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Category Archives: lame

You Would Cry Too

It’s my Friday and I’ll cry if I want to, cry if I want to, cry if I want to.

OK, that’s all I got. I started to write a post about… I don’t remember what I was writing about but it was going to be too long. I have to get to the theatre tonight. The show must go on! (with gesture)

Actually, I just now took the time to go downstairs and look at what I started to write. It was about Habitat for Humanity. Tonight’s show is a benefit for that fine organization. I will try to write about them tomorrow. I have tomorrow off, so I will have more time for a lengthy post.

Thus explaining my first sentence, and you know what Friday means: Lame Post Friday! Random observations and half-baked philosophy! Here goes…

My first observation is that it would probably have been less trouble to write a short post while on a break at work and then have merely to type it in right now, instead of trying to think of something clever to say. Which leads me into some half-baked philosophy on why do I always have to do things the hard way?

Seriously, why do I? Certain members of my family say it is a family motto: Why do things the easy way when there’s a hard way? Now my question is: why do we so often ask why? Can’t we just accept what is and go from there? Do you suppose this is enough questions for one blog post?

I’m thinking it is enough nonsense. I am over 200 words. My only excuse for a stupid post is that at least it’s short. Hope to see you on Friday, when I will attempt to NOT be lame.

It Might Have Been a Cowboy

I don’t want to say I consumed insufficient caffeine this morning, but I almost left the house in my bedroom slippers. Just thought I’d throw in that unrelated remark, since I missed Non-Sequitur Thursday.

Yes, it is Lame Post Friday, my day of random observations and half-baked philosophy (I put in the explanation yet again for the benefit of new readers if any and to up my word count, because I really have very little to say today).

I do have one random observation that I wrote for use last Friday but mislaid the notebook when it was time to type it into the computer. I offer it now, although I wonder if it is as striking as it seemed when I first observed it.

As I drove along, in the car in front of me I could not see the driver’s head at all. The passenger’s head was this great big cowboy hat that reached the car roof. For a minute it looked as if this big old cowboy was being driven along by magic, or else by a tiny little cowgirl (I don’t know why I assigned the genders thusly, but so ran my thoughts) without a hat.

Then I got close enough to see the driver’s reflection in the side view mirror. A completely un-cowgirl-looking lady (why is my computer underlining “un-cowgirl-like”? Isn’t that a word?). Then I got closer yet and saw that what I had thought was a Stetson was the visor and the passenger was a perfectly ordinary sized person. What a disappointment!

I suppose at this point I could offer up some half-baked philosophy about disappointment or jumping to conclusions based upon a mere glance or why wasn’t I keeping my eye on the road instead of looking for cowboys in other vehicles. Well, I can’t think of anything philosophical to say, half-baked or otherwise, and I am extremely pressed for time.

I see that I am over 300 words. That is respectable. After all we don’t worry too much about content here at Mohawk Valley Girl (another topic ripe for some half-baked philosophy). I leave you to contemplate cowboys in other cars, and I hope you have a lovely weekend.

Could Be the Lamest Post Yet

So I started writing at least three Friday Lame Posts at work today (while on a break OF COURSE). I don’t like any of them. And I have a very short time in which to come up with something else. OH NO!

No, it isn’t Wrist to Forehead Friday. For one thing, I don’t have time to make dramatic poses.

To be honest: as soon as I typed that sentence, I sat here staring at the screen, trying to think of something else to say. I had plenty of time to put my wrist onto my forehead. I was just too lazy.

Ah, that leads us into some half-baked philosophy suitable for Lame Post Friday (my meager brain hasn’t failed me yet!): A truism states that we all have time for the things that are truly important to us. Is this a true truism? Discuss.

I think that actually we don’t any of us have the time we’d like to have for all the things we’d like to do. However, most of us have more time than we will admit; we just take it up doing other things. This is hardly an earth shattering observation (and since the earth has never, in fact, shattered, I would submit that nobody has yet made an observation that can truly be described as such) (so now I feel better about that).

Where was I?

Ah yes, babbling on in hopes my word count will go high enough that I can call it a post. Hmmm… Over 200. That’s respectable.

Before I sign off, I will leave my readers with one thought. I thought all day about how it is sometimes difficult to write a post when Mohawk Valley Girl strives to adhere to the rule: If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.

We’ll see who gets worried about that one.

Postscript: As personal acquaintances know, in real life I don’t always follow that rule. I’m more akin to Dorothy Parker when she purportedly said, “If you can’t say anything nice, sit right here next to me.”

A Lame Brand of Rotten

It has been a rotten day. And a rotten blogging day as well. I spent the day enduring one petty annoyance after another, most of them caused by myself, which of course makes it worse. They were all petty! None of them were funny! And I don’t feel like writing about them!

But here is what I did write at work, little realizing I was only at the beginning of my travails:

I am so mad at myself. I left the house this morning saying, “I feel like I’ve forgotten something,” and, what do you know, for once I did. My stupid purse! Because I’m stupid!

I know, there is no point in jumping to global conclusions about my mental capacities just because of one little brain fart. But still.

So there’s my random observation for this Lame Post Friday: I’m stupid. and my half-baked philosophy as well: no point in jumping to conclusions. I guess I’m done.

I’ll just add my usual explanation for the benefit of new readers (if any) and old readers who may have forgotten (I don’t expect people to keep track of ALL my silliness) that Lame Post Friday is the day I indulge in random observations and half-baked philosophy.

That was all I managed to write while at work. My day went downhill from there as I continued to make stupid mistakes and suffer petty grievances, none of which rate mentioning here. I mean, it’s one thing to suffer one stupid problem after another when you know you are going to at least get a humorous blog post out of it. Not today. It was a lame bad day.

This is a Silly Post, Isn’t It?

Nobody really thought I was going to forgo Lame Post Friday, as I declared at the end of yesterday’s post, did they?

Oh, there’s some half-baked philosophy right there. How can I resist? I recently read somewhere that women and minorities tend to add qualifiers to their statements. This is blank, ISN’T IT? I think this, DON’T YOU? Nobody thought, DID THEY? Well, I am a woman (am I not?) (really hate to say “aren’t I?” or even “ain’t I?”) (although of the two, I prefer the latter, because Grace Kelly said it in Rear Window) (but I digress).

Why do you suppose this is? I think (philosophically, of course) that it is different reasons for different women. Some women are unsure of themselves. Some want everybody to get along and feel that means agreeing on most things. Some are just eager to be loved. And for many, I’m sure it is just a bad habit (don’t you think so?). And I KNOW, before anybody tells me, that there are women who do not follow this speech pattern. To those women, I say, you go, girls (they might be offended that I call them “girls” instead of “women,” but that is a chance I’ll take).

Come to think of it, I said I would ATTEMPT to forgo Lame Post Friday, but I made no promises. That means I’m in the clear (right?). (I’m really just adding these qualifiers to be silly now; you guys got that, didn’t you?)(OK, that last “didn’t you?” I meant).

Actually, I personally have a tendency to make statements, and I am very surprised when people disagree with me. As many women do, completely without qualifiers. “Oh, I don’t think so,” they say, as if I am some odd specimen for thinking such a thing.

Which brings up another point: I have been philosophizing about something I read which I have not observed personally, randomly or otherwise (I feel I must insert here for the benefit of new readers, if any, that Lame Post Friday ideally consists of random observations and half-baked philosophies). And I’ve gone on for over 300 words. That is plenty long enough for a Lame Friday Post. Happy Friday, everyone.

About That Play…

When we last left our hero (um, that’s me) (I went masculine as gender neutral, because I did not want to refer to myself as an illegal substance), she was about to stop writing her blog post and instead work on finishing a play she had started. OK, enough with the third person crap.

What I’m saying is, I did not write my post on breaks at work today, as I usually do. I trusted to last minute inspiration and my ability in the past to write something on the fly. Or is it off the cuff? I get my clothing metaphors confused.

It is, of course, Lame Post Friday, my day of random observations and half-baked philosophy. I seem to recall mentioning yesterday that we should save the half-baked philosophy about finished works for Lame Post Friday. And here we are.

I find it sad but true when I read a novel or a play or even a magazine article that is not very good: my first thought is, I could do so much better. My second thought is, well, why didn’t you? One reason the worst novel in the world can get published over my deathless prose (I don’t really think it’s deathless; I just like that expression) is that that novel GOT FINISHED.

And here is some more half-baked philosophy: one can take the above thought two ways. It could be an inspiration to write more and concentrate on finishing. Or it can be a discouraging criticism: if you haven’t finished a damn play yet, you never will, give it up now!

Well, which way did you think I was going to take it? You know I like to keep my blog positive! So I spent my time before I had to start working and my break writing my play. Unfortunately, I dare not tell you anything about it, because it is a work in progress. It’s not that I fear my gentle readers will steal my ideas, but I do fear “helpful” criticism (and I am certain MY readers would never offer any other kind). More to the point, I fear that having talked about the play, I will no longer feel the need to write it. I told the story, it’s done. It can happen.

In fact, I think I’d better shut up now.

Happy Friday, everyone.

Lame Verbiage

Today’s Friday Lame Post is heavy on the half-baked philosophy.

I began to write a far different post. I started running Thursday and intended to write a post about that. My lead was dull. I said so. It went on from there as follows:

And now I sit, pen in hand, contemplating how sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn’t. Maybe I should start a whole other blog about why I shouldn’t bother writing a blog. And by “bother,” I mean bother other people with my verbal meandering.

Note to self: does “verbal” only mean spoken or can it include the written word? It seems to me it should include writing, but I can only seem to recall hearing it used regarding spoken. I have no dictionary with me.

Well, that kept the pen moving for a while anyways. I’m re-reading Writing down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg (Shambhala Publications, 1986) and hence re-acquiring an appreciation for writing one does not intend to share. Practice writing, Goldberg calls it. Of course, I don’t do it the way she says to, never stopping the pen, not going back and re-reading, etc. I have NEVER been able to write without pausing and I have given up trying to make myself (and what a freeing decision that was!).

Full disclosure: As I write this, I picture myself typing it into my computer and publishing it as a blog post. What does that tell you?

Aha! I bet you thought that was a rhetorical question, but I am going to answer it. Writing is, for me, communication. I want to write for a reader.

That said, I understand editing. Whole sentences, paragraphs and posts will never see the light of day (the ether of the internet?) and rightly so. But as I write, I picture somebody reading it. I’m sure many writers do.

And then I stopped writing.

After I typed this nonsense into the computer, I looked up “verbal” in the dictionary (The American Heritage Dictionary, Delta, 1992). It has several meanings, only one of which is “spoken rather than written,” as in a verbal contract (which Sam Goldwyn famously said is not worth the paper it’s written on). It can also just mean having to do with words. But “verbiage,” I see, means wordiness, not specifying written or oral. I see this post is about 400 words. Plenty of verbiage for a Lame Post Friday. Have a good weekend, everyone!

No Use Crying Over Lame Posts

Well here we are once again on Lame Post Friday and I am feeling even more lame than usual (insert peanut gallery type remark of your choice here).

I do have just one thing written earlier this week, a random observation about an old cliche:

It’s no use crying over spilled milk.

I’m not crying because I think it’s going to HELP! I am having an honest emotional reaction to an upsetting event. Can you please cut me a small break? I will look for the paper towels in a minute.

The problem is: before making today’s post I checked out Facebook, as is my usual habit. What should I find but a link to another blog I follow about, you guessed it, crying over spilled milk. They do say great minds run around in the same circles (wait a minute, that is what I say; “they” put it a little differently).

Only, that post was not lame. It was a heartfelt essay about a new mother coping with real problems.

So now here I am writing a post about how inadequate I feel writing my Friday Lame Post.

Only, let’s be honest: I don’t feel any more inadequate today than any other day. For Heavens’ sake, I KNOW there are better writers than me and writers writing about more important things than I write about. It’s no reason to stop writing.

I typed that last sentence and then stopped. Just to put a little irony in your diet (one of my favorite jokes). I will close with the link to my friend’s post, so you can compare/contrast and discuss amongst yourselves. Happy Friday, everyone.

Post Ironic

I’ve done this before. I write my Friday Lame Post on Thursday and type it into the computer. Then on Friday I have only to hit “Publish” and be off on whatever Mohawk Valley adventure I have planned. It is most convenient. When it works.

For those of you just tuning in (and I always hope for new readers), Lame Post Friday is the day I relax with random observations and half-baked philosophy. Sometimes I sit at the computer and write it off the cuff, spontaneously.

I seem to remember last week talking about how you can’t schedule spontaneity (good word. Spontaneity). I would submit that it is difficult to schedule anything. Because things happen.

For example, Friday night Steven and I plan to drive into Rome to see an old movie at the Capitol Theatre (preview of coming attractions). Suppose it snows. Suppose I get a raging sinus headache. Suppose we just don’t damn well feel like it.

Another example: I work Monday through Friday. That’s an almost set in stone schedule. I’ve even proven I can work with a raging sinus headache. Still, you never know. What if my vehicle breaks down on Route 5? What if the factory burns down? It would take quite the huge fire, for one thing., but this is just an example.

The irony of this post is not lost on me. I’m writing it early because I PLAN to do something, and I’m writing about how you can’t plan anything. Ooh! Ooh! I did not plan it this way, but what a load of half-baked philosophy. Yes! And just like that, Lame Post Friday is back. Have a nice weekend. I plan to.

Bringing It to a Headache

It’s raining, so I can’t do my old standby of go for a walk or run and write about that. Movies take at least an hour, so I can’t watch a cheesy movie and write about that. I have not had a Mohawk Valley adventure this week. I have made no random observations and am fresh out of half-baked philosophy.

In other words, this is shaping up to be the Lamest Friday Post yet.

In my defense, it’s been a terrible week. For one thing, it’s been my first five-day week after two three-day weeks (actually, I worked Saturday overtime last week, so one three-day and one four-day week, but still) (ooh, that means my last weekend was only a day and a half, after two four-day weekends. No wonder I’m beat!). Tuesday I twisted my ankle. Thursday I had a RAGING sinus headache, and we had to go to calling hours for a truly sweet man from our church.

I really think Thursday’s headache is what screwed me up for Friday, so I will write a little more about that.

It had reached truly nightmare proportions by the time I left work. I seriously considered calling Steven to come get me, but thought I could drive very carefully through village streets (no highways). Luckily nothing requiring a quick reaction time happened.

I walked into the house (slowly, because parts of our driveway are glare ice, but that’s another story) and sat down in the closest living room chair. It is the chair we rarely sit in and is usually a catch-all for coats, bags, etc. It happened to be bare, because Steven had recently moved our newest stuffed Santa from it and it hadn’t catch-alled anything else yet.

Steven, a little worried by my haggard appearance, brought me coffee. It didn’t help much. I took some Claritin-D (the stuff you have to get from the pharmacist by bringing her the little card from the display) and a hot, hot shower. I laid down on the bed.

Eventually I got up and got dressed for calling hours, which were not for another hour. I wrote yesterday’s blog post (which, incredibly, got some “likes” from some obviously generous-minded bloggers). I called to Steven to bring me another cup of coffee while I typed.

I went downstairs and ate a little deli potato salad, just so I would have some food in my stomach before taking ibuprofen. I took 800 milligrams (that is the dose they usually give you in the Army, so I am in the habit).

It was as we drove to the calling hours that I realized the headache had dissipated. Oh, thank heavens. I went to bed early and woke with… could it be? Yes! NOT a headache! I spent the morning tremulously grateful to not be in searing pain. When my sinuses started to twinge again, I obtained some sudafed from a co-worker (I had stupidly forgotten to replenish my own supplies).

“I can’t go through that again,” I told myself. And I didn’t. Let me tell you, that Dollar General sudafed is powerful stuff. Unfortunately, it dopes you up. I apologize for this lengthy, dull post. We can only hope I’ll do better tomorrow. Please, stay with me.