Tag Archives: half-baked philosophy

In My Defense, I’m Fighting a Cold

Well, I wrote some more on the post about the non-cheesy movie, but I’m just not up to it right now. Anyways, it’s Lame Post Friday. I don’t care how many times I wimp out during the week with a silly post, I treasure my Lame Post Friday.

Even when the post itself is no treasure.

I did have a random observation today. I observed a kid wearing a t-shirt from a nightclub that closed long ago.

“The shirt lasted longer than the club did,” I remarked. My co-worker agreed.

I didn’t observe much else today, other than the speed limit (well, I thought it was a funny thing to say). But I do have one bit of half-baked philosophy: I thought to myself today, “I could have BEEN somebody!” My next thought was, “Who else could I have possibly been?” In fact, I could have turned out into somebody worse. So I started thinking about who other people might have been.

For example, maybe Mother Theresa could have been the CEO of a multi-national corporation that made bazillions of dollars exploiting the masses and wreaking havoc on the environment (I’m not saying all multi-national corporations do those things; I’m just saying Mother Theresa could have headed up one that did). The CEO of some big corporation could have been a stay-at-home mom or dad (I know, probably dad), raising kids who could have been…

Did you say Mother Theresa?

Enough of this foolishness. I see I am over 200 words. Woohoo! If I can only think of a headline, it’s wine o’clock for me.

Whine O’Clock

Yes, it is Lame Post Friday, and it should surprise no one that I got nuthin’.

I was about to say I’ve had a bear of a week, but I seem to remember last week being rather bearish as well (ooh, look at that, according to my computer “bearish” is so a word; I thought I had just now made it up). Earlier today I told a co-worker I was in a terrible mood, because all I could think about was things that piss me off. She advised me to think about something else.

“What should I think about?”

“3:30 this afternoon.” That’s our quitting time. “Wine-thirty.”

“It’s whine-thirty all day long for me,” I admitted. “Because all I do is whine.”

See, you get the pun right away when you write it down.

I thought it was a kind of a preemptive strike on my part (I’ll be damned, according to my computer pre-emptive is not hyphenated) to admit that I was whining. You know how upsetting it can be when all you want to do is relieve your feelings by expressing your discontent and you get told to stop whining. Actually, I had taken care to go to the co-worker that doesn’t usually say that. You have to be careful who you whine to. Uh, I mean express your discontent.

I was going to go into some half-baked philosophy about whining and perspective, but I believe I have covered it before. I would look back, find the post (or posts, I know I repeat myself sometimes), but hey, it’s Friday and I’m one of those lucky bastards who have a three day weekend. I’m thinking it’s beer o’clock.

Me and the Angels

I believe in angels, but I do not believe in Facebook posts. Yes, half-baked philosophy is once again creeping onto days other than Lame Post Friday. What’s a blogger to do?

Earlier today, Steven and I took our schnoodle Tabby for a walk. As we approached home, we discussed our agenda for the rest of the day. I added, “Unless somebody was to call us up and say, ‘Oh, come here and do this!'” We both remarked that really nobody does that to us any more, we reminisced about a couple of times it had happened and was fun, then we were home.

Steven got on Facebook and shared one of those pre-printed things about angels seeing us struggling with something and they were about to make something good happen to us. If we re-posted it. Or something like that.

And then the phone rang. It was my sister asking did Steven and I want to meet her and two of her daughters at Fly Creek Cider Mill. Steven thought it was a great idea. So did I! We made the date.

Steven got back on Facebook and shared a picture of Fly Creek Cider Mill and the story of posting the angel thing and then getting a fun invitation. Could there, in fact, have been a connection? Who cares! We had a fun afternoon! I can probably get two or three blog posts out of it as the week wears on.

But today, I felt like writing about the angels.

Could my sister actually be one of them? Discuss amongst yourselves.

Wrist to Lame Forehead

Today at work, I had my whole blog post written in my head. Well, most of it. I figured I’d come up with a few other sentences once I started writing. Then I went on break, I opened my notebook, and… nothing.

I bet you knew that was going to happen. I can just hear one of those smug artsy fartsy types saying, “Of COURSE nothing happened! You can’t write something in your head before you sit down to write it. You have to be SPONTANEOUS!” Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sometimes thinking about something before I write it works very well.

But speaking of being spontaneous, I hadn’t planned to write anything like that second paragraph. I had rather hoped I could segue back into what I had written in my head this morning (I think it’s still there). I am dreadfully sorry to be doing yet another post about Why I Can’t Write a Post, but here it is.

Still, on Lame Post Friday, there are worse things to write a post about. I’m going to count that as half-baked philosophy (regular readers will remember that Lame Post Friday is for random observations and half-baked philosophy) (they will also remember that I feel I have to say that almost every time).

What is this, Wrist to Forehead Friday? Say it ain’t so!

I had meant, as a matter of fact, to write a pedestrian post full of random observations made on the walk Tabby and I took last night. Unfortunately I did not observe much. Mostly I observed the sky looking more and more threatening till it finally rained on us. Oh, and I observed the bag I was carrying blow around like a wrinkly, misshapen balloon. I thought it looked a little foolish, but nobody will ever ding you for carrying around a plastic bag when you are walking a dog, however much it fills with air and whips around.

Ooh, look, over 300 words. Now to come up with a dramatic conclusion that brings all this nonsense together, so I can feel like a real writer. Then again, maybe I will just have to feel like something else tonight.

At least I’m not one of those artsy-fartsy types.

Making with the Random Observations

Well, I’m afraid it is another Lame Post Friday and it probably surprises nobody, least of all myself, that I got nuthin’. In my defense, I was working on my novel. And talking to my husband on my cell phone. And helping my co-worker with the crossword puzzle. Yes, the same lame excuses as last time.

As I sat at work and it was quite clear to me that this would indeed be a Lame Post Friday, I thought I could at least come up with some random observations. I feel that Lame Post Friday has been heavy on half-baked philosophy lately. In fact, it has been spilling out onto other days. So I thought I could leaven the mix with random observations.

I sat at my machine at work and observed… Well, you see, I look out the window, across a very short expanse of grass and weeds, onto a brick wall. The bricks are old. There is some grey foundation beneath the bricks. There are windows, some open, one hanging brokenly. I don’t believe they are ever shut.

How boring is that? Oh, I did notice one thing on my drive home. Two young kids on scooters, a girl maybe nine and a boy maybe four (not that I’m good at guessing ages). They were followed by a lady, presumably the mother, walking a very cute dog — it may have been part pug or maybe bulldog. The dog pulled eagerly on his leash. I think he wanted to be up there with the kids. At least, I don’t know if it was a boy or a girl dog. I use “he” and “his” in a gender neutral sense. I don’t like to call a dog “it.”

I suppose I could come up with some half-baked philosophy on “he/she/it,” but today is random observation day. Also, my word count is up to 300. Plenty enough for a Friday! Have a good weekend, everybody!

Welcome Back, Wuss-Out Wednesday

I just remembered something: Wuss-Out Wednesday. Not a feature I use very often. Need to have one today.

Not a good writing day. See, I’m even writing in sentence fragments right now, which is not a vice in which I usually indulge (although I did keep from ending that sentence on a preposition) (which bothers some people).

I wrote a little bitty bit on my novel. Then my breaks at work were taken up with other important stuff, like talking to my husband on the telephone and working on the crossword puzzle with my co-worker. It is a bad idea to neglect the whole rest of your life just because you want to be a writer.

Now there’s a topic suitable for the half-baked philosophy portion of Lame Post Friday: work/life balance. How much life does a middle-aged woman such as myself really need? Mae West famously said it’s not the men in your life but the life in your men, but I don’t think that really applies here. Just thought I’d throw it in, although perhaps I should have saved it for Non-Sequitur Thursday.

However, it is neither Friday nor Thursday. And I may be working this weekend, so the days of the week may be rendered meaningless in any case. Be that as it may, I must think of something reasonably entertaining to say for today (I just noticed I used “may” three times in two sentences, but that may be OK).

The Powerball Lottery has reached some ungodly amount. I put in for a workplace pool. You know how often groups at work win the lottery. I don’t expect to win, but just in case, I didn’t want to be the one yahoo showing up for work on Monday because I was too cheap to pitch in the two bucks.

“No, that’ll be Darren and Mark,” said Jenny (not their real names).

“I’ll send them flowers if we win,” I said. Then I remembered that my husband had also purchased a Powerball ticket. I asked Jenny if she and the others would sue me if he won.

“No, but you’ll have to share it with us,” she said.

“I’ll buy you pizza,” I promised. I hope we win more than two dollars. It would be awkward to buy pizza for a whole section on two dollars.

Lame Lament

So here I am on another Lame Post Friday, feeling a little discouraged about this whole blogging business.

Oh, I can hear it now, the mean people saying, “So stop writing a blog! Nobody asked you to!” And then they say, with a sniff, “We’re not MEAN, we’re REALISTIC.” I explain, “Shut up” (an SJ Perelman reference I have used numerous occasions).

That parenthetical comment raises the half-baked philosophical question of where are the lines drawn between reference, homage and stealing somebody else’s stuff? I do hope the fact that I gave credit to Mr. Perelman absolves me from charges of plagiarism (which some people feel is the sincerest form of flattery).

My other philosophical question (half-baked, of course) is where is the line drawn between discouragement and feeling sorry for oneself? I believe the difference is one of point of view. I feel discouragement; you feel sorry for yourself (oh, not you, dear reader; I’m just giving an example).

I actually thought to write a non-lame (or perhaps semi-lame) post today. I was cooking something unexpected for supper and thought to write about that. Then I realized: far too much trouble for a Friday. I’ll save it for tomorrow or next week.

If boasting no other virtue, a lame post should be short. I’ll sign off now. Happy Friday, everybody.

Keeping It Lame

There are times when one certainly appreciates Lame Post Friday (one is me in this case). However, one must also admit (still me) that even on Lame Post Friday, one must write something.

One might think I had thoroughly hashed out the subject of How Stupid of a Post Still Counts as a Post (one is not me in this case). One might be right. On the other hand, I’m betting most of my readers don’t read every single post (but God bless you if you do!). On a third hand (using my foot as a hand?), perhaps I can think of something new to say.

Well, I think I did. Using a foot as a hand is not a silly joke I have made before. Perhaps some did not find it a particularly funny joke, but at least it had the charm of originality.

Oh, here’s some half-baked philosophy: what can you say when originality masquerades as talent? Another question: just because something has never been done before is that sufficient reason to do it?

I’m thinking right now of some current and recent movies (like in the last few years). Some movie makers are known for “pushing the envelope” (I might research where that expression came from for another post. I mean, what envelope? Just saying). Torture porn falls under this category, as do ultra violent films. I’m not saying none of these films have artistic merit (I don’t watch many movies from this century). I’m asking, does their entire merit consist in the fact that they have done something that has never been done before? Discuss amongst yourselves.

Well, that was a totally wimp out discussion. You may have noticed I did not mention any specific movies or in fact make a strong stance on the issue. I just brought up the question.

In my defense, the heat wave in the Mohawk Valley continues, and neither my place of employment nor my residence boast air conditioning. And anyone who is rolling their eyes and forming the words, “You think you’ve got it bad” or “I don’t want to hear it,” just give it a rest. My brain has been baked, steamed, boiled and stewed for five days now. This is all I got.

I Don’t Know What to Doo-Dah

It has been a bad week for writing. There, I’ve said it.

And now begins the chorus of “Oh, just write,” and “Never mind your MOOD,” and “Writer’s Block? There just ain’t no such animal!”

To answer those in reverse order: Who said I had Writer’s Block? NOBODY! Did I even mention mood? NO! What am I doing right now? WRITING!

But I have not been writing well, and I have not been enjoying writing (well, maybe that last paragraph was a little fun). This being Lame Post Friday, I thought it would be OK to kvetch a little.

And that is when I completely run dry, because who wants to listen to a middle-aged lady kvetch? Not me! How about my usual random observations and half-baked philosophy instead?

Ilion, NY will soon celebrate their Ilion Days festival, including the Doo-Dah parade. There is a sign up at my place of employment looking for people to march in it. I have been going around asking people if they intend to march, because I like saying “Doo-Dah Parade.” It’s fun. Try it.

Did you try it?

Under the heading Now What Stupid Thing’s Going To Happen? I’ve got a soft tire on my vehicle. This could lead to some half-baked philosophy alluded to earlier in the week: what did we do to deserve this? My philosophical advice to myself is: don’t look too closely at it, or I might find I’m actually getting a lot less than I deserve in the Stupid Things department. How does one keep score on these things? Another philosophical question.

Friday Lame Posts should be short, so I’ll end here. Anyone wanting more information on the Ilion Days and the Doo-Dah Parade (more fun to say than type, but what are you going to do?) can go to www.iliondoodah.com or call 894-2308.

As Lame as the Nose on my Face

I know I said on Wuss Out Wednesday I might not have a Lame Post Friday this week. I’m thinking nobody really took that thought seriously. It is Lame Post Friday, and here I go with random observations and half-baked philosophy.

My first observation, and you may judge its random qualities for yourself, is that I am a terrible kvetch. Seriously, I complain all the time. In my defense, I’ve heard that the more you complain, the longer God lets you live. Or, as Rosanne Rosannadanna said, it’s always something (at least, I think Rosanne Rosannadanna said it. It was some Gilda Radner character; I never watched much Saturday Night Live) (oh dear, is that one of the things I should never admit about myself?).

Where was I? Nowhere in particular. Trying not to complain so much. Today at work I realized I was doing it and tried to stop, with indifferent success. Toward the end of the day I thought I achieved a happy medium. I said, “You know, I don’t think I should have taken both the decongestant and the headache medicine. On the brighter side, I don’t have a headache and my nose isn’t stuffed up.”

You see, I looked on the bright side, so I thought that was a step in the right direction (that must qualify as half-baked philosophy). A co-worker said it was good if my nose wasn’t running, because I would have to go catch it.

“I would just let it go,” I admitted. This is what mixing medications does to you. I spent the rest of the day wondering what I might say to someone who then said to me, “Well, it’s as plain as the nose on your face.”

Any suggestions?