Coney McConerton :)

In this post ,http://theprozacqueen.wordpress.com/2009/11/03/117/  I said I couldn’t get Haley to pose by herself because she was too camera-shy. Well, it took a while, but I’ve gotten her to sit for a few…or, made her, or something…anyway-

Introducing Coney McConerton!

 

Haley with cone

If she looks pissed, that’s because she is. She has to wear that cone because her food allergies (soy, dairy, egg, rice…in other words, every cat food ever made) make her itch so bad she can’t stop chewing at herself if left alone. She’s doing a lot better than before-she takes pills now rather than allergy shots-, but she’ll probably always have problems in the spring and fall. It doesn’t matter that she is indoor-only; the pollen and some grasses around here bother her skin, and all you have to do is open a window. After years of having to buy her special food, we’ve managed to find an over-the-counter food (9 Lives Plus Care) that doesn’t have her allergens that the other cats can have too. It helps with Slater’s (the grey-and-white boy’s) urinary issues too.

She’s a sweet girl, though, and very popular at the vet’s office. If she were human, she’d be the prom queen.

She’s also *smart*-she figured out how to take off her cone within about five minutes of being put in “her room” to be fed and “pilled”, as well as how to hide a pill in her mouth and spit it out when I’m not looking. I think she once even *hid* her cone too-or at least that’s what I thought when I found it under the dining-room table, a place she wouldn’t have been able to get to if she’d been wearing it.

Anyway, I just thought I’d share. Enjoy!

 


Why I’m Going To Hell

I’ve been told by some people that I shouldn’t make jokes about such a ‘serious topic’. For example, I posted a joke thread like this on one of Beliefnet.com’s Christian boards, and the regulars had a field day with it. We figured that, living in the Bible Belt, we hear enough about hellfire and brimstone from guys yelling at us on street corners that we’d have plenty to talk about. This isn’t done out of disrespect for Jesus so much as making fun of the fact that the preachers are usually yelling at women in tank tops or teenagers holding hands when we see them. Of course, the street preachers and super-fundies tell us we’re wrong and shouldn’t make fun of such a “serious matter”. I think judging people for no reason is more disrespectful than anything I could say, but whatever. I’m sure He has a sense of humor; otherwise, how would He deal with us? Anyway, here’s why I’m going to Hell:

-I don’t like Star Wars, and love Spaceballs. :) In my defense, I had Star Wars kind of pushed on me when I was younger, and that makes me want to push back. Plus, the dialogue stinks. Not that Spaceballs’ dialogue is much better, but I love Mel Brooks and his parodies, particularly when they star Cary Elwes…*drool*…:)

-I know all the words to “Ice Ice Baby“*. Okay, maybe not all the words, but enough to annoy the snot out of my husband.

-I stole this from my friend E and posted it on Facebook:
Gummy Bear Song*

I’ll do her one better and at least tell you to swallow before you watch it.

-I put doll clothes on my cats as a kid…and as an adult. Strangely, Slater didn’t mind the sunglasses and fedora. He didn’t like the pantyhose, though. That’s okay, Slater, neither do I.

-I’ve been known to fill out those silly email surveys and pass them on to my friends. After all, everybody needs to know that I once dressed up as a tube of Clearasil for Halloween and one of my most embarrassing moments in school involved a guy named C and a pickle…:)

-I’ve been known to get obsessed with hotties I see on TV and make up stories about them in my mind. They usually involve a version of me dating the one I have a crush on or dating someone who happens to look like one of them. I’ve done things like this for as long as I can remember, although now they don’t involve anyone I know. A lot of the latter stories take place in college to make up for the presence of a certain person I dated back then, but I only do them for fun. Sometimes this is the only way I can get to sleep at night because of some of the freaky and downright scary thoughts that come in. Damned OCD tendencies.

-Sometimes I “tickle-rape” my husband. :) At least, that’s what he calls it when I tickle him to wake him up or get back at him for a silly jab he just made.

-Sometimes I do the above in public just so our friends will wonder what a “TR” is.

That’s enough for now. I’d better stop before I have to add, ‘Made fun of the idea of going to Hell’…oops, too late.

What about you? And I apologize if I’ve offended anyone. I’m just feeling like a bit of a smartass today.

 

 

*Opens in the same window. Guess I’m going to Hell for that too.

 


Rap song, by request

Like I mentioned in another post, I once wrote a rap song for a guy. Another blogger, Safe.Amanda, suggested that I post it here so everyone can laugh at my lack of rhythm (okay, I made up that last part). Gotta give the people what they want, right?

For the record, I know how bad this is. I did it that way on purpose, but I really do suck at this kind of thing. The “recipient” (“inspiration”?) has never heard it-at least, not from me-and hopefully has no idea it exists. Anyway, here goes-

Hey you, over there
You know you’re lookin’ mighty fine
With those big green eyes
And that really great behind
 
You know, I’d like to date ya
‘Cause you’re really outta sight
And I’m tellin’ ya now
I won’t go down without a fight
 
But you keep puttin’ me off
Won’t give me the time of day
And to you boy, this is all I gotta say
 
(refrain)
What’s up with you?
What’s goin’ on in your mind
What’s up with you?
You know I’d like to take the time
To get to know ya boy, how ’bout givin’ me a sign?
So what’s up with you
Don’t make wantin’ you a crime
 
Tell me, what’s goin’ on in the back of your mind
I think together, we’d have a real good time
We can wine and dine, and dance ’till dawn
And mow our names into the neighbors’ lawn
 
(I don’t remember these two lines)
What I’m tryin’ to say is, I want you bad
And I know I can’t rhyme, so just cut me some slack
 
(refrain)

That’s it. Now that I’ve posted it, I’m expecting Dr. Dre to call me any minute. :) I don’t know if there’s a “comically bad” subset in the rap industry but, if there is, I’m on well on my way to stardom.

See you on the flip side…

 


What it’s like to have ADHD as an adult

http://www.scatteredminds.com/ch2.htm

http://www.additudemag.com/adhd/article/2081.html

I was writing an article for another site when I came across a lot of “testimonials” about ADD/ADHD…I figured I’d follow suit and write a longer and more descriptive piece about what goes on in my mind. Or, what doesn’t go on, and why I come across as a total airhead sometimes (or, at least, give an excuse).

The thing people tell me most often is that I do stupid crap because I don’t think. It’s not that ADD/ADHDers don’t think at all; quite the contrary. We think all the time and at warp speed, which is why we get distracted and can’t focus on things like directions, music, reading, etc. I used to love to read, but now I can’t get through a page online without skipping around. My Pocket app is always full. Ditto my bookmark collection because I add anything I think I’ll want to read later and then forget it’s there. I’ve been fired from two jobs in two weeks because I don’t “register” what’s being said to me for very long, assuming I hear it at all. Some of my friends act like I have dementia because I’ll compliment them on something that’s been there for years as though it’s brand new or repeat things without realizing it. I have about four-yes, four-different script projects I haven’t worked on, as well as a lot of articles or essays that I keep meaning to finish but I never do. At least, not on paper. Or computer. Or something. One of the worst parts about it is that it makes me feel like crap because I can’t seem to do anything right. At least, that’s how I see it. I just get so anxious about missing things that I end up missing even more things, screwing things up for myself even more to the point that I get so frustrated I want to give up. I never used to give up before.

It also bothers other people and makes them think less of me. If I hear one more person call me a “flake” because I can’t stick to anything, I’m going to…Slater, get off the counter…hmm, I need a pedicure…what’s that smell?…uh, what was I saying again? Typical.

I couldn’t sit down to do any sort of Bible study this morning and, even when I did, I couldn’t concentrate. Before you say, “of course not” or something similar, this is a problem for me. I haven’t been good about church/Bible/prayer anyway, anywhere near as much as I was before. There are a lot of factors that go into that, but it’s really hard to understand what you’re hearing when your mind insists on giving the priest pink hair or green-and-purple fairy wings. Yes, I’m aware how sacrilegious this is, but it’s not on purpose. The liturgy the Episcopal church uses helps a lot in that way because it’s interactive; f I were still a Baptist and heard preachers speak for 45 minutes, I’d be screwed.

Some people say I’m a good writer and I can’t help but wonder if this warp-speed-mind is part of it. Yeah.

You know how everyone else can “tune out” what’s going on around them? We can’t. In a sense you can say that we don’t have an attention deficit so much as attention overload-we pay attention to everything, whether we want to or not. For instance, I used to work in a furniture store that sold electronics. At any given time, there was a DVD going to help us show off the TVs and sound systems. Around Christmas we played “The Grinch That Stole Christmas”, which was fine with me because I love that movie…I would sing the rhymes to myself and, one day, I sang them to my boss. He thought I was talking back to him; after all, who likes to be told that their brain is full of spiders and they have garlic in their soul? He said something about how dare you talk to me like that and I explained that I was singing the songs from the movie and I just couldn’t get them out of my head. He didn’t know what I was doing because he tuned the songs out, but I can’t do that. Ever. Even if I want to. It’s not uncommon for me to get a song stuck in my head that I don’t even like and have it stay there until another comes along to replace it. For instance, right now I’m humming the background music to the Weather Channel that came up when I turned on the TV. This happened with the obnoxious hip-hop radio stations the customers kept putting the radios on-reason #375 Why I Got Sick Of Hip-Hop, even though I like some of it.

Some people say I’ll grow out of it. Seeing as I’m in my 30s, I think I’ve done all the “growing out” I’m going to do. I know some kids do better as they get older, but some of us just get worse. I used to take Adderall but it didn’t work well enough to make a difference. Concerta gave me a rash and my doctor didn’t want to try Ritalin for some reason. Not that it would have helped anyway.

Thank you for reading this far. I think that’s another thing with ADD-we talk all the damned time and can’t seem to stay on track…or maybe that’s just me. I don’t know.

I’ll let you go now. I’ve got some reading to do…or is it cleaning? Writing? Phone calls? I don’t know. I’ll figure it out eventually.


Blanket Apology

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I have wasted so much time and energy worrying about what people think of me whose opinions don’t really matter. In school, I was probably the shyest person on the planet. I used to think it was so massively important to be liked by the ‘right’ people, to say the ‘right’ things and look the ‘right’ way. It wasn’t that I was a snob; far from it. I had friends, and liked pretty much everyone I met. I just didn’t like myself; perhaps subconsciously I expected others not to like me either. I worried so much that people didn’t like me, only to find out years later that I was completely wrong about others’ perceptions. Even if I’d been right, even if people did think I was a <insert negative title here>, it doesn’t really matter now. I’m sorry I wasted so much time worrying that could have been much better spent.

I’m sorry I took bad advice.

I’m sorry I didn’t take good advice.

Right now I’m sorry I ate that last piece of pizza. Tomorrow, my waistline will be too.

I’m sorry for letting people make me feel guilty for things I had no reason to feel guilty for.

I’m sorry for being selfish at times. In my defense, I learned that I can’t take other peoples’ burdens onto myself as much as others can; when added to the weight of my own, they will crush me. I will be in no position to help others if I am smashed into pieces on the ground.

There are people I have hurt profoundly, some intentional but some not, mostly not. I’m not going to go into details because I’d rather not think about them, but I’m sorry. There are also people I have done things to hurt, but they never found out about it. Some say what you don’t know won’t hurt you and maybe that’s true, but that doesn’t get me out of my obligation to take responsibility for my actions. I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for trying to shave the cat when I was five.

I’m sorry for putting so much stock in the past that it colors my future.

I’m sorry for giving certain people and opinions the thought and credit they don’t deserve.

I’m sorry for not giving certain people and opinions the credit they do deserve.

I’m sorry for not giving myself much credit at all.

I’m sorry for not studying psychology in school…but then, I don’t really know that things would have turned out any differently for me, so perhaps I should just leave that thought alone.

I’m sorry for letting people walk all over me and not having the confidence to assert myself.

I’m sorry for being somewhat distant at times.

I’m sorry for not telling certain people in my life where to go and what to do with themselves when they get there.

I’m sorry for being afraid to let people help me or love me. I’m not sorry for letting myself help or love other people, though. Yes, I’ve gotten hurt, but I don’t really know any other way to be.

I would say I am sorry for meeting and dating certain people, but that would require that I actually think about them. They don’t deserve that privilege.

I’m sorry I didn’t perform that rap song I wrote for a guy in high school. Since the guy is now my stepbrother, I guess it’s for the best.

I’m sorry for focusing so much on what I don’t have or who doesn’t like me that I failed to appreciate the things I do have or the people who do like me.

I’m sorry that I don’t give myself the same consideration and acceptance that I give other people.

I’m sorry for boring everyone with my incessant apologizing.

Have a good night.


What if they’re right?

This post was inspired by one from my friend Steve:

http://newwhine.blogspot.com/2014/10/what-if-i-am-wrong.html?showComment=1413422547445#c3372567103006826529

I’m afraid I don’t have any wise words for him since he’s been at this whole “Christian thing” a lot longer than I have. I presume so, anyway. The only thing I can think of to say is that I ask a lot of the same questions. For instance-

I’ve heard a lot of talk in my time as a Christian about ‘standing up for God’. Specifically, speaking up for Him and publicly denouncing sin. Lately I have been part of a lot of discussions about things such as sexual orientation and tolerance where I spoke and acted against the stance presented by many conservative evangelicals that these things are ‘sin’ or ‘wrong’. That I and those like me who say that sexual orientation is not chosen and present arguments that the Bible is not inerrant and that people should tolerate homosexuals are ‘lukewarm’ or ‘compromising God’s truth so that the world will like us’, ‘ashamed of the truth,’ etc. I usually pass it off, but last night I had a thought*:

What if they’re right?

What if the stance the fundamentalists or conservative evangelicals take on this subject are right, and that I really am ashamed, afraid to stand up for God, or pandering? On other things, what if the Bible really is inerrant? What if I really am ‘lukewarm’, whatever that means? What if Christianity really is the only way? I know what Jesus said about no one coming to the Father except by Him, but I’ve wondered whether or not it’s possible for someone to know Jesus but call Him something else. I remember when I first came to Him, it felt like I finally had a name for something I’d known was there all along.

What if I really am doing wrong by not talking about my faith or trying to ‘witness’ to non-Christians? I don’t have a problem with telling others what I believe, but I don’t always go out of my way to discuss those things with people I know aren’t interested. I talk about those things a lot online and in church, but those are places specifically dedicated to those subjects; as much as I admire those who do, I’m a bit shy to go up to strangers in a parking lot and hand out fliers the way a very nice Jehovah’s Witness once did for me. I like to think that I’d be able to do that if I were so led, but I don’t find myself in such situations very often-only when around other religious people. What if I really should be trying to convert them, though, rather than agreeing to disagree and accepting their having another religion, or not having one at all? I love learning and talking about other people’s beliefs, but I don’t usually find myself wanting to try to convince them to turn from their way onto mine.

What if my choices in entertainment and things like my continually indulging in sins like my bad language and lusting really will put my soul in jeopardy?

What if I really do believe the wrong things, and it is believing the right things that makes the difference in salvation? What if my study of other religions and the intricacies of our faith and the Bible (like meanings of particular words or context or how it came to be) is distracting me from my faith and just believing? What if I really am being overly critical and judgmental to my former coreligionists, or if I talk badly about them too much? I wonder if I really have lost my salvation, or am in jeopardy of that, from my ‘straying’ or worldly views?

I would never suggest to another person that their salvation may have been lost because of changes in thinking, so I wonder why I am doing that to myself?

I don’t know if I am just being paranoid, over-thinking, etc, or if this is God telling me to adjust my ways. I know I am a work in progress, and that there are things in my life that I need to get rid of and repent of. I’m just confused sometimes, and I get so many different ideas. I am very offended a lot of times by the actions of some of my fellow Christians and beliefs about things like homosexuality being sinful or that I am thinking the wrong way…I just wonder sometimes if perhaps I wandered too far from my evangelical/fundamentalist past and unknowingly threw the baby out with the bathwater. I haven’t really changed my belief about the major things such as who Christ is and the Cross. That’s probably the important thing, but I don’t know.

I’ll stop babbling now. I am a master worrier, and this might just be an example of my mind over-wandering.

 

 

*Yes, I do have ideas. No, hell hasn’t frozen over.


Guest Post – Why We Shouldn’t Be Proud of Gay Pride

theprozacqueen:

…because this says it better than I could.

Originally posted on HarsH ReaLiTy:

The Gay Pride festival took place a few weekends ago in the City of San Francisco. The LGBT community in the Bay Area is large enough and demonstrative enough to have prompted Oakland to host its own Pride Festival in September for the past several years. Thus, the millions of us who live here are reminded at least twice a year of the prevalence of homosexuals in our area and in the country at large.

Personally, I think it’s a disgrace. To my mind, there is absolutely no reason why the gay and lesbian community should still, in the twenty-first century, have any reason or need to hold a festival in order to discourage feelings of shame in being gay.

I mean, really, people. Homosexuals have been around for thousands of years that we know of, and probably since the beginning of humankind. Clearly they aren’t going anywhere. Get over…

View original 586 more words


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