Nothing, Your Fave Topic

I like today’s prompt word awkward because it looks awkward and sounds awkward. Why the heck would anyone decide to spell a word with a “wkw” series of letters except to stumble drunkenly into the ward of awk where everyone has their hospital gowns on backwards. You really don’t know where to look. Awkward!

I used to feel awkward in social settings, but I got over that with age. It’s important to remember that you’re not really that important to most other people. This isn’t meant to crush anyone’s delicate ego; it’s simply a reminder that others are focused on themselves and their own issues, not your minor imperfections. Um except for that one psychopath there… he’s homing in on you and how to use your insecurities against you. 😱

Speaking of ego, I’ve been called arrogant and insecure, since people just can’t figure me out. I’m a mystery wrapped in a riddle, covered in a crunchy shell. My arrogance might be masking my insecurity or vice versa… or maybe people are wrong. It has been known to happen, especially on the internet.

Last night my friend and I went to a dessert shop in Costa Mesa that specializes in malasadas, which seem to be some sort of specialty filled donut, but they were out, so we had ice cream, which was delish. There’s a message on Fill’s website saying sorry that they keep running out of malasadas (my phone keeps trying to change this to maladaptive). Now, here’s the thing: I didn’t even care that much about these gourmet pastries until it turns out I can’t haz one. Now, I’m tempted to call in an order. This is psychology at work, folks. Human and otherwise. Just ask my cat when I take away a pen.

But I would feel awkward buying two dozen of these donut whatsits without even knowing if they are indeed super nom and taking them to a party or whatever. What if my friends didn’t appreciate them? My ego couldn’t take such rejection.

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Song Lyrics Sunday: Speak

This is one of my favorite love songs. Way back when, with my ex, I requested it at a piano bar up in San Francisco and, maybe because I’d had a few drinks, the waiter misunderstood me. Finally, the piano player came over and apologized for not knowing “Disguise in Love.” We had a good laugh and then he played my song.

“This Guy’s in Love with You”

You see this guy
This guy’s in love with you
Yes, I’m in love
Who looks at you the way I do
When you smile I can tell
We know each other very well
How can I show you
I’m glad I got to know you, ’cause

I’ve heard some talk
They say you think I’m fine
Yeah, I’m in love
And what I’d do to make you mine
Tell me now, is it so?
Don’t let me be the last to know
My hands are shaking
Don’t let my heart keep breaking, ’cause

I need your love
I want your love
Say you’re in love
In love with this guy
If not, I’ll just die

Tell me now, is it so?
Don’t let me be the last to know
My hands are shaking
Don’t let my heart keep breaking, ’cause

I need your love
I want your love
Say you’re in love
In love with this guy
If not, I’ll just die

Songwriters: Burt F. Bacharach / Hal David

This Guy’s in Love With You lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

There are many great versions of this song… here’s a cheesy vid for Herb Alpert’s 1968 original. Don’t we all dream about wearing miniskirts while climbing over slippery rocks with our soul mates and then ruining our long gowns in the ocean at sunset? So romantic!

Generational Complaint

This isn’t based in logic, just custom and preference, but it grates on my nerves when I say thank you and am given back a “no problem.”

Argh!

I grew up with the please-thank you-you’re welcome mantra, and anything else simply sounds wrong. It especially sounds wrong in a professional or service capacity. It’s one thing for someone to say a casual “no problem” when I thank him for handing me a card in a game, but quite another for a waiter to say it when he brings my iced tea. I feel the percentage of the tip dropping in my head.

What’s funny is that I’ll go a long time without hearing this irritating response, and then suddenly it’s everywhere again for a while.

Regarding Writer’s Block

Dusty commented about WB in my last poast. It’s true that I can’t seem to sit down and force myself to write the things I believe I “should” write, such as the next short story in my epic collection of long connected stories, or even finish one of Anna’s hot romances I’ve left in limbo. But that doesn’t mean I can’t write anything ~ in fact, I’ve been blogging a ton (have actually deleted several ridiculously verbose and pointlessly rambling poasts in the last several weeks before I hit publish), emailing a bunch, and tweeting a twitload. I have even poemed a bit. It’s just the fiction I’m not into any longer and thus have given it up.*

Fiction writing feels like regression. Maybe that’s a lazy copout, but it’s how I feel right now. Writing fiction was an escape from bad times in my life, and my life is no longer bad. I don’t need an escape into a fantasy world of make-believe characters I focus on instead of my own situation. Unlike poetry, which stimulates my love for language, wordplay, and brief, intense emotional exploration, writing fiction feels hollow and fake. (This doesn’t apply to fiction reading at all, which I still love. Or movies dur!)

Writing about real events, however ~ slightly enhanced for entertainment value ~ such as the “dating stories,” is still a lot of fun for me. I was going to write about my trip to the wilds of Los Angeles last Tuesday, the crazy Bentley who tailgated me (a freaking Bentley!), the trippy sidewalks, my adorable granddaughter (I’m a grandmother now, if you didn’t know), etc., but there wasn’t any outstandingly funny moment to regale y’all with, and I’m all about the regaling.

[Just had to delete some amusing nonsense about regal and regaling because the words aren’t related. Dictionaries are our friends! But eccentric comes from outside the circle of normal, which was the WOTD yesterday, and since I can’t sleep in this heat even with a Valium and it’s now tomorrow, that word is definitely appropriate.]

Now, at this point you may be wondering if this poast isn’t one of those ridic rambles that should go into the trash heap… no! First, this is an experiment to see if it’s easier to blog from my old Kindle, since it’s larger than my phone and has a more finger-friendly keyboard. Second, it allows open tabs to be visible at the top, like a puter, which is helpful for switching back and forth when looking stuff up while blogging. Third, it’s difficult to create links when blogging by phone (have not tried the WordPress app) ~ basically have to write them down on a piece of paper and type them in again like a cavewoman. But on my Kindle I can copy and paste like a normal person. However, there is one issue: my bitmojis! I only have access to media already uploaded to WP, no new bitmojis or photos on my phone, since this thing isn’t connected to my phone. Of course, I could save this as a draft and then reopen it on my phone, where all my pics are. But that is not exactly an efficient, streamlined operation, is it now?

I put the previously used Jenga blocks up top, meh. Other solutions were: (1) use a previous bitmoji that didn’t really go with this poast; (2) use an ugly stock WP photo of blocks; or (3) begin some complicated process of installing an app on my phone that will give my Kindle access to photos, but it is 3am and I don’t wannu.

There is a rumor going around I might be getting a Mac, which will render all this angsting obsolete, but in the meantime… the blog abides.

*One of my friends said he learned in a yoga class recently that stress damages the brain and is potentially one of the leading causes of dementia. So, this just proves I’m on the right track giving up stressful things like dating, Facebook, fiction writing, etc. If only I could give up driving, that would be AWESOME!

Oh, now I have to stick on all the tags that will allegedly attract zillions of readers to this poast. Bwahahaha!

Junglewords

So many have stepped up
To fill the big bloggy boots
Of the Daily Prompt
That it’s become a snakey
Jumbled jungle
Of new words to shake
In the tumblers
Of our minds.
It’s hard to navigate
All the great poasts
In order to find
The perfect word
To choose for today.
I’ll have to chill a while,
Grab a coconut lime drink,
Imagine a tropical isle,
And see what transpires…

*

A big thanks to all who have joined the prompt parade! I hope to participate in everyone’s eventually.

My Kitty’s Pedigree

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

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

The Meta Conversation

Or what we talk about when we talk about talking. [hat tip to Raymond Carver]

Some people dislike “small talk,” the meaningless howareyas, haveaniceweeekends, coldenoughforyas watercooler type of chitchat. I never minded it. To me, it’s part of the please and thank you polite currency that smoothes over the transactions of our workplace relationships. Are we merely pretending to care about each other? Maybe. Maybe not. Do we always care that deeply about the answers to all the questions we pose to our friends and family, or is some of that merely filler as well? I don’t even mind when strangers ~ cashiers, waiters, neighbors ~ say this stuff to me. So what?

Why is filler conversation bad? Filler can be delicious, like the custard in a donut (mmm donuts). I’m part of a group where the leaders ask many “meaningless” questions, some of which I skip over, and some of which I reply to. I read other people’s answers when I have time, and often they’re interesting ~ first jobs, favorite writers, hobbies ~ and occasionally one of those poasts inspires me to write a longer piece myself, such as this one, or even a pome later on. Some of the group questions aren’t filler, but too personal to answer and I ponder them silently. I admire the brave folks who do reply. If I can think of a joke or a response that isn’t too revealing, I’ll put that. It may appear as though I’m an open book, but perhaps that’s just sleight of hand. You’ll never know, will you?

I’ve told you everything you know about me, but I haven’t told you everything I know. [hat tip to General Boris Alexandroff ~ yabbut rando site says so]

Most convo though is like shadows on the cave wall. We create definitions of words so we can communicate (table, cat, apple), but the whole endeavor quickly gets so tricky (love, loyalty, patriotism) that we assume a shaky base of mutual understanding in order to proceed, and often our assumptions turn out to be false. Oh, that’s not what I meant by love. Hah, fooled you! Or people can say that’s not what they meant even if they did mean it, and this becomes a totally legit way of squirming out of something because we all know conversation is just like this, even when it isn’t.

How conveeenient!

Now we make a new friend, bonding over shared heartbreak. Two people who’ve been burned by others deliberately (or so it seems) misunderstanding definitions miserably commiserate. Isn’t that nice? But wait…

~*~

The Daily Prompt: Conversation

Wordy-Go-Round

The prompt the otter day was carousel, a lovely word, but I had nothing. Twice before I poasted pomes with carousel and I was tapped out. Years ago I took relevant pics, but I had no time to hunt them down. For whatever reason, the word bounced around in my brainpain throughout the day. Maybe it was the associated music, plus the colorful horsies. Idk. I couldn’t stop thinking about carousels… then I remembered an old Mad Men episode where Don Draper was demonstrating a photo carousel. That was a very moving ep, as I recall. I loved that show until it JTS’d, which for me was around the time he left his wife and she married that creepy politician. Things just got too crazy after that. Plus didn’t it take them over a year to come up with a new season at some point? I lost interest.

Anyway. Thinking about Don Draper naturally led me to the word carouse, which I decided must be related to carousel. Well, isn’t it obvious? But that isn’t the case at all! In fact, I had totally the wrong idea about carouse, which is shocking after all my years of romance novel reading. I assumed it meant a wild night of partying and causing trouble in the streets, being loud, probably making obscene suggestions to women, etc. But no. It basically means a drinking spree. You can be doing the partying, but that’s secondary to the drinking.

v.
1550s, from Middle French carousser “drink, quaff, swill,” from German gar aus “quite out,” from gar austrinken ; trink garaus “to drink up entirely.” Frequently also as an adverb in early English usage ( to drink carouse).

Huh. Well, anyway. I looked up carousel too, which was as expected. I didn’t know the origin though, which is interesting.

n.
“merry-go-round,” 1670s, earlier “playful tournament of knights in chariots or on horseback” (1640s), from French carrousel “a tilting match,” from Italian carusiello, possibly from carro “chariot,” from Latin carrus (see car ).

These quotes are from dictionary-dot-com.

The Search for Nuance

The search for nuance
Came up nil–
Not a single folder spilled
Out a poem or post
In all these years,
Not even a ghost;
No evidence I ever
Used a subtle, filmy
Delicate negligee
Of a word,
A mysterious trail of lace,
Leaving a coy, flirtatious trace,
Instead of my usual
Bludgeons of bluntness.

But it is this, dammit, I scream:
Can’t you see?
My shrieks echo ’round the mountain,
But Narcissus long ago
Fell into the stream,
And everyone else has
Packed up their picnics
And gone home…
It looks like rain.

It’s time to stop yelling, Paula;
Whisper your pain
To the slowly swirling clouds.

~*~

The Daily Prompt: Nuance