Bitch on the Blog

April 16, 2018

Soft boiled

Filed under: Future,no return,Roadkill — bitchontheblog @ 19:31
Tags: , , , , ,

I have done the maths.

How best not to waste time considering how little there is.

“How best to not waste time”? As in “what’s left”? Who am I kidding? It’s my life’s purpose to waste time. Not yours. Mine.

U

 

 

 

Advertisements

April 8, 2018

Lullaby

Sometimes, when lost in the sea of many possible perspectives, I seek advice. Seek advice with hope in my heart that if I don’t follow it [the advice] the advice giver is wise and kind enough to not take it personally, as a rebuff. That’s why there are some people in my life whose advice I do NOT seek. It’s enough to grapple with the problem that makes you seek advice in the first place, without then having to play nurse maid to someone’s hurt feelings. People like that don’t seem to understand that they should be glad to be asked in the first place as it implies trust, and that the purpose of advice givers is that of a midwife: Helping with the delivery, not claiming the end result.

Before I pursue the above line of thought, a subject dear to my heart, I’ll stick with the original purpose of this post.

Sleep has always been important to my mother. As she got older she started sleeping rather a lot. Now she sleeps, more or less, round the clock. Every time I phone her I can bet my bottom currency that I have either woken her or that she was just about to go BACK to sleep. This is during the day – not at midnight. So enter increasing irritation and exasperation (neither of which I ever voice to her) on my part. Who wants to see their once active mother wilting? I take it almost as an affront – of nature/biology. Once resentment starts creeping into any relationship you need to regroup, and/or seek ADVICE in order to restore perspective and balance. So, this morning, I took to the experts. Yes, really. Google.

Peace has once more returned to the part of my heart that is troubled by my mother’s (as perceived by me, excessive) need for sleep. A few clicks and links later it’s so simple I wonder why it hadn’t occurred to me in the first place:

“There is no law, indeed no need, why someone (particularly in their old age) should conform to our idea of being active. If it makes someone happy to sleep let them sleep.”  That insight, so obvious yet obscure in its simplicity, was all I need, in future, to not be endlessly frustrated by my mother’s sleepiness AND her blatant, if gentle, refusal to engage any longer with anything that clouds her days, and I quote the same source:

“Discussing a point is no longer important for her. It’s like all she wants is hearing our voices, smiling back, hugs.” Peace, I suppose. Peace at the end of a long life. A peace I will contribute to as best I can. Doesn’t come easy to me to put myself onto the back burner – yet, since when haven’t I been able to will myself to do almost anything for the greater good.

The hard part (for my mother), wait for it, that she is fully aware of her increasing frailty and laments vehemently the physical restrictions in its wake(!). Hardly the time I can make one of those, meant to be assuring, throw away remarks: “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.” Though, most likely, in the end, emphasis on END, everything will be fine.

U

January 31, 2018

Stunted

On the whole I don’t believe it despite all evidence to the contrary. Namely that people need an “incentive”. By which I don’t just mean salesmen given a carrot so they wield their stick and charms making people buy.

I just do what needs to be done. Or (see my last post) wrestle with good intentions. And wait for both Ramana and the Angel (age before beauty) to weigh in and remind me of Karma.

Never mind. Karma is in the future. I am in the now. As one of the few people who amuses me no end is myself I am most amused. I am so happy I could kiss you. Why – apart from, maybe, you being kissable and my being happy? Bear with me.

The last few days’ fallout on various blogs have more than one benefit. Not only will I employ the last morsels of time left to me on this mortal coil in ways more conducive to everyone’s, not least my own, happiness by ditching certain bloggers. I won’t have to endure any longer, and it’s only just come to me, one commentator’s (she doesn’t blog any longer herself though is vocal in comment boxes) endless “LOL”s. To her life is just one (desperate) long loud laugh in absence of being more specific and articulate. If that isn’t an incentive for me to stop latching onto certain blogs and their comment boxes I don’t know what is. May she roll in the aisles.

LOL – Lots of love,

U

December 9, 2017

Ambition

Filed under: Family,Future,History — bitchontheblog @ 21:46
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Here is one to set a carnivore among the pigeons. You may weep.

What were your parents’ and other relatives’ plans for you?

U

November 24, 2017

Health and Safety

Filed under: Amusement,Environment,Future,shortcut — bitchontheblog @ 21:03
Tags: , , , , , ,

Do you ever feel you live on borrowed time? I mean other than when you do (by virtue of age) live on borrowed time.

The last few days mistrust has grown. Mistrust in the sturdiness of my hot water bottle. Yes, I know hot water bottles are quaint and belong to mid of last century. However, they are marvellous at keeping you warm. So, what I do, when I sit at my desk, is wedge a hot water bottle between the cushion on my chair and my lower to middle back. It’s mainly, and it is rather freaky, because I often feel the cold wind of futility between my shoulder blades. Quite something considering how warm I am otherwise. A right little oven.

Yes, suspicion. I think that hot water bottle  (red) is on its last rubber. It feels somewhat brittle and, therefore, it’s only a question of a few more uses before it bursts and I’ll burn my backside. Don’t say I didn’t warn myself BEFORE the event. I can see it now – having a cold shower in the middle of winter in the name of damage limitation.

Have you ever experienced or gone for the “burn” (not necessarily Jane Fonda in the Eighties)? If so, how big was your blister and do you still bear the scars?

U

October 25, 2017

The big question

Filed under: Accuracy,Amusement,Future — bitchontheblog @ 15:57
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Don’t I just love being caught clueless when someone asks me to guess their age.

There was a time when it was easy to narrow it down. Now? I don’t know what’s happened since but it ain’t easy any longer. And I have hunches like a blood hound. So bloody, that the other day a guy I’d had only just met as part of a group of unknown to me “youngish” people asked me, in a slightly coquettish way, how old I thought he was. Brilliant. I don’t like to disappoint people so I played the game. Long hair tied back into a pony tail. A looker. Pretty laid back. Positive about Brexit (and he was a “foreigner” living in England). So on that evidence and considering I’d only set eyes on him ten minutes earlier and he’d barely said anything since his two friends dominated the conversation I had to think on my feet.

There is one rule when people ask you how old you think they are: You think one thing, you take between two and four years off (when they hover around sixty or eighty five). That’s basic maths. Still, I don’t play by rules, so I say it as I see it. I gave it a little time. Looked him not so much up and down as settled on his face and demeanour. Assessing the little info garnered so far whilst he looked at me expectantly, saying “come on”. Ok, I said, 28. At which he excused himself under cover of needing to fetch himself a drink. Oh did his friends laugh. Thirty eight more like it, they sniggered, you have made his day. Though why it would make anyone’s day to be taken for younger than you are before you hit fifty is beyond me. If anything it’s an insult.

U

 

October 23, 2017

Not always what it says on the tin

A rarity so rare I feel compelled to record it for posterity: I denied someone commenting on my blog publicity.

No, not for the reasons the easily excitable blogger, the overly sensitive blogger, the ones who get annoyed at anything that doesn’t tally with their opinion, will delete a comment. Not at all. The comment was perfectly ok – if somewhat missing the point and spirit of my original post. Which made it so depressing. So depressing, so dispiriting, I can’t bear it. So I moved it. I haven’t deleted it. Just made it invisible. Invisible. And thus I have learnt, for the umpteenth time in my life, that “out of sight out of mind” doesn’t work for me. No amount of stuffing into cupboards, closing the door and never opening it again will erase the taste of an initial impact – good or bad.  I might as well stick with open shelving.

Do you employ shredders – successfully?

U

September 5, 2017

Let me bore you

“Listen to the whispers before they become shouts.” Excellent advice. Eternal optimist that I am I tend to wait till fate “shouts” at me – which will, naturally, take me by surprise. As I was [taken by surprise] in last night’s dream. It’s one of those that you’ll never forget because it seems poignant and has all the hallmarks of becoming one of those serial dreams which are most instructive.

Though, this minute, difficult to make head or tail of it despite the fact that it actually involved some strange birdlike blood thirsty creatures with both heads (well, mostly beaks) and tails. And bloody fast they were too. Most of the carnage took place in a bathroom, blood (mine) all over the place. The bind I was in that, desperately trying to fight off those suckers (screwing their heads into my flesh) and an impulse to flee, I had to decide whether to open the door to escape, thereby unleashing those little bastards onto everyone else in the vicinity (the bathroom was in a large department store, not dissimilar to Harrods) or stay put. To my shame I did open the door because I couldn’t stand it any longer. My ankles and lower legs in shreds already, my back and lower arms savaged several times.

As it turned out they were only after me, no one else got hurt. Well, that’s exclusivity for you. Or should that be “being targeted”. I didn’t feel flattered. I felt bewildered, not least because once unleashed into the open they largely lost interest in me too. Maybe, of course, that very last line holds the key (some key, part thereof) to what this dream was trying to tell me. If I take some of the dream interpretations you find online into account, then I better adjust my rear view mirror in case someone/something is sneaking up behind me. And don’t forget it all took place in a previously pristine bathroom … out of view of the public.

Sweethearts, thanks for listening. Tell me what you think or just tell me your own dreams even if, like Ramana, you can never remember them. Which, come to think of it, Ramana, most likely means that you are protecting yourself from what your subconscious is trying to tell you. It might make for a peaceful life but …

Jungian greetings,

U

July 16, 2017

How to make a splash without getting anyone wet

Filed under: Formalities,Future,Pretentious Shit — bitchontheblog @ 17:30
Tags:

I need to change my blog name. Bitch on the Blog, for all its alliteration, is tiresome. Whether you (that’s me) do or don’t live up to other people’s expectations to deliver the goods you (that’s me) have another thing coming.

Blip on the Blog?

U

July 2, 2017

Limitations

Filed under: Communication,Ethics,Exasperation,Future,Observations — bitchontheblog @ 20:06
Tags: , , ,

I may have mentioned this before. If so please attribute it to occupying my brain in an increasingly unnerving manner.

It’s vexing. Any advice gladly received. What do you do when people get older? Do you actually argue a point, set them straight as to the facts or just leave be? Obviously the latter the easy option. But also … I don’t know … condescending? Yet, what’s the point to put a point when someone (by virtue of age) is more or less on the way out? What purpose does concrete information serve? I think the answer is: None. Yet when does the point in someone’s life come when it appears kinder to just nod?

I don’t like to use Americanisms yet a useful one here: I feel “conflicted”. If ever there was a shorthand for being between a rock and a hard place it’s downright “conflicted”.

To reiterate: Is it worth it to point out errors or, less challenging, just put a different point of view when that person can’t make future use of being informed as their time is almost upon them?

I don’t know. It’s painful.

U

Next Page »

Blog at WordPress.com.