Most of us don't like going to work every day. I don't. I really do not like working. In honor of Labor Day, here's a tragedy that makes going to an office five days a week, 8 hours a day, almost like going to a party.
What makes the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory firemore tragic is that while most American factories have improved their conditions, the majority of overseas factories haven't.
Not sure what prompted this depressing post but it might have something to do with having to go back to work on Tuesday!
Created by the warped mind of
As usual, I'm right on top of current events. But in this case I'm cutting myself some slack. Robin Williams suicide hit me like a tsunami. I was overwhelmed. He was and will remain one of my favorite actors and human beings.
Y'all know that I suffer from depression. I take medication but those that sit on the edge of The Abyss everyday also know that there are events, etc. that will send you tumbling down - medicated or not. That one of the most brilliant, talented, generous spirits could end his life, pushed me right over the edge, into the void for days. Even now, I feel deep, deep sadness. I feel it for his family, friends and millions of fans like me that couldn't understand, "Why?"
I read this quote posted on a friend's Facebook page ~
“The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom Its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling.”
It's helped me comprehend what Robin Williams may have felt. It makes me sadder to know that those flames were moving ever closer to him and that he believed no one could or would keep them at bay. It also makes me feel better knowing that I don't even have anything smoldering.
Created by the warped mind of
Hi! How y’all doing? Yeah, it’s been awhile. I’ve just found out I have severe sleep apnea! No wonder I’m exhausted all the time! I had a sleep study done either in 2009 or 2010 but the doctor that ordered it never followed up so I figured I was good to go. Mulder has told me I breathe weird when I’m sleeping and that I snore like Godzilla. Others that have slept with me have mentioned the breathing thing but my friends are too polite to tell me I snore. Anyway,
the new doctor I’ve been seeing mentioned a sleep study. When I told
him I had one, he got the results – I wake up an average of 11 times an
hour and during the 7 hour study, I moved or changed position 85 times!
This is probably why I don’t dream. I’m now going for the second part of the study, to get the CPAP machine. I’m told that I’ll be a “new person” once I actually get some sleep.
I haven’t decided who I want to be yet. I was thinking Angelina Jolie. She’s rich, skinny, has great lips and is married to Brad Pitt. Brilliant! But then again, she has all those kids. Then I thought, I could be Brad Pitt – handsome, rich, ripped (most of the time) and it’d be interesting to have a penis. I’d still be stuck with all those kids though. Kim Kardashian passed through my thoughts for about a NY minute. She’s
rich, sorta pretty, doesn’t really have to do anything to stay rich.
The drawbacks with her are her ass (it needs it’s own zip code) and
Kanye West. I don’t want to be a new person going to jail for murdering her husband.
Right now I’m leaning towards being Ellen Degeneres. She’s rich (sensing a theme here?), funny, generous, kind and in my opinion very attractive. The problem being Ellen is being married to Portia DeRossi. Mulder might like that though. Also, I’m not sure I’d like to live in California. That problem could be easily remedied, I think.
So there you have it. I’ll let y’all know who I decide to be and how the deal with a CPAP goes. I’m sure it’s a stunning look when one is going to bed. Maybe I could be Sophia Vergara .....
In other news, I’ve
decided I’m not going to make jewelry any longer so I’ve been making
stuff like crazy because I want to use the things I’ve purchased and
then get them listed. I’m going to stick to sewing and some other type of crafting.
If you don’t sell things on Etsy and/or eBay, lemme tell you it’s a
full-time job just taking pictures, editing pictures, writing copy,
weighing the item, and then actually listing them. I’ve got boxes of finished things waiting to have their pictures taken all over the place!
I think I’ll do some giveaways here. Is that a good idea? Anybody want something that I’ve crafted?
My grandson has taken his first steps. He looks like a drunken sailor on shore leave. The boy also has a temper but is so damn cute I can’t stand it sometimes.
Created by the warped mind of
Forget the lion, for me March was the tree and I was the antelope! While most of what went on this month didn’t happen to me, it definitely affected me. Being
in a zombielike state, you’d think that I could just cruise along
without so much as a by your leave but for some reason, anxiety just
never goes dormant. (Oh! Speaking of zombies! Are you watching The Walking Dead? “ … Just look at the flowers, Lizzie.” OMFG! And Daryl and Beth?)
Before I get distracted again, lemme just break this down for you. Somewhere
around the last week of February, my niece called me to say that she
and her brothers were buying me a plane ticket to go to New York for my
sister’s 80th birthday party. I’d be leaving on March 26 and coming home March 31. “YAY! A vacation,” you’re thinking. You’d
be partially correct – time with my sister &; brother-in-law,
staying in their house, can be thought of as a vacation … in a psych
ward. But what the hell, it was free and I was going to get to
Manhattan. Plus my sister is going to be 80 and I might not have another
chance to visit.
My grandson’s first birthday party was planned for March 8. We
wanted it that weekend because of my niece’s birthday and
ex-mother-in-law’s birthday would be celebrated the following weekend. As you can tell, I like a plan. Now comes the first stress inducing, heart-breaking monkey-wrench.
My son’s girlfriend gets a call from her stepfather on March 2; her mother is in the hospital. She is not doing well. Her mother has been battling breast cancer for 15 years. She’s been in remission on and off but has been very sick for the last year or two. She has now come to the end of her fight.
My son and his girlfriend are off within the hour to go to Georgia (a six-hour drive). Mulder and I are babysitting. (Seriously, how to older mother’s do it?) They come back very early Monday morning. Tuesday afternoon, her mother passes away. They decide to miss the wake but will go up Thursday for the funeral. I get to be a stay-at-home grandmother for the day!
I enjoyed the time with my grandson ‘cause he’s the cutest, sweetest baby
in the world but I was utterly exhausted by the time Mulder came home. I also had to notify the party attendees that the party was postponed until March 22.
Being zombified, I’m not the best person to comfort anyone, let alone an
already a girl/woman that has had a difficult mother/daughter
relationship when her mother dies. I did my best. In hindsight, having the party three days before my scheduled trip wasn’t my most brilliant idea, though.
Next was Mulder getting a job in the company he’d been contracting for the past six years. Now
while this is AWESOME news, he was and still is stressing out over the
background check and because our luck is usually bad, somehow Murphy is
going to step in and fuck things up. There was a minor mix-up with a drug test but that was taken care of. Still – STRESS!!! Because we aren’t normal. Oh! Yeah, we have to buy a car. THAT should be lots ‘o fun and totally stress free, right?
On March 15, I spoke to my sister. She tells me my brother-in-law is very sick and they are putting him in the hospital on Tuesday. “Should I still come up?,” I ask. “Yes,” she said because they have paid for tickets to a show at Radio City Music Hall. Okay, no worries. On the 19th, I call my niece for an update. My BIL has congestive heart failure (he’s had this for awhile), has been
retaining water, is really very sick and they can’t get in touch with
his cardiologist. However, my trip is still on as is the big birthday bash.
Saturday, the 22nd,(day of my grandson’s birthday party) my sister calls me at 8 am to
tell me that by BIL is still very sick, no end to the hospital stay in
sight, he has hospital induced dementia and the show at Radio City has
been cancelled, so let’s postpone your trip. No NYC for me.
I am, to be honest, somewhat relieved. My sister is difficult on a good day but throw in the added possibility
that her husband of 60-plus years might die at any moment and you have
one bat-shit crazy old lady. As of this writing, her birthday party is still on but could be cancelled any second.
My sister and BIL have had an unusual (putting it politely) marriage. He’s an alcoholic, has been abusive, he never really was playing with a full deck but was a wiz at the stock market. They
have managed to cheap themselves into being richer than Croesus but
don’t enjoy what they have – now it’s probably too late. I always thought that they’d both live forever because neither one wanted to leave the other alone with all the money!
Here’s some hospital humor from my goofy as a box of rocks brother-in-law –
The Pope is coming to the hospital gym.
I played golf in Ireland. (He used to be a fantastic golfer. Should have gone pro.)
The pubs here are excellent.
I’ve had sex with all these nurses and barmaids.
I met the Pope last night.
When are they bringing me my beer?
The baby's party went very well, which made me feel better about this whole month. I'm definitely hoping April will be tranquil even though there are no lambs in sight, yet!
(OH! Day-um!!! Rick is THE MAN! October is far away, I'm sad!)
Created by the warped mind of
This is a blog by a woman in her 50's who is finally on the crooked path to find who she truly is.
Married at 19 and divorced at 53. I am going to unearth the artist, the cynic, the free spirit that has been long buried. Or die trying.
I've left Bethlehem
and I feel free...
I've left the girl I was supposed to be
and some day I'll be born.