Blame It on NaBloPoMo

Now that I have taken up this ridiculous challenge of NaBloPoMo the worst has finally come to past. I must rat myself out. The day is coming down to the wire and there is nothing and cannot be anything else on my mind right now. You see, I made this post just not so long ago. I "withdrew the welcome mat and went to sleep in a tree." And now here I am babbling like a true female of the species because (other than it being Fat Tuesday which needs no explanation) I have once again done something I just never really thought I would do. Yet another in a long line of firsts.

But it seemed like a good idea at the time...ok, so it still sounds good.

I read lots of blogs on a regular basis and the authors all seem like such rational, responsible people not at all prone to the random behavior that I exhibit on occasion. I don't strip and run down the freeway, I'm not carving notches on the bedpost, there's not a tat on my body and the only pierced things are my ears. I don't march around with signs protesting anything, play my loud thumping music in the parking lot (only because I have no radio in my car), or have any other really annoying personal habits.

Well, I do like to hibernate with my iPod and wander about in the forest (sometimes at the same time), but is that so bad?

Soooo...what the heck am I talking about?

Holy cow. You know what, I'm just gonna leave this one alone. 

 

Being a girl can really be confusing...

Scat

Partners in Crime

Everyone needs a partner in crime. Life is just NOT that interesting unless you have someone to share the excitement of your conquests with (like building and configuring my first workstation or learning to replace the brake pads on my car) or the ridiculous predicaments of your failures (witness Cosmo the pig or the flaming tire incident--we skipped a step in the brake pad replacement, OOPS).

I'm not advertising "real" crime, so don't get your hackles up!

My partner in crime has always been my not-so-little brother. We've been pulling off escapades ever since we realized that we were always going to be the only two people we really knew everywhere we went. That was a long, long time ago. We moved a lot as my father's job involved consulting with various oil companies for short periods of time. Frequent relocation seemed to be the catalyst for our relationship--that and the fact that there just weren't that many people out there that thought as strangely as we do.

Yes, we fought like cats and dogs, but you had better not mess with either one of us or the other is liable to attack you quietly in your sleep. :)

We spent inordinate amounts of time together as children and adolescents hiking in the woods of northeast Oklahoma, working on computers, building things, wrecking go-carts, and fishing.

I was there when he caught a water mocassin by the tail with his fishing lure. He was there when I jumped into a nest of young copperheads (no I wasn't bitten). I was there when he became the world's youngest bulletin board operator on the then-infantile Internet. He was there when I learned to use it (it was the mid-80's...very early for the Internet and WELL before graphic user interfaces made life easy). I was there when he hacked into his own FBI file. He was there when I told him to "shut that darn thing off quick and keep it to yourself!" We were both there when mom and dad took off for two weeks to tour the western US and a tropical storm exposed a leak in their roof that brought down most of the ceiling in the second floor of their home--lots and lots of towels, shop-vac'ing, bagging of insulation, and praying that the whole roof wasn't going to cave in.

Not much has changed since then.

Now, we take off "hackin' through the bracken" whenever we have a mind to. We enjoy studying military and political history. We're movie and book buffs--only of certain genres (generally military or sci fi). We are still computer aficionados...mostly networking and network security systems--and we love a challenge, so we take on what amounts to "freelance" work (emphasis on free). Actually, our idea of a challenge is to accept any offer to build or repair something and we've gotten quite good at it. We work and speak well enough together that most people think we are twins. Weird.

Best of all, we know the worst things about each other and its still OK. I can't say enough about that. Not at all.

Attrition, this one's for you...

Scat

You're Welcome

After several straight days of slogging about campus in wet shoes and jeans, I finally borrowed my brother's Alpine gear cover-all jacket (talk about POCKETS!) and bought some rubberized boots. This means that it probably won't rain a lick for the rest of the semester. You're welcome.

I rather like the rain unless I have to hike in a half-mile to my building in the red dirt and wind that sucks my umbrella inside out. After the umbrella bit it, I decided to get serious. Between the "new" jacket and the new boots, I stay dry and warm just walking about with the hood on.

I do look a bit like I just walked out of the forest from hunting wild game, but who cares?!

I'm over the worries about smashed hair (who cares--this is why God invented ponytails) and impractical but chic dressing (jeans and a tee suit me just fine). Yes, I do on occasion become envious of those girls/women who are impeccably groomed and dressed, but they're usually the types who could make a burlap sack look like the Queen's robes. I have never been in their league and it's beginning to bring me a lot of comfort and freedom.

Besides, I do have this passion for pockets.

The key to the pocket thing is putting things in the same place every time once you have figured out your system. I swear I could hide a human body in all the pockets that are in this jacket and for some strange and probably geekified reason, this intrigues me. It's like a challenge. Pens, pencils, eraser, calculator, iPhone (and ALL its paraphernalia), two bottles of water, my lunch, keys, my A&P quick reference book, the book I'm reading for leisure, an additional long-sleeved shirt for when they turn the heat off during my night class, my glasses, a small flashlight, money, wallet, and several other things can all be stored handily in the jacket pockets with room to spare. It's like my own personal survival kit. I love it. And it takes weight from my pack and distributes it around my torso where it's easier to carry.

I do not intend to surrender this jacket to its original owner any time soon. Sorry, Attrition.

Possession is nine-tenths of the law and all that rot...

Scat

Knackered

Knackered. Harried. Punchy. Acerbic and definitely snarky. Way beyond the usual playful sarcasm. Scat is stressed. When she is stressed, the voice in her head starts coming out of her mouth.

Classic example of my current brain-to-mouth filter error problem would be this: My mother has a way of calling you names that can really hurt. I know this. I know it well. Afterward, she always claims she was joking even though there wasn't even ever a kind of a grin. I KNOW THIS. Nevertheless, she let fly, cut deep, and without thinking the first word on my mind was out my mouth. Crap. She was joking. OF COURSE. I was a heathenish, wrong, black sheep imp of a rebellious child. OF COURSE. I was born wrong and seem to be forever in that state. OF COURSE. That's just how it works. If I had duct tape I would be wearing it.

Perhaps a trip to the hardware store is merited.

What is the matter? Everything and nothing. Life in general. You know the drill. Just as you get adjusted and absorb all the new and different circumstances of your life, you get thrown a curve ball (or two or three) and you have to learn to juggle all over again. Perhaps the plate-spinning analogy is more accurate.

I have also noticed that there are several people in my life who like to cause a big stink over something and get everyone upset, stirred up, downright mournful, and astonished. Once they have achieved that, they seem to change their tune and accept a generally more palatable position on things (without letting anyone know) and their emotional upheaval was for naught. They, too, have wrapped me up in their web a couple of times. I simply cannot do that any longer. Geesh. I really don't have time for that any more. In fact, it's the reason I never wanted to have any girl children!!!

I ended up with a very sensitive youngest boy, so perhaps I am honked in that department as well.

Sometimes, though, it just seems like the world is participating in a willful campaign of misinformation and I'm the one walking around going, "Huh?" and wondering if anything I'm hearing sounds "off" to anyone else.

Marching to the beat of a different drummer today...

Scat