Tag: frustration

The Party Bathroom Dream

I was young again – LOL – but middle-aged, and part of this large celebration.

Held outside, in a large green park, the party was to celebrate the birthday of someone famous. I have no idea who. Tables the length of football fields, covered in white tablecloths, set with dishware, china, and silverware, lined the park’s perimeter. Terrific food, cakes, sandwiches, veggies.

There were also numerous river-rock buildings which looked like shelters. These turned out to be restrooms.

Strangely, that’s where most of the dream focused: the bathrooms. I needed to use the restroom and spent my time dashing around, looking for one that was available. As I did, the Bob Seger song, “Shame on the Moon”, would play off and on. I mostly heard, “Oh, blame it on midnight.”

My friends found this hilarious. No one was in a uniform but people I worked with in the military were present, sitting in chairs in one section.

What I found as I searched for a restroom was that all of them were in use, and there were lines of others waiting.

I raced around, stunned at this problem, thinking, there must be a restroom I can use.

Thinking I found one, to my relief, I went in and discovered that it was set up as little barbershop. While I wondered, “WTH,” one of my friends called out with laughter, “Don’t even think about going there, Seidel.”

I flipped him the bird.

An announcement was made. Everyone was asked to take their seats. Miss Shirley Bassey was going to sing for the guest of honor.

I made my way across the grass toward a table.

Dream end.  

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Cars, Changes, and Control: A Dream

I drove into a Trader Joe’s parking lot to park and shop. I was driving my old white BMW 2002, a car I haven’t owned since I left Germany in 1991. It made ‘dream sense’ because I was about the age I was when I owned the car.

The parking lot’s left side was completely empty, bewildering me — why wasn’t anyone parked there? A large sign, facing the wrong way, explained not to park on the left side. Oh.

I moved my car. An older couple, dressed in fancy clothes, was there. I told them as I walked away from my car, “It would help if the sign faced the entrance, you know? Is something going on here today?”

They didn’t answer me but I heard the man saw as I walked away, “He’ll find out.” The woman tittered.

The store was busy inside. I decided to put down my cloth shopping bags for a moment and put them on a chair back by the older couple. Inside, shopping, I decided that I would buy a few things and picked up a frozen dessert that attracted my eye. As I thought about buying a few more things, I remembered that I’d left my shopping bags on that chair and rushed back to get them.

The bags were gone. I searched all over, but they were definitely gone. Morose, I returned inside to buy the frozen dessert.

Going back, my car was parked elsewhere but I knew where. It was also not my white BMW, but my wife’s gray Ford Focus. I went to the car’s right side to get in. Then I stepped back out and looked again where it was parked. The car to the left was so close, that door — which should be the driver’s side door — couldn’t be opened. I thought, it’s a good thing that I don’t drive on that side. Yet, I knew, with some confused reflection, driving is done from the car’s left side, not the right.

I was driving at the point and discovered a passenger, a pregnant young woman reading a book. First, I noticed that the book had my name on the front, but, startled by her presence, I said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you there.”

She replied, “I’m Gail. My daughter was with you when you were driving an SUV in a foreign land, a wild country. She wanted to visit you because she’s worried.”

Driving, I wondered and asked, “Is your daughter born yet?”

Gail answered, “No, but she’s due.”

I then turned left. The road ended and I was suddenly driving through a woods heavy with water puddles and thick, black mud. Gail said, “I want to get out here.”

“No,” I replied. “I don’t know what happened to the road but I’m turning around. I’ll take you back and let you out.”

I whipped the car around and was back on the road in a few seconds. Gail got out. I opened the hatchback to put a bicycle in because I knew it was mine. Then I wondered, why is my bike here?

Dream end.

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Witness

Through the year

We did stumble,

Doing weary chores

With a soft-voiced grumble.

Peeking through doors,

Working through days,

Of laughing, sighing,

And weary, changing ways.

Sometimes we shouted,

And sometimes shed tears,

Wondering how it would end,

This long, most miserable of years.

Now we sit

On another cusp,

Wondering,

What the next months

Will deliver to us?

We make promises and vow

To create changes that stay,

But will we be happier

Twelve months from this day?

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Mundaz Wandering Thoughts

Brace yourself for another first world rant. Technology oriented. Well, Microsoft.

Bought a new computer this past summer because I was using Windows 10 and it was aging out. In other words, Microsoft was sunsetting support for Windows 10.

Yeah, I complained and contemplated shifting operating systems again. I’ve done it numerous times. The other piece of that is apps and programs. I’ve been through multiple iterations of those things over the years, too. At this point, I wanted stability and continuity without me needing to think about problems and pursue answers. Yes, shorter answer: I’m lazy.

I did investigate and discover that my laptop of that period, then ten years old, suffered from an old architecture. Hardware differences would challenge any notion of easily shifting browsers and apps. I contemplated adding more RAM and doing other things, but I wasn’t into that sport.

So I sucked it in and bought a new laptop with Windows 11.

Here’s the crux of this rant: Microsoft 11 is buggy. Unstable. Tabs crash. The browser window crashes. Word crashes.

Like, WTF?

As I experienced this, I looked for answers on the web. Why is this happening? What is the fix? Searches found the usual suggestions to clear out caches, etc., exercises which point to them not knowing what’s going on and offering suggestions which they hope might fix it.

What bullshit.

Finally saw an article today that Microsoft agrees, there might be a problem.

Microsoft admits system bug causing Windows 11 instability

This is exactly the kind of thing that drove me away again — and again — from Microsoft. You’d think I’d learn my lesson.

So I’m wrestling with myself all over again. Keep using Windows and cursing it, or take the time to install and start using a new browser and apps?

As Jill Dennison would put it, GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

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Mundaz Wandering Thoughts

I’ve often stated that I write to help me understand what I think. Writing is a process that forces me to slot things into a more coherent order. That process helps me dig up what’s really bugging me below the surface of my reactions.

I spent time yesterday walking and then writing myself a letter. It was almost like meditating for me, with surprising results. Turned out that I was angrier, more frustrated, and more depressed than I realized. Baring it all to myself helped me shed those things and reinvigorate myself. Some of the anger was irrational, railing at life for the afflictions happening to friends and family. Some, on a deeper level, were revelations to myself about how I perceived others and my relationships with them.

But once again, writing came through for me. I’m happy with the outcome. Purging my psyche of that anger and depression lifted my spirits and restored my energy levels.

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Frida’s Wandering Thoughts

I was ravenous. I carry sufficient emergency energy stores (fat) on my body that starvation didn’t come up as a serious concern except for my stomach’s urgency to refill. It bellowed complaints like an irritated wooky. Much of this is diet limitations. I’m on low salt for hyper tension, and still remained constrained by my oral surgery. It’s healing well but missing molars and recovering surgical sites disrupt the biting, and chewing, and swallowing routine. It’ll be over in four to six months, so that’s just a temp thing.

I’ll be pleased to see June 2025 finish. Frustrating, disappointing, wearying, and just plain sad, that month holed my energy during its 30-day reign, and my soul is despondent. Personally, June of 2025 will remain a strong memory because it was memorably messed up. I’m putting high hopes on July and the rest of 2025. July’s first week features two dental appointments, my annual physical, and natal day #69, so the beginning is loaded with potential.

For the record, I think Natal Day #69 could be good song title, with the right music behind it.

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Frida’s Theme Music

Frida, June 13th, 2025, breached with cold air and muzzled sunshine. 59 F, we’re pacing ourselves to climb to 74 F. It’s a chill day. Feels good out there.

Another night of dreams. They covered feeling lost and frustrated, ignored, and change that confused me. Awakened, I felt heavy with loss and disappointment, struggling to find direction and traction, like I’m spinning my wheels to stay in place.

We saw more Trump Justice Two Step last night. Judge said, “Illegal to put them National Guard into LA, Donald,” and another court said, “Keep doing it while we talk about this.” I laughed when Trump’s lawyers argued that California should not “second-guess the President’s judgment that federal reinforcements were necessary” and that a federal court should defer to the president’s discretion on military matters. Oh, they can rouse themselves to such pompous righteous indignation. Trump loves to say he’s leaving things up to the states. ‘I’m gonna wean them off FEMA.’ “The people on the ground know what’s going on and can take care of it best,” he said before.

But he’s fast to ignore the state’s rights and decisions when it doesn’t suit him and barge right in wherever the fuck he wants. The principle behind his moves are always, “Me Donald, you I hate.” In this case, he hates Gov. Newsom and California because he lost California. Didn’t get within sniffing distance of winning it.

TACO is very predictable in his lawless ways. “You spit, we hit!” But that wasn’t the case with the J6 insurrectionists. Yeah, they were attacking the nation, doing a lot more damage phsically and judicially, as the J6 gang attacked the police. No, that had TACO saying, “Me Donald, me love you,” because they were doing it for him. He’s sickening, and the GOP is sickening and shameful for going along with his twisted hyperbole. They won’t be happy until they burn the nation down and then they’ll blink their eyes wide and say, “Gosh, what happened?” Just as they did with multiple previous fiascos. See the Gulf Wars as a big fucking example. My contempt for them has surged out past Starlink.

I’m also having a good laugh at MAGAts. They’re trying to excuse the DC parade as planned BT: Before Trump. One MAGAt declared that President Obama became planning it, lazily conflating celebrating the Army’s 250 year anniversary with the bloated military display scheduled for this weekend. That’s the MAGAts, always bending over for TACO to screw them.

I have “Creep” by Radiohead in the morning mental music stream. Just that sort of morning. Here, little TACO. This is for you.

Pressing on with coffee to go get things done. Let’s be safe out there. Cheers

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Fun Dream

There I was, trapped like a hunted animal, weapon in hand, growling in my throat as I firmed my spirit and mind to fight back.

Naw, it wasn’t anything like that. I was there to play a game. Don’t ask me what the game was; the dream assumed I knew that. There were four to a side. A female teammate and I were waiting to take the field. We were on a platform overlooking the game space. That space wasn’t large.

Besides us on that platform was a younger person, a black-haired white woman. She was part of the team we were playing next. She wordlessly walked between my teammate and me and moved to a corner where she stopped, leaning back against the railing. I knew of her but I didn’t know her. We’d previously played.

Crossing to her, I said, “Listen, I hope I didn’t hurt you before.” Yes, apparently during a previous game, I’d blocked her pretty roughly. “The move went awry and wasn’t executed as well as it could have been.”

Suddenly brightening, she answered, “Oh, no, it’s all good. That was pretty bang, bang. There’s not much we can do when the game is on, and you were in a zone. You played fantastic. I can’t fault you for anything.”

Her response surprised me. We chatted. My teammate joined in. We all became friendlier. Then we were called to play.

I was guarding my new friend, aggressively tracking her. She had the ball, which was round and brown like a basketball. She could bounce or carry it but could only be the one with the ball for a limited time, which a red-numbered timer tracked. As I harried her, blocking her moves, she threw the ball right to me.

This excited fans and the announcer. I hadn’t noticed either before this. A roar went up. The announcer shouted, “She threw the ball right to him! She threw the ball right to him!” My opponent was upset but regained her poise to come after me.

Seeing an opening, I passed the ball to a of teammates who were in scoring position. Incredibly, the guy who was supposed to catch it and pass it on bobbled the ball. Now it was my turn for disappointment and frustration.

Unfortunately, that’s where the dream ended.

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