Tens of Things

My renewed interest in this blog comes from an idea I had in that pre-sleep haze one gets. I get anxious when writing a new post because my mind is a constant, critical editor. A post that should only take five minutes may take twenty. Or more. I wanted to find a common theme that would keep me focused on topics and I came up with the idea of lists. My mother raised me on list-making. She was raised by her mother on list-making. There is a vague strand of OCD passed down through the generations and when I feel disconnected or unmotivated I find that list-making can ground me.

This blog will be lists. I will aim for ten objects to each list. The topics can be anything. You can even suggest topics if you like, but currently I have a list of things I would like to list.

This is starting to go down a weird rabbit hole so I’ll just leave this here.

Reappearing

I decided to give my blog a makeover. This means I have to start posting again. That is the only logical conclusion.

Owl of the Week 6

A friend asked me to post more owl art. I’m sorry I’ve been falling down on the job. Oh sh*t. Was that another apology?

For your viewing pleasure:

Source: Gustoff Marshfield. Or this is some German tribute to him? Maybe I should rename my blog “Owls on Skulls”.

Head Trauma

About once a year or so I get an EEG. This isn’t because it is necessarily required, but my neurologists (plural now) can’t figure out what’s wrong with my brain. It’s as if they need to keep checking that my brain is screwed up. My friends have a few guesses as to why, but the doctors can’t scientifically prove any of those.

I have so many studies on record: EEGs, ambulatory day EEGs, video monitored hospital stays, MRI, MRA, MRV, and coordination tests. (They want me to walk in a straight line despite my huge thighs not making that possible.) So what’s another test? I actually get pretty excited about the EEG itself. My main anxieties arise from dealing with insurance and setting appointments. This time I had to deal with a few misunderstandings, a rescheduling, and a 30 minute stay in the waiting room because of a snafu.

The waiting room was an interesting experience. I was the only one there until these two Old White Guys (OWGs) arrived with a newspaper. One said, snidely, something about ‘that Hussein in the White House.’ Then they pointed at parts of the newspaper that made them feel OWG rage, cursing up a storm. There were several statements about the incompetence of congress, with a stop off at “why do they have 5,000 laws they can’t get through. Just make 5 or 6 and vote on them.” (This writer interprets that to mean that he wanted everything shrunk down to a one-size-fits-all type of lawmaking. You know. Like back in his day.)

There was a brief break when OWG 1 noted Shakira had a new baby and how cute it was. I think OWG 2 was thrown off by the knowledge of someone named “Shakira” being in the news. (FYI, this image is all that’s available of that baby as of right now.) They left the room after this bizarre interruption and I pondered what they were really mad at. Maybe the Hussein comment wasn’t coming from the Fox News Cult. Maybe they were moderates joking around and yelling at representatives from both sides.

OWG 1 returned. The news was on. The discussion: Hillary Clinton’s career. No discussion of current events. Only a brief mention of her problems with the terrorism misinformation. It was just her. OWG 1 stared. Lingered. Finally said, “damn bitch” and walked off.

Uh. So this was supposed to be a post about my new head wrap: Instead of normal ambulatories where they glue the electrodes on, this hospital used a type of paste. I thought that was great because the glue makes it look like you have horrid dandruff for two weeks. But how do you keep these pasted things on? A friggin’ gauze headwrap.

versus two years ago:

what the glue does to your hair (from two years ago):

(Pretty rockin’. I should try that with my pomade.)

Two days. Two days. Twwooo daaayyysss…..

Owl of the Week 5

Might as well keep the owl posts going. Those are easy and make me happy.

Via artist Oksana Badrak. Found through Just Art.

Happy New Year

Try to make it happy. Do your best. If this requires copious amounts of booze, that’s okay. I’m spending NYE with my mom, eggnog with rum, and chocolate from Russia.

We had a full day. It was full of things that required a minimal amount of movement, but made it seem like time well spent. We left at 11 so I could get a teeth cleaning. The doctor numbed my mouth because she knew it was going to be brutal. I can’t count the number of times she said “floss”. I’m sorry my bleeding gums anger you.

We headed over to the mall and I got my hair did. My bangs needed a major trim and I think the dresser managed to get them straight this time. At least my mom hasn’t threatened yet to grab scissors and “fix it”. We then saw Wreck It Ralph. It was one of the best cartoon films I’ve seen recently. There was a quick trip to Michaels. I was reminded why neither of us are let in there. Several chachkes and 2 My Little Pony activity books later we left and hit the liquor store.

So now we sit in silence until we can come up with something meaningful to do in our last hours of 2012. I’m putting up my last post of this month (and this year). I probably won’t keep up the daily routine anymore, but I’m proud that I managed to go every day (minus one) of December and realize I have the willpower to accomplish a goal. I’m going to use that momentum this upcoming year. I will do my best. If it doesn’t seem like I am, you have permission to post angry comments on my Facebook page.

Have fun to anyone venturing out to New Years’ Eve parties. I think I’m in for the night. I’m thankful that I managed to get through the day without tripping on black ice.

You Can’t Erase Yourself

Embrace the life that the Internet has chosen for you. All the pictures create your image. Your home is made of everything you’ve created a profile for. The anonymous commenters you’ve argued with are your noisy neighbors and your regular YouTube vloggers are the people you have coffee and a chat with.

It has been over 12 years that I have been active on the Internet. Sometimes I stop and try to think hard of all the places where I participated in discussions or signed up to be a part of a community. I’m recently battling with online sites to find IRL friends. I have made decisions to put time and effort into attractive profiles, but flee in terror when something comes along that could lead to a *physical* meeting. My life and ideas exist more fully online. I can talk to someone in person, but I remember that I have a blog where they can see how good my writing is or tumblr where they can see what I find funny or beautiful or they could find my old LJ and see what a complaining bitch I can be, but also how I see the world and my dreams. The real life me can’t be summarized in a profile, but I wish it could.

That went a little off the mark of what I originally wanted to say. I wanted to explore those weird niches that I fit into online. For a long time, when I first entered this digital world, I didn’t care who knew what about me. Those words I’ve said fill the background radiation of my Internet universe. I really liked posting to a site called Divine Whispers to defend my liberal religious paganism and to grow as someone of faith. I joined this site before deciding to become a religion major. I think I should have foreseen that decision. Anyway, I haven’t posted in forever, but my words are still there for anyone who wants to see all the biggest arguments from early 2000s. (I also tried to post on pro-Pagan boards like Witches’ Voice, but found it much more fun to face challenges from people who were serious about stupid opinions.)

I was reminded of this topic because I haven’t posted to my LiveJournal recently, but occasionally the little LJ bots will spam a post so I’ll see, “I am doing research for my university thesis, thanks for your great points, now I am acting on a sudden impulse.” Yeah. Yeah, that’s great. Today I got one such e-mail and it was on a huge post about dreams. This was from 3 years ago. I remember the details. I mourn now not keeping that journal up, but from 2004 to 2010 I made enough posts to make it worth having.

frank

I did *not* make enough comments on Dead Nigel’s DeadJournal to warrant its existence. Apparently I wanted to make an advice column based on Dead Nigel. I think most of the questioners were ex-boyfriends and my roommate. I’m kind of glad I let that one go.

For years my high school friends and I maintained a website on a character we called “The Evil Elf”. I know we actively took it down, but part of me always hopes I can find some scraps of it that exist. The e-mail address I had is no longer in use and Anglefire didn’t have any other personal info. So I guess that part of my Internet self is gone, but my real self remembers… and cringes.

During college I had an Emory Learnlink… message board thing. Learnlink was our inter-college mail system. My message board was called “Of Gods and Men”. My friends thought it was cool. At least they told me it was. I will accept this delusion. It had sub-boards for different topics. I guess it was like Reddit, only we knew the identities of the flamers. That didn’t make the trolls any less bold. Unfortunately we all graduated and got kicked off the LL so alas “Of Gods and Men” is no longer active.

I’ve read webcomics that have evolved into monsters or disappeared forever. I’ve blogged on all manners of topics, including a specialty blog on my mom that has since been deleted since she discovered the Internet. If she read that sentence, I’ll have explaining to do. I’ve found hundreds of recipes and art projects that will never get done because the pictures make me feel inadequate as a human being. I’ve used the Internet to feed all sorts of weird fandoms (think Xena RPGs) and have been called a stalker by people who are one to talk. And I have pushed and pushed to have my meager additions to the world acknowledged. “Likes” “Reblogs” “Follows” and any comments (good or bad) can become an obsession for things I put a personal touch on. (I keep away from my Twitter account for the sake of my ego.)

I’m not sure why I went on a nostalgic trip like this. I could probably find more stuff in my Internet closet that hasn’t seen the light of day in years, but I’ll save that. If not for another post, I’ll have to write it down somewhere because those are the pieces that ultimately tie me to the ether that is The Cloud.

This may be the longest personal blog post I’ve ever written. Don’t expect any more of these out of me. I just want people to know that death cannot undo the scars I have left on your precious set of tubes we call “The Internet”.

Oh, and Big Brother is watching.

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