Slip Sliding Away

See?  I told you that I wouldn't be consistent with blog entries (I was about to say "journal", because that's basically what it is).  Granted, I had "better things to do" (like spend hours on the internet doing nothing) or was "too tired" (set aside some time, for heaven's sake), or whatever, but there you go.  I beat myself up over these things, maybe to beat others to the punch.  I should take some time to think about why I'm so hard on myself - I don't know and, right now, I just want to fill some space, so I don't want to pontificate too much.
I "missed" an opportunity to try speed dating last night.  I'd done it once before and, while nothing came of it, it was pretty interesting.  It was also pretty interesting when I read the blog of a woman who did go (and probably didn't think anyone who went would read it) where she pretty much went through all of the reasons why she didn't like any of the men she talked to (one of them could easily have been me).  The kicker?  She was fat.  And I don't mean "curvy" (which I find quite attractive, to be honest).  This was fat, bordering on obese.  She wasn't slovenly, granted, but she was enormous.  Now, there's nothing wrong with that, but what I think she was doing was rejecting people for the stupidest reasons, because she didn't want to be rejected first.  Now that I've written that, I think that has a lot to do with my first paragraph on being hard on myself.  Maybe people tend to sabotage themselves at the risk of people hurting their feelings.
Getting your feelings hurt.  Sounds stupid, and the common response is that you're supposed to brush it off and just soldier on.  Well, it doesn't work that way.  It hurts you, and it haunts you, and you replay those things in your mind ad infinitum.  It affects how you see the world, how you act at work, and how you act with people.  I'm afraid to make eye contact a lot of the time because of the anxiety it produces.  And I'm afraid I'll be that way for the rest of my life.  Ah well, I'm not the only person that has ever suffered this affliction, whatever it is.  And, yes, I've tried talk therapy, and I get annoyed because it doesn't seem to go anywhere, and I get sick of hearing myself talk.  I need answers, or at least a pill of some sort.
But enough of that.  I'm trying to think of ways to change the lyrics of Taylor Swift's "I Knew You Were Trouble" so that it can be a jingle for Mister Bubble.  Here's what I have so far:

Once upon a time
Not so long ago
I hated taking baths
They weren't any fun...

I'll have to work on the subsequent lyrics.  Nearing the chorus, though, you have:

I use Mister Bubble when I take baths
Good for me and
I use Mister Bubble when I take baths
now I'm soaking in the warm, warm tub
MIS.  TER.  Bubble Bubble Bubble
MIS.  TER.  Bubble Bubble Bubble

How much cash do you think I could get for something like that?  That is, if I can get my act together, which I won't.  So, you're welcome for the idea.

R.I.P. Karen Carpenter

Rolling Stone Magazine, via Facebook, mentioned that Karen Carpenter died thirty years ago.  I shared the article, and commented that it made me both angry and sad.  Angry that she was so talented and died so young, and that she'd still be alive today if she had been able to get some help, or allowed herself to get help.  I'm not sure what the appropriate terminology would be.  Because of the way I was introduced to her story, I'll probably always think that her family contributed to her death.  Maybe they feel guilty, too.  Maybe they don't.  I just don't know.
As a kid (as a boy, to be more precise), I thought their music was corny and embarrassing (maybe I thought it was embarrassing because I secretly liked it - that and ABBA).  Not until I was older did I allow myself to enjoy things, no matter what other people said.  A lot has been said about Karen Carpenter's voice, and I think it was something special.  For one thing, she sang at a lower octave than most female singers, giving it, I guess, a "sultry" tone, but, something more than that.  It was a voice that made her sound much older than she was.  And there was always a sadness in it, a melancholy that haunted even their most upbeat songs.  I think that's the allure of disco music, too (sorry about the huge digression there).  Underneath all the glitter is the depressing notion that it's all temporary - that you'll be swallowed up by the darkness as soon as the moment's over, and you have to go home (which reminds me of the Marshall Crenshaw song "She Hates to Go Home".  What can I say?  My love of music knows no bounds.)
You always wonder, when someone passes away so young, what she'd be doing today.  She'd be in her sixties now, finally having grown into her voice.  Would she have been able to break free from her brother?  Have gotten a hot young musician to produce her "comeback" album (Jack White?  The Fountains of Wayne guys?)  Who knows?
So what's my favorite Carpenters song?  Well, it would be the one written by Neil Sedaka.  "Solitaire".  Maybe because I can relate to it, or maybe because it's just a great song.  Either way, that's my choice, and I'm sticking to it.

Idle Hands Are the Devil's Playground

So here I am on a Sunday afternoon with not much to do, and I encountered a blog by a woman that I went on two "dates" with (the first was a hike that I remember because she brought her dog, who ate any and all deer droppings in sight), the second being a "coffee" date, where she informed me that I should never tell anybody that I saw "Dirty Dancing:  The Musical".  Needless to say, I was summarily rejected by her, even after I said I would be interested in seeing her again (though she may have been turned off by the fact that I mistook a caffeine buzz for feeling of "love".  What can I say?  I don't drink coffee that much, and never been "in love", so you could understand my confusion).  Anyway, I read the blog, and recall reading the blog of another woman I had met on a "speed date" (who took the time in her blog to shoot down every male that crossed her table), and realized that hey, I have just as much of a right to spew inane musings on the internet as they (and everybody else does).  Plus, I think I annoy people on Facebook with my incessant observations, so I thought this would be a good opportunity to write a little more and spew as much anxiety-induced things as possible.
So here are the top stories for today:
1.  I didn't receive my paper.  That's the Sunday paper (the Sunday Valley News) with all of the comics and coupons and things that I look forward to (yes, I have started to catch the coupon bug, though it might be a good idea if I don't get them, because I will buy a bag of frozen meatballs, just because I can get $1.00 off on them).  It's the second time they've failed to deliver (or someone's taken the paper).  So, tomorrow, I'm planning on cancelling my subscription.  Maybe they'll ask why.  I guess the reason is that I'm disappointed.  I could be overreacting, which I tend to do from time to time, but sometimes doing something rash makes me feel better.
2.  The anxiety of tomorrow is already creeping in.  I did a software upgrade yesterday, and will have to wait until Monday to see if anything went wrong.  On top of that, I also have the on-call pager, and am supposed to start a new class format for my 6AM class at the gym, which I haven't told the regulars about.  I was going to tell them last Monday, when I knew for sure that the format had changed, but I was too afraid to do so, thinking there's be too many questions and that they'd get angry.  Of course, if they were going to get angry, they're going to get angrier on Monday.  So, it's my own fault.  I've always had the very bad habit of not telling people things for fear of an altercation or argument.  It's a major character flaw.
3.  I made the rash decision to unfriend someone on Facebook.  I've done it a few times - usually because they're annoying, but this time it was because I had had a brief "history" with this particular person and, while I always thought I'd like to rekindle that friendship, they seemed pretty standoffish so, like Martha Jones on Doctor Who, I decided to end it there.  Yes, I just compared myself to a female character on a science-fiction show.  As always, I blame myself.
4.  Online dating.  I'm trying to decide whether to initiate contact with some women who have viewed my profile.  I always thought that, in this electronic age, women would be more likely to initiate a conversation with someone they were potentially interested in, but that doesn't seem to case.  Gender roles are set in stone, I guess, and I suppose they want a "take charge" kind of person.  I'm really not, but, I do try, usually with disastrous results.  I'll keep trying, though, even if I sometimes feel that the solo life is the best for me.
5.  I don't really have a topic five right now.  I just like it better than four.