No Use

Have you ever noticed that no matter how much you beg and plead for silence, once your stomach starts making noises, it’s just about impossible to get it to stop? You just have to wait for it to go back to sleep.

Not Reminding You Not to Overeat

I thought I’d post a reminder to myself not to overeat, and share it with you, telling you not to overeat, if you’re celebrating Thanksgiving this Thursday. But I hear people think that’s body-shaming, so I’m going to refrain.

I was reminding myself not to overeat because it’s not good for my general physical disposition. As I’m in my sixties and know my family history on Dad’s side, cardiovascular problems challenge the males. Overeating doesn’t help, especially when it’s food that I enjoy, like cheese and buttery mashed potatoes, washed down with wine, followed by pie with ice cream and whip cream. Dad is still alive and doing well at eighty-five, but I lost a cousin to a heart-attack when he was forty-three, an uncle has had several bypasses and stents (starting in his mid-thirties), and Grandpa died of a massive coronary when he was sixty-five.

But I don’t want to body-shame anyone, especially myself, so I’m not going to remind you or me not to overeat this Thanksgiving. Of course, the one accused of body-shaming, Sarah Michelle Gellar, added a throwback lingerie shot of herself with her reminder. I’m not going to post such a photo, because I don’t have any decent shots of myself in lingerie. Something goes horribly awry with the camera whenever I take one. I don’t know why. I guess it’s fate.

I will also not mention how I grimace with guilt and sadness when I think of our Thanksgiving traditions of over-indulgence in a world and country where so many are starving and suffering, or that we’re giving thanks for being safe when so many are displaced by war and natural disasters.

Whether you overeat or not, or celebrate Thanksgiving or not, I hope you’re not one of those suffering, and you have a wonderful day today and Thursday, and hell, let’s go for broke and wish you a great life. I also hope that you don’t suffer from being body-shamed, and that you realize that you’re more than your body.

This has not been a public service announcement.

Wednesday’s Theme Music

The memory stream plucked this blast from the past and delivered it straight to my head.

I don’t mind. “Golden Years” by David Bowie (1975) is a song that I enjoy. I’m going into my golden years, I’ve decided. They’re not the golden years of many people’s thinking, which translate to twilight years, but good years. Unlike the Bowie song, I’m not running for the shadows, either. Life’s taking me somewhere, angel. I’m just a hazel-eyed optimist.

Quadrafloofic

Quadrafloofic (floofinition) – of, or relating to, four housepets.

In use: “Life with his animals was often quadrafloofic as the three dogs and single cat — the ringleader, if you must know — surrounded him, regardless of his activity. This made using the toilet particularly challenging.”

All Those Spectrums

Whenever I read about the stages of coping with grief, aging, or ASD, I think more generally about spectrums. My overall philosophy is that everything in existence is on a spectrum. Those spectrums generally have multiple sub-spectrums.

Fer instance, my body is on several spectrums. The spectrums are about my body shape, physical age, genetics, and conditioning. Some of the things are on spectrums that I can’t do anything about (genetics) and knowing this helps me adjust my other efforts and expectations.

The spectrum of time is fun to think about because now because the past in the same instant that the future becomes now. What a spectrum!

Emotions and socializing have multiple spectrums, too. I think of Johari spectrums instead of Johari windows. Nothing wrong with the windows, except for the conceptions that some have that these things are fixed within those panes, but my impressions are that we slide along, changing through the day, depending on circumstances, like whether we’re supervising, socializing, working alone, etc., but also circumstances such as who we’re dealing with, and our what’s going on with our body. Yes, it’s complex.

Naturally I think of these spectrums while writing. I appreciate that I have multiple spectrums about my work in progress and my writing prowess in general. My writing spectrums include ranking my grammar and punctuation, word-smithing, story-telling, and creativity. There are also spectrums for how well I create characters, portray action scenes, create settings, etc.  Yes, it’s complex.

Think about it came about because on the editing spectrum for my novel in progress, I feel pretty damn good. Meanwhile, on my story-telling spectrum, I feel far less confident. I’m anxious and worried about whether the story I’m trying to tell will emerge from how I tell it. I’m in the middle regarding its creativity and settings, because I see how I’ve built from the foundations that others have set.

But again, thinking of these things regarding my writing as spectrums enable to visualize my strengths and weaknesses, and helps me assess where I need to improve.

Enough of this stuff. You may say that I’m overthinking, over-analyzing, and over-complicating things. You may be right. It works for me, however, so who cares? Find your way — or don’t. It’s your choice.

Time to write edit like crazy, at least one more time.

Tuesday’s Them Music

Exchanged some comments with a blogger last night. He’d reminisced about enjoying Led Zeppelin, Eric Clapton, and AC/DC with his brother while they were growing up (Boys Will Be Boys). That reminded me how much I enjoyed Clapton, and eventually led me to streaming “Pretending” from his Journeyman album (1989). I like the power with which the song opens after the slight piano intro. The song lifts me up when I stream it in my head while I’m walking.

Floofgiving

Floofgiving (floofinition) – an observance to show affectation and gratitude to housepet(s).

In use: “Every morning when he got up, again when he returned home, and again before going to bed, he showered his pets with kisses, and gave them treats, making everyday Floofgiving in his home.”

Going On

He ran ahead with his tail up, as I’ve so often seen him do.

Then, stopping, he looked back and meowed, as I’ve often witnessed him do.

Smiling, I waved and called his name. He turned and went on.

Still smiling, I turned aside.

And I went on, too.

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