Said No One Ever

I haven't posted here in a really long time, but I'm bringing the old girl out of retirement. I have a lot to say and only so many Facebook accounts I can create before they all get banned. They say they're now banning white supremacists. HA! I've had death threats sent to me from Nazis (or the basement-dwelling dudes that are what are supposed to be the face of the master race now), and they didn't reach Facebook's level of "harassment." To say that their standards are a joke would be an insult to jokes.

Our country has been overtaken by stupidity and racism masquerading as patriotism and nationalism as protection. Our "President" went on a nonsensical rant in Michigan yesterday, claiming he was smarter than so-called "liberal elites," that he went to better schools, that his apartment was nicer, and he, not they, were President. Our President is the rich asshole from every 80s movie. Except he's not remotely attractive. However, those guys always lose in the end. No one really likes them. They just have minions because they have money.

As it turns out, his "full exoneration" 😆😆 might actually just be the beginning of the end. What a shock. (Said no one with a functioning brain) Since the Mueller "synopsis" has been released, his tenuous grip on sanity has become less so. He's not really behaving like a man who is celebrating. He's behaving like a man who is continuing to lose his damn mind. And his slack-jaw sycophants eat it up. How did we get to a place where there is any significant number of people supporting this jackass? His speeches are word salads of incoherence. His Tweets are paranoid ramblings of a bitter, angry loser who can't string sentences together better than a grade schooler.

But, sure, elite schooling that no one bought for him at all. At all. Yet he had his attorney threaten people that tried to look into his school records. Because that's normal. All of this is perfectly normal. - Said no one ever.

Make America Make Sense Again. Grab This by the Common Sense Receptacle.

I don't keep this blog up like I should. I got lazy. I had a column that reached the masses, like, 100 people or whatever so my blog didn't matter. Frankly, the whole reason that I started this blog in the first place, was just because I'm a writer without a book or a column now (thanks, Joe)

What has happened,

Okay, imagine it, you've elected Trump....based on.....

he's going to drain the swamp?  NOPE

he's done with Washington insiders? NOPE

he was going to make good with any campaign promises he made? NOPE

Make America what? I can't hear you over your hate spittle.

So, this blog has been building, like a wall, it's HUUUGE. I'm sorry, except I'm not. The level of discourse in this country has become so low, it's swimming in sewage, much like the Olympic competitors will be. I tried to ignore Donald Trump, like I'm sure his past wives and present one do. I tried to laugh it off and hope he'd go away. However, he's tapped into the lowest common denominator, and he's driving the country off a cliff, and I'm disgusted and nauseated, and I'm fed up with what I'm hearing and seeing.

First of all, I believe that the biggest reason we find ourselves here is that a large portion of America couldn't take having a black President. There, I said it, even if they won't admit it. Not only could they not take having a black President, they couldn't take having one that was more well-spoken, better educated, and ultimately didn't/hasn't done anything that erupted into a scandal. Yeah, talk about his birth certificate, 'cos that doesn't make you look stupid, talk about how he "race baits," (because he speaks as a black man and doesn't say "yes, police, do whatever you'd like, no matter how much bull shit it looks like), I fully believe that it utterly pisses off a large majority of the country that he just didn't fall on his face, and he knows bigger words than they do.

I have seen people call his wife a gorilla, a man, etc.., and you cannot tell me that's something any other POTUS has had to deal with...a gorilla? Because she's not a dainty Stepford wife who demurely sits behind her husband in pearls and nods like a bobblehead? Or perhaps you'd prefer her spread-eagled in a Playboy centerfold? Because you sure seem to like her words when they're coming out of a collagen-injected mouth.

The utter level of maniacal narcissism displayed by Donald Trump has simply grown beyond my comprehension. And the Talking Cheeto said it best when he said that he could shoot a man and his supporters would still vote for him. (pssst: That's not a compliment) What will it take to see the level of incompetence and clear state of obvious unhinging going on in the man? He uses Twitter as a PR tool. Twitter! Yes, ladies and gentleman, your POTUS...and 12 year-old girls...are on the same wavelength. And when he gets mad, oh...those Tweets! I can't even believe Candidate Trump is still a thing.

If ANY other candidate in the history of, I don't know, anything, behaved in the manner that he has behaved, they'd be toast. Why are we giving this man a pass? He is not an "outsider" to anything, except decency and common sense. In what universe is it okay to make fun of a disabled reporter? Insinuate that another reporter was having her period, because she was "mean to him," and denigrate the father of a fallen soldier because he was negative towards Trump? Have you heard Hillary Clinton tell Chris Christie to choke on a Tasty Kake for inciting "Lock Her Up" at the DNC? No, because there's such a thing as public decorum and decency.

Yes, Hillary Clinton is divisive on some issues. However, and this is the God's honest truth. As much time, money, and effort that have been put into taking this woman down...there is no smoking gun. She's not in the Mafia, it's not like she's Hillary Corleone. And God knows, people are trying. Look at the DNC. There was blood in the water, they've been taken out. If Hillary were truly guilty of all these things, she'd be done, gone, a cautionary political tale. It's not there. It's just not.

Bottom line: People don't like her. They never have. Even when/if people like Bill Clinton, they don't like her. She comes off as abrasive, she's not "pretty," she's not charismatic, when it comes down to it, she's a wonk, she works her ass off. She said it herself. She's good at the "service" part, bad at the "public" part. That's fine. Be abrasive, wear those pantsuits like a boss, and get shit done. Take down that orange menace and govern the damn country. You're our only hope, Hillary-wan.

Some Changes Must Be Made

I need to make some changes in my life. Period. That's all there is. As much as I love my fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants existence, I don't think I can sustain it into my 90s..and I plan on being a very sassy 90 -year-old.

I need to quit smoking once and for all, and I need to start exercising regularly, and I need to do what makes ME happy and feel fulfilled. Of course, first I need to figure that out, but maybe that's the fun part.

Maybe I won't have the children I thought I'd have, or maybe I will, or maybe I'll adopt or be a super cool stepmother, but I can't even get to that point until I resemble a stable adult, or something close to it. I can't really justify my woman-child-ness for much longer.

I also need to recognize that maybe I need therapy. There's no shame in that, either. Maybe we all  need therapy. I certainly know some people to whom I'd recommend it. And, see, I just did something I'm also going to try to stop..being negative. I can't stop being cynical, or I'll die, but I can try to stop being nasty and negative, even if I think I'm right or within my bounds. It doesn't make me feel good, and it's not healthy.

Yes, I feel people have hurt me, but my reaction controls my attitude and emotional well-being, so I need to rise above or whatever the New Age take might be to move past it. Other people's emotional fuckwitted-ness need not rule my life, no matter the flowery words behind it. I wish to be happy, me, and I don't really need anyone else's take on how I need to achieve it.

I'm going to write more...really write, creatively, short stories and poetry and submit them and try to use my talent or whatever it is and see if it's really anything, or if I'm just a semi-professional blogger. It's the only thing I enjoy, so I hope that is not the case.

So, there you go....a starting point. We'll see how it goes.

I've Been a Bad, Bad Blogger

I used to be a good blogger. I updated regularly, I pored my little guts out metaphorically, and then I abandoned my blog because it was too hard. Nobody likes a quitter.

Since I last left you, I've been trying to find myself. Have I found succeeded? Sort of, but maybe only 75%. If you see the other 25%, send her my way. Or maybe not. Maybe it's an excellent weight loss plan.

I have developed the most maddening insomnia, which is starting to drive me a little 'round the bend. It does give me time to think of the craziest things possible, which then turn into ideas for my column or prompt me to restart this blog, so maybe it's not entirely bad, until the waking hallucinations start, and I think I'm Helen of Troy or Beyonce.

I genuinely don't understand it. I have never had trouble sleeping. 2015 hit, and my body has developed somniphobia. I don't know if that's a thing, but it is now. I just coined it. I'm tired all day, because I'm not sleeping properly, and as soon as I start even thinking about sleep, I get tense and anxious and mildly twitchy. Not cool. I've taken, Z-z-z-Quil, Benadryl, and Melatonin, and all that seems to happen is that I have dreams about aliens taking over the planet or being a Mafia boss (which was actually pretty cool).

Everyone keeps asking me what's wrong, as if I have secret pain to unlock, thereby making sleep magically occur. If that were the case, I wouldn't have slept for the latter part of 2012 and first part of 2013. I am unaware of any secret pain, except in my eyes, from LACK OF SLEEP. A couple of days ago, after about 5 hours of sleep the previous night, I started to feel vaguely high around lunchtime. Not high in a good way, but high in that paranoid, "they know," way. I'm too old for this shit. I need sleep.

As much as I adore subsisting on 9 cups of coffee a day and untold amounts of diet Mountain Dew, I would also like to retain my kidney function for as long as possible, too. It's a crazy notion, but one I'm fairly passionate about, and feeling like I'm in a waking dream for most of the day also sounds good in theory, but so does communism.

Serenity now!

I tried not to blog, I really did

I know the old adage about not mailing a letter when you're upset, waiting 24 hours and seeing if you still feel the same way, and then it's okay. Of course, no one writes letters anymore, and I am of the wildly unhealthy attitude of "if you feel it, say it." This doesn't apply to every aspect of  my life, but more and more, because I don't want to feel marginalized anymore, I just say the verbal diarrhea things you're not really supposed to say or ask of people, and then I get frustrated when I don't get the response I want, or any response for that matter.

I have a few peccadilloes, to be sure. I don't like bugs, dirt, the outdoors, sharks, cows, white plates, if I can help it, or ever, EVER walking barefoot outside. But, more intimately, I cannot abide being ignored or not validated. I don't know if this is a writer thing or a I need serious therapy thing, but I can remember in high school, almost physically accosting a boy who ended up being a long-term boyfriend, because he was trying to ignore me. There, shit, I've exposed my Achilles heel. Do not ignore me; it will inflame emotions that don't even make sense to me.

Maybe it's a youngest child thing? I was/am the "baby," and always had full attention, plus I had/have a flair for the dramatic, so I never wanted for attention. Maybe I just don't understand not getting it. This doesn't translate all that well to adulthood. I'm not some whiny diva, stamping her foot or demanding a spotlight. I just don't seem to understand when my personal feelings are not being validated or explained.

Therapy, you say? Don't mind if I do. I think this is an issue beyond my purvey. I think getting the bloody hell out of my own crazy, loud mind is a good place to start. It's a zoo up there. There are songs going off at all intervals, clips of old movies, excerpts of conversations from my past, etc...I don't know how I ever sleep. And to be honest, when I do, that mania bleeds into my dreams, and I have vivid, brilliant dreams that make absolutely no sense, but would make wonderful short stories or movies, if I could organize them.

My grandfather told me frequently, that his head hurt, just from all the thoughts swirling through, and then and now, I knew exactly what he was talking about. He had insomnia and he wrote in a walkabout manner, which I sometimes do, and I know most definitely from where I get this. It doesn't help that much, to know, except that I'm humbled to take after him, but humble doesn't help me sleep at night. And neither do unanswered questions. I hate unanswered questions.

The Gout and the Beyond

Is it normal to just feel constantly irritated? I know the answer is no, so let's just say that's a rhetorical question. I honestly think I have the patience of a two year-old. I basically know what in my life is sort of broken, and I want to make it fixed, or be fixed, or just "fix it!"  P.S., the broken part is my confidence.

I have a weird elbow thing going on. I've come to believe that I get about one bizarre medical thing once a year or every other year. For the most part, they're pretty benign. Corneal abrasion, fine; Sinus surgery, fine; gall bladder surgery, fine; gout and/or an inexplicable staph infection, fine. However, with the latter, I cannot move my arm all the way, and my elbow freaking hurts. Oh, age, you little rapscallion, thank you for these little surprises.

I find dating or just the existence of being single and finding the need to date exhausting. I have become a huge weirdo when it comes to dating, and I don't know how that happened. I am not generally a huge weirdo. I am a unique and delightful snowflake with scores of disillusioned and dumped men in my past. Maybe this is karma? But, I super swear, I was always so nice. I don't feel this particular brand of confusion is fair.

I am so happy for my married friends with little ones who are deep within the throes of domesticity, I really am. That is not a snarky statement. However, I feel a little like they are all feeling sorry for me, poor Emily who found herself divorced past her prime. Probably no one thinks that, I don't know, but that's what I think they think, and the only reason I bring it up is because I feel so far removed from that married with kids being-ness, that either a. It's not the life for me, or b. I'm still too raw from divorce to fathom it. I don't know which is the correct answer.

I have such grand, theoretical plans for myself. I'm constantly inspired by the words of others, and I know that no matter what happens, I refuse to ever settle. I joke about being old and the like, but I'm not, I do well realize that, and I am not lying down to give up my life to work, which I do love, but little else. Hope springs eternal, and I am nothing without hope and beauty and the promise of the next day.

In a backwards Father's Day jab, I blame my dad for my romanticism. He told me, constantly, that when I met "the One," that I would know it, as he did with my mother. He told me so many other wonderfully brilliant things, that you would think I could let this one go. But, I feel like this was a biggie. I love you, Daddy, but maybe the pure wholesomeness of growing up in the 50s didn't properly prepare you for raising kids that would get married in the '00s and deal with things on a whole other level. I do forgive him, but I would pay almost anything for his advice right now.