Non Verbal Communication

I think Bela Lugosi had the right idea when he said "Look into my eyes". I like the concept of having someone bite my neck and then I would fall under their spell. That way I don't have to take responsibility for any of my actions. I could say "I never said that" and really mean it. As it is I find myself saying "That's not what I meant". Communication is just so darn complicated.Why do we have to talk anyway?

Sometimes it just messes everything up. Of course I find it extremely difficult to keep my mouth shut. It would be nice if I could erase all the times I've put my foot in it by saying the wrong thing,

I'd probably...well never mind.

Stop Your Belly Achin

People seem to love to complain. People who have jobs complain about them, people who don't have jobs complain about not having them. People who are single want mates and those who have mates want to be single. Its the same with money, kids, houses, cars and almost everything in between. The state of one's health is a big thing to complain about.

I try not complain, but I'm sure I do. Sometimes you just have to.

There's a fine line between complaining, whining and just stating the facts. If someone asks "How do you feel?" and you tell them your head hurts that's just a fact. If you go on to say "my heads been hurting since yesterday, I can't get anything done, I wanted to bake a cake but the flower will just go up my nose and make it worse, so I can't, it stinks when I have a headache" that's complaining. If at any point in any of those conversations you say something like "why does this always happen to me?" then your whining.

Maybe people think that if they stopped complaining they would have nothing worthwhile to say.

Now that would be something to complain about.

I Heart Pizza

Man do I love pizza. I think I could eat it every day. Deep dish, flat bread, tomato pie, white pie, plain or deluxe, put it in front of me and I can't say no. I eat it cold for breakfast or so hot it burns the roof of my mouth. Eat in, take out, delivery, frozen, name brand or store substitute, gimme pizza.
Slap some sauce and mozzarella on a English muffin or a bagel and throw it in the toaster oven to put a smile on my face.
Give me Ellios or give me death.

Let me eat pizza.

Juror #7

I just finished a three day stint as a juror in a criminal case. My first time ever chosen and I loved it. My mother used to watch Perry Mason even in reruns but I was never overly fascinated by it. After hanging on every word of the OJ Simpson trial I watched court TV for a bit on a regular basis, so I guess I would fall in the average interest part of the American pie chart as far as law and trials are concerned.

I loved the process of jury selection and elimination and I loved watching potential jurors try to weasel out of it. The prosecuting attorney was young and as it turned out this was his first case. No one was as attractive as they are on TV. Well, maybe one or two people.

We deliberated for a very brief time. As soon as the door closed people started yapping, I realized what I was listening to sounded as if everyone was on the same side, so I suggested to the foreman that we take a count. We all found reasonable doubt and made a decision of not guilty.


Juror #7: Uhh... I don't uh... think he's guilty! (played by Jack Warden from 12 Angry Men)


As we walked out of the deliberation room, down the hallway towards the elevator I envisioned the credits scrolling behind me.

It's the hard-knock life

You can become an orphan at any age. I became one at the age of 49. It doesn't matter how old you are it's still a hollow feeling. Initially, I thought it was a freeing experience. I had no one left to answer to, no one needing me to call, or giving me a hard time when I didn't. No flowers or cards to remember.

It feels different now. I thought I asked all the questions but I forgot a few and now there are no answers. No one exists who knew me when, before I became whoever it is that I am now. I don't know that I ever thought about the fact that it wasn't just me before but now it really is just me.

Just me.

In your Facebook

My job requires me to be on Facebook daily.
I had my own page for a couple of years and in the beginning I really enjoyed it. Finding people I'd lost touch with, seeing how their children had grown, trying to write clever status updates, reading comments.
Yes, I played Farmville ~ but let's save that for another blog.

I was disappointed that there was less to talk about when I saw some friends in person. Their walls sometimes told the whole story, and often the conversation became a mere regurgitation of that, with an added who said what, or who friended who.
I soon stopped caring and thought "What happened to real conversation?"

People who didn't set up privacy settings would be upset by what they felt was some sort of stalking behavior. I thought if there are things I don't want people to see, why are they my Facebook friends, it was time to rethink and un-friend.

Once the status shuffle app was created I was less impressed with the wit of certain friends. I also became leery of my adult friends who had too many friends. I had a brief stint as a Facebook whore, but it made me feel dirty and cheap so I reconsidered and un-friended.

I've seen friends post over 300 pictures at a time, including the blurry ones, the concept of editing is obviously lost on these people. Then there are the illness, death and operations postings. Talk about privacy, do these things need to be in a public forum? Lets not forget the Birthday post... the only control you have over this is if you purposely don't list your birthday. Which I have done. Only to be disappointed when only two friends posted a birthday wish on my wall. It's sick, I'm sick, Facebook is sick.

I had to say to myself "Just Don't do it"

Wow, I haven't seen that person in years!! (yeah, I wonder why?)

Facebook drives me nuts!

Less on my bed, less in my head.

Sometimes I use my bed as my office. Books I'm reading, projects I'm making notes on, bills that need to be paid, school papers that need to be signed, its all there, on my bed. ~ There's a cat at my feet and another at my head. I have about five or six pillows, one top sheet, one electric blanket and one comforter. The window must be cracked, and something to drink must be on the night stand. My two remote controls, heating pad and cell phone charger, along with the phone are tucked in the spot between the night table and the bed. My computer lays on the floor at the side of the bed to play some form of solitaire at a moments notice. My bed clothes (that I can't sleep in) lay at the foot of the bed. There's also a big stuffed bear at the end of the bed because the cat that sleeps at my feet likes it that way.

I long for the days when I fell asleep on the sofa with the TV on.