Monday, August 20, 2012

monday venom

It was a different sort of weekend for me. The whole month has been unusual and things won’t be getting back to normal until after next weekend. The details aren’t suitable for blogging, but the result of all the unusual goings-on is that…well, I guess I don’t even want to write about that either.

I’m kind of private about some things. I worry that someday I’ll want to get a new job and everything I put on Facebook, Linkedin, or my blog will be scrutinized for anything that hints of terrorism, or general craziness, skankiness, malfeasance, or any other undesirable traits. I’ve probably already written enough to hang myself.


The government wants to eliminate online anonymity, tax email, tax sales of anything sold via the Internet, etc.   If they succeed, the Internet won’t be as much fun as it is now. I kind of like having a social life where I can come and go as I please, where sometimes nobody knows who I am, and where I don’t have to concern myself about people’s expectations. In some ways, the Internet is way better than real life (OK, but that doesn’t make me an Internet addict).

So, I will write about one thing that’s been bugging me all month long (besides worrying about the government overstepping boundaries). I went to a funeral earlier this month. Funerals are primarily the only reason my family ever gets together.  I overheard somebody outside my immediate family talking to another person – they were talking about who the people in my family were, who is left, and what a mess some members are. The person said I am the “glue” holding us together. That comment just about made me come unglued, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since I heard it.  I suppose it could be construed as a compliment, but I don’t like it one little bit.  Maybe the whole thing is that I don’t want to be glue for anyone else; people need to be their own damn glue.  It’s enough trouble keeping my own shit together.   And really, the only thing holding “us” together is the fact that anyone is left to die so that we can still have funerals.

OK, so that’s my Monday mood showing.  I’m trying to get in a better frame of mind for the rest of the week, given the IRB is still ignoring me, given that work has been a death camp lately, and given that I still have to get through next weekend before life can get back to normal.  End of rant.

On a happier and more positive note, tonight me and Someone went to the school open house where my girls are just starting 11th grade. Someone took Erin’s schedule and I took Emily’s schedule. We met teachers and heard a bit about the expectations for each of their classes. They only have two classes in common this year – physics and geometry. They will both have a tough year with lots of accelerated classes, and both are taking several classes for college credit providing they pass credit exams at the end of the year. Still, I think it’ll be an easier year than last year for them. Let’s hope it’s a better year than last year.

first day of kindergarten


Linda and her Twaddle said...

I write more about myself in my blog than I do on my FB. I feel much more at ease being myself in blogsphere than I do in private. Were my family or friends to find my blog I would consider it to be a total invasion of my personal self. Which is so odd considering it is public and people I don't know read it.

I used to be the glue in the family but now I am not and am glad not to me because it did my head in. I was drowning in my own glue and theirs.

Physics and geometry. Oh how I envied girls who understood that. Girls especially as it was not encouraged. It took a long time for me to realise that I was clever in my own way and it was okay not to know physics or algebra. It's good that girls are encouraged to embrace different study fields. I think, even now in 2012, they need to be reminded that there is more to life than just traditional female roles.

I love the photos you post, so poignant.

KYLady said...

Linda – thank you for your kind comments. It’s good to hear I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to be glue.