It is half past whatever and I am furious…

…I feel as if I would love to throw things.  If I were not a reasonable person, I might haul off and break the few intact cupboard doors which were not broken by the people who lived in this house before us.  I am, mostly, reasonable.  I am also furious, and sad, and annoyed, and broken, and grumpy just doesn’t cover all of the UGH I am at the moment.  And to top it all off. I’m sitting at my computer typing all of this to a bunch of random strangers who might just happen upon all of this rambling and bother to read it.  Ok, so a few of you are following me, which is really rather fascinating and creepy all at the same time, so I don’t count you as strangers.

I got my first internet proposal in high school.  Way back in the time of BBS (B–I have tried to type Bullitain ten million times and I cannot seem to spell it…Board Systems).  It was in my high school computer class where we were required to join the BBS and communicate with strangers.  Can you imagine.  It’s ok, the proposal came from a very nice high school student from somewhere across America.  Being brilliant high school students without sensible rules, we exchanged photos through snail mail (the BBS wasn’t advanced enough for photo sharing.  He was older and sent me his senior pictures–two of them.  One with his camera and one with his bike.  I don’t remember if I even ever sent him a photo.  I was a sophomore at the time.

When I went to college, I had to do a Sociology paper on the web.  I read Neuromancer.  I had to get into mirc to do research.  My basic unix skills were highly useful as I joined chat rooms, rode net splits to hack other channels (more usually to hack our channels back from people who tried to take it/them over), played acro on overnet, mostly ignored undernet, had my second internet crush, and my first internet stalker (maybe that’s why this whole following thing is kinda creepy?). Actually, he was a guy from my college who was my first real kiss.  He wasn’t a good kisser, but tried to press the issue by brilliant lines such as, “When you’re married you’re going to have to do more than kiss.”  (First of all, genius…we ain’t married.  Second of all, you aren’t a good enough kisser to inspire me to waste my time sleeping with you.  Sheesh.)

Anyway.  He had another brilliant line that I don’t really recall any longer, and when I stopped answering his phone calls, he started ghosting my mirc channels.  Like lurking silently in a chat room where I am doing “research” for my sociology paper is going to inspire me to want to fling myself at him and say, “Hey big boy, take me now you lurking-bad-kisser-you!”  Of course, by that time, I was beyond the research stage.  I had friends who were serious hackers.  I had a guy named after a bread product who had a mad crush on me.  I knew how to ride net splits and take over channels.  Aside from dancing at the underage clubs in town wearing fishnets and lots of black, I was your basic nerd.  I loved it.

The great thing about the internet is that when one is busy doing temp jobs one doesn’t care much about, it is great to pop into forums or other places (before the net became so everything…forums and such were a good starting point) to make hours go by more quickly.  The trouble is, I always care about doing good work.  At least I used to.  I don’t know what I care about at the moment.  But in the past every temp job I started as a receptionist had me organizing systems for the company, helping with accounting, staying longer, doing more.  It made time go more quickly.

As you can see, I’m more grumpy than gratitudish.  This is mostly because I am furious and annoyed and sad and frustrated all at the same time.  I really should just try writing down five darn things I’m grateful each day and seeing if that will actually magically transform me from this UGH into someone worth existing.  Because there’s this notion being peddled around that normal human emotions aren’t something we should have.  Or at least not something we should focus on.  So, instead of letting myself feel furious and annoyed and sad and frustrated, I’m suppose to remember all of the great things in my life and push away everything else and be grateful that my life is not worse.  My life could be worse.  In so many ways.  It could be better too.  But focusing on what one does not have is a sure way to make one more miserable.

I am grateful my mom is still here.

I am grateful that we are almost done remodeling the house.

I am grateful that my cold is not the flu.

I am grateful that I have a computer on which I can type things and whine to a bunch of humans who I don’t know, and who may or may not be slightly creepily following me. (But I like it.)

I am grateful that, despite the fact that I feel like a giant whiner, my puppy still loves me.

I am grateful that the chickerbockerpooppoops follow me around the farm and make funny noises.

I am most grateful that it is almost spring and that the donkeys will not spend so much time in the barn so there will not be so much poop to scoop.

I am grateful that tonight the moon is full again, and the cacophony of frogs who think it is already spring sing out in the marshy fields.

I like frogs.

Grumpy

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Amy of Hummingbird Hill View All →

I'm just someone trying to figure out how to juggle ten acres, work, a mama with stage four cancer, and a whole lot of grumpy. This blog started out as "Grumpy Gal's Guide to Gratitude," but since all I really keep typing about is the garden, I figured I might as well own it! So, thanks for joining me as I try and figure out how the heck to kick myself in the booty and get on with life.

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