Sometimes this world hurts.  And by this world I mean the world of social media where people proclaim their expertise and want to teach you their tricks every damn day.  For a price of course.  They usually don’t even have a Google Page Rank, even a bad one like mine is currently or a proven track record but they’re experts just the same.  I want their chutzpah but my overblown sense of morals prohibits me from charging for something I’m not truly an expert in.

I have an overblown moral and ethical value portion of my brain but I don’t believe in God so my values are false to a lot of people–I’m talking both blogging (remember Pastor Craig on BIO?) and real world, here. I keep expecting Kevin Bacon to sweep into town….Oh we still do allow dancing though some of the clubs have been closed for more Godly ventures such as diners.  Southern diners complete with fat as a food group.  Our just chicken restaurant–don’t get me started on how unhealthy it is.

Back to the Internet.  Where I wasn’t supposed to be allowed to have opinions because some way sick radical rightists decreed so.  And the people I political blogged with would have rather seen blog than back me so it was up to my friends who I thank profusely and will always care about.

It’s hard for me to read blogs not by long time blogging friends as I read about being raped or getting nasty comments and people will comment about the blogger’s courage and how nobody talked about such things before.

Hello, here I am. Bet you weren’t told you kill little children because you’re pro-choice, etc, etc.  There was a time when I had to have Bone and The Wombat google me because it was too scary to look myself.

I did hate it and can’t help but want it validated that everything people talk about now as fresh and noteworthy is somewhere in the abyss called Courting.  I know how sick it sounds.  Credit for having blogs set up to diss me; blog posts changed to make me look like an idiot; comments that made me cringe.

The day I realized you weren’t going to go to bloggers hell for deleting was a wonderful one.

But I guess four-six years ago is too long in the new world of social media where all that matters is how many tweets you get.

I’m jaded.  I understand that.  I was so psyched about Psychology Today and the day after I was offered it Congresswoman Giffords was shot and that took the wind out of my sails.  I can’t help feeling nor would I want to change that about me.  But I wish I could have had one week no one month of pure enjoyment.  It’s that damn overblown sense of conscience and caring.

Summer’s coming and I’m getting my house ready.  But something inside me feels so sad as if I had a chance and blew it.  I’m good at not seeing what’s in front of me.  Maybe what’s in front is pure joy.  I hope.  I know I deserve it.  And it’s not going to cost anybody $499 plus materials and shipping & handling

Yeah if you didn’t know it before I’m over 30.  Of course you knew it.  That’s why you read me.  Well it’s partially the reason.

I will never call readers “followers” which I learned last night is the new word for reader.  That’s really why you read me.  I don’t follow the pack. That’s not why you read me.  Well maybe a little.  I’m the anti-mommy blogger.  Not that there’s anything wrong with being a mommy.  I would just like some company to offer me free cleaning supplies since guess what?  I’m messier than five kids.  Not really but I clean a lot.

This isn’t a post.  I’m off to drink chocovine with CLo in my yard.  Post to follow

So, somewhere in the archives is a sorta transcript of a sorta actual conversation my mother and I had only using the word “so.” We could tell what the other was really saying from each so’s inflection. OK we were a bit extreme but we weren’t alone in using the word “so.”

I’m having a hard time focusing on my memoir and I can’t blame 92 degrees at 7PM. Actually that I can–weather like this makes me hyper. It’s good for house projects. Don’t ask. And don’t ask about my need to drink seltzer with ginger powder. That was an integral part of a post I threw out and means absolutely nothing in this one. Oh the vanity of the long time blogger.

No I have been going through a crisis of “my birthday’s in a month and a few weeks and I haven’t accomplished anything important with my life.” It’s a pivotal birthday. One that makes 50 look like a walk in the park.

I fear that I’m becoming old and my experiences aren’t relevant anymore. That the gist of the stories buried within these pages are sooo yesterday.

I understand why I’m going through this and a lot of it has to do with being burnt. I thought it was almost four years ago that I found out about non verbal learning disorder (nld) but it’s only been going on three years. The same year I decided it was time to get out of Dodge, renovated to sell, sold, bought a house, renovated, lost a lot of my resources, and well….It finally hit me this past month….

I no longer live in Manhattan. As crazy as it made me it was my identity. If I accomplished nothing with my life I was a great New Yorker. Yesterday I saw an ad for menupages and almost began to cry. I consulted it as if it were the bible. With menupages you didn’t need to have ten restaurants on speed dial though of course I did.

It’s different here. I couldn’t really serve my Anna Nicole Smith Trailer Park Dinner, that later became the Anna Nicole Smith Memorial Trailer Park Dinner. I no longer eat hamburgers, wouldn’t serve on the styrofoam containers, and people here are a bit more politically correct in someways or at least more material in very strange ways. The Anna Nicole Smith Memorial Trailer Park Dinner wouldn’t be funny.

OK honestly only Rafe found it funny. Lucia was aghast that I would serve company on styrofoam, but I would use company napkins. Made of paper yet pretty.

Now I use real plates, and cloth napkins and it’s better for the environment but I’m beginning to feel that we’re doomed anyway so why….

I didn’t use these things often in New York as I owned neither a dishwasher nor a washer/dryer. I don’t miss that part. No not at all. Though I’ve been trying to find a clothes line and can’t find one at Wal Mart. I might have to go online. It will be so nice to have clothes dried outdoors.

I like it here. I certainly like being able to walk to the beach when I want or not walk to the beach and read in one of my decks. I like the friends I have made and the friends who are coming.

But Pia doesn’t live in New York anymore, has done absolutely nothing of worth with her life, and was already an adult when her parents, who had children late for then, were her age.

For somebody who has done nothing of worth with my life I’ve done a lot in the past three years and am so mentally fatigued I can’t tell when I’m writing something good or not. This is a half pity party. Half just the truth. I don’t use “so,” on my own. I use “just.” I’m going to stop that. Just as soon as I find what’s left of my mind.

I want to write fiction as I love it but feel a memoir has a much better chance of being published. I’m just so over myself