Being self-motivated isn’t one of my strengths. One of my strengths is to not climb back into bed after feeding the cats. Sadly, I don’t get paid for that. Nor do I get an annual bonus for all the things I didn’t say. I realize those are petty peeves, but my pet peeves are cats, so I think that gives you some idea of where I’m coming from.
The world is on fire and I almost wish it would explode already. A good clean blast right out of a Michael Bay film. Like when a little kid’s trike falls over and he just has time to run away from the crash before the fireball knocks him off his feet.
That non sequitur aside, the problem I’m having is that I have many things I need to do, many things I want to do, and many things other people want me to do, all the while living in a very small space with a four cats, a husband (evenings and weekends – MTV Networks and I share custody), my son (a recent college graduate at loose ends), and four damn cats. So I have some trouble focusing. But I’m trying and that’s the important thing. I was going to say something else, but my son keeps talking to me and derailed my train of thought which burst into flames.
I think it was something about trying to be productive, but I really need a nap.
While following a meandering path through Twitter, I was perusing the profile page of author and M.D.F.R. (Master of Distraction From Reality) Terry Pratchett where I came across a teeny bit of self-promotion from one Ray Friesen.
I enjoy checking out the work of artists who have skills that outskill mine and in the process of cypersnooping, I discovered that Mr Friesen is another demented writer of children’s books (albeit “weirdo children”).
I considered pledging some cash, but then I remembered I don’t have any. Hopefully Mr Friesen’s dream will come true in spite of me.
In my most noted tweet thus far, I recently posted an image designed to compliment Emo Philips’ wonderful joke about wanting a bicycle. The majority of people who gave it a “favorite” nod or blessed it with a retweet, obviously understood the absurdist heart of the joke, which is a clever commentary on the wishful thinking of the wish-granting powers of prayer and the relative truism, “It’s easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission.”
However, there were two who weren’t satisfied with choosing the favorite or retweet button — they actually commented. Two men whose hair was ruffled by the punchline as it flew over their heads, unable to grasp the nuance of a straightforward God-bashing joke.
I had no idea that PTSD could be induced by the mere mention of bicycle theft, but for these two bike-loss victims, it seems to have triggered troubling memories. To these poor souls, the joke is somehow making light of or justifying stealing. Rather than working hard to earn the money for ones own bike, one simply does not go and steal someone else’s. It’s bad form. God might forgive you, but the bike’s owner surely will not.
It’s a little irritating and I only mention it because they drizzled on my Emo parade.