A Short Autobiography Reminds You Life is short and not to be squandered. So don't

I was born. I was thoroughly educated. I taught third grade. I hated the work. I quit. I returned to school. I worked as a librarian. I had an NBD. I returned to the Real World. I worked in a law office. I moved. I worked as a librarian. I quit. I returned to school. I worked for a very long time as a freelancer. I quit nonfiction article writing.

I now write humor. I'm alive and kicking. My work is therapeutic, finally. I'm earning less than I ever did. My prestige is nonexistent. I'm planning another NBD before I die. I've transformed myself into another person (see red hair, fake teeth, unshaved arm pits, etc). When I read memoirs, I wonder if I could pitch one to an agent. I fantasize, I agonize, I theorize. I wonder when it will all end.

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Should Old Acquaintances Be Forgot?

In the Scottish dialect of the old New Year's Eve song Auld Lang Syne, the composer posits the question: Should old acquaintances be forgot? The short answer to this is "Sometimes." One example will suffice. A "friend" of mine emailed me the other day and although she is not a writer, her words spoke plenty. Her first rebuke was that I don't answer her calls, and this is a claim I cannot deny. But the accusation was caustic, mean-spirited--it was as if I had neglected to visit her in the hospital, that's how grievous my omission was. She insinuated so much by those few harsh words. Why did she call? Purportedly to inform me of her physical status and that of her dog Murph. Being the obedient child I still am, I did call her afterwards, and we spoke. Mostly S spoke of her new illness--osteoarthritis of the spine--and her dog's possible diagnosis of valley fever. I listened and listened and listened until I just couldn't take it any more. The...

Bitching is My Life

Yeah, This is another one of my bitch/gripe essays. How can I keep up the challenging pace? It’s not easy but I work at it. I try to find something negative in everything I see and do. And it works for me. Just yesterday in AZ everyone woke up to a blue sky and warm temps, but I quickly dispensed with that happy development. All I had to do was walk out on our fake grass and I was hit with one big negative after the other. Our fake grass seems to have been infected with real grass and the two don’t complement each other. So I bitched about that over breakfast and pretty soon I had my husband outside pulling out the real stuff. Boy was he miserable! But I scored again! Then in the afternoon I went to the supermarket, and sure enough, I found something else to gripe about. It’s an upscale store. I mean it’s got a Starbucks, a salad bar, about a million bottles of French and domestic wine…..and a homeless guy hanging around at one of the exits. That’s disgusting. Maybe most people do...

Things that Creep Me Out

I'm a self-avowed #neurotic scared of many things that well-balanced people don't care a fig about. Like, for instance, big parties. Large gatherings overwhelm me. Too much stimuli, human and #nonhuman. I'm surrounded by too many people and too many tables and food trays. My eyes start roving over the entire room, and it's like I'm trying to #gobble everyone and everything up into a tasty cake so I can swallow it and be assured that I haven't missed a thing. Control is my problem and also my main defense weapon, but I usually run out of coping mechanisms early on and wind up standing like a statue with an insincere grin plastered across my face. I hope no one recognizes my #immobility as the frightened paralysis it really is. I'd rather they take me for a long-lost relative who was talked into coming and who doesn't give a shit about anything or anyone. Here are a few more things that I can't tolerate. Other people may also disdain them. Maybe o...

The Dysfunctional Family

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