W-Mix, the station that plays different music by the hour, even minute

When snippets of life pile up and none stands alone as a posting, it's time to tune into W-Mix, where the beat goes on.

Death

A gal-pal's dog died. I knew Molly, a basset-beagle mix rescued from a shelter. At the senior age of 7 — all the more reason to celebrate since senior adoptions are especially difficult to achieve. So many folks want the cute puppies, then in a year when the "cuteness" wears off and adulthood emerges, people throw them into shelters.

Molly developed pancreatitis, which rapidly led to organ failure. She was put down. It's hard writing that but there it is. I grieve her passing. I liked Molly, she's a real character. That's two deaths in a month's time.

Some Women Should Never Have Children

Heard this story on the radio. Mothers are taking their prepubescent daughters, as young as 8, into spas for bikini and Brazilian waxes. (Never mind that there's nothing there to peel except skin, fuck …)

As if cramming their kids into pre-pre-kindergarten "academic" schools to turn the tykes into "achievers" and set them on a course toward Yale weren't enough, now they're turning them into mini-"adults" and for what purpose? To satisfy their own egos and serve as another reminder why Some People Should Never Be Parents! God help the human race 'cause it sure as hell ain't helping itself.

Thank Goodness We Don't Live Forever

Because I don't want to see our society in 100 years. Or even 50. Also on the radio, a story about this book that's come out, by a psychologist as I recall, titled A Nation of Wimps. Duh, I've known that for years. In it she talks about invasive parents and how parents are holding their adult children's hand through EVERYTHING, even going on interviews with them, coddling and "protecting" them from the "shattering" life experiences of  apparently interviews that don't yield job offers and then some.  We are a nation of wimps. It's time someone told that truth in a book. We're also a nation of the self-absorbed, and someone soon will write a book on that as well if it hasn't already been done.

Weird Coincidence

The house-owner's live-in boyfriend is a fervent aficionado of  skydiving. We talked at length about what may have gone wrong for my boss who plummeted to his death last month. I really appreciate being able to talk about it with someone knowledgeable about the sport, it's helping process the grief.

A couple days ago he presented his video of him skydiving, taken by someone with a camera right there so you felt like you yourself were jumping out the plane and falling. I wasn't sure I'd be comfortable watching it, I almost excused myself, but then opted to stay to feel by osmosis the passion and experience that Rex felt/feels for skydiving. To jump through his eyes. I'm glad I did stay to watch, though it brought both ache and joy. I miss him terribly.

I'm a Smart Cookie

Because I fully accept the end of my former career. That after nearly four years out and some 15 crap jobs, present one excluded, no employer is interested. (Potential employers have actually brought their concerns to my attention.)

I accept that my job's the best I've had in the States (along with the prison job, excellent for other reasons); that for the first time in years I'm not constantly looking for a way out of some miserable job; that the pay's low and experience enriching; that I am probably gonna be there for a good long while.

Fortunately I like them and they me. The office manager has even made comments referencing that I've got a job, and a place in the clan, for as long as I wish. That's really nice to hear; it warms the cockles of my heart. I'm used to employers who are abusive or 10 seconds away from showing me to the door or both. So I'm gonna settle in where I'm at.

It's Not This But That

I'm not nearly as upset about my old career being over as I am when people don't listen to or honor my experiences in it and my feelings around it.  This is an important distinction I made for myself recently. As a result, I'm now giving myself that support, an important growth on my part.

I'm Still a Smart Cookie

Giving up some things and turning my focus to others, namely socializing and connecting with others again, rates as one of the best decisions I've made in the past two years. I understand deeply that no writing of substance can come from isolation, and the social path that is unfolding is pleasing and positive.

Some Things Won't Change

I absolutely dig good brew, tobacco that I roll, whiskey and, with the latter's exception, I have for a very long time and don't see that changing. Unlike my home life. đŸ˜‰

I Got the Better Deal

I got to view the room of the departing roommate. I got the better deal. Hers is small, the size of my previous Room of Walls, and not all that interesting or inviting, whereas mine is not only bigger but has an additional window that lends a spaciousness to it and lets the sunlight in, when there's sunlight. Supposedly in May.

Entertainment Weekly … uh, not so much

Britney Spears, as you may have heard, recently rear-ended a car because she was applying makeup while driving. She needs to be the poster child for unsafe driving. Like Mr. Simpson needs to be the poster child for domestic abuse and spousal murder. Ain't gonna happen, our world doesn't think in these ways. At least one of us is sane, eh?

Another Happy Tail

Last but certainly not least, there's another addition to the house. Introducing Radar, who's been acquired from the same backyard breeder as her predecessor, Molly):

Apparently the roommates are sticking with his given name but have nicknamed him Romeo because he was used strictly for stud services until he was deemed no longer useful to their purpose and merrily given away.

You can't like people but you can always love animals and the happy turns that occur in their life stories.

 

Read and post comments | Send to a friend

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: