Journaling June: Closet Writer

What an apt term: closet writer. I get it from Jina Bazzar, another WordPress blogger who I recommend you go read. In her comment on yesterday’s post, Journaling June: Prelude, she wrote: “You want to write, but you keep your writing in the closet, afraid of what people will think of it.” Yep. That pretty much hits the nail on the head.

(speaking of hitting on the head, we do tend to poke our head out every so often, which would make us a wack-a-mole writer.)

Dear Gawd! It’s much too early on to start this tomfoolery. Moving hastily on. . .

Continue reading “Journaling June: Closet Writer”

Shower Thoughts: Outsider Looking In

Shower head with water running.

A friend texted she’s finally seen Captain Marvel. This is significant because I’m “The Movie Guy.” Always there opening weekend and there’s something opening EVERY weekend. But since July 2018 I’ve been watching at home, that is, waiting for the new releases to be available for rent.

Her text saddened me. I’m going to be several months out of step. Worse still, with all the Summer blockbusters coming I’m going to have to remove myself from the group texts to avoid spoilers. I’ll be an outsider looking in at the party.

Then, as if in my own teen-coming-of-age rom-com, the realization hit me: there’s a whole world out here I’m missing being the creepy peeping Tom.

(or we can just go to the damned movies again, it’s not THAT expensive.)

Eh. . . Maybe.

My Sick Days When I Was Green in the Lungs

“Humans are dumb and they die easy.” —Bender Bending Rodriquez

My trashcan is a bucket of sick. It’s not surprising. I work at a K-12 school. On top of that everything outside is coated in the light green dusting of Spring. There’s only so much a body can take, even for a paragon of perfect health such as myself.

I normally don’t get sick. Simply refuse to, you see.

(one has to be firm about these things.) Continue reading “My Sick Days When I Was Green in the Lungs”

What’s All This Damnable Humbuggery Then?

“Where am I going and why am I in this hand basket?” —Murphy

What the fuck?

I ask that question often. I ask it because I find that the life is supremely confuzling (confusing + puzzling). I’m fairly sure life is that way for everyone, but it is particularly true for me. Why “particularly” for me? Maybe it’s my Asperger’s. Maybe it’s my mediocre intelligence. Maybe the world is just fucking crazy.

(perhaps all three?) Continue reading “What’s All This Damnable Humbuggery Then?”