A to Z Honesty - B is for Bad Thoughts

It's not good to be alone with your thoughts, not for hours at a time.

I realized this with depressing clarity on Saturday as I spent yet another full day in front of the wood splitter. The throaty rattle of the machine obliterated all noise but the scrambled negative voices in my own head as the hydraulic wedge pushed through block after block of wood like it was processed cheese.

My weaknesses, my bad traits, ran through my head on a loop, piling up on each other until tears flowed in the sawdust.

I'm mean to people. I'm fickle. I want friends but I push them away.


I'm angry. Too emotional. Judgemental. Who made me the goddamned queen of morality? Like I have any reason to feel superior – HA.


I'm a terrible mother – I must be. And how do I deal with my children? I want to hold them close, but I don't want to crowd them. I want them to want me on their terms – but are they wanting the same thing?


I say I'm a writer but what have I written? My novel has sat untouched for so long I barely remember where I left off. What a fake I am. Charlatan!


And diet? What diet? When the chips were down last week I fairly flew home to the comfort of crackers smothered in margarine and cheese. Cracker after cracker slid past my tongue, without me even pausing to taste it. Like a dog. Feeding until the frenzy inside quieted and then looking in the cupboard for more, always more.

I can only live one day at a time. Be the best person I can be on that day. It's all I can do. All any of us can do. That, and check my anti-depressant medication – maybe I need an adjustment.

Or maybe I just need to do something else besides freaking splitting wood.

Sharp objects

John Wiswell wanted me to pose with the sharpest object in my house. Well, Wiswell (get it? Well, Wiswell? heh) the sharpest objects are outside my house. Remember that kid in The Christmas Story that got a BB in his eye and blamed it on an icicle? I was reminded of that kid today. I was thinking that maybe posing with an icicle pointed at the eye that had surgery two days ago is not the smartest idea I ever had. There was no one around to take these photos so I improvised. This photo? It was meant to be a full frame of my face and the icicle. You can see how that worked.

So I thought, maybe I'll take a picture of my reflection with the icicle. In the first pose I just stood there. It wasn't too exciting so this time I lifted my leg in the air and leaned to the left. I think this pose is so much more dramatic, although in hindsight I realize it looks like I'm peeing on the kitchen table.

At first I thought I looked like Paul McCartney in this photo. That was a couple of hours ago. Now I think I look like death warmed over, or perhaps a wax statue of Paul McCartney, you know, if he gained weight and grew boobs. Look at my lips. Look harder, they're there. They totally blend in with my face. It's like I don't even have lips. If it wasn't for yellow teeth, you wouldn't even be able to tell I had a mouth. Until I opened it, that is. 

Again with the drama. I studied theatre arts for three years in high school. It was one of my best subjects. I know, you're not surprised. (Drama Queen. You're thinking it. Don't deny it.) At least I have lips in this photo. Actually, I don't. I took a picture of my cat's arse and photoshopped it on my chin.

I dunno. I have no idea. All I can say is "theatre arts." Oh, and constipation.

All this is in aid of the Liebster Blog Award, which John Wiswell honoured me with this morning. I think the rules are something like, take a photo of yourself with the sharpest object in the house and name five other bloggers who you think aren't the sharpest knives in the drawer. Or maybe they ARE the sharpest knives. Sharp. Dull, wtf, I don't know. I forget and I'm way too lazy to go back to John's and find out.

In the spirit of passing on the Liebster love, I'm honouring these lucky folks:

Lisa at Diary of a Square Toothed Girl because she is funny and she doesn't dye her hair, which makes her my hero. And apparently she has square teeth, but you couldn't prove it by me - mostly she has her lips closed in her photos. At least she has lips. Doesn't have to photoshop pictures of her cat's butt. If she even has a cat. That has a butt. Which is a stretch.

John at Going Gently because he, too, is funny and he has crazy pictures of his googly-eyed chickens on his masthead and he just gave whole new meaning to the slogan "put pork on your fork," stirring up quite a controversy. Somebody even sent him graven voodoo messages involving scary stuff - I forget what it was, but it was scary. Also he posts photos of very good looking men sometimes. Y'know, when he's not showcasing hens.

Cro at Magnon's Meanderings because he's friends with John and they're both over across the pond somewhere and they both have an inordinate amount of dogs and they're funny and I think if I don't include both then one will get jealous. You know how men are. Sheesh. Cro has scintillating games like "guess what breed of dog" he has and "what came first, the lizard or the frozen egg." Also, he bakes. Ladies - I know! He's a catch! Alas, he is married to Lady Magnon but we can continue to worship him from afar.

Tulpen at Bad Words because no one else swears as much as her and is so funny in the process. And also heartwarming, but you don't want to hear all that mushy junk. You just want a laugh, right? Do I know you or what? No? Oh go feck yourself then. Way you go. Piss off.

And finally, I can't go without mentioning Daisy the Curly Cat because she's a cat and she has more followers than most of the human bloggers I know. She's a fashion model, she's a comedienne and, I dunno, she likes pink. So we have a lot in common, as you can see. Plus, before I had my surgery? She sent me a message and said her "purrs were with me." Purrs.. get it?

OH, and my surgery was tremendous. It was a MIRACLE! I can see, blessed mother of pearl, I CAN SEE! Thanks for all your brilliant wishes and purrs. I was all verklempt when I read them.