Simplicity

Some Reasons I.......

Am Not on Facebook:  Look, I don't even like your annual Christmas letter updating me about your life.

Don't Have a Twitter Account:  140 characters?  Once when a friend asked me what time it was she told me not to tell her how they made the clock.

Am not on LinkedIn:  I am a kept woman

Hate Texting:

BBQ?  Really? 

Won't Buy a Kindle (or any other eReader)  It doesn't feel like escaping.  It makes me anxious and tired. (h/t Emma Robinson) Plus I don't  have to worry about the battery life of my copy of BossyPants.

Don't own a DVR:  $9.00 cable

Don't have FIOS, Xfinity  See above.

Don't Own an ipad, itouch:

Don't use an ipod:  Click to read about the earbud incident.

Hate ipods anyway:   No DJ's and no commercials make me claustrophobic.  All evidence to the contrary, I actually like to hear a human voice now and again.  As long as I don't have to interact with it.

  

Still have a 56K DSL line: 

Don't own a smartphone:

The above choices make me feel like I am part of the simple living movement. Click to learn more.  Well, all except the anti-consumerist, ecological footprint, more quality time with people, sustainable development, self sufficiency part.

Oh let's face it.  I'm just cheap.

Exhibit 3, 4, 5, 6.....

My Loserdom is legendary.  As a result, I have always told anyone unlucky enough to be within earshot about how "it's hard to be me."  No one has ever paid  me any mind. Boo hoo.  However after the earbud thingy Sunshine and Happiness looked at me with wonder and exclaimed, "It really IS hard to be you."  See, I told you so.  Validation.  Affirmation.  Finally.  I've only  lived with her for 12 years. She's quick like that. 

I must admit I have asked myself more than once why I make so many stupid mistakes.  So I decided to dig deep within myself and go where I knew there would be an answer.  I googled it.  I typed in "why do I make so many stupid mistakes?"  and sites popped up.  I kid you not.  Other folks had asked themselves this question.  On google.

And wait...... what the effie? There's an actual name for this?

Yup.  

 Dyspraxia - an impairment in the development of movement,  language perception and thought problems beginning in childhood and continuing into adolescence and adulthood. . The condition results in gross and fine motor difficulties caused by perceptual problems, especially visual motor and kinesthetic.  Dyspraxia can be associated with behavioral, physiological and emotional problems.  Those with dyspraxia may have difficulties with handwriting, learning to drive a car and self care tasks.  Other symptoms include difficulty forming relationships with others, low self esteem, avoidance of sports and physical activities and social awkwardness..  Dyspraxia is a learning disorder often categorized with dyslexia, ADHD, and the autism spectrum. 

Hmmmm.  Let's see

• I never learned to skip or jump rope much to the chagrin of my kindergarten teacher
• I still cannot tie my shoes, much to the chagrin of my mother
• I cannot tell my left from my right (I have a freckle on my left hand which is how I get around it)
• I did not learn to drive until I was 30 and needed the help of 2 driving schools, a support group AND a therapist.  My first driving instructor had a heart attack which I credit myself for, after my first lesson thank you very much.  Part of the problem is that when given directions and a right turn or a left turn is indicated I get really confused.  My therapist (God bless her) had me use a paper plate as a mock steering wheel and would yell out, left, right, right, left,  and I would have to turn the paper plate in the correct direction.  I also cannot understand traffic signs that indicate direction.  Yes, I am that person.  The one you all are always flipping off.
• I can NOT walk in a straight line.  I was at a funeral the other day and helped a crotchety old woman (shout out to Sue Raymond) to the church entrance.  As we walked I was unaware that I was pushing her off the sidewalk and into the grass.  All of a sudden she boomed "for Godsakes can ya give me a little bit of sidewalk?"  (Love ya Sue)
• I am extremely shy and self conscious, introverted and socially awkward.  Not even alcohol can lubricate me enough to be at ease in social groups.  And I imbibed enough of it to know.
• I struggle with depression/anxiety/OCD behaviors. Seriously I get songs stuck in my head and they will play in the background of my mind, over and over for days.  Even in my sleep.  Fuck you Taylor Swift and your goddamned catchy hooks.  Also, for awhile I thought I might be bipolar because my mood swings happened so frequently and intensely. S&H never knew what she was gonna get.
• I break everything I touch.  Actually if I just breathe in the direction of any type of machine it dies.  Not exaggerating.
• I hurt myself constantly by bumping, tripping, falling.  My mother nicknamed me Grace.  Compassionate woman, she.
• My biggest fear is that I will someday electrocute, maim, drown or blow myself up and in those few seconds right before I die think to myself, "oops."   
• I cannot dance and cannot follow any exercise routine that requires me to execute a series of movements.  When I try it is just painful for everyone involved.
• Additionally, I can be neatly dressed, pressed and ready to go and inevitably by the time I leave I will be rumpled, wrinkled, look like I have slept in my outfit and have a stain right smack in the middle of my shirt.  Never fails.

Now, let's look at the symptoms of dyspraxia:  difficulty telling left from right, sloppy & poor at dressing, messy eating and drinking, tendency to fall alot, bump, trip, hurt self,  prone to emotional unpredictability, anxiety and depression, fluctating often between good and bad days, obsessive behavior, phobias, clumsiness, memory problems, poor spacial awareness, isolation from peer groups, poor sense of direction, trouble with grip holds things tightly causing hands to ache, poor handwriting, poor posture, poor balance, poor muscle tone, fatigue, overly sensitive to sound, may dislike being touched, problems with pain, smell, heat and taste,  light sensitivity, difficulty using equipment and tools that require fine motor or manipulative skills, organizational difficulties, difficulty styling hair, shaving, putting on makeup, tying shoelaces, difficulty with pitch and volume of voice, slow to adapt to new situations, impulsive, stressed, easily frustrated wanting immediate gratification leading to addictive behaviors, insomnia, As a result of dyspraxia, individuals may avoid physical activity and social involvement.  Treatment for dyspraxia includes occupational therapy and counseling for emotional/behavioral issues.  There is no cure.  Most dyspraxic individuals make adaptations in order to function.

See. It's a brain problem people.  It's not my fault.

The New Poster Child for Dyspraxia

Born Loser

Anyone who knows me can attest to how clumsy I am.  (I have had my nose broken 3x attempting to participate in sports) Additionally, Sunshine and Happiness can tell you that when it comes to me and just about anything, Murphy's Law applies. If something can go wrong (and I am involved) it absolutely  will.   You scoff?  Nay, I shall prove it.  Here are just some quick tidbits.

EXHIBIT ONE
 I attempted to plan our last vacation.  Mind you, the criteria I was given was this:

• It must be warm (high 70's, low 80's is acceptable)
• There must be an ocean
• It has to be dog friendly and
• We had to be able to visit with S&H's family in NC on the way 
• Oh, and it had to be the week of April 16 -April 24 because she needed a week off RIGHT NOW. 

That gave me exactly one week to plan, find, book, budget, and prepare to leave for fill in the blank.  S&H......, she's nothing if not clear about what she wants.   Sooooo I spent days, DAYS, (did I mention it was days?) researching locations, calling folks, emailing, and checking the weather to make sure it met to my love's liking.  I finally found some houses with various and sundry combinations of the above requirements.  S&H intensely reviewed my labor and then  flat out said to me "I'm not going there.  It's not warm enough and I just have a bad feeling about it."  Hmmmmmm. Interesting.  I wasn't pissed or anything.  And then in approximately 30 minutes, 30 freakin MINUTES, she had our Seabrook vacation lined up and booked.  If you have read my previous posts you know how glorious our trip was.  Now, if we had gone with my plan we would have ended up, oh, right in the middle of the storm system and twisters that hit the outer banks and caused NC to be declared, mmmm, a DISASTER AREA. 

EXHIBIT TWO
Also, anyone who knows me will be able to tell you how I ABHOR exercise.  One, because I am out of shape and I fatigue easily and two, HELLO because it hurts!  However, in recent days I have become more amenable (my pants won't button) to giving some kind of physical exertion a whirl.   S&H suggested we go to a local high school track and walk.  I grudgingly said OK.  We headed out.  Both of us brought ipods to listen to because we knew that once we started I would be left in the dust.  We arrived, plugged in and started off.  Soon after, S&H drew up beside me and started to talk. Now I can't hear without ear buds and am always frustratingly having to yell loudly (because I can't hear myself or modulate my voice) I CAN"T HEAR YOU, so when she started to talk to me I was a bit annoyed.  I whipped out one of my ear buds and turned to her but as she spoke to me, her voice was still really muffled.  I thought to myself, am I really this deaf?  And just then I noticed that the inside of my ear felt funny.  Really funny.  Turns out when I whipped the ear bud out of my ear, the little skootchy thing that covers the end of the ear bud for smooth comfort had not come out of my ear with the rest of the contraption.  And man, it was lodged in there.  And I had only done like 2 circles around the track.  (which was really alright by me) I was though PA-AN-ICKED.  (ask me about the time a bee crawled in my ear while I was sleeping and lodged in there, buzzing around the inside of my head while I held my breath and waited to see if it would sting me while my sister tried to drown it by using a dropper to dump water inside my ear canal) Anyhoo, S&H spent the next 15 minutes using her long, manicured fingernail to pull it out. It did eventually dislodge although it was a bit skeevy.  I was just grateful it was out.  Thank God S&H is a lipstick lesbian.

Tomorrow - EXHIBIT THREE

My Life

Faith

This is not how I picture God.

Although the angry "Get thee out of of the kingdom" part fits



I was raised Catholic, went to a  Catholic school and never questioned the Baltimore Catechism which was REALLY discouraged anyway. BLASPHEMER!   My teachers were IHM nuns (Immaculate Heart of Mary) and they loved me.  Of course I was a big ass brown nose butt kisser, hand always shooting up to answer the question, always volunteering for extra credit work, always wanting their attention.  You know, the kid in class that everyone HATED. All my classmates just assumed that I was going to be a nun.  Remember those memory books we used to put together with the bad pictures and corny autographs?  My classmates drew a habit on my head. 

I graduated from Catholic School at 13.  As an adult,  I was in a bar stupid drunk when I ran into a guy from my 8th grade class.  He was pretty stupid drunk too. We were doing shots and catching up having a good time when he turned to me and said,  "I didn't know nuns were allowed to drink."  It was that bad.

As a child Sunshine and Happiness spent time in the Church of Christ.  That is until she announced to her mom that, um, it wasn't for her to judge another person's heart or anything but from what she knew if folks did not accept  Jesus as their Lord and Savior they  wouldn't be saved and  would not go to heaven.

BLAMMO!  Goodbye Church of Christ.  I love her mom for that.

Right now S&H and I attend a GLBT welcoming Lutheran church. (lots of potlucks)  It has been said however, that once a Catholic always a Catholic.  It's like even though I don't accept the Pope, or the doctrine, or the rules, I do still miss the icons, statues, the sacred rituals.  You know, like bingo.  I think it must be like being a secular Jew.

Soooooo, I continue to search for what I believe mostly by bumbling about and the process of elimination. 



As of right now,though,  I believe it's time for me to fly! (Shout out to REO Speedwagon) Wooo Hoo!

Economy of Scarcity

My  meditation today says this:

 “The first requisites of an abundant life are the spiritual things:  honesty, purity, unselfishness and love.  Until you have these qualities, quantities of material things are of little real use to you.”

This is a concept that I have been wrestling with for some time.  My partner refers to my approach to living as an “economy of scarcity.”   (Not in the macro/micro economic sense but as an emotional framework)   What this means is that no matter how much or what I possess I am forever afraid of losing it.  I waste too much time anxious that there is not enough to keep me safe.  In my own defense this seems to be a trait I have inherited and am trying to change.  In truth I have exactly what I need in this moment.  I am abundantly blessed.

Yesterday I read Rob Bell’s book Drops Like Stars .   In it he talks about how most of us in life operate within prescribed boundaries and assumptions.  In my case not only boundaries and assumptions but rules that I create for myself about how things are supposed to be.  And when things don't follow those rules I become a madwoman.

My biggest character flaw is a complete avoidance of risk.  This comes from a deeply ingrained fear.   I have spent my life manipulating things in order to feel safe and secure. Yet no matter where I have been, no matter what I have been doing and no matter what I possessed  there has never been enough of anything to take away my fear.  This I realize is an emotional/spiritual issue and not a material one.  My unwarranted fear leads me to an inability to feel gratitude for what I have NOW because I am so focused on what might happen in the future.  I am in short, a coward.

I scrimp and save and refuse to spend money because someday I might not have any.  I hide from speaking my true feelings because others might not like what I have to say.  I avoid activities where I might feel pain or get hurt.  I am a bitch if my routine is interrupted because routine gives me a sense of control and security.  I avoid opportunities that might challenge me because I might fail.  I push folks away if they get too close because they might hurt me.  You get the idea

 And then I get to this part of the book:   “We planned things out.  We knew what meant what.  We had all of our boxes properly organized and labeled…” 

And then something happens –

A loved one commits suicide

We are diagnosed with a terminal illness

We miscarry

We are in a car accident

Something happens that causes us to suffer, our boxes are shattered and “we have no other option but to imagine a totally new tomorrow.” 

 I have caused myself endless suffering in trying to avoid this kind of pain.  And it has caused the box I live in to be very, very small.

Bell again,

“When you talk with people who have just received news that they have a life threatening illness, what do they say?

‘Now I must get those hedges trimmed!’
‘I’ve been putting off plastic surgery long enough.’
‘It’s finally time to join that online poker club.’

No of course not.  They talk about family and friends.  They gather those they love as close as possible.  They reflect on any amends that need to be made with anybody.  They talk about what matters most.  Suffering does that.  There is greatness in you.  Courage. Desire. Integrity.  Virtue.  Compassion.  Dignity.  Loyalty.  Love.  It’s in there somewhere.  And sometimes it takes suffering to get at it.”

Right now in my life I am privileged to be witness to friends who are living breathing examples of courage, love, selflessness and strength as they deal with grief, loss, and suffering.  Their boxes have been shattered and yet they go on.

In recovery we say that pain is inevitable but suffering is optional.  Bell says that we are shaped by the incredibly difficult things that happen to us either for better or worse.  He says that when we suffer we will either become bitter or better, closed or open, more ignorant or more aware, more or less.  I have come down on the wrong side of these choices for the majority of my life.  I have been afraid that there was not enough of anything.  And yet I have acted as if there was all the time in the world to change and do something different when it is time that there is never enough of.

I think it’s about time for me to climb out of my box.

This Old House

There are days when I just cannot believe I am a lesbian.


I tried to paint the frame of the garage today.  I thought, this will be simple right?  Hmmmmm.  Not so.

I naively thought that the old paint since it was peeling would come right off.  I was not counting on the fact that the garage frame has not been  painted since, oh, 1952 and so when I tried to scrape the paint off the wood came right along with it.  I spent most of the day picking splinters out of my fingers. 

I tried to get the old paint off, I really did.  I scraped.  I sanded.  I caulked.  But then I gave up.  And I just painted over it.  And it's gonna peel off.  And I don't care.

I am just not a This Old House kind of girl.

Armageddon

God told Noah to build him an arky, arky
God told Noah to build him an arky, arky
Build it out of gopher barky, barky, children of the Lord.

I am not one to walk around downtown with a sandwich board declaring that the end of the world is near.  It does seem we are on the wrong side of the end times however.  Blizzards, flooding, earthquakes, tsunami's, drought, wildfires, nuclear meltdowns.  

 

And let's not forget these: 



And these:

So far no frogs falling from the sky.  However as a first born child I am getting a bit nervous.









Blog for Equality Day

Alright, I know I am late to the party on this and Blogging for Equality Day is half over but better late than never.  So here goes.

Daryl Metcalfe is at it again.  On May 2, 2011 Representative Metcalfe introduced House Bill 1434 which would define marriage in PA as a "union between one man and one woman" and would make illegal civil unions/domestic partnerships.  There is a reason they call PA "the Alabama of the North".  My apologies to Alabama.

I know, I know...the "traditional" institution of marriage needs protected from this:

Our Wedding Day, Canada 2011
They aren't afraid of us there!

Ooooh. Scary!

Please take the time to visit Equality PA and sign the petition to tell Harrisburg to stop this freakin bill.  It's time to end this crap.



Healing

Despite my previous post, (and despite myself) I had an enjoyable Mother's Day with my parents.  This I'm sure was the universe trying to prove to me that 1) what I fear most hardly ever materializes and 2) my new rule of thumb should be when I think I know what's gonna happen, I'm wrong.  Project much?

So.... we went over to visit yesterday afternoon with our gift.    My mom (it's her inner child I'm sure) loves anything Hello Kitty.  She owns Hello Kitty dishes, cups , napkins,  a welcome mat, even pj's.  She told us that a few mornings ago on the bus a preschooler looked over and said "are you going to school?" My mom didn't get it at first and said "why no, I'm going to work" She then realized it was her Hello Kitty lunchbag that confused the little girl.  My mom is 67. 

While Sunshine & Happiness and I were in South Carolina, S&H hit the motherlode of all things Hello Kitty - Tshirts, book covers, grocery bags, lingerie.  If you can imagine it, they had it. 

We stocked up. 

This Mother's Day was the first time I was absolutely sure my mom would love her gift and when she opened it, she freaked.  I've tried to please the woman my entire life and it is a Hello Kitty handbag and wallet that get's me a reaction.  Yay! 

I heard at  a meeting that the alcoholic's theme song is "I Was Always on My Mind" and this is where I continuously get life wrong.  My previous post was all about me.  Mother's Day is not. 

One of my favorite blogs is Post Secret, where people anonymously send their secrets in on a decorated postcard.  This past week was dedicated to Mother's Day.  Someone asked the blog's originator if any of the secrets ever made him cry.  He said yes and out of all of the thousands of secrets sent to him this is it.

"I smile sweetly and pretend to sympathize with my friends who are always fighting with their mothers. . . I would give my left arm just to have my mother alive to fight with."

I hate it when my head is up my ass. It's so hard to see.

Mother's Day

OK I've said it before and I have shame about it but I absolutely HATE Mother's day.  I am really trying not to and I am having a bit more success this year but the thought of it still gives me a migraine.

I have good reasons why I hate it though. The decision to not have children did not come easily and I feel sadness every year because of it.  I am mostly sad because my wife gave up her dream of having children to be with me.  She loves me A LOT.

Also, not having children makes me feel " less than" on bad days because, well even today there is an expectation that women are supposed to want to have children.  Knowing that I never wanted children can make me question if  there is really something wrong with me.  Folks have actually said "how could you not want children?" Knowing that I do not have a maternal bone in my body helps.

In my experience because I am not heterosexually married I am treated as if my life is less important and valid than the lives of those who are married (to men) and have children.  Expectations exist of me that are not placed upon my siblings who are married and have children.

And here is a really self-centered reason.  It makes me sad that I will not have a generational legacy.  When I die, that's it.  Any chance that my child would possess physical features, personality and character traits, the good and bad of me is gone.  And who will I leave all of my momentous stuff to if my wife predeceases me? It makes me feel my mortality that much more.

Another shitty thing is I feel less grown up and responsible than those who have kids and I feel like  a disappointment to my parents for not giving them grandchildren.

Finally I can never find a Mother's Day card appropriate for my mom.  When I read all of the sentimental, nicey nicey stuff  I feel guilty I don't have these feelings for her and no matter how I try I can't seem to muster them up.  And that is ultimately the reason I decided not to have kids.  My mom did the best she could.  I used to think that this was cliche and that people said it because they were not comfortable saying what they really felt.  The older I get though the more I believe it.  She taught me morals, values, showed me love and constancy, fed, clothed, educated, housed and protected me.  If only she had been able to protect me from herself.  My spirit was broken at a very young age.  I swore when I was an adolescent that I would never have children because I knew I would hurt them.  I did not want to pass down the generational legacy of alcoholism, depression and mental illness, the fear of not having enough, the self-hate, anger and abuse that was passed down to me.  Everyone wants something  better for their children than what they had themselves and I knew I couldn't provide that.  So ultimately I guess it doesn't matter what anyone thinks.  I know that I made the right decision.

On a lighter note, I am mother to 2 very cute shih-tzus!



Abby (front) & Maddy


So to those moms with children and to those who have kids with fur I say  HAPPY MOTHER's DAY.  Thank God it only comes once a year.

Soapbox

Eeeeew, I am in a foul mood today.  And this is why I have a wild hair up my ass.

Rant #1  

The Post-Gazette is chock full of articles about Steeler Rashard Mendenhall and his recent tweets. There's been a huge outcry and not just in the Burgh.  TV, talk radio, the newspaper the Internet, all bemoan his boneheadedness.  He looks like a bin Laden sympathizer and worse a conspiracy theorist.  Attracting the most ire is his comment,  "We'll never know what really happened. I just have a hard time believing a plane could take a skyscraper down demolition style"

Idiot.  Now as much as I believe Rashard is entitled to his opinion, I also believe his opinion is poop.  And as much as I believe the outpouring of hatred for Rashard is  justified, I am also wondering about these tweets which have gotten no play in the media. 

Contempt for women much? But nary a word about the dick sucking opining, except of course for my idol @ That's Church.

What's happened to propriety people?  Even if these are things you believe to be true, why in  hell  tweet them?  Especially given you are a public figure.  Extra specially given that the Steeler female fan base has already been alienated.  (That's right, I'm talking to you Ben.)  I know there are probably a good many folks who also hold these opinions.  I believe in freedom of speech.  But good God man, use your head.

Or maybe not.

Rant #2

Yup that's my new garage door installed yesterday.  Yup those are huge gaps in the framing.  Yup my house is taller on one side than the other.  No the installer did not use a level.  No my garage door won't open because it is jamming on the top 2x8.  Yup a NEW installer has to come tomorrow to take down the entire door and start again.

Rant #3

Uh huh, that's my grass again after one entire week of rain in Pittsburgh but it's finally gorgeous and sunny out today.  Guess where my lawn mower is?  Yup stuck in the garage (that cannot be opened due to the installer not using a level)

Rant #4

Sunday is Mother's Day.  I hate Mother's Day.

Wild hair still in place.

Virginia Montanez is my Idol

<photo credit>

OK so that's Virginia Montanez. Any questions?

Virginia Montanez.  Most of you already know her as Jane Pitt, aka Pittgirl, aka the author of the hilariously funny blog That's Church and the now retired Burgh Blog.  I want to be Virginia when I grow up.   CLICHE ALERT.   She really is as beautiful on the inside as she is fabulously good looking on the out. I know this from her posts, not like personal experience or anything. But I can just tell.  I'm  good that way.

I found the Burgh Blog when I worked in Pittsburgh government.  Virginia poked at the huge ego ballons of Pittsburgh's powers that be.  She held a mirror up to some of the Burgh's biggest asshats.  People I had to only pretend to like on a daily basis and her posts made me cheer.  She said what I thought.   As a result she now writes articles for Pittsburgh Magazine instead of whatever it was she used to do.  Dread Lord Zober, Chief of Making Shit Up, Lukey.  Truth to power baby!

 Do I sound like a fawning adolescent?  Yeah well when it comes to this I am.  She makes me laugh.  She hates pigeons.  She helps sick kids.  Nuff said.

And she too makes shit up.  Many a word has made its way into my family's vocabulary.  Donkey omelettes anyone?  Check out the Lexicon at her site. Read it and weep.  What I would not give to have coined the phrase the Defecator. 

Virginia Montanez really is Pittsburgh.  Only cooler. 

Is it possible to self-unite with another woman?

Grief Part II

I subscribe to Poetry magazine and came across the following poem by W.S. Di Piero that moved me to tears.

What's Left

How often now, raging weeping for the days

love gives then takes away, takes from you

the slightly chapped hand laid on the one

you’re pointing at a tree, and the voice

that breathes coffeeberry bush into your mouth.  

The finger that taps and feathers your ear

but the giggle’s gone before you turn around.

The sandalwood scent hanging in the room,

the auburn strand like a flaw in the porcelain,

the off-course nail clipping in the carpet.

The days eat into your stomach, knife you

with longing for relief from love

that you cannot leave or leave alone,

from its rings of fire where you won’t

burn down to ash or be transformed.

You become them, and they keep burning

and have a coffeeberry voice.

           Listen how

                     their rhymes sing

                               the little deaths you live.

A number of my friends are experiencing loss right now - of a parent, a partner, an ex, of faithful pets. I hate grief. The little deaths we live, the small reminders, " an off-course nail clipping in the carpet," a familiar voice, causing us to turn and smile with expectation and then...remembering.

Rule #62

Rule 62 is don't take yourself so damn seriously.  I like this rule although throughout my life I have had difficulty following it.  I take things personally, am sensitive in the extreme and suffer from (God I hate this expression but it's true) the "paralysis of analysis."  I think if it were possible I would have wanted to be a philosopher.  Here's a partial definition of philosophy:

• 1. Love and pursuit of wisdom by intellectual means and moral self-discipline.
• 2. Investigation of the nature, causes, or principles of reality, knowledge, or values, based on logical reasoning rather than empirical methods.
• 3. The critical analysis of fundamental assumptions or beliefs.

Of course I would have been a bad philosopher what with the moral self-discipline and logical reasoning part but I do tend to make myself crazy asking the BIG questions.  You know, does God exist?

Why do bad things happen to good people?  What is the meaning of life?  If there is a God why does this God allow suffering?  Have I made a difference?  If a tree falls in a forest and there is no one there to hear it, blah, blah, blah...

You know the thing about searching the universe, at least for me is that it keeps me from having to actually move my ass and take an action.  I can stay all up in my serious head and avoid, procrastinate and still feel as if I am doing something important!  I am a bit lacking in the self-discipline department let alone the moral self discipline department. 

As for the logic piece and my shortcomings, well this story should illustrate it for you.  When my love and I were on vacation we stayed at a villa near Kiawah island and our place was only one back from the ocean. Seabrook Island has tropical weather, hot and humid which is great for the propagation of small lizards.  There were little geckos everywhere and two in particular had made their homes on our front deck.  They hung out on the door frame and patio table and daily I would try and catch them by grabbing at their tails.  One day, this little lizard, who I guess was sick and tired of me snatching at him, stood up on his tiny legs, puffed up his gizzard and I swear roared at me.  I had my back to him because I was opening the door and I hadn't actually seen him make the sound but when I turned around he was still on his hind legs all puffed up and he was the only one there.  He sounded like a dinosaur.  Every so often as I played with the key (still with my back to him) I would hear this prehistoric sound which resonated and hissed.  I told Sunshine and Happiness about it and she just rolled her eyes at me.  (I am prone to hyperbole)

Later that evening we decided to walk the dogs up to the clubhouse pool.  As we were walking I  heard the little gecko again hissing and roaring.  OK so this is the sound that I heard

Look there's a reason they call that sound the ocean's roar.   From a distance it reallly did sound like a dinosaur which I took to be the gecko even though the gecko was only about 7 inches long.  So you can see why there is no way I can take myself too damn seriously.  I have to laugh at myself.  Otherwise I would spend my entire life crying.