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 |  Blog and other works of literary sense |
| Here is a collection of ruminations and whatnot. |
| I'm still here it's been a while that I've been on the computer. Hearing and seeing tweets about the VP Debate. I don't wish to watch debates as they only exasperate me. I don't like confrontation. I never wanted to be in Law because I'd have to face some asshole who's going to make me want to cry and I hate doing that and it would only make me look bad in front of the judge. I'd have had to build up a certain sort of crassness or strength, whichever the word might apply, and be as bad as everyone else in the courtroom. I'd also be a rougher person, someone who's always rude, somewhat uppity, somewhat less than what I'd like to be as a person, as a woman. Women are forced to be strong, or is it not a deficit to look like they're going to knock your block off if they were given the chance and have to break the glass ceiling? I never wanted to do that in my career, and there was only one job that I worked at that the chance came fleetingly to become a managerial person. I did not wish to be hardnosed and try to bully my way up the corporate ladder. I don't think I ever met a demure woman who became a manager. They developed a thick skin along the way. One of these types who seemed demure to me once she became a manager, began to look down on everyone with a certain type of disdain, a disgust, because, of course, she made the grade. I'm not like that at all. I don't like being rude. I don't like having to be the one to chew out someone, or reprimand them in private or in public. Those who do this in public are really showing how much less they are as a person. Someone who's weak who bullies people. There is no excuse for this in any arena of life. I'm a follower, more than a leader. But some people like to lead like followers, but that's not me. I'd rather be a team player, and they've said I was in my last job. I rather be someone who helps to further a mission, a goal. It blends well with being a woman, a feminine person. I'm not someone who likes wearing pantsuits, or blazers, unless I can wear a jacket that goes well with tights. I'm not a suit sort of woman. I look awful in a suit. It makes me look ridiculous. So yes, I'm not into debates. I had a high school education where they had a debate society but I never joined. I think it might have been helpful in some way but because I don't crave confrontation of any sort, I never cared to know what secrets debate society members learn. I'm a quiet girl, someone who rather likes to do knitting, or crocheting. Writing is the game I do. I rather do that than do some sort of boxing sort of meme. I did think I might like to exercise with the kickboxing craze but that waned from my repertoire. I think if I were younger that could have been ok but I'm afraid it's not for me now. I rather meditate, contemplate, ruminate, and think with someone who's willing to talk about the sort of things people think about - just sharing one's own outlook about life and its humourous aspects. There are times that I get fed up of course. I'd go off and have a private rant somewhere where nobody can hear me. But that's about it. |
| I'm no dating expert, but i have some thoughts about dating. I'm a believer in letting the man pursue you. I don't believe in going to bars and other types of places just to meet men. I think if you wanted to meet men, I'd suggest you go to take a class in a subject that would be attractive to men and other women. Something like a class in writing, or in art appreciation. that way you can find something better in common besides your favorite lager. If you are somehow gregarious enough, you can get people to notice you by talking in class about the subject matter, or by asking intelligent questions. Sitting in different seats would help you, and you can get a range of people to talk to randomly. If a guy interests you in the class, give him a smile or glance his way to see if he notices you. If he does, that works to encourage him to approach you. But if he doesn't chances are he's a nerd or someone who's already stuck on someone else. If you fear the COVId problem in these classes, you could sit apart as the class teacher wants. I suggest you wear your masks in class and dress nicely. Don't try to wear dresses all the time, but try to wear something that's funky and cool. A good thing to wear in classes is leggings and boots, and a slouchy sweater. nothing to obvious or else you'll attract a jerk. dating starts when the man asks you for you telephone number. Or you can get him to take you for a cup of coffee and you can talk about the subject you are both taking as classmates. be sure you look at his ring finger to see if he's a married man. that's the kiss of death to any relationship. A married man has so many baggages in his life, not to mention kids. Unless you're a sucker for a loser, don't go for an obviously married man. if he's a good person and takes you for coffee and brings up another date after that, go with it. Don't try to imagine wedding bells right off the bat. talking to a man about marriage can sound alarm bells in his head. Men don't want to jump into anything like marriage. Just play it cool. playing it cool is what women should do. if he is attentive then be a genuine person and appreciate his attention. And have fun at this dating thing with him. If you're having some trouble getting to meet men, even with the classes that i'm suggesting, just be patient. Dress to be comfortable but don't don't don't wear sneakers and socks, or jeans that are called "Mommy jeans". Don't wear any rings on your finger so that they might be put off that you could be taken. wear cool earrings that are dainty and sweet. Don't wear your hair in a weird colour. You could scare a decent chap away. or you might end up with someone who is also filled with his own angst. the psychology of dating is a difficult thing to navigate. Don't reveal too much about yourself in the first date. Don't tell about all the losers who have been your past boyfriends. Just treat this date as a new slate to write on together with your new beau. |
| I wrote Love in the Time of Terror at the height of the terrorist attacks in London. Thankfully, those days are gone and London is safer. But the story I wrote is not really about the terror but it is about how love can be the best way to see things with - the lens with which to look at people, jobs, country and everything else that you have in your life. Without the love of a good person in your life you drift through and go through the same old thing every day, not looking past the thing in front of you, and getting duller in your thinking every day. Pretty soon you're a withered branch of a once impressive tree where the tree is the human race and you are one of its branches. So this story is about that, and about what it means to a man who's focused so much on his job which makes him unable to understand at first the meaning of what a tryst with a woman who gets under his skin means. He talks about it with his boss, his colleagues, and then he makes that decision - rash to some people, and yet understandable to others. When have you ever met anyone who left everything behind to follow his heart? This is what this story is about. |
| Eversince I found out my genesis I've become somewhat unable to determine who I am in reality. I've been born somewhere else than what I was told by liars in the family that I was given by bad people who conspired to lie to me and make me believe that I was someone else's child to protect the person who they felt they had to, and more important, to protect his Wife who is the Queen of England. |
| I am Mary Faderan, born Ione Mountbatten. Adopted by Paul McGreavey and his family to become Annabelle McGreavey, from Lancashire, England. Paul was a carpenter by trade. I grew up to about twelve years old before I was kidnapped by the people who obeyed the ruling Queen, Elizabeth Windsor. I became transformed to look a bit like someone who was from Asia. I was given parents who were Asian-looking. I was programmed to believe that I had a life in that Asian country, called The Philippines. I was made to believe that I had a large number of cousins who were people I grew up around. These people were all actors hired by the Queen or, worse, made up to look real to me. These people were grown up in test tubes to become people who were some ones to me. These test tube people were started a while ago and include the Queen of England Elizabeth II. These scientists were from Oxford University, England. The reason the Queen wanted me to be 'taken' out of my peaceful existence was because her husband Philip Mountbatten was my real father. My real mother is Maggie Smith, the dramatic actress from England. |
| This morning was a pretty one. Had sunlight streaming into my kitchen as I worked and had my morning coffee. The pups are as they usually are, very loving but the younger one is very much a handful. But he's a loving little boy anyway. I decided that I might try a different flour to make bread. It came from an online flour stockist and so I think it could be good enough to try again. In the past I used it according to directions and it didn't really come out right. So today I'm winging it and hoping it will turn out ok. I've written several paragraphs to my next novel The Bridge. I think it's coming along well enough. I've also revised my first non-fiction book with a new cover page. I also made a Kindle edition of another book that I call "Life With Headwinds" that I co-wrote with Colin Firth. I think it will be a great idea for everyone to buy these books as they are good things to keep in mind - at least - the content has good ideas. I'm also busy with my other business sidelines. I'm taking some time this weekend to bone up on what it may take to get these sideline businesses up and running. I could also take my dogs for a walk but I'm not really that much into walking two different paced dogs. The older one walks right enough but the puppy tugs and pulls at his leash. I cannot take them by turns to walk because the older one will feel sad that I exclude him from the walk. I hope everyone has a great day! |
| I woke up early around 4 or 5 am. My puppy was acting up again so I kept him leashed by my chair. He likes to nose about the stuff hanging off of the table - bits of thread or yarn that I have so he grabs these with his mouth and it takes a lot to persuade him to give it up so I have to cut the yarn and let him have his part of it. And there are other things he likes to drag off with his mouth - magazines, books, etc. A very irrascible puppy and he's not even a year old. I tell him "No" but he seems to have a devil in him that ignores me and my exhortations. I'm easily unhappy these days and the puppy adds to my sad feelings. I have had some ok moments today, but a great big thud came over to my chest and made me so uber sad that I cried out to my God and asked Him to help me. It's sad how these happens but that has happened several times. Sometimes it's the sensation of being knifed, stabbed in the chest or some part of my anatomy. Other times it's the sensation of being kicked in the kneecap or somewhere near it. Other times it's the sensation of being smothered, or made to not breathe or breathe right at all. Then there are times when I feel as though a knife is cutting my finger, or thumb. Or a spark of something is being put into my eye, and making it hurt. And my scalp is a field of scabby feeling bumps and that I can't understand but it's like it's gotten picked on by invisible hooks and leaving a scab. I get a lot of that lately. And the dry feeling of my scalp. It's a pestilential life. |
| I woke up about a half hour ago. I slept last night feeling sad. I wanted so much to have a heavenly sleep but then a bad thought came to my mind and told me that would rquire my soul leaving my body and dying, having a corpse to leave behind. I was saddened by it and cried bitter tears because I wish to go to a heavenly place without having to give up anything of my body. I'm scared what will happen to my body after my soul leaves it. I'm afraid that the ghouls in the world will descend upon it and make hay with it. I don't want to die. I want to keep being alive. There's more to do now that I've got a business in writing and selling items from four different businesses. I want to know how to be successful at marketing my products, at promoting them and gaining customers. It's a different kind of work that tests my intellectual abilities, being a persuasive writer at that. I think that the MFA I gained from NU is like this - it helps to persuade people through the written word on what they ought to do, or what they should buy, at the least. So dying isn't in my plans at all. I am made to feel sad a lot but I'm not dead by any means. I want everyone to know that I am still going on with my work and my self-employment, my businesses in Norwex, Mary Kay, Thirty One Gifts and LuLaRoe. I'd like to see some of that work grow and help with generating income to help my stepfather with the bills and with putting food on the table. |
| What do you do when you're 63 years old? I'm still spry, have my health, do have some addictions to coffee and cigs. Some of my physical infirmities include a wonky knee, and some bunions, lol. But they're fashionably covered up by Lucky flats, haha. I have a few businesses that I have as a contractor but the most of my day is spent chatting up about it on social media. I'm learning how to use Adobe, and some odd website called Photofy (sp?) and then going on Zoom meetings with several of the business mavens that own these companies who teach us newbies what to do, how to do and be happy girls and boys. I'm still trying to find a writing job either in regulatory or as a proofreader/editor. I don't find some of the recruiters who contact me to be sure things. These big jobs they 'promise' aren't available because they're probably scams. I am suspecting many of these emails are from spammers and they only want to see what I'm doing or am about so I used to send them my resume but I'm guessing they're all going into the round file. Or worse, I'm getting nicked as a new person somewhere who's pretending they have all these skills that I have on my resume! I'm probably catastrophizing but well, what ever. But, the fun parts are going on YouTube and chatting about this and that, or about one or more of my businesses, trying to drum up some business, as you might guess. YouTube is quite good at their analytics, I'm seeing and that helps me feel as though people are interested enough. Many people come from some of these same businesses and that's alright. In the meantime, in between time, I crochet, knit and do some needlework. I've got some patterns for sewing if I ever get enough table space to cut a pattern. But that's not happening as there isn't. I could even cut hair if you wish to have me cut your hair - I can do a man's hair or a woman's hair, (mine mostly) to cut. My stepfather can't risk going to the haircutting place due to the COVID problem. So he's had to condescend to ask me to cut his hair! I did that today, after he washed it (I demanded he wash his hair first) and that went well enough. He has a few hairs on his head yet, haha. I almost asked him for a fee to cut his hair but the man's broke like me. Haha. So at this age, I can do more but I somehow can't get a paying job but well, what does one do? I'm hoping that 9 days of being on ramen noodles won't kill me or my stepfather. I think ramen is safe, don't you? Unless you believe these scientific wonks who claim it has polyacrylamide which is rather not what I'd like in my body. But, if one has to have ramen that's what I'll have. I've discovered the joys of broth. The asian store has packets of them, so I have a broth soup ever so often. It's good going down your gullet. Quite a hearty meal, except it has nothing else but water (hot) and some sort of chicken precipitate. I guess this old body of mine will be alright. I just need to do some exercise like lifting my 30 pound baby puppy and hauling him around the house like a baby, so it will keep my biceps firm (haha). Other than that, this is life in the 'fast' lane. |
| The day has been too quiet. Not done much to write home about. Guess that's why this blog. Business is not doing well. No buyers nor any more looks on my businesses that I've contracted with. But I keep doing this just in case some miracle happens. It doesn't hurt, does it? It's a faith thing. I've got enough faith that good things come to those who are patient and wait on the Lord. I've done it in the past. I used to work at a factory,a manufacturing plant. I was in a technical lab. I worked four hours a day. I wore steel toed boots. I wore a lab coat and safety glasses. I would do my job and in between tasks I would stare out the windows and see the railroad track that crosse the path in front of our little lab. I'd pray and ask God when will it happen that I'll be out of this God-forsaken place? I took the job because I needed to pay bills. I could have stayed at home till the "right" job came along, whatever it might be. I could have let my aging step parents pay for things, do the grocery, and cook and do things in the house while I stayed in my room and tried to do something else. Maybe. But in those days I felt an obligation to do this. So I did get out in less than a year of work there. I landed a job as a pharmacy tech. Talk about another sad job. It wasn't fun, and it was harrowing. I had to prepare medicines for the patients. I was fucking scared I'd screw up and they'd get mad at me or worse, fire me. i prayed again, each day I worked there. I asked Jesus to help me get through the day without getting into a scrape. I had some company who were friendly enough. But everyone I'm guessing was scared that things could go wrong in a heartbeat. There'd be 'codes' where patients in the hospital would go into distress. The PA loudspeaker would call out where the 'code' was, and one of the pharmacists would bring a big bag of medicines and i.v. fluids to take to the patient's room so the doctors would be able to resuscitate the patient. We all would jump when this 'code' would be called. I went home many many many days feeling grateful that my job wasn't as bad as i thought it would be. Then I prayed on my knees asking God to give me a better job. It came in enough time - three years and three months to the day. I got a better job, got trained to do writing technical documents, and it made a difference in my life in that I could afford to help when something went wrong at home - the garage door, the heater, the water boiler thing would break down. Things that people encountered when they owned a home. (We'd moved into a single family house in 03). Then, after eleven years and eight months, I left. I was burnt out. Now I'm retired but still working and associated with four new companies hoping that I could sell their products. It's part of life. The ups and downs of working in the USA. Gotta work. Gotta pay taxes. Gotta be part of the fabric of life. I'm not grousing. Retirement isn't as great if you haven't got a lot saved up. So I'm self-employed. I stay home and work all the time trying to find a way to keep up my mood, and not let the depressing thoughts get to me. I stay home with my 91 year old stepfather. He's another one of those who when he gets it into his mind about a problem he'll talk about it nonstop. What do you do with a senior like that? Hes garrulous sometimes. He asks me to help him talk to somebody on the phone (he's partly deaf) and then he just sits and focuses on his Facebook and he says he prays to God all the time. That's the life I have now. How's your life like? |
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