On listening: Someone I highly admire recommended a podcast they were on—I listened and wish I had that hour back. The host kept interrupting and using the dreaded ‘I’ this and ‘I’ that—yes, narcissism, what a shock for a podcaster←irony. The connection was bad and you couldn’t hear or understand what the guest was saying half the time. The topic was a controversial one that had been broached recently and I was thankful for some of the wisdom dispensed, of what I could hear; yet, in a separate conversation, totally apart from that topic, the host dropped a ridiculing comment towards a certain group of people that lacked empathy and riled me to no end. I won’t be listening to that again, and no, I will not link to it. Thereafter, I’ve decided to restrict my walking-listening to music and music only until such time that the human race does not stress and piss me off. Since listening to people, especially men, talking in my ear during my daily hour walk triggers me, I’m putting that boundary in place to limit my stress for the time being.
On triggers and aggression: In the past, whenever I got these bouts of aggression, I would blast heavy metal and hard rock music and wish I had a punching bag and gloves. Alas, I still don’t own a punching bag and since I have an elderly roommate who would not appreciate the explicit musical lyrics with screaming guitar solos, the booming base of drums, and the blaring of high-pitched GenX wailers, I’m most likely doomed to deafen myself with earbuds. Speaking of…
On Heavy Metal, Hard Rock Music, and Instagram: Since I’ve reduced my time on Twitter—considering it has purposely turned into a cesspool of far right fascists (much like Congress and the Republican Party) thanks to its blunt tool of an owner—I’ve been on Instagram more because I need the positive aesthetically pleasing visual stimuli; of artists’ creating, nail polish swatches and stamping tutorials, of the rolling green hills of Ireland and the rocky gray ranges of Scotland or any other gorgeous scenic location, the lovely architecture and interiors of homes, and…Henry Cavill?? Yes, Instagram has taken to dropping celebrity videos in my feed, predominantly of Cavill. Apparently he’s quite prolific online. Well, okay, he is pretty to look at, if muted and not so put together, but there is a reason I don’t fangirl on celebrities or anyone in particular—they are people and they eventually and routinely annoy me and fandoms turn people into bizarre cult-like gatekeepers and fanatics. So, I avoid them. [Append: Contrary Opinion here] Unfortunately, I ignored that rule and tapped on a Graham Norton show clip (that is normally quite funny) and saw Cate Blanchett, of all people, mocking Margot Robbie because of her love of heavy metal music. I tried unsuccessfully not to roll my eyes and quickly muted it before that conversation ruined my love of and respect for both actresses. It could’ve been innocent and meant facetiously and all in good fun—whatever. I LOVE heavy metal and hard rock music and don’t so much people right now (thank you, menopause). I gotta add though that muted, when those GenX Irish and Scottish (and a Brit or two) men float by my eyes (muted, of course), the world feels more upright and proper. I’ll leave you to deduce who those are. Also, Margot and Cate are hot.
On writing and Editing: I do go back and occasionally edit things I’ve written on this blog. If it is a dramatic edit and a nonfiction post, I will append it or strikethrough. I actually edit the fiction. I am writing more fiction lately and will have another fiction post soon. I’ve been working a lot more at the paying job and menopause is kicking my ass. The nonfiction edits are limited in scope because this blog is meant to be a philosophical journey, thus the title. I’m not gonna make it easier for you to read about my struggles, my ignorance and mistakes, my growth, my overall self, because it has never been easy and why the fuck should I make it easier on you—I certainly wouldn’t expect it of you. I am human and am imperfect and live and learn like the rest, hopefully. To dismiss or delete any of it would be to reject the nuance of the journey even when I’m not at my best and make a hellacious fool of myself. I own it all and the asshole within.
On book banning and lecturing me on what I read: Don’t, stop, and fuck all the way off.
On indoctrination: Do your own thinking and make your own choices—I ain’t Republicans or Fox News. People should be taught how to think, not told what to think. They wanna tell you what to think and read, how to live, who to love and have sex with, what to do with your bodies, how and what to teach kids, who should be free and who shouldn’t, who you should worship and who you shouldn’t, who counts and who doesn’t, whose history is important and whose isn’t, etcetera etcetera. FUCK THAT. Don’t buy the bullshit—they have been using indoctrination since the dawn of time to make people obey and conform as a means of exploitation and control. Stop obeying them and stop being told what to think and do and stop fucking telling people—all people of all ages—what they can and cannot read. That never ends well.
On what I’m watching: Andor was excellent. Black Panther: Wakanda Forever was
okay great (I watched it again when I was in a better mood LOL). Loved Lockwood & Co. and Wednesday. I watched about 15 minutes of Bullet Train and turned it off. The Pale Blue Eye was interesting. Vikings: Valhalla season two was good. Enola Holmes 2 and Glass Onion were fun. Since the hellmouth opened and the apocalypse is nigh, I watched Supernatural again up to the end of season 13 (anything beyond that I did not care for). Why, you ask, when you promised not to ever watch again? I had to get the bad taste of Soldier Boy outta my head after watching The Boys new season last year [shudder]. Do not misunderstand me—Ackles was brilliant at playing him but that character was fucking disturbing.
On what I’m reading: CJI KISSING?! Oh come on! Ugh, OMG you people disgust me. Stop being prudes and learn how to freaking kiss! I’m suddenly remembering how someone labeled Gen Z and Millennials the prudish generations and am going to have to reflect more on that. This NY Time review of Twitter’s top 25 tweets is…well…it is something. The way Heather Cox Richardson writes, we will be going to war soon; I am not surprised because, well, men. I highly recommend subscribing to Jessica Valenti’s substack because she’s doing the most reporting work on abortion and reproductive rights currently and she’s simply brilliant. I started reading Lenora Bell in the past month in between reading Lorraine Heath and Joanna Shupe—review forthcoming.
On Menopause: My hot flashes are contained to my spine. It’s like when Six and Eight—Boomer and Caprica One on Battlestar Galactica—were having sex and their spine lit red—that is what my hot flashes feel like; not orgasmic, in case you misconstrue, but a hot red spine. I’ve seen some women drenched in perspiration from hot flashes. I am fortunate to where mine are nowhere near that bad. I don’t even sweat—yet and hope never to; I also don’t wear much in the way of clothing either. (I tried to find a link to the BSG scenes, but those prudish internet police have struck again). Also, whatever you do, if you have digestion issues, do not sleep on your right side—ever. Sleep on your back or your left side.
Until next time, loves.
© 2023 Matilda London/Pamela Gay Mullins
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