Category Archives: Relationships

RIP Daily Post

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I had a sad this morning to read that the Daily Post is going to disappear after this month. No more prompt words for poasts or photo bloggery, boohoo. I was late to the game, but I really enjoyed it when I participated, and I found lots of cool new blogs via the links. The site won’t go down, so we can still poke around and grab old prompts (which I’ve done on occasion anyway), but it’s not the same.

Disappear makes me think of ghosting, the trendy new word for dumping someone sans explanation. I have a novel in progress titled Ghosted, which is a complicated version of this concept, and it takes place over a few decades, involving the mafia, DNA testing, and a trip to Aruba (ear worm alert!). If you think I can’t conjure up a trip to Aruba out of my imagination, complete with a rock & roll band and mafia hit men, when I know nothing about any of that, then you don’t really know me at all, do ya? DO YA?

Of course it’s not totally out of my imagination ~ I do a whole lot of googling. They use me, I use them. We have a very symbiotic relationship.

But in order to get to that novel, I first have to finish my book of connected long short stories that I’ve been working on forever and a day. Got distracted with stuff and things. Life happens when you’re making otter plans.

Point is, I will miss the Daily Post. So long, and thanks for all the fish.

~*~

The Daily Prompt: Disappear

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No Jokes Allowed

Twitterblock

I felt awkward all day from something that happened on Twitter early this morning, wherein I got blocked by another poet and didn’t know why ~ had I committed a weird poetic faux pas by retweeting with a joke, must we always be serious when replying to a fellow poet, what, what? ~ but there was nothing I could do about it until I got home from work. Once home, I logged into my other account (yes, I still have one for Anna) and tried to see what was going on. Stalker alert!

Apparently this particular poet haz a sad because he isn’t getting the numbers he thinks he deserves from his heartfelt poetic tweets (I have liked bunches of his stuff), while silly tweeps rack up hundreds and thousands of hearts and retweets. I totally get it. Don’t I also complain regularly about this issue in one way or another? This morning, he had written a line about how we aren’t alone in our madness, and I retweeted it with a lighthearted comment (“that’s what I was afraid of”), nothing mean or negative, but he clearly got so irritated he threw me out of his tworld forever. I see now that he isn’t one to joke around at all, but I did not know this about him earlier. Oh well.

Thing is, I can’t really bitch about what happened or say he was unfair. Why not? Cuz I do the exact same thing and will continue to do it. That’s one of the good/bad elements of interacting online ~ you can make snap judgments, act on them, and just be done. I have blocked a zillion people on Twitter for their annoying/horrifying political stances and it’s a relief not to deal with them further. In real life, interactions are more nuanced. You often have to accept the complicated mishmash of a person in order to have any kind of relationship or friendship at all.

But on Twitter? Pffft. Just block them. Easy peasy. Block Nazis. Block hookers. Block poets who make jokes. All annoying people into the oubliette!

~*~

The Daily Prompt: Awkward

My Kitty’s Pedigree

Love

He’s got soft furs from a baby lamb–
Some white as snow from northern lands–
While the rest are grey like a thundercloud,
And his meow is really really LOUD!
His claws are sharp as thorns on a rose,
But his paws are pink and so’s his nose;
He has sweet gold eyes in a cute lil face,
And his brain floated in from outer space.
He’s kind of a nutball, which suits me fine:
Craziness swims in both our bloodlines.
But I love him and he loves me,
Which makes the purrfect pet-agree!

~*~

The Daily Prompt: Pedigree

If You Don’t Got It, Flaunt It

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I’m going to indulge in a bit of neenerism for a moment and flaunt my “single and not looking” status. Why? Because lately I see so much drama both online and off regarding relationships and dating that it makes me extra double super duper glad with sprinkles on top that I’ve been staying uninvolved. Not to mention that the older you get, the more difficult it is to mesh with anyone in a romantic context.

When you’re young and you meet someone 180 from you, you’re all like, ooh cool, he’s different and interesting, yeah I want to learn about his culture, eat new foods, travel to new lands, adapt to a new philosophy, yada. But when you’re old and you meet someone who goes to sleep a half hour later than you do, you’re like, whoa whoa whoa, this will never work, bye now.

I mixed up flout and flaunt many decades ago, and someone gave me a helpful reminder: She flouted the rules and flaunted her boobs.

I haven’t forgotten since.

~*~

The Daily Prompt: Flaunt

Don’t Believe Everything You Read

Especially here. Remember back in the day when I was jabbering on about how much I lurve That Girl? Like last week? Well, I’ve changed my mind. Sunday I wrote a bunch in the morning and then took a little break, which turned into a 12-hour TG binge. At first, I still enjoyed the eps, especially the ones with guest stars, such as “Compudate,” which featured Rich Little doing impressions. I adore him and lost respect for Ann when she didn’t dump Don for Rich. Wtf? Ridiculous. Don’s a total bore. The more I watched the more convinced of this I became. What did she even see in him? He is totally dull. The British photog dude is also way more fun than Don, but nope. I guess it must be this opposites thing ~ sparkling butterfly needs a lump of mashed potatoes for a partner so she can make sure she’s always the center of attention. If she had gone with Rich, he might have grabbed some of the spotlight for himself. That’s fine for her, but what about us, the audience? After almost two full seasons, I’m really tired of Mr. Boring.

But that’s not even the main thing. There’s something about TG that’s really started to bug me. Several somethings.

1. The show takes place in NYC and everyone is white. There’s nothing but white people everywhere. White people celebrating generic white Christian holidays. No matter where Ann goes in the city, she never encounters anyone or anything but this. Amazing!

2. The city is freakishly clean.

3. Ann wants a career and left her small town to be independent, which seemed refreshing at first, but it’s not this way at all. She’s still emotionally yoked to her parents 24/7, especially to her father, and she calls him Daddy constantly, which is as irritating as her “Oh Donalds.” Daddy pops into her apartment whenever because he has “business in the city,” though he’s allegedly running a restaurant two hours away in the small town, and he has zero respect for her privacy. Ann is obsessed with his opinion regarding everything she does, whether it’s cooking a turkey or wearing dangling earrings, and it’s disgusting.

4. I’ve seen several eps now where Ann gets into dicey situations involving some creepy older man coming onto her and she wriggles out of it with her silly, spunky personality. If at any point she is actually physically touched, the scene is interrupted by Mr. Boring lumping in. Even when Don punches some otter guy in the face, he manages to be dull about it and hurt his widdle paw. The point is, nothing bad ever really happens to Ann, since she’s a “good girl.” This is the message we always have received.

5. Even worse, both Donald and Ann say “terrific” every freaking minute and it drives me up the wall. Of all the things, this started to turn me off the most Sunday night until I began dreading any positive announcement, since it would always be followed up with the inevitable. Why didn’t anyone buy these writers a thesaurus?!

Yes, I praised the writers earlier, so I’m blaming them now. Live by, die by. Goodbye, That Girl.

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Of course I realize this was back then ~ I don’t care. I’m criticizing it now anyway, just like I did IDOJ.

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Rush: A Dating Story

My college boyfriend loved Rush. I mean, he loved them. I’d never even heard of Rush until I went to college, since I lived such a sheltered life in Chicago. But then again I was still listening to Diana Ross, Neil Diamond, and Gordon Lightfoot in 1979. I tried to like Rush back then, because that was the kind of girlfriend I was ~ I’m not like that now, which might be why I don’t have a boyfriend these days. I really hated Rush though. I hated the music and I hated the voices. I never could even understand wtf they were screeching until I read the lyrics. Pretty sure CB did not care if I liked them or not. He existed in a selfish bubble, as you would expect of a guy in his late teens. Not that he was a bad person or anything. We didn’t have a whole lot in common but we did have some good times with movies and games and such, and we had similar values.

I dropped out of the University of Illinois (finished my degree later at CSUN), but kept dating CB, long-distance and during his vacations from school, for a couple years. Why, you ask. Who knows, I reply. Looking back, it seems strange. Writing snail-mail letters and yapping on the phone for hours about nothing. Visiting during his free time when both of us could have been meeting new people. We didn’t even have much fun together after the shared college experience was over. It wasn’t terrible or anything, but it wasn’t great either. Finally, I broke up with him using the “drifted apart” reason. He wrote a nice letter back saying goodbye.

I google him periodically ~ he seems to have stayed single as far as I can tell. Most if not all of my exes are single now, as I am. I find that interesting. The men I attempted to form serious long-term relationships with also failed to create/maintain serious long-term relationships with anyone else. Of course that doesn’t preclude the possibility that any one of us could meet someone tomorrow and be with them for the rest of our lives. You never know.

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~*~

The Daily Prompt: Rush

App Gap

Ever since I deleted Facebook, Instagram, and Messenger from my phone last week I’ve had an “app gap.” What I mean is that I had two screens of 16 phone apps each, 4×4, all filled in, and now there are two missing from the bottom right of the last screen. I know you can all math, so yes I did “unbundle” my fitness apps or else there would be three missing. I also know you are all laughing at the idea that I have fitness apps. SHUT UP! I am planning on fitnessing at some point, and if that day ever comes, those apps will come in handy.

Initially I thought, hmm, I could d/l some innocuous apps I wouldn’t use much, like solo chess and another boring game, but that sort of defeats the purpose, doesn’t it? My idea is to spend less time involved in distractions from my projects. Without FB, maybe solo chess would suddenly become exciting. You just never know.

Then I had an epiphany. The adorable photo of Gatsby I use for my home screen had been pretty well covered up by my 4×4 app grid, but the two missing apps on the second screen reveal his beautiful golden eye and sweet little pink nose. Plus they remind me how I’m not wasting oodles of time on FB and Messenger meow. Win win! Embrace the gap! (You had no idea how OCD I really was, didja?)

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On a related unrelated note, I stumbled across this article a few days ago (I have a lot more time to actually read the news now, go figure). The advice was written for men by a woman (or someone with a female ‘nym) and says to delete all your dating site apps because they are rigged, not fun, and a waste of time. I agree with this advice 100%, despite being a woman and allegedly having so many more opportunities than men on the sites. Maybe if I were 35 I wouldn’t say “allegedly,” but I’m not, so I am saying it.

If dating were a “numbers game”—if exposure to more people meant dating more people—then people would just go to the nearest concert venue, introduce themselves to as many people as they can, and magically end up with a date. — Sophia Benoit, GQ

Yes, some people have managed to beat the odds and find someone via a dating site blah blah blah. So what? Some people also win the lottery. That doesn’t mean buying a lottery ticket, or 100 of them, is a good use of your time/money/energy.

DELETE ALL THE THINGS! Or don’t, wev. But I wrote four crappy pomes this week for my book of crappy pomes instead of BSing on the Book of Face, and I am feeling gosh-darned great about that.

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The Ghostess with the Mostess

People get the feels when you announce that you’re about to flounce from the Book of Face. I don’t remember having emotional reactions when others exited ~ I told them to stay in touch via email or text, and we did, or not, and that was that. I’ve grouped the reactions to my declaration into broad categories.

1. Sarcastic. You’re surprised capitalist pig is pig? Bwahahaha.

2. Resigned. Everything is hopeless. Might as well do nothing about anything.

3. Paranoid. Your data will never be deleted. THEY will keep it for your inquisition.

4. Hostile. Well, I love Facebook! It’s the best! Photos! Events! Woo hoo! You suck!

5. Sympathetic. I understand. This is a huge shock. But why not just deactivate?

6. Empathetic. Oh, me too! I want to delete. Fabulous idea! Soon. Yeah…

7. Friendly. Sending you an email. Following your blog. Wanna keep in touch!

8. Unrequited. Haven’t I been good to you, what about that brand new ring, doesn’t that mean love to you, doesn’t that mean anything… don’t pull your love out on me baby…

Hehe. I have been getting a bunch of unexpected sevens, which pleases me, along with peeps promising to blog moar, hurrah. It’s nice to chat one on one with friends, rather than exchanging only drive-by witticisms in a group, which are like cotton candy at the fair, pretty and sweet, but insubstantial and ultimately unfulfilling. I’m a little bit surprised at a significant percentage of people, in overlapping categories, who have written my obit. Apparently if I’m not on FB, I’m dead, disappeared, a non-person, invisible, a ghost. O rly?

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~*~

The Daily Prompt: Invisible

Wherein I Nag Peeps to Blog

I’ve been on social media a looooong time. Found my niche, so to speak, early on with a pack of feral writers on Usenet, and we’ve been hanging around together on the various media as they wax and wane in popularity. We tried Twitter, but the 140 character limit was too stifling. Most of us have Twitter accounts, but it’s not our preferred way to communicate, since we like to talk… well, argue mostly, and we do go on and on and on. Many of us jumped into the blogging craze, but for whatever reason most dropped out of that, which I don’t understand. You would think that writers and blogs would go together like macaroni and cheeeese! Have I mentioned lately that not only do I love blogging, but I highly recommend it? I really do, from the bottom of my ice-cold heart. Then there were a bunch of rando express trains we hopped on as they arrived at the communication station over the years, but it turned out they all had the same destination: Boringville.

Except Facebook. We’ve all been on FB forever it seems. I closed my account in 2010, but ultimately returned with a new one within a year. I missed my peeps, and you know when friends say they’ll stay in touch via email and such they may have the best intentions, but… it simply does not happen. People are too busy for emailing, too busy for phone calls (plus many of us do not like phone calls ~ I am one), and you just lose touch. It’s not the same to see a few pics on Instagram or a tweet here and there. Facebook is how so many of us learn what’s going on with friends and family, unless you actually see people in meatspace or have a regular texting relationship. I have those, but not with hundreds of FB friends, just a few close ones, and my daughters of course.

But the Book of Face is all screwed up now with the latest data selling horror story. Will it survive? Who knows. It seems “too big to fail,” but that doesn’t mean it won’t. People are making noises about leaving, but we hear this every time something bad is in the news about breaches of privacy and whatnot. Yes, it feels different this time, worse, but even so. Hard to imagine a world without Facebook. But just because it’s hard to imagine doesn’t mean it can’t happen. We could all wake up one day to find a message saying the whole thing is down. OMG! And that could continue, day after day. What would people do? Watch TV, read books, ride bikes? The possibilities are literally endless.

Here’s one thing they could do, and in fact they could do it now, as insurance: BLOG! No, I am not getting paid to promote blogging, though I should be (pay me, WordPress); I just think it’s a Good Thing. Set up a blog, easy peasy, and start writing. If you don’t know what to write about, no worries, you can poast photos and memes and links to news stories in the headlines that everyone else sees same as you, like you do every day on Facebook (eyeroll), until you feel inspired to write an essay. But you might think about adding some original writing to your photo/meme/link. Hey what? Write a sentence or two about what YOU are thinking or feeling when you poast the link to that news story. Give your opinion. After a while, you won’t need a link and you can simply write an op-ed yourself. Like what I’m doing here. You won’t need links to validate your thoughts. Just jabber on and on and on like a Real Writer, wheeeeee!

After you blog, visit other blogs, like poasts, and comment. Follow. Then you’ll receive likes, comments, and follows. Soon there will be familiar avatars, topics, and interesting discussions. If you get a troll or someone otherwise unpleasant, block. Or engage, if that’s your preference.

If you already have a blog, then why aren’t you blogging? Hmmmm? Because you’re spending all day on FB, amirite? Best get to reviving that blog before FB goes poof. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya!

If not now, when? Get a free blog before they’re all gone. Hurry!

And FFS, don’t forget the most important thing: follow me so my count goes up. 🙂

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Number Jumbo

Some of my friends have been discussing aging, the number itself as opposed to general health. In the past, I was more concerned with the actual number ~ a couple birthdays provoked strong reactions. My 45th was particularly upsetting, although I kept those feelings mainly to myself as they had to do with my disintegrating marriage and there was no one I could talk to about it at the time. My parents always tried to be emotionally supportive and I chatted with them a little, but they were of the generation that believed in staying together no matter what (as they did themselves) and that was not the best path for me. My 50th was stressful as well: I thought I was simply physically ill, but I understand now that it was partly psychological too. My divorce was in progress, though tense, and I was in a highly toxic new relationship. Not a good combo.

Then from October 2011 through 2016 , I had to be concerned with age. Why? Because I was on dating sites. There’s no way not to be obsessed with age if you’re “dating while older.” Most DWO men are obsessed with age, a huge percentage of them desiring much younger women while simultaneously lying about their own age, along with whatever else. (If you’re not one of these guys, great!) It’s really difficult to keep a positive attitude when chatting with the next one who comes along. Even if you stroll onto a site perfectly okay with yourself, your age, looks, education, occupation, personality, et cetera, it takes a really strong, confident woman to maintain that mindset in the face of relentless rejection, criticism, gaslighting, trolling, and the general assholishness of men online. I can’t believe I put myself through that BS for five years.

(Remember, if you’re a non-asshole guy, wonderful! No need to tilt against windmills in my comments. I know there are some of you.)

I spent last year detoxing from dating sites. As an added bonus I no longer stress about age, or spend money trying to look younger. Feh! I just realized this today when some friends mentioned their inner 25 year olds. I told my inner 25 year old to hit the road a while ago. Good riddance, silly girl! I’m almost 57 and that’s a perfectly fine age to be. I’m enjoying it very much, thank you. (Well, not the achiness, but you can’t have everything.)

It’s nice to engage in convos with friends about aging sans the anxiety the topic used to provoke. There are enough stressful subjects otterwise. Like did you know housecats would totally murder you if they were just a bit larger? Oh yes!

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~*~

The Daily Prompt: Provoke