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 |   Life is rough...I have to write it out. |
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I start blogs.....I neglect blogs....I abandon blogs. I start blogs.....I neglect blogs....I abandon blogs. I started this blog....I loved this blog....I abandoned this blog. I started this blog....I loved this blog....I abandoned this blog. I guess it is a good thing I didn't actually hold my breath. |
Day 22 Prompt: Talk Tuesday! The Pope will be making a trip to the US very soon, and some citizens will be displaced due to his travel safety regimen. Has anything like this happened to you before, being stuck in traffic so a famous person could get by? This sort of thing happens to me all of the time. The thing about it is that people are so rude. They refuse to move out of the way so my caravan can get through. Just because they want to sneak a peek at me doesn’t mean they should risk their lives by interfering with my guards. It’s not like they could talk to me through this bullet proof glass anyway (from in here is where I throw my stones.) Nope. No famous person has ever impeded my progress. I live in Podunk so I don’t imagine it will be happening anytime soon. If you go downtown at the right times you will see people causing a commotion but the most that will be is a Colts player who is sitting at a restaurant, but also not kept separate from the people. Famous people tend to just walk around Indianapolis. We have met a few. My sister even rubbed all over then took a picture with Dave Mathews as he was just walking around shopping. My sister also used to manage a department at Nordstrom. They would close the store down for famous people or famous people’s wives so they could shop, but I wouldn’t count that as an inconvenience since she helped them shop and therefore benefited greatly. I don’t know – I don’t really see it as a big deal though. We make these people famous with attention – both warranted and not, I’d think we’d move out of the way when we want to see them. Yesterday we needed milk and so I ran up to the store, in Friday's pjs with unbrushed hair. Who was I dressing for? As I made my way down the street, a rumble began to rise, People were bowing and pointing at me… much to my surprise. Grinning, I waved, then they cheered… I must actually look good, When I heard, "Who’s that chick" I realized I misunderstood. My cheeks were red as it sunk in; the love was not as I hoped, I was just some nobody, driving right in front of the Pope. |
Day 21 Prompt:Music Monday! Tell us about a certain memory that is triggered whenever you hear a specific song. Was the song actually playing at that moment, or is it something in the lyrics or the music itself that jogs your memory? I thought all night and all day about what song to use here. All the ones I want to use I have used in this blog before for the Soundtrackers. And while I suppose that doesn’t matter, to me it sort of does. However, the prompt is what the prompt is and it wants me to think of something, to remember something, when I press play. So, against my better judgment I might be duplicating. I cannot be sure because I don’t exactly feel like looking. This song is first of course: [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] And that is because when I hear this song (it is sooo romantic) I think of when Husband A was about to become Boyfriend (wait…does he have a letter? That would be weird….hold on I will figure it out….) …when I hear this song I think of when Husband A was about to become Boyfriend D (okay okay, not so bad.) He was mine already and we both knew it. Boyfriend C knew it but we didn’t give a shit. We used to sit with Boyfriend C and our friend, getting high and passing notes back and forth. Man did it piss off Boyfriend C, something we considered an added benefit. This was a song Husband A liked and I liked and Boyfriend C despised that we liked it. It was just another thing we were able to privately bond over. One specific time at our friend’s kitchen table while passing notes and listening to this song, we acknowledged the desire to be together. It was so exciting for a seventeen year old girl who had wanted nothing more. This song makes me grin in a way I guess I don’t really do anymore. And because I heard this song a few weeks ago and did actually remember something. I will include it as well, though it is less flattering to Boyfriend C than even the above story. Not that he deserves flattery. [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] And that would be because the first time I had tried to have sex was to this song. It was Larry, Curly and Mo type of sex. It was in a recliner in Boyfriend C’s den, right after school. I have zero recollection of why we had decided to finally do it. I don’t know if we talked about it first, if we just could control our teenage selves no longer or what, but the rest cannot be forgotten. For the longest time he poked it around, not really knowing where to put it. Which looking back is hilarious. I guess. Is that common guys? The first time you were physically confronted with a vagina did your dick go blind? Maybe it happens. Maybe when a boy gets devirginized it is more of a coaxing than girls are led to believe. If we were told the truth maybe we could prepare with some stadium lighting and shit. His sister, older than me by one year and him by two, walked in the front door in the middle of the Story of Helen Keller because, well, because it was after school and it was her house. She was humiliated, as was I, as she apologized and beelined back out the front door. Oh good, thanks! Now we can turn our attention back to this fun shit. Maybe we should have discussed some definitions first because the ultimate goal was never reached, though he definitely got the recliner dirty. |
Day 20 Prompt: The Sunday News! This week in Texas, a fourteen-year-old Muslim boy was arrested for bringing a homemade clock to school ...his teachers mistook the item for a bomb. Was this the right move, or did the teachers in question blow this situation too far out of proportion? Are we now erring on the side of too much caution? A couple hours after I heard this on the news I saw this on Facebook: ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Now, having not really thought too much about the story yet and having not had a discussion with Husband A on the topic either (which always fleshes out my true feelings since he knows what and how I discuss) I was struck with a bit of “Ohhhhh.” So now my feelings on the matter come from a place of disgust and sadness. Ah but keepin it short for Brother Nature    There are tons of articles to be read on this but I like this one posted in the prompt. However. There is so much wrong with the story. It is sad that an institution of learning has discouraged exploration in this manner. It is sad that we are questioning why bomb threat protocol wasn’t followed; both because we assume it is bigoted and because bomb threat protocol was not followed in a building full of our children. It is awful that he is being blamed for not expanding on his explanation of “it’s a clock.” Did the cop say “Oh that’s who I thought it was?” Maybe not, but it speaks volumes that it would be so very easy to believe he did. When I was a kid and it was fun to build those short-wave radio kits…had I brought one to show a teacher I would have been considered a kiss ass due to the excitement the teacher would have tried to generate. We were encouraged, not punished. Perhaps my school was a more affluent school, but it doesn’t seem like it. Perhaps it’s because I attended a gleaming white school, after all, trouble was caused for the two non white students who attempted to learn there. I feel sorry for this boy who has been shamed for his intelligence and that he wonders whether he wants to even go back there. I think maybe the teacher shortage extends to more than just those who physically aren’t there. What a stupid damn reason to have to pick your kid up from the police. Why didn’t they just lock his ass away? Hey buddy, what are you in for? Well, in between lunch and study hall I forgot to turn my alarm off when algebra started. The 3 R’s of Thug life. Okay – for a moment of happiness since they have come so few and far between lately. I finished a book. Ha! Reading one that is. I used to devour books one every day or so. Even after Kid A was born. Husband A was on the road and there just was time for reading. Then Husband A came home. Then we moved in with my Grandma. Then Kid B arrived. Whew. Reading so quickly became a thing of the past. You can make time for yourself, but when your choices for that time are: A.) shower and eat something that makes it alllllll the way to your mouth before a child has taken it or B.) read a book…well one always seems to win, even though I can ask myself the same question regarding both. “When was the last time I did that?” I didn’t just finish a book. I am back to finishing them every few days. It is killer. Kid A and her separation anxiety/brat on the bus issues have forced me to pick her up from school every day rather than riding the bus. No big deal, EXCEPT, these crazy people start lining up at 2:30 for a 3:30 pick up. Really?!?!? Kid A quickly began to freak out when my group consistency sucked. One day she might be in the second group of twelve names called and the next she might be in the fourth group. That really fucked with her…so I am now lining up at the same time every day….2:45. That is the cusp. At 2:48 you drop from group two to at least group four as parents seem to arrive en masse. You know – the mid-level insanity parents. I wish I could be like my friend The SpermCleaner because she too lives about two minutes (an actual 120 seconds) from the school and she gets to leave her house at 3:25 and just be in the last few groups. Her kid isn’t Scarlett O’Hara. Buuuuut…man pick up line gives good book. |
Day 19 Prompt: Creation Saturday! Write about a time where the end of something has led to the beginning of something else. Sooooooooooooo……are you fucking kidding me? Nothing ever ends. EVER. The questions keep on coming all day and all night. The drama and the whining – it is everlasting (including my own). I swear my laundry does the forbidden dance with my dishes and they multiply like bunnies. Husband A’s shortfalls are ever growing – definitely no end in sight. School schedules are piling on top of each other. Society’s short minded garbage is infinite. Hatred, discrimination, and selfishness will go on forever. Stories, ideas, and bullshit live on. Hey – remember this song: [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] P.S. Lamb chop is the mother fucking shit. Nothing ever begins either. It is all a continuation of something that came before. Do you ever do anything – ANYTHING – borne from utterly new motivation? And even if you can say yes – bullshit! You taint that shit with the baggage you carry around filled with continuations of things that came before. I don’t even want to make a funny thing about this prompt. At first I was going to write a little poem about where one dick ends another one begins. But my feathers are ruffled by a great many things today. A great many. And right now there is a child that doesn’t belong to me spending the night at my house. And man – if that doesn’t feel like it will never end…… I suppose I can go with….the end of all common sense has brought about the end. It applies to me, to the world….that shit just applies. This is why I can’t let this weekend pass without commenting on my favorite county clerk and her sneaky little kindergarten plan. I can’t because it is not simply fodder for the masses while other things happen. And anyway, it just doesn’t really matter if it is meant to distract us from something the government is currently doing. IT JUST DOESN’T MATTER. Did we say that about civil rights? About suffragettes? Grow up – even if they are trying to distract us from them sending billions of dollars more to fight a misguided war – they are also trying to promote a theocracy. They are also trying to stomp out a fight for rights that is not government produced propaganda. (not to mention....Rosie the Riveter. Propaganda on its own is not bad….) In my part of the world this is so far from a distraction. This is life. In my little hole, the town IS a theocracy. This does not work. It is exclusive in nature and while religious people can push platitudes of inclusion out of their asses all day long, it’s called walking the walk, and they just can’t seem to make their asses do that part. What IS propaganda IS the scripture. Our rights do not depend on what you feel in your heart. Our rights are not dependent on “the correct” interpretation of the scripture. I can interpret Charles Dickens any way I choose as well. Hmmmm. Ebenezer Scrooge would like me to take away your money. It is written….ohhhh not those expectations huh? You do not get to use your favorite novel to force anyone to do anything. Not to mention, spreading falsities in order to promote your own agenda????? Why doesn’t she just fly above dropping some Nazi posters while she is at? Because clearly humanity has not evolved and the comparisons are most certainly still relevant. She has made a mistake. Or those who are prompting her have. She is not being forced to do her job against God’s will. No one is forcing her. No one. Instead she has chosen to use this as a platform to further an agenda formed in the small minds of those who choose to believe in the small mindedness of a few others. She is not putting out a call to arms for those who want to uphold God’s will to join her in the fight against all those homosexuals who are sneaking into our homes at night and diddling our beans…NO…she is instead putting out a call to arms for those of us who want her to be shown that her choice was the wrong choice. Not her choice to believe in god. Though I could argue that as a wrong choice all day long. But her choice to use her faith as a way to gain. Her choice to whine incessantly about her life choices, and to do it publicly. Because the world loves a shitty fucking religious whiner. There are nonspecific passages in the bible that do not support her stance. There are specific passages in the bible that do not support her stance. There are both generic and specific passages in the bible that do not support her LIFESTYLE. And as generic as it sounds….based on her history we can safely ask… who the fuck is she to determine the quality or validity of a marriage? It sounds cliché and generic because it is overused. It is overused because it NEVER STOPS BEING TRUE. The rest of the religious people whose pussies are dripping with tears right now because I am lumping all Christians together in a big bowl of shit…. Too fucking bad. You know that old quote about the company you keep? About how you are the same as you accept? Well you claim her – you get her. And YES you do claim her. You love all Christians right? You still call yourself a Christian do you not? Did her disgusting use of your scripture turn you from your path? Nope. It’s the same fucking path she walks, whether you like it or not. We all have jerks on our paths…stop trying to disown yours. To take the time to plan and execute interference at this level shows selfishness, not concern for the immortal soul of homosexuals. It shows defiance against those who fucking pay her seven times the average salary for her county. It shows disregard for the same laws and courts that protect her fucking religious ass when she is the one feeling persecuted. How about if people decide to stop doing that? I hate your disgusting bigot ass so I will not represent you in court. I hate the fucking nasty vile shit you spit in the name of your lord so I don’t think I will allow you to vote. Even better – I disagree with you and your beliefs so….NO DIVORCE FOR YOU. I will not deny that it is getting old. I will not deny that we hear about it a lot. We passed a mother fucking law in my state last year that would have allowed this type of behavior on every level of societal interaction. When we stop doing bullshitty things like that THEN and only THEN can we stop talking about it. Silence is compliance and being tired of it doesn’t make it go away. So other people can stop bringing it up. Other people can be so tired of it that they decide it has little to no importance to them. Other people can leave the fight for equality to other people. But not this bitch. Not ever. And honestly – if you are any color other than white, if you are anything other than Christian, if you are a mother fucking woman – then you should be ashamed of yourself for not fighting a fight others fought for you. |
Day 18 Prompt:Fun Fact Friday! On this day in 1709, the creator of the first dictionary of the English language, Samuel Johnson, was born in England. Have some fun...make up a couple of words and their meanings. So the half of me that would leave Husband A for Etymology fought a battle with the part of me that becomes demonic when established vocabulary is fucked with. So I compromised with myself and used parts of real words and their definitions to make my words. With some added liberty taken by me in the translations…artistic flair and what not. I mean….doesn’t your keyboard ever get jazz hands??? Currutopie (derived from French and Latin) – to run to something infinitely better Croipian (Irish) – utter annihilation by love (I can candidly say that – the next one that came to my cerebrum also began with a “C” and I don’t care for that coincidental crap.) I realized the other day that I recently complained about how giving things their rightful title is the absolute worst fucking part of writing anything. That’s one of my favorite parts of this blog. Not because they are great titles or anything, but because they catalog each entry away in my mind. Jeez. Remember the little blue Hypocrite SL? I drove her to the site today. So because of that… Chibre (derived from French and Irish) – to hypocrite all over the place. (Whoa. Are you shitting me? I just left the page for a few minutes to do something else and thought to myself….did that third one start with a “C”? Yes of course it did. That sucks.) |
Day 17 Prompt: How'd it get this late so early? How'd it get this late so early? I'm dreaming while awake, Things are as easy as pie, but nothing takes the cake. Now guys are drippy pussies and girls are big dicks, There's nothing broken but let's give it a fix. The label says red but yet it colors all green, Completely satisfied we all begin to fiend. With our eyes closed tight things are crystal clear, Screaming out whispers and smiles producing tears. My phone starts ringing and so I type hello, Trapped in a prison with all kinds of places to go. Ears constantly buzzing with a silent song, Ahhh, but how time flies as I drag along. |
Day 16 Prompt: From a humorous perspective, what is the worst thing parents can do to their children? Ahhh. A prompt that fits in with my day. That doesn’t happen too often since there are not a ton of prompts about assholes at Walmart and Target, guys who whine like girls, or my kids. So, a letter to one of my two semi-friends…. Dear World’s Smartest Girl, I really think you are doing a bang up job raising your little girl. I strive to do as well as you. Some of the things that really inspire me are: I love the way you teach her the limits of equality. The worst thing you could ever do is teach that little girl that every other first grader in her class is equal to her and everyone else. Stay away from that side of the arena for sure. Definitely keep telling her things like, “you can be friends with the black boy but DO NOT EVER think he will be your boyfriend!” That is some rocking parenting right there. Thank god you are so paranoid. The worst thing you could do is let her have an ounce of freedom. You have to pull that leash tight because if you let her swim, ride rides, eat, watch television, listen to music, use a computer, or go in a store then that bitch will clearly die. I am so glad you make it clear to her that she can only continue to be a strong woman by yelling and physically assaulting everyone. Really drive that shit into her head. The worst thing you could do is SHOW her you are NOT a poor female who, helpless without her man, speaks her words loudly rather than speaking loudly with her words. The problem solving skills you teach her to practice are top notch. Top notch. The worst thing you could do would be to help her learn that there are certain levels of social issues that are to be dealt with on a personal level. Definitely keep going with the whole…your personal issues are to be dealt with on a social level line of thought cuz we all love tattle tales. And most of all, I am so thankful your husband will not allow her hair to be cut no matter how many tears that little inconsiderate taker sheds. I mean, COME ON, the absolute worst thing you could do would be to cut her hair…that’s where we store all our estrogen and feminine wiles. Shit, if it wasn't for your example Kid A would be a little girl with friends, who in fact has seen the current kids shows, knows who One Direction is, has ridden the swings at the fair, keeps her hands to herself, rejects discrimination in all of it's forms, can brush shit off, knows her mother is strong and capable, and most importantly doesn't float to the center of the pool at birthday parties and then make noises like Sloth from the Goonies. Love, skeason |
| I would like to throw a whiny little bitch party for myself and complain about some first world problem type shit for a moment. I would also like to be petty, childish, and all other manner of things I excel at. I have written about The World’s Smartest Girl before. She is my friend. I guess. Not exactly. She needs a mom and I have a good 12 years on her so she wants me to fill that role. I hardly want to mother my own offspring let alone this girl…who incidentally would be totally fucking different if I was her mother. But her kid is Kid A’s friend and she is the type of mom who will try to punish me by using her kid to punish my kid. And as the better person, I will not allow her to do that to Kid A. Anyway. She is the type of friend who says shit like, “I am always there for my friends.” And “I am the type of person who likes to know you made it home okay.” (okay, okay, when she says it the grammar is nonexistent and the spelling is indecipherable but you get the point.) But she is also the type of friend who really only asks you for things. Really only wants to talk to you when you can offer her something. Those people latch onto me because I am the one who does everything for anyone. Now I know that sounds completely other side of the world from my attitude…and it really is. But, I do anything for anyone because I benefit. I don’t do things for people out of the kindness of my heart, I don’t do it because I love you, I don’t do it because I am empathetic, caring, and kind. If I do something for you, I get something out of it. It doesn’t have to be clear to you…but it is always there. So after the Maleficent cake debacle a good three to three and a half weeks passed before she really contacted me again. I know she was waiting for me to text her with some small talk nonsense, but I don’t really do that, so weeks passed. Then suddenly she texts me and wants me to do her homework. Really?! I am a 36 year old grown up. You are a 25 year old grown up. Are you seriously asking someone else to do your homework? Ha ha ha. That alone cracks me up. I spent the entirety of my high school and college career writing papers for drug money. It was glorious. I am superb at writing papers. I enjoy … well…it gets me off to be told what to write and then smash the shit out of it. So I was flush in substances. That part of me has been dying to wave its dick around for a while. For quite a while. I did it for my sister when she was still in school but I was not, and then I did it for my grandpa’s nurse for a bit. But all of that was at least ten years ago. She held out a treat and the cheater in me wanted to bite her hand. So I said sure. I even said I would do it for free. The paper was about political ideologies. It wasn’t a paper really, it was a personal essay. It was supposed to be about her personal political ideology. The assignment started, “By now you know all about political ideologies. Let’s talk about your personal political ideology.” She didn’t know what a political ideology was. She didn’t know if she was conservative or liberal because I had to define those words for her. She didn’t know if she was Republican or Democrat because she doesn’t know what each one wants. Now I already know these things about her. I can answer these questions for her. She is a no bones about it conservative ass redneck. But I wanted her to be uncomfortable with…no…I wanted her to be uncomfortable IN my knowledge. So I asked anyway. I defined and asked again. Finally I told her what she was. She says, “I guess.” So we go through a list of questions made to determine what party you fall in line with. For this conversation I define (among others), Obamacare, affirmative action, LGBTQ, military spending…..and minority. Fucking minority. I defined that word for this 25 year old girl. What the fuck? Where in the fuck did this girl go to school? She says she doesn’t know if she is for affirmative action or not because she doesn’t know what it is. I say some standard definition. She says I don’t know. I then repeat the standard definition in the form of a question (otherwise you lose your points over the commercial break) and she says, “Well what’s a minority? Someone with less money or what?” Please. At this point it’s over. I’m done with this bitch. She is on the opposite end of the spectrum than I am politically and it is hard enough to explain this shit to her without bias, let alone have to define my definitions. So I say okay. I whip it out real quick because it is only 2 pages double spaced with citations, and then I wait. It was due the day before she asked me to do it apparently but her professor gave her a 24 hour extension. It was due at midnight that night. I left the title page blank because that is the fucking worst part of writing anything (ANYTHING) and I am not going to do it for free, and then sent her a paper that her professor would know she could never ever have written, and sent it at 10:45 pm. Husband A joked that the giveaway would be that she would title it, “Me Republican”. The next day she texted to say thank you and said that she changed some stuff. I was instantly angry. Insulted. I mean…who asks you to do their homework then finds the time to fucking change it? Shut up. Then she tells me that she will let me know what grade I got. Excuse the fuck out of me???? So I answer as nicely as I can. “If you changed what I wrote, then the grade you get will be for your train wreck.” She replies that all she changed was the part where I put NAME. She put in her own name. I want to kill this girl. I want to kill her. The Marquis de skeason over here, I need her in my life, parts of me apparently need to feed on her.
Day 15 Prompt: Talk Tuesday! How do you get yourself mentally ready to write a blog entry? Do you have any tips or methods you'd like to share that help you get prepared? Man, after I find the virgin, there is all that washing and anointing to do. Usually by the time the sink water runs red I have a fully formed entry in my mind. Really though, this challenge is killing me. Finding one every day…times are tough and virgins aren’t cheap. Plus everything we own smells like incense and Kid B colored on the altar…The Law of Burnt Offerings is really leaving me fried. I read the prompt the night before and then I just think about it. I form a …sort of entry... it has a foundation that usually always stands, but the walls get subconsciously ripped down and rebuilt many times. Almost all things decided on between reading the prompt and writing it approximately 11 hours later get tossed aside. Some become other entries and some never see the light of a computer screen. Sometimes I sit down to write and build an entire new foundation based on the profit/loss margin for the one I let spring up on its own after seeing the prompt. I go with the flow. Something I find quite impossible in all other aspects of life. I’d rather direct the flow. But that isn’t how writing works. That shit directs you…it is supposed to. I would hate it if it didn’t. Oh and I got the best fucking descriptor of myself ever in a review today. AMAZING. Killer. Best thing ever said about me. It was this: “It was like there was this orc with edges and spines and I found her in the corner doing fine crochet.” HELLO!!!!! Be still my heart Dr. D  for it need not beat more. |
Day 14 Prompt: Music Monday! How do you feel about politicians using music in their campaigns? Ear-catching strategy, or shameless pandering? I guess I don’t really care. If a candidate’s hype song influences your political decisions, then I feel sorry for you. The lights dim, and quiet music can be heard. “Jesus, Take the Wheel” begins to play and the whitest man you’ve ever seen enters the arena. “Now shooting his way into the red corner, weighing in heavy with the weight of God’s love, carrying an impressive record of vagina hatred, and ready to deport your ass…..it’s THE ONE PERCENTER.” The spotlight swings to the opposite side of the arena. “Players Anthem” begins to play and a cleaned up hippie enters, dripping from his bleeding heart. “Now pimp limping his way into the blue corner, light from the hunger of the world’s children, sporting a record of wish-washy flip flopism, and ready to abort a child….it’s THE PSEUDO-SOCIALIST.” If I am being totally honest – I didn’t realize candidates had songs… it has become hard enough to listen to the bullshit that comes out of their mouths, let alone their iPods. |
Day 13 Prompt: The Sunday News! This week, cellular company Verizon announced plans to start testing an ultra-fast 5G network sometime in the next year. This network will be designed to handle more internet-connected devices, and will allow for such luxuries like the ability to download a 3-D movie in six seconds. My question: How much to we really need our cell phones to do, now or in 2017 (the target US nationwide rollout date)? Does anyone even use their phone to actually make and take calls anymore? What doesn't your phone do that you wish it would? So let's just begin by saying I fell asleep last night while POSTING. Not while writing the entry - while POSTING. What the fuck? That's some bullshit. These technology questions are awful. I absolutely do not think we need the ability to download a 3D movie in six seconds TO OUR PHONES. No! I hate people who are always on their phones. Hate them. If you are always on your phone I bear a little hatred toward you. I am currently on week 11 day 4 of what began as a ‘no cell phone service for 2 weeks’ experiment. People around me are astounded…which I am more than certain in the main motivation behind taking it further. There have been individual instances where I was frustrated with having no phone. Once Kid A and I were lost. But not really because I had no phone – because we had left the directions on the couch at home. And really that is all I can remember. I can remember two or four other times I thought…If I only had my fucking phone…but not why so clearly they were not that big of a deal. I am a texter. If someone gets my phone number they are also made aware that I will not answer if they call. I will not listen to their voice mails. They can call and I will not ever answer but will answer the text they immediately send. Do not call me. Don’t do it. If you want to talk to me there are methods…that is just not one of them. But, you can text for free if connected to the wifi. So the two people in my life that I do stay in contact with …well I haven’t actually had to break contact. I still carry the phone and if I truly need to text someone I just hop on the nearest wifi. Still, it is NOT easy to not just text all day long…I mean not everywhere is a fucking hotspot (and not everywhere should be). But having this opinion about other people and their cell phones is a slippery slope with me. Do I think we need portable technology to be so prevalent? Not really. But I utilize fully every technological advance there is in my home and on my other devices…I DO want it. I don’t need it. I would be okay without it (after a setback of unrestrained fury), but that isn’t what I want. So basically, while I want to be glued to my computer…I don’t want other people to be glued to their phones. And I say this as I sit in the waiting room at dance class on my laptop. Signed in to their wifi, ignoring anyone else in the room. Not that I do, or even want to, know these people. Maybe they are nice, maybe they are not – I don’t care. |
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