Masks

Just a little rant that’s a little too long for Twitter.

I hate wearing the masks.

Here’s a story:

I went to a store yesterday. The temperatures outside were in the high 80’s, I think, but the humidity was tolerable. The store itself was frigid, the air was moving, and it was cool inside.

But I was sweating bullets, despite the cold air on my neck and arms, because my fucking mask is like wearing a diaper on my face. There was sweat on my upper lip dripping into my mouth, for crying out loud. It’s hot. It’s uncomfortable. I can’t wear my glasses with it because the fogging is so bad (I don’t have a mask with a nose wire, yet), and my breath blowing up the nose into my eyes when I wear my glasses is intolerable.

The moment I got into my car, I ripped that fucker off and threw it on the passenger seat. I turned on the air full blast to try to get the sweat that seemed to have sweat off my deodorant under control. I was sweating under my arms, on my neck, under my boobs, not to mention the mask-shaped sweat patch on my face.

I’m still going to wear the fucking mask.

I’ll probably adopt the mask further, if we ever got a vaccine for this fucking disease and I get the vaccine, to don it any time I’m not feeling 100%, because it fucking makes sense. How did this get to be a societal norm in other countries but not here in the US?

I hate the fucking mask, and I’ll bitch about how hot and uncomfortable the fucking mask makes me, but I’ll wear the mask, and I’ll get grumpy about every single person who walks into my office without one without giving me a chance to put mine on (because in my little office where I’m the only person, I feel comfortable not having it on. If I have to walk outside or talk to someone, I’m putting that fucker back on).

Seriously, guys. In an office full of people, stand in the fucking doorway if you’ve decided you’re too good to not wear the fucking mask, even though it’s fucking required to fucking wear it, so I can put mine on and at least protect my-fucking-self.

Fuck.

So there’s that.

Don’t you dare ask me how I’m doing. It should be clear.

Story Titles

I come up with some absolutely spectacular book titles.

But I don’t use them.

And that’s unfair to the titles, because they’re good.

So a Pinterest post I found last night kind of got me thinking.

And it got me thinking in a good way, because I write titles of books that I don’t use because I don’t know how to write a book about the title.

So why not just use the title anyway? Stick it on a book that’s only marginally related (or not related at all), and have a really spectacular subtitle that gives a little context.

I don’t know. Maybe it’s just another sad attempt to try to write. But whatever.

Also, this post is generally a test to remember how to switch the twitter account that gets notified when I post new things. Essentially, I’m going to keep @nivixious as my primary twitter where I say things and retweet things, and @growingupwalls is just going to be the account where you can get notifications of new things – blog posts, YouTube videos, etc. I’m going to stop crossposting YT videos here, so if you want to get alerts, follow @growingupwalls, pls. KTHXBAI!

Potatoes Potatoes

My eldest has started typing “potatoes potatoes,” and in his head he’s saying, “po-tay-toes, po-tah-toes,” but he likes that it just reads “potatoes potatoes,” and I admit, he’s got something there.

So as a declaration of eh, some people like it one way, some people like it another, but it’s essentially the same thing, I offer you this.

You’re welcome.

Shoe

Our very dark cat has one name (Shadow Fluffybutt), but we should have named him Toothless, and occasionally, lately, we call him Shoe. He likes to hang out in the shadows (natch), and my husband has a pair of dark shoes that, when walking through a dark room in the dark where all you can see are dark shapes, could reasonably be mistaken for a large, long-haired cat. Recently, walking through said dark room, I looked at the dark shape on the floor and said, “Are you a shoe?” The potential shoe meowed, and so the shape was not a shoe, but a cat. Still, he’s earned a new nickname.

And an “S” nickname to boot.

750words.com

I’m back to writing at 750words.com every day. It’s no longer free – that ended in 2013, I think? But for $5 a month, I find it worth it. It gives me everything I need. A streak tracker, badges to achieve, and an external reward system that I don’t control except in terms of the time I put into achieving the rewards (the badges).

/end

That’s all I have for today. You don’t want to hear how angry Facebook makes me, or how I’m even becoming frustrated with Twitter. You don’t want to know how I’m following more people on Instagram, which I dislike simply because Facebook owns it, or that I’m actually enjoying TikTok, to a degree.

So I’ll leave that part out.

Heh.

The nature of my block

When I sit in the evening and the kids have gone to bed and I have time to write, I find myself tired. Just go to bed, I think. A good nights rest will help the words come easier tomorrow.

So I’ll to go bed tonight, early, and tomorrow find that the TV is distracting, or it’s hot, or there are chores to be done, or a kid will need my attention and energy.

I won’t “have time” to write. The words won’t “come to me.” I won’t “feel creative.”

And tomorrow night I will find myself here. Tired, thinking a good nights rest will help the words come easier tomorrow.

Grudgingly admitting benefits

So I guess that Facebook actually has a use. It’s the place where I would normally go to give family and friends updates on my immediate family’s health. Except I’m mad at FB, and I refuse to post anything right now.

So I come here. Except this is entirely too public, and at the same time, does not hit the right audience. Even though family would, in theory, have access to it, none of them do.

So I have to sit on my news, because of the public nature of this particular platform.

But if you’re the praying type, my family needs prayers.

That is all.