|
Now that I'm not working full time (well, sometimes I am. My work schedule is weird and always changing), I really want to get back into posting. I'm always writing down things I want to blog about, but do I do them? Apparently not. And that has to change. My life was turned upside down in May 2024 after losing my job, but I'm recovering from that both financially and emotionally. So I will do my best to start posting regularly on all kinds of things. Like, losing employment as a single homeowner. Finding out I have ADHD (probably why I wasn't blogging). And working in the unusual world of training AI. So, I will see you soon.
1 Comment
I will christen returning to my blog on my birthday. I am 35 (shut up, those of you who know I’m not; just go with it). I like that age. If I had to be stuck at an age, like on that TV series “Highlander” where the Immortals stayed the age at which they were killed, I’d say I’d like to be stuck at 35 (can you imagine being stuck as a teen? Almost a fate worse than death).
I am actually 54. I feel I must admit this since many of you know I have an adult son, and I don’t want anyone thinking I had him when I was like 12 or something. I’ve also considered saying that I’m 70, which would elicit comments on how amazingly good I looked. But then no one my age would want to hang out with me and I’d never get a date. So why am I such a 35-ish fan? I figure that your 20s are fun, and you’re probably as hot as you’ll ever look, but it’s still a time of figuring yourself out. Once you get into your 30s, at least for us women, you’ve gotten past all the drama of youth, you may be in a committed, mature relationship, and you likely have a real job in your career. Your 20s are for trying life on. Your 30s are for wearing it. Dear anesthesiologist: When I tell you that I have a high tolerance for whatever “twilight sleep” medication you are going to give me, pay freaking attention. No, I’m not a doctor or telling you how to do your job. But this is FAR from my first rodeo, and know how my body works. Instead of assuming I don’t know what I’m talking about, note my reaction to your first push. See that I’m fully awake and probably beginning to hyperventilate, having felt the medicine go in but to no effect. So keep cranking that stuff up until I get to where I’m supposed to be. If I’m able to carry on a conversation with you, particularly one involving how I’m in pain and not at all relaxed, chances are there aren’t enough meds on board, I get it; you don’t want to OD me, but if I sound like I’m about to get up from the operating table and rip your scrotum off, I’m probably not near to an overdose. Okay?
Crazy, but that's how it goes
Millions of people, living as foes Maybe it's not too late To learn how to love, and forget how to hate Mental wounds not healing Life's a bitter shame I'm goin' off the rails on a crazy train I'm goin' off the rails on a crazy train |
RSS Feed