Random Acts of Insanity: Part 2

Atti casuali di follia: parte due

2015.07.20_Monday_I AM HAVING AN ARGUMENT WITH MYSELF; I have some annoying little whiney bitch in my head and I am sick of listening to her negative bullshit!!  How the hell do you break up with yourself!

Tuesday_I have it straight from the source that at least two of my siblings think I’m crazy•  Those would be the original two, not the new kids on the block•  The new kids haven’t known me long enough to have formed an opinion•  I’m not exactly sure what I did to prompt this reaction, or when I did it• I don't expect I will ever know either•

I have been feeling increasingly odd ever since I got back from my Dad's funeral in Germany – like my life has been thrown completely off its axis• Nothing feels right to me•  My Ch'i is in turmoil•  I seem to spend all day, every day being busy but not doing anything productive•  Now, as a rule, I would just say to myself “you’re an adult now Anna, you can do whatever you want to•  Nobody to impress, take a nap if you want, nobody cares”•  And that’s true, I have all day, five days a week, to do whatever I want – but what I don’t understand is what is preventing me from doing the things that I am constantly saying I want to do? I mean I can understand the reticence that I have towards washing the dishes•  Hell, that is so mind numbingly boring that I have to get high just to even start it, as well as other household chores like vacuuming, dusting, washing floors, all aspects of laundry, everything domestic really•

But what about all the other shit that I could be doing like trying to tune my guitar, finish off all the jewelry projects, go for a walk, go to the beach for God’s sake, I live eight blocks away, I could walk if I wasn’t so damned lazy!!! But I don’t•  I do journal every day except Saturday and Sunday, and I try to meditate every day, but I don’t always succeed•  I have no idea why I don’t go for a walk, my neighborhood is beautiful; it’s like I am getting agoraphobia or something like that where I just do not want to leave the house•  I don’t even go and sit on my patio that much anymore; between the heat and OMG the mosquitos! I don’t even want to open the door because they are hovering just outside, they smell my pheromones and are trying to get in to eat me•

I can only describe that Germany trip as awful – actually I would have to be honest and say that in some respects it ranks right up there as one of the worst experiences of my life•  After I got back, when people would ask me how it went, I would just say “it was the best of times, it was the worst of times”•  Despite the circumstances, it was nice to be back in Burbach again; I always said that I wanted to go back there as an adult, because I certainly didn’t appreciate any of it when I was living there in the 60’s, apart from the architecture, that’s always been a thing with me•  Even though the ‘incident’ was unpleasant, I’m glad it happened and everything is finally out in the open•  I don’t think they hate me, but they sure don’t like me, and that’s okay•  Everybody doesn’t have to like me, and to be honest, I don’t like them very much either•  Just because you are related to somebody doesn’t mean you have to like them• That’s something my abandonment and rejection issues will have to deal with at a later date•  I knew when I went over there that it was going to be the last time that I ever saw the original sibs again, even though they both live in the US•  And that’s fine too, I wanted to see them again before I eventually die - I did - time to get over it, move on and LET-IT-GO! I am not going to go into detail about the viewing or the funeral – I think it would suffice to say there are some things you can never un-see, and let it go at that•  It was great to see Anne and the rest of the German branch of the family again, and spend some time getting to know them all a little better•  And then we have the wonderful German food and lots and lots and lots of alcohol, I have no idea how I managed to lose weight while I was over there, but I came back three pounds lighter•  So you can understand why I say it was the best of times and the worst of times•

Of course none of this rambling is helping me to figure out why I don’t do anything other than troll Facebook, play Covet or read all day long, when I could actually be doing fun things that could potentially earn me money – like working on my Etsy store, or the YouTube channel that I keep filming for, but never get any further than that•  Or even this blog•  You can’t build up a following if you only sporadically post something now can you?  I have to climb back out of this rabbit hole, and I don’t have a clue how to do it•  In the meantime, while I try to make some sense of this shit-uation….

Peace out!!

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Namaste

And now for something completely different... A product review

I feel so Carefree®!! A product review.

There are three subjects that I try to never have to talk about; politics, religion and feminine hygiene products, so I had really mixed reactions to my latest influenster box. First there was surprise, because after the huge failure on my part with my first box I really didn’t expect to ever see another one, and then dismay and confusion when I opened it up to find a feminine hygiene product – I thought they were playing a cruel joke on me, punishment for box #1.

I have no idea how to do a YouTube video review of something I would rather not have to discuss at all, and besides that, I haven’t had a need for a pad/panty liner for at least a decade now. But, if they are willing to give me a second chance, the least I can do is ‘girl’ up, put on my granny panties, and try them for a day, week, whatever.

So what makes a good panty liner? Well, in my opinion it would have to meet the following criteria:

·         Comfort

·         Absorption

·         Portability

Now unless you are a member of my generation, you are probably gleefullly oblivious to the fact that once you have gone through menopause, - and don't get me started on THAT particularly gruesome subject, your naughty bits turn into the Sahara Desert... definitely a no man's land! I don’t have any incontinence issues, so I had to come up with something in order to test the effectiveness of the Carefree® acti-fresh® Panty Liners that were complimentary for testing purposes.

Well the details of what follows next really dives pretty far into the ‘too much information zone’, so I’m just going to gloss over it *ahem*.

So… to make a long story short, I did test the #FreshisFierce panty liners, and I would say they passed with flying colors – no pun intended. They were comfortable – I don’ know that there was ever much of an absorption issue, but they were definitely discreet, and really portable.

Came folded up in a very cute little pink package that doubled as a ‘wrapper’ for disposal and - - - - aaaaaaghhhhhh!!! This is why I DO NOT talk about feminine hygiene products!! And why I will probably never see another influenster package again!   

But rest assured, if I ever do suffer from incontinence, I will be sure to use my left over Carefree® acti-fit® Panty Liners.

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Peace out!

Comfort Zone

“Life begins at the end of your Comfort Zone” - Anon

Someone I work with recently said to me “I don’t know how you can do nothing all day, I would be sitting out on my patio reading.” Now to me, sitting outside on the patio reading IS doing something, and she made it sound like all I do all day is sit in a chair staring at a wall.

I live my life by the principle of Dolce far niente – the Italian phrase for the sweet joy of doing nothing. Although I do not actually ‘do’ nothing; I do a lot of things everyday – I journal, I meditate, I read three daily devotional books every day, plus I am always on a quest to find my spirituality, adjust my attitude, generally be a better person, try to figure out what the heck is wrong with me, and keep on top of the laundry!!! Between trying to get my ADD under control, and working on balancing my Ch’I, I feel like I have a full-time job. I need to be on a schedule, for the sake of both my ADD and my dosha.

But anyway – here is a blog I started a while ago, and as usual, I never know how to end the damned thing.

2015.02.13_Friday – not that it makes any difference.

I have a very good life. I eat good food, drink adequate wine, have excellent herbal relation aids, and a ton of Fiber One 90 calorie bars in assorted flavors; I live in a perfect for me, quirky little house in a quaint and extremely desirable neighborhood, I have nice enough for now furniture, and I sleep on a comfortable bed in a separate room with a door. Which could sound like a strange achievement, but from the time I walked out of my condo back in 2008, until I moved into this house in 2011, I was either sleeping on somebody’s couch or living in one room. So, having a separate bedroom and a bathroom right off the bedroom with an actual bathtub in it is a really big deal for me. I have all the entertainment I could ever want either in my living room or four blocks away. I lead exactly the life I have always wanted, in fact, I have gotten everything I ever wanted – in moderation:

~ I wanted to live in ‘the islands’ – well this area of south Florida is the American Caribbean, and  I did live on Pine Island, Isles of Capri and Marco Island, so I guess that counts.

~ I wanted to live on a sailboat in ‘the islands’, and I did live on a beautiful, 42’ long x 24’ wide, 4 berth catamaran – that was up on blocks in Bob and Annie’s Boatyard in beautiful St James City on Pine Island.

 ~ I wanted to live in a cute little cottage on the beach – I lived in a guest house a block and a half from the beach – it wasn’t all that cute, seriously lacking in ambiance, and it had a lot of problems that the owner chose to ignore. That was a one bedroom, but I was only there for 6 months, so does that count? My first home back in SW Florida, the first place I officially lived in when I  got back from ‘The Trip That Shall Not Be Named’. I thought I had finally “arrived”, living in Old Naples, with the rich and famous. The lady across the alley was a well-known Naples ‘personality’, and here I was, sleeping on a single air mattress that Christie lent me, everything else belonged to the landlord. I had absolutely nothing, and Christie went to Wal-Mart and bought some melamine plates, Lucite bowls, a box of plastic cutlery, a stack of Solo cups, and a couple of dish cloths. As well as the air mattress, she lent me a lamp, and a television that barely worked. I had a ‘clapped-out’ ancient laptop that the screen went black on continually, I believe it originally belonged to Diana, but Dan gave it to me so that I could look for a job. Ahhhh, but at least I had a job though didn’t I? Working for the fire breathing hag from hell – the longest 9 days of my life!!

Since then I am now in my second cute little cottage, even though they are both 8 blocks from the beach instead of a block and a half, walking distance still counts I suppose. ‘Scary house’ was cute in its own way, but that was all my doing; I’m the one who scrubbed the brown ooze from the previous tenants cooking crack off of every surface, painted it, and planted the garden. That place was dreadful when I first moved in, the roof had been leaking since Hurricane Wilma which was 4 years before! There was a tarp over the roof, and it smelled of mildew. I moved in at the beginning of July, which is the rainy season – Hurricane season to be specific. And needless to say, every time it rained it poured – from the ceiling. There I am calling the slumlord owner at 2:00 am trying not to scream into his voicemail. Obviously he turned his phone off at night. George next door told me that slumlord knew that the water poured in every time it rained, and he still rented it – I’m pretty sure that’s illegal, or it damned well should be! The previous tenant, crack dealer’s girlfriend, reported slumlord to the city for code violations over it.

This house, in this life, has been my best re-incarnation yet. I feel the most comfortable I have been since I lived in the ‘bedsit’ in Edgebaston – now that place was cute!! All of my England residences were cute – the old ones at least. But that is a subject for a future blog.

So what is this blog about exactly? Damned if I know, I lost my train of thought about 3 paragraphs back. I guess the point would be, that no matter how derelict it may be, like scary house, my home is my comfort zone, and I almost never leave my comfort zone. I am practically a recluse. I used to have almost all of my provisions delivered; meals, paper products, fresh produce. My excuse at the time was that I was too busy with school, but the fact is that it’s really, really convenient. Without having a car, going grocery shopping turns into a day trip, and I can’t think of any time of the year here in paradise when it is actually enjoyable to try to lug a ton of groceries 5 blocks from the bus stop in a tote bag on wheels.

I just read this morning that Emily Dickinson never left her home past the age of 34. In 1854 she wrote, “I don’t go from home unless emergency leads me by the hand, and then I do it obstinately and draw back if I can.” I echo that sentiment. I guess I have been training for this position most of my life, starting when I was 16 and living in Germany. My Dad conveniently forgot to get me enrolled in the military dependents high school, so I sat on my butt all day long, smoking cigarettes, knitting, and reading whatever I could find in English - for two years.   After a brief stint in the British workforce, my first husband insisted that no wife of his was going to work, so I officially became a house slave.  I was a stay at home mom for a decade, and during my second marriage I worked out of my home for another decade. So by this time I guess you could say that I am very comfortable in my own environment. I like living alone, everything that I see is mine. There is nobody to ‘take into consideration’ or pick up after. There isn’t even anything here that would remind me of someone else, it’s all new, all the old stuff and the memories are gone. But I am never lonely, I never get bored, and I spend very little time staring at a wall. I believe the only reason I still have my job is because God wants me to have a reason to go out of the house regularly.

I suppose if there was a moral to this story it would be that if life really does begin at the end of your comfort zone, then I guess I really don’t have a life – but, I would still rather do nothing and be happy than do something I don’t love, and I really do enjoy my non-life. 

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Judge much?

2015.02.19_Judge much?_A MINI RANT

“A person who never made a mistake never tried anything new. “

Albert Einstein

Last Tuesday night Dana and I had an early dinner at Longhorn Steakhouse – where we were is a detail that is probably irrelevant to the rant, but I am leaving it in anyway – as usual, we sat at the bar, and this man immediately sat down next to me, even though the bar was almost empty when we came in. I had seen him getting out of his car and rushing to the door as we were going in – he seemed a personable enough guy, but I was not there to make new friends, I had not seen Dana in months, and we had a lot of catching up to do. I was aware however, that he was saying something about us to another man who was standing next to him at the bar, because right from the get-go his voice was many decibels higher than everyone else at the bar. It could have been that the other man thought we should move down, because we were sitting at either side of a corner so we could talk, and there was an empty seat next to Dana. But nobody asked us to move, so we carried on. Well Mr. Personable, who was sitting by himself, kept making pretty loud comments to seemingly nobody, and I managed, for the most part, to ignore him. So we ordered, drank, talked, ate, drank some more, and he just pretty much ate and talked to nobody in particular.

Now let me fill you in on a little tidbit that I should have probably mentioned at the beginning, and anyone who has ever been to Naples in February can vouch for – during ‘season’ the age demographic here is roughly between 75-105, I am a youngster here at 67 years old.  In Longhorn Steakhouse, around 5:00 it’s pretty much wall-to-wall old people!

Any chain restaurant or happy hour is like a magnet for the ‘Q-tips’ and ‘blue-hairs’ – and of course that’s particularly  funny coming from me, considering that I fall into that category myself.

For the most part I pretty much had my back turned to him because I was talking to Dana, but I could hear him throwing out offhand snide comments about several of the people around the bar who were not sitting there grinning like a Cheshire cat. When the bartender was taking our plates away, I heard him say very loudly “why do old people always look so miserable”. Well - I have a theory about that, so naturally I responded with my dissertation on how when I was a kid I used to look at all old men and think they looked grumpy all the time, like Mr. Wilson from Dennis the Menace – a curmudgeon, the guy who won’t give you your ball back if it goes into his yard. When I was in my early 50’s, my friend Cathie and I were working at Hertz one day, and some customer came up and started saying ‘smile – you look miserable – it can’t be that bad; and all the other BS comments people make when you are wearing what I like to call your ‘computer face’. You know the one I’m talking about, you are probably sporting one right now – oops, no, I made you smile a little bit there didn’t I – it is basically the relaxed face that we all have when we are not talking or smiling or laughing. In this case we were concentrating on the computer screen in front of us, which was about 90% of our job description.

But as I got older, I realized that as you age, your face starts to slide down until it pools up around your neck. As your face starts to look more and more like an avalanche site, it pulls your eyelids down so you look like you’re squinting – hell, you probably are squinting because you are old and you can’t see so great. Then it starts dragging the corners of your mouth down, and you have a perpetual scowl on your face.  It gets worse; your boobs slide down to your stomach, and nothing short of some kind of boot-camp, exercise, reality show with a strict no wine, no chocolate, no cupcakes, raw veggies only diet program will ever make it go away – now that REALLY sucks. But – I digress (again) – so basically my theory is that as people age they just look miserable, doesn’t mean that they are. Dana, on the other hand piped up with “maybe they are in pain”. And that got me thinking – why are people always so quick to judge? I am not a religious person, I believe in God and talk to him/her every single day of my life; I would describe my religious practices as more of a Buddhist/Hindu/Wicca kind of thing, but even I know Matthew 7:1.

Who are we to judge another person? We have no idea what is going on in their lives. The octogenarian hippie with the pony tail could have just been diagnosed with cancer. The lady at the end of the bar looking like Cruella deVil about to pitch a fit could have just lost her husband. Everybody has a story and it really isn't anybody’s business what it is.

And as we get older that list of reasons for scowling gets longer and longer. As I said to Mr. Persistent, “right now, right this minute is probably as good as it gets for most of us”. And, for most of us, it is true. At some point you realize that all these little things that pop up from out of nowhere, like tinnitus, hearing loss, hair loss, ED, vaginal dryness, teeth falling out, etc., etc., etc. -  you get the picture - are NOT going to go away, some of them you can control, and some of them you cannot.  As soon as you fix one thing, another one breaks. And one day, you are going to realize that you have already hit your peak, the old ‘Over the Hill’ saying is true, metaphorically and literally, and you have started the downward slide into oblivion.  

Personally I was doing just fine until 2007 when I turned 60 and lost my job within a month of each other. And the whole job loss/unemployed for two years thing is a whole ‘nuther subject, I only bring it up because it greatly added to my stress level and consequently, I went from ‘hot’ to hideous in a matter of a few months.

I got the distinct impression that Mr. Obnoxious thought I was rude for not acknowledging him every time he spoke to his imaginary audience. This guy even announced to the world what his total bill was “$31.79 not bad for…” yada, yada, yada, as if somebody cares.  

I feel like a complete hypocrite for criticizing him for criticizing other people, but that is not the point I was trying to make – we should not be going around assuming that just because our lives are perfectly wonderful all the time that everybody else has had the same experience. If somebody, especially the elderly, doesn’t have a smile on their face there is probably a damned good reason for it!

And as I get older, I realize the elderly have way more reasons to not be smiling than most – apart from all the health issues, you could very well outlive all of your friends, relatives, and money. And could be stuck all alone in some miserable hell-hole of an assisted living facility. For me, the prospect of living another 20 years, at the rate I’m going, is more terrifying than dying at this point. Even though I have come a long way from where I was 6 years ago when I had lost everything and just wanted to walk off the end of the pier, I really don’t relish the idea of what will happen when I can no longer work – or when my house gets torn down. Then what?

So I don’t really know how to end this sucker, apart from to say “Judge not lest ye be judged”, show some compassion and for God’s sake never say to somebody “Smile – it can’t be that bad”, because it really, really can!

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 Namaste

New Year, new me? I highly doubt it.

2015 got off to a really rocky start for me – my life was totally off balance…

2015.01.01_New Year, new me? I highly doubt it.

"There is no duty we so much underrate as the duty of being happy. By being happy we sow anonymous benefits upon the world." 

– Robert Louis Stevenson

I made the mistake of running out to the shops yesterday, and one of the first things I noticed in CVS, was that almost an entire row of the ‘seasonal’ section was filled with cosmetic and makeup displays, reading “New Year – new you” … or something to that effect.

Every year it’s the same thing with me, I spend January 1^st journaling, and making lists of all the things I want to do to improve my life  – I want, I want, I want – but I never DO. I always sit down and make these elaborate lists of things that I sincerely want to do. Things that should make me happy – or are good for me like:

·         Lose weight

·         Meditate

·         Do yoga

·         Play the guitar

·         Learn to sail

·         Learn to speak Italian

·         Join a group/make some friends

·         Work on my jewelry and build a business

·         Write a book

·         Work on my art

·         Get a LIFE!

Why am I always depriving myself of happiness? In other words, why am I always saying I want to do things, i.e. the list above, and then never do any of it? Why am I constantly buying things that I never use? Like yoga DVDs, a guitar, art supplies, jewelry tools, beads, a sewing maching, the list goes on and on!

What is holding me back? That’s the $64,000 question isn’t it? And I have been looking at that above mentioned list for decades, and pretty much making no headway at all:

·         I have purchased 3 separate diet plans in the last 3 years, one came with walking music preloaded on an ipod – I haven’t done more than walk to the bus in months

·         I did 3 free 21 day meditations through the Chopra Center

·         I have 3 yoga dvds that came with the diet plans that are gathering dust because I have to vacuum the rug before I can put down the yoga mat (don’t ask)

·         I bought a guitar, and the additional instructional dvds and books – 4 years ago, and have not played it once (because I can’t figure out how to use the battery operated tuner)

·         Bought an online Italian language course through Groupon

·         Joined a Meetup group two years ago and attended two events – I think the probable cause for this, apart from the fact that they do everything on weekends and I am always working, would be the whole lack of car issue

·         Purchased several hundred dollars’ worth of jewelry making tools, and supplies – which are currently gathering dust

·         Write a book? I have at least twenty unfinished blogs at the moment, which may, or may not eventually be put into book form

·         I signed up for a very expensive drawing class at The VonLiebig Art Center and went twice

Yes, for almost 3 years I was working on my degree, and that ate up huge chunks of my life, but I really wanted to do this stuff, I wanted to be a happier, healthier, better person – so I tried this approach last year:

The to-do list (again!) Try making a schedule:

Weekly:

·         Yoga (2x)

·         Walk (3x)

·         Guitar (1x)

·         Italian (2x)

o   Listen to lessons on iPod while doing other things

§  Gardening

§  Reading magazines

§  Playing Covet

§  House work when not listening to Pandora

·         Write (5x)

·         Draw, Jewelry, etc, (???)

And - not much of that actually got done last year either. 

But the really tough one for me seems to be Get a Life. I have no clue as to why I find this so difficult.

And then we have this years list:

I want to find my happy ending

I want to fall in love with someone who is:

            Kind

            Funny

            Intelligent

            Successful - When I’m ready he will come, or at least I hope so

I want to go see a Broadway Show

I want to travel

I want to go on a lot of cruises

I keep complaining that I am not doing the things I want to do, and yet – what’s stopping me? Me!! That is what is stopping me – me, myself and I – self sabotage.

Perhaps the solution to this challenge is a relatively simple fix? What if I am just whipping myself into a frenzy over nothing? What if this challenge is as simple as a lack of concentration – maybe I am just in the middle of a full blown ADD attack. I am so distracted that I never get anything done because I start something and then wander off to do something else. Like right now for example, I was on my way to meditate, when I decided it would be a good idea to make some fresh lemon/cucumber/basil water, then I passed by the computer on the way to the kitchen, and started writing for a little bit – then back to the water, had to make some filtered water, so I wandered off to check Facebook while the Brita pitcher was doing its thing – back to the water, peeled the cucumber, thought about how I have this serious lack of concentration problem . . .  a n d . . . back to the computer to blog about that for a little bit. The water is still not finished and I am not meditating. 

And yet, for all that I beat myself up for not doing stuff, I actually did make progress on some of the stuff on the list, like:

            I started meditating – still sporadic, but almost every day

            I lost weight – bought a Nutra Ninja blender to make up ‘green’ smoothies

            I started eating real food

            I sporadically did the Italian lessons

            I dusted off the guitar case a couple of times

I don't know why I am always being so hard on myself, just like any major restoration project, it has been, and will continue to be a long, hard and sometimes painful journey to completion. I believe the cause of my most recent panic attack is that I am afraid. I am afraid for me, I am afraid of the future. The thought of living for another 20 years is more terrifying to me than dying. I'm not sure when or what started this train of thought. I just know that it has been with me for a relatively long time now. 

At least since I got back from Orlando . . .  To be continued.