Scene opens:  Over exposed white clouds, gold and green tint float through sky. Camera backs away to reveal this:

“Growing older is not an excuse”

Camera pulls all the way back revealing the expanse of the sky and

“FOR GROWING UP”

Music swells, camera continues to pull back, audience dies of acute sentimental nonsensery caused by blunt helveticism to the head.

Can’t even cope anymore my babies.  I just cannot.  I’ve unfollowed everyone who posts even one of them. I seriously can not do it.  Anymore.  My limit.  Has been reached.

My nose has always been excruciatingly, distractingly sensitive.  I assume it’s genetic because I spent a good lot of my childhood watching my father traipse around the house smelling stuff.  It was just what he did.

*sniff..sniff* *sniff sniff*

“you guys smell that?”

*sniff sniff*

“what?  smell what?  I don’t smell anything.”

“THAT!  GOD!  You guys can’t smell that? It’s electrical-y but kind of sweet.  OH COME ON!!  You can’t smell that?!”

*sniff sniff*

We’d just stare at him blank faced as he’d proceed, Bloodhound style, to sniff around the entire house, devoted to unearthing the source of the smell and simultaneously aggravating the loving shit out of my poor mother who insisted, ad naseum…NO WE DO NOT SMELL IT.

More often than not he’d catch a blown fuse or a shorted wire  Or a car burning oil 2 blocks down.  It was ridiculous.   It’s kind of like Meg, and her fingernail growing superpower…handy.  Maybe.  In a way.

I’ve inherited this super special awesomeness and it made me especially effective in the wine industry, where I’d sniff out autumnal clove and kaffir lime leaves buried in the nose of some odd Spanish varietal.  It sounded pompous of course, but I swear they were there.  Thing is, it’s only gotten more intense since I’ve quit smoking.  I cannot stop smelling things. Do you know how much everything smells?  All the time?  I’ve had to tape plastic wrap over most of the vents in the house because it gets so bad that the smell of someone toasting bread 4 apartments away will actually wake me up at night.

I often smell burning.  No, it’s not a stroke thing.  It’s actual burning but it takes a while to determine whether it’s organic or chemical, dry or wet heat, rancid or acrid, outside or inside.  From father to child…the curse has been passed on!!

*sniff sniff*

*crazy eyes*

*sniff sniff*

“You can’t smell that?  Seriously?  THAT?!”

I feel for poor little Ralph Wiggum.  I smell burning too little dude. I smell it too.

I’m trying really hard not to be miserable or cranky today and since it’s all in my head, here i go.

Can I state for the record, however, that I find pictures of half eaten food, any kind of half eaten food, or people in the middle of chewing and or swallowing food unequivocally revolting.  Disgusting.  GAH-ROSSSS.

When I get stressed, but am not necessarily consciously aware of it, I begin to really enthusiastically, loudly and with purpose hum the opening song to the Olympics.

“DUH DUH

da-da dun dun dun

dun dun DUN DUN hm hm HM dadada DUH DUH”

The whole thing.

It is my indication to myself that I’m standing on the precipice of stress and I am about to throw myself off.

I’ve been out of sorts for the last few days.  I’m not sure what’s got me all knotted up exactly, but it’s making me scatterbrained and weepy. It’s not that deep soul-crushing, black tar pit depression it’s more of a doleful woe, like my inner light has been smothered by a wet blanket.  Nothing more required but another match to relight, really.  The lamp isn’t broken, just out.  Thing is I feel like I’m not capable of much else other than staring wistfully out the window recalling the warmth.

It’s not entirely miserable is the thing, it’s more like a mercurial ennui.

I’m melancholy.  I’ve got Melancholic, even.  Gripe water, anyone?

In the midst of all this I’ve discovered that if you put a kettle on for some tea and  find yourself getting ratty because it’s been 10 minutes and the thing hasn’t made a peep, you should probably turn the stove on first.  I hear heat helps with that boiling thing.

frenchelon:

ohryankelley:

Left vs Right

Click through for a larger version

(via: rachelsbrain)

eh…it’s interesting and all but seems just the eensy weensiest simplistic.  Why oh why must we always try to distill the most complex human systems into one word catchphrases or kicky flowcharts?  Why can’t we accept that when you deal with theoretical systems it’s all fine and dandy to use logic and algorithms but as soon as you graft the inherently irrational human emotional universe on top of those neatly identifiable theoretical systems, your hypotheses based on rational logic is going to be blown to tiny little bits of shit?!

-sigh-

God…i wish I had more baking things here.

theeviltwin:

Couples Retreat made about three gabillion times more money than Where the Wild Things Are. The people have spoken.

Well yeah, but isn’t WTWTA an existentialist wrist slasher?  I mean, I read this and thought, oh yeah, that’s what everyone in the midst of political, social and economic crises needs right now: “There is no “answer” to life. People will never be happy. There is no God. Everyone is lonely inside and everyone is ugly…as a result, they do things that hurt each other.

So you can read into that box office the decline and fall of art in western society if you really want. All I see, though, is a bunch of exhausted, disconsolate, spiritless people who’d just about pay anything for a few cheap laughs that might make it all seem not so fucking desperate. What I’m thinking they don’t want is an hour and a half long justification as to why all their deepest, ugliest fears are all true.  No one needs more darkness right now, even if it is brilliant darkness.

Big plans.  Including cleaning out the closet so I don’t trip over the shoes that have no where to go, the small bbq and the two laundry baskets full of both clean and dirty clothing.

You know what they say though, today, best laid plans and all.  It’s true, that I have all the laundry and sundry items strewn about on the floor of the living room now, awaiting my return.  Awaiting their rescue from chaos.

I was even going to job hunt.

Alas it shall not be as you, today, have quickly devolved into video games, netflix and fudgesicles.

It’s all so mysterious, life.

But there is nothing nothing more pitiful than an aged hipster who won’t let go.  By that, I don’t mean someone who still likes to keep up to date on music goings on or stay somewhat fashionable but i mean 40-ish year old dudes who are so committed to their look and holding on to their youth, at any cost, that they cover their ever growing beer bellies (cultivated in the dive bars they still spend all their time in) in ironic band tshirts while their stringy hair is dyed platinum or covered with some kind of idiotic hat type device.   While their eyesight is understandably worsening they go for the Buddy Holly spex and then they put on eyeliner and try to hold court and play the screamo, wall of fuzz rocknroll with the kidz and it’s really just awkward and sad, because I’m 35.  I am.  I get that.  I’d like to think that the stench of desperation doesn’t waft after me as I pass however;  That I’m not so afraid my life will amount to nothing that I stay in stasis long enough to make that an inevitability.

I might not be saving the world, nor do I have much of anything figured out, but I’m not stupid enough to try and stop change from happening for crap sake.  I figure as long as I can embrace the fact that yesterday was different and adapt accordingly, I’ll probably be ok.

So look here Oldie McDouche,  I’m not asking you to ‘fit in’ or ‘be mainstream’ or ‘wear a suit and work for some big oil company’ or ‘buy some house and put kids and dogs in it’ or ‘any other fucking high concept self-created fear you have’.  Stay hep, cool cats, but let go of your attachment to staying cool.  Ya feel me?  Your desire to ‘be cool’ is exactly what is preventing you from being exactly that. You look IDIOTIC!  You are the epitome of trying to hard.  This isn’t about ‘everyone over the age of 35 is useless and lame and they should all just shut up, move the suburbs and die’.  Not at all.  God help me if it was.  All I’m saying is old people can’t be young people, nor should they want to be. Redo my 20s?  Uh NO THANKYOU!  Your life is out there waiting for you if only you’d stop pretending you were still 25, cause that life is gone.  It’s sad, I know, but its true.

If Buddha was here he’d say something wise like “change your shirt and LET IT GO ALREADY!  Peace.”

GOD!

that everyone take a chill pill and be nice to each other regardless of politics today.  I demand it.  I had a hard night.  Also it’s the husbots birthday.  Also, I’m just about sick to death of people being rude and stupid and ignorant and bulshitty to each other in the name of international goings-on.  It matters, yes.  And then, it kind of doesn’t.  What really super matters is how we treat each other on an individual level and if we could all just be fucking NICE TO EACH OTHER, in spite of all our differences, we’d have a whole lot less crappery in the world.  Okeydoke?

thanks