John

There's almost nothing you can post when your cold is this bad that won't gross everyone out, so don't even try. That's been my philosophy today. 'night, all.

I talked myself into going to the conference. Learned next to nothing about money management (which is what the conference was about), but got lots of tips for our students, and got some food for thought about my life's direction, which has brought some percolating stuff closer to the surface. Nothing I haven't already angsted at y'all about, but it's more impetus to get my shit in order in a way that's pleasing to me. Decisions, decisions.

I am definitely developing a cold, though, and that sucks. Don't let me breathe on you!

Spent all day yesterday nursing a moderate migraine (the pain was pretty bad, but I only call a migraine "bad" if it involves vomiting, which I hate hate hate).

Woke up today with what is either allergies (which I don't think I have to any significant degree) or the start of a cold. I keep going back and forth with myself about whether to go to the work conference I'm supposed to go to in an hour. On the one hand, I paid a fair bit of money to go, and if I don't go, I won't be reimbursed. On the other hand, if I've got the crud, it would be nice of me not to spread it around, yes? Bah. (I actually feel like going, since I spent the day yesterday sitting in a dark room feeling bored and sorry for myself, but if I'm contagious, it would be irresponsible, right? *sigh* I can't decide.)

And no, I'm not being rhetorical. If the preponderence of my friends say "No, Serene, that's not country music," I'll certainly adjust my assessment of the song, though it will still 'read' as country to my brain.

(And I'll even put aside my knee-jerk "Hey, pal, I was making country music for a living when you were in short pants" remark because, well, he's old enough to be my dad. Just barely, but still. (He was born 17 years before I was, and when I was making country music, he was already 32 and had probably been a working musician for years by then.))

One of the Bacon Brothers responded to my slam of their song What think you all? Has anyone listened to the song? Am I wrong? Is it not country at all? Because I'll apologize to him even though I think he was snotty in his comment. I'm nothing if not willing to admit when I've fucked up and called a song all full of twang and guitars "country" when it's not.

(I won't retract the "bad" part, because, you know, subjectivity and all that.)

Jesus Christ. Juice Newton is singing the shit out of "Hurt", and now I gotta go get myself some Patsy Cline.

Why, yes, there are productive things I could be doing. Fuck 'em.

Another antidote: GOOD country music. Juice Newton on Netflix'll do, but there are of course other good choices.

The antidote? Blues Traveler concert footage.

Oh, yeah, baby.

Why did no one tell me that the Bacon Brothers sing bad country music? This seems like a thing a person would wanna warn a person about. I can't unwatch that piece of video -- you know the one? The one where it has lines like "I asked my baby -- baby, go get me some chinese food / and she wasn't in the mood" or some shit like that.


*sighhhhhh* My Footloose crush has been sullied, I have to say.

I must repeat this over and over until it gets into my head:

Do not engage the fundie, Serene; it does no one any good.
Do not engage the fundie, Serene; it does no one any good.
Do not engage the fundie, Serene; it does no one any good.
Do not engage the fundie, Serene; it does no one any good.
Do not engage the fundie, Serene; it does no one any good.
Do not engage the fundie, Serene; it does no one any good.
Do not engage the fundie, Serene; it does no one any good.
Do not engage the fundie, Serene; it does no one any good.
Do not engage the fundie, Serene; it does no one any good.

Harumph.

I wish I remember who pointed me to this first (probably wordweaverlynn or supergee, I'm guessing), but it's been kicking my ass (in a good way) for a few days, and I am finally getting around to posting it:

An Adult Child Abuse Survivor's Guide to the Holidays.

Quoting my comment there:

About 20 years ago, I stopped going to family holidays because they made me too crazy. It took a few years for people to stop hounding me about this, but I would tell them (the ones I actually care about, that is), "Hey, look, I love you, but I don't need to see the whole family in the same room at the same time. [abuser] makes it so miserable; I'd rather see you when we can just sit and relax and catch up." And then I would do that -- make time to see the family members I love, and completely avoid the one I hate, and who made every holiday a festival of screams, slamming doors, tearful/afraid children, and passive-aggressive garbage.

(By the way, telling someone who gets it, as I'm doing now, is also therapeutic. Thanks for inviting this.)

(The adult who abused me as a child is not the person I avoid; that person is no longer part of the family, so I did Thanksgiving with mom this year, and it was nice and peaceful.)

It's probably counterproductive for me to tell you about this, but look what I just bid on! Too cool. I would love it if someone I know won.

(Other authors at http://shop.ebay.com/spacekatgal/m.html?_nkw=&_armrs=1&_from=&_ipg=&_trksid=p4340, too.)

http://all-children-have-rights.blogspot.com/

The AP is dumber than Crayola

Thanks, supergee, for the link.

(I'm home from San Diego, my family is all safe and sound, and I have nearly zero brainpower left. Happy Thanksgiving!)

Mom got me this, and this (in red), and this, and this (just the 10-inch; she kept the other two for herself -- how selfish is THAT? ;-). Also a mess of clothes and far more food than I could ever list for you.

(And yes, in fact, she DOES own stock in Martha Stewart. She's my mother, isn't she?)

I am having some rare downtime. I am filling it with a survey of things about me whose straight answers would be news to no one, but I've decided to try to tell something that most people wouldn't know in each answer. Alert the blogosphere -- someone's being self-referential!!

Interesting to me is the fact that in choosing something you probably won't have already heard about me, I chose a bunch of melancholy stuff. I guess that's pretty understandable; I try to keep the moaning to a minimum in my entries, as a general rule.

( but you were not spared today )

First, mom decided someotherguy needed a haircut, and he let her cut it. Short.

That made the munchkin want to cut MY hair, so I let her (see blurry pic below).

Then sogwife cut her hair, with trimming help from mom.

If anyone wants to make voodoo dolls out of my family's hair, now's the time.