of the most peaceful months of my life. Spending that quality time with my Dad was priceless, and I will always hold those moments in my heart. But, it was again time to move on. I had been trying to procure an apartment in the area, having given up on my nomad dreams. I was unsuccessful in finding anything.

In the middle of September, my sister in northwest Georgia invited me to come and look at apartments in her town. I was excited to think I might finally have a place to call home again. I went to see her and we went to several places and collected applications. That week, I put in a very involved application for an apartment in her town, but the apartments were based on income, and the waiting list was long.

During the wait, I have been staying at my sister’s apartment. She gave up her bedroom for me, and she has been staying in the guest bedroom. Due to my spinal injury, I would not have been able to get up from the low bed in the guest bedroom, so she selflessly gave up her comfort for me. I moved in with her in October, and she has been absolutely lovely and welcoming, and made me feel like I’m not alone in this world, and there are people out there who really want me around. My Dad and Donna treated me the same way. Yes, I want to live on my own, but knowing these people love me for who I am has meant the world to me. They do not judge me. They do not decide how I should live my life. They just love me and have helped me out of a tremendously difficult situation. I am a very prideful individual, and I am humbled in their presence. My apartment will be available around Christmas, and I have put my deposit down and now busily trying to collect furnishings and dishes, etc., to make it my own. Again excited!!!

So, back to the reason for this post. Why have I committed to an arduous (my son described it with this word, and he was correct!) journey of working toward my Doctorate?

  1. I earned my Master’s Degree nine years ago, and have since felt the desire to continue the journey, culminating in my completing something I never could have dreamed of when I was younger. At 68, I finally know myself, and I know my worth. I am intelligent, brave, a bit too bold at times, and ever curious about this wonderful thing called life.
  2. I am doing this to show myself that I can, not to show anyone else. I do brag a lot, but quite frankly, I have a lot for which to brag!
  3. Bottom line. My “Why” is purely Because I can.

I sincerely hope you will wish me well in my endeavors, and maybe take away something from my sharing this long explanation with you. Everyone has their dreams, and none are more or less significant than any others. I’m so happy to wake up each day and have the blessed opportunity to follow my dreams…

Write Like a Scholar? What?

My recent nose-dive into the depths of scholarly learning has given me anxiety. Turns out, the doctoral journey begins with learning how to write. What? One would think one would have learned to write in first grade, and sure enough, some of us did! Heck, I even have a couple of books out there in the Amazon universe.

Ah, but that’s not writing. That’s “creative writing.” To write like a scholar, one has to first enter the gates of hell. In this scholarly “hell” one also has to read countless articles in which one has to look up every other word. After reading each article several times, then a few more times, one then has to compare and contrast said articles with one another. It is called synthesis. And yes, I also had to look that up.

And, as if the devil himself was looking over one’s shoulder and just waiting to pass judgment, one has to accept critical feedback without crying, begging, bribing, or eating one’s feelings. One must take it like a woman. One must persevere. One must never let them see one flipping the finger. One must overcome, smile, and write the whole damned thing over. Again. And again.

One is sure you are out there in the bloggy universe, laughing while holding back the urge to remind one that one signed up for this. One remembers. One is not quite sure, however, whether that makes one a sadist or a masochist?

Oh crap. One needs to look that up, too. One will get back to you on that.

One needs more coffee now.

Thanks for visiting my bloggy place. I hope to see you often as I attempt to navigate my life choices and manage my insecurities and unruly hair days. And I’m not sure what’s going on with all the “one’s.”

Please feel free to leave a comment and peruse the rest of whatsinterrishead.com.

Kindness Misunderstood

I am writing this because of a situation I encountered last evening when I was leaving the laundromat here in town. Most of you know I have mobility issues, and I use a cane. Last night, I had finished my laundry and was wheeling it out to the car with one of those rolling baskets provided at the laundromat. I was using my cane with the right hand and trying to maneuver the basket with the left hand. A gentlemen saw my struggle and walked up to me and asked if he could help.

Many of you may not know how stubborn I am, and I try to do everything I can on my own. That being said, I surveyed the situation, and noticed a truck parked very close to my van on the driver’s side. So, I asked the man who had walked up to me if he knew who owned the truck, as I would appreciate him moving it so I would be able to enter my vehicle.

He said, “No, but he’s sitting in the truck.” At that time, the man in the truck got out and approached us. The man who had been talking with me turned and addressed the man who owned the truck. He said, very gruffly and unpleasantly, almost sounding like he was demanding, “You will need to move your truck so this lady can enter her van.”

The man from the truck took the first man’s demand offensively and began yelling back, using loud profanity and, quite frankly, scaring tears out of me. The guy who had originally approached me got really mad at the other guy and screamed profanity back at him. They both began yelling they would kick one another’s ass. I was getting nervous, as I was standing on a curb, holding a cane and balancing on a rolling basket.

I was only a car length away from my own vehicle, but I could not get past either man. I was pleading with them not to fight, but my pleas were falling on deaf ears. Both men were so angry, their only focus was with each other.

Finally, the man from the truck started to get into his truck to move it, but the other guy screamed more profanity at him, calling him names that would make anyone mad. At that time, the man from the truck again exited his vehicle and said, “Fuck it. I’m not moving my truck.” Then he walked around the truck and started toward the laundromat entrance. The guy helping me moved toward him and began yelling even louder. I mentioned earlier in this blog post that I was getting nervous, but scratch that. I was scared shitless. It passed through my mind at that moment, “This is how people get killed. This is how shootings happen.” I was mortified.

Yelling continued, and I was was crying, but managed to maneuver myself, my cane, and the basket to the passenger side of my van. Shortly thereafter, the man who had originally tried to help me appeared suddenly at my side and said he would load the laundry in my van and help me enter from the passenger side. I let him load my van, but informed him, “Unfortunately, with my back issue, I cannot easily enter from the passenger side, and I definitely can’t climb over to the driver’s side.”

About that time, the guy from the truck came back out the laundromat door and the shouting match resumed. That pissed off the guy helping me, and he said he would call the police. Screaming continued. During this part of the altercation, I managed to go around the back of the van and reach the driver’s side door. There was not much room for me to enter, but enough to get the door opened part way. The method I use to climb into my van is a bit involved and takes a little time, and while I was trying very hard to climb in, the guy who had been helping me said, “Wait, I’m calling the cops.”

I informed him at that time that I believed I could make it into my van, and needed to go because I did not like to drive after dark. While I was saying that, he got the cops on the phone. He actually calmed down long enough to speak respectfully to the police dispatcher and describe the situation in terms that didn’t make him sound like an idiot. While he was speaking to them, I made it into the van. I told him that I was fine but I really had to get home. (Seriously, I just wanted to vacate the situation.)

He informed the dispatch that I was able to enter my vehicle, but the man who had not moved his truck was still being threatening. I remember how strange that was to me that he would say that when he was actually the first one who did the threatening, and continued to do so throughout the whole fiasco.

I’m not sure what happened to those two men because I got the hell out of there.

My point in writing about this was to say that the first man’s whole approach to the situation was wrong. While initially intending to do an act of kindness for me, he rudely approached an individual who might have otherwise, been amenable to helping by moving his truck. There could have been multiple acts of kindness happening, but if one component of that kindness is missing, no one gets help. The other man was also completely wrong by losing his temper immediately and fueling the fire with yelling, profanity and threats.

Seriously, that’s how people get hurt and even killed. It happens somewhere every day. There were numerous people at that laundromat, to include little children.

Kindness. Do it. But remember to respect one another. A short explanation from the first man to the man in the truck, along with a “Please” and “Thank you” may have gone a long way.

Have a great weekend. Be careful out there.

Down the rabbit hole

Today, I started looking through professional articles in my school’s library (online). My original search was the word “mindset.” I was searching for articles explaining a researching mindset and how it correlates with critical thinking. And blah blah blahYou get the gist.

Well, I came up with 3,245 articles and immediately realized I needed to refine my search.

Uh, big mistake. If you don’t know where you are, you shouldn’t necessarily start out for new horizons.

I typed in, “researching mindset”.  I got 2,344 articles. The first one was titled “If You Have Your Mind Set on College, Do Your Research First.” 

Things went downhill from there. Why? Because I’m new to Doctoral school. I get confused on an hourly basis. Don’t give me words out of order. My head will explode. Better yet, don’t give me words. Just take my little hand and lead me to the damned article I need.

It’s like surfing the net. But on steroids.

I’m sure you’ve typed in a topic of interest in Google, and planned on perusing them all, until you realized there were pages upon pages of information/pictures/video on your topic.

What the hell?

Don’t they know we have all evolved into internet surfers with the attention span of a gnat? Okay, go ahead and look up “gnat”. I would wait, but you won’t be back for hours. There’s “How to Get Rid of Gnats,” “Gnats vs Fruit Flies,” “What are Gnats Attracted To?” I cannot compete with that level of entertainment. Even when I post pictures of my pen collection.

So I will press on.

There is really no central message to glean from the above mumbles and grumbles. I write my feelings. I eat my feelings. I just try really hard not to feel my feelings.

Now I’m hungry. I definitely feel that.

Thanks for visiting and reading my craziness. Comment below if you are so inclined. I could use the company while trying to navigate this freaking rabbit hole. Have a fabulous day, and I hope you find everything for which you are searching.

Warning! Credit Card Usage Probable!

So, you’ve decided to take the plunge and do all your Christmas shopping online this year? I’ve been shopping online since way before the COVID made its debut, so I feel I am amply qualified to deliver a few pros and cons to you before you embark on this new and nerve-wracking journey.

1) First of all, let’s talk about your alcohol consumption.

Pros: You can drink wine and you won’t get carded, stared at, asked to leave, or arrested for public intoxication and/or indecency.

Cons: Your purchasing decisions may be altered somewhat. (See picture above).

Life is a balance, am I right?

2) Let’s talk about People.

Pros: When you shop online, you don’t have to worry about running into your judgy Mother-in-Law, your ex-lover, a friend to whom you still owe money, or your smelly neighbor.

Cons: In my opinion, there are no cons here. Avoiding people is an art. Be proud.

Sometimes life gives you lemons. Throw them at your neighbor. Aim with a purpose.

3) Let’s talk about spending money.

Pros: If no one sees you shopping online at 2 AM, are you really spending too much money on a new iPhone, ear pods, a lightning charger, 4 pairs of shoes, a case of fresh pineapples from Hawaii, and a book on how to get rich data-mining? I think not.

Cons: Sure, I understand your purchasing a must-have item for a $1000, but you should shut that shit down when you have to pay a $7.99 Shipping Charge! Freaking highway robbery! Just sayin…

Online shopping is better than traditional shopping because it gives you

a reason to live for the next 7-10 business days. 

I think I need more pens and another coffee mug.

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