Freakishly normal

So it seems that September is the month for two mighty endeavours to be undertaken by us ordinary people. Should we manage to achieve these wonderful feats, we can raise money for our chosen charities.

Firstly we have to try and remain sober for the whole of September. No alcohol at all, and so the sponsor money should roll in.

Secondly, we should try and walk 10,000 steps. I assume this is per day and not during September as I'm pretty sure that most people would manage the latter without leaving the house ever. I also assume it's every day and not just the once.

My mind is boggling. Not drinking for a month is something that needs encouragement? Really? It's that hard?
And how many people don't walk 10,000 steps?

Naturally, as someone that barely drinks and who now has an epic school run (a 40 minute round trip and I'm not not not taking the car), I can be smug. No, I will be smug, I'm not entirely sure anyone will appreciate the smugness so some internal smuggery is required. Can I give myself consent to be smug? Well, I shall. Just between you and me, dear imaginary reader. I so should have been sponsored not to smoke. Too late now.

I'd suggest giving up coffee for a month, but I'm not sure anyone in the vicinity would survive that. I may just donate to charity.

De-stress (as opposed to distress)

For most of my adult (and latter teen) life, I was a smoker. In times of duress, whether sad or stressed, or even just bored, I would smoke a cigarette. It was my crutch.

For obvious reasons, I stopped smoking eventually. It has now been more than a year since I had a cigarette. I don't need to quit or manage cravings, I've done all that. But I haven't found anything to replace the cigarettes. Something to go and do when I'm in a stressy mood.

Vaping has crossed my mind, except I think it looks ridiculous and in my experience having a fake cigarette kind of makes you pang for a real one. If I had seriously considered it, the flavours would make me drop that idea. Strawberry jam? Apple crumble? Cereal flavour???? What??

If I did want to go down that route I think I'd want them to taste, well, like cigarettes.

Chewing gum isn't an option because I despise it. It's just gross, in so many ways.

I've tried asking. I asked Google and the suggestions there were non helpful. Useful tips on now to quit, but I've done that.  The suggestions on things to do instead are utterly unhelpful.

Exercise. Nope. This might work for some people but I'm not an exercise-for-the-endorphins kind of girl. I'm more of an is-it-over-yet kind of exerciser. Unless it's swimming, but that's not hugely practical in light of my non-ownership of a pool.

Read a book. I do that anyway, unless it's a remarkable book it doesn't make me less stressed. My current penchant for psychological thrillers mostly makes me paranoid.

Spend time with your family. Whoever thought of this must be lacking in family if they ever think that's a way to relax. I'm very sorry that they are so lonesome, but I see no reason for them to take it out on innocent people. That's where most of the stress comes from to be honest.

Have a herbal tea. Because you must actually hate yourself. There's a time and a place for herbal teas and this isn't it. Nobody has ever found deep and lasting peace over a cup of matcha. If you must, a coffee, but these things never suggest a coffee. Coffee is a pretty good substitute, except for its sleep altering properties. But no. Coffee is one of the enemies. Love coffee...

Have a snack. If being stressed isn't enough, add being overweight to your worries. Having food as your emotional crutch is generally not that healthy for the old mind either.

There's many similar suggestions, ranging from gardening to crossword puzzles. Dullness, in other words.

There's an argument that one needs to learn to do without a crutch and the perpetuation of need etc, but that argument needs to be a lot less sanctimonious and realise that there were reasons for smoking in the first place.

The only suggestion I've got from other people is to have a drink. And they don't mean coffee. I don't really drink at all, so starting to drink when stressed just seems like a slippery slope to debauchery if you ask me.

I need inspiration. There must be a way to deal with stress that neither threatens my health nor my sanity.

No, it was much worse for me

Competitive parenting combined with competitive sob stories is something else.

There's a thing doing the rounds, and it may not be new but I have never claimed that my rounds are the up to date ones. This thing is in defence of the caesarean section and arguing why it isn't the easy way out. Because an emergency section is scary and horrible, unlike an elective section.

Aieeeee.

What's that little throwaway? An elective caesarean is a breeze now is it? Is that not a very similar attitude to the natural-or-die birth mothers' despised attitude towards caesarean births?

In comes the "I've had a baby, so I'm the world authority" disdain. With no knowledge whatsoever of ansituation, so every mum gets judged on what they have achieved on the mighty good mother checklist:

1) having an equal distribution of male/female children
2) having an all natural birth, preferably without any medical intervention whatsoever and certainly no drugs
3) breastfeeding until high school
4) working full time and homeschooling at the same time

Actually, no. The individual judgement list generally runs along to "what I did". So where one mother does something, that's the way it should be done. By everyone. And if you don't manage it, well you're not trying hard enough.

My baby sleeps. Yours doesn't? Goodness. Have you tried doing anything at all? I expect you haven't tried anything so I'll offer you advice that I gleaned from a book. Oh you tried that already because you've read everything on the subject in desperation? Maybe you didn't try it properly.

Now, there's no need to get snappy.

Who cares?

Humph. So Jeremy Corbyn sat on a train floor and the world has gone mad about it.

Does it matter?

Oh, probably it does. Apparently having someone liberal minded who says things that sound human is just Not On and it is terribly important to discredit him at any point.

And that's just in the Labour party...

I think I probably need some pills or something but I'm finding I don't like people. I like some people, but Mr and Mrs General Public and family are not very nice at all.

Generally being a nice person isn't the done thing. No. It's apparently ok again to make wild judgements about people based on random stereotypes.

We don't use the N word. No, that's offensive and we occasionally actually care about the elderly and infirm. It is the 21st Century and we are very PC.

However it is FINE to be rude and bigoted about Poles, Muslims, Syrians, people on benefits and basically anyone that isn't rude and bigoted themselves. One must either toe the rude and bigoted line, or you're a tree hugging leftie. Ha ha ha. Poor little leftie. They think being NICE  is a good idea. Tee hee.

Anyway. I think the most important thing about the whole Corbyn #traingate nonsense is to ask the most important question: why was he on a passenger train at all? Was there no Jag available?

Pointless existence

No, this isn't a nihilistic depressive piece.

Every year at this time I am perplexed as to why daddy long legs exist. They are probably the most stupid creature on earth. They are not grateful, nor ferocious, nor do they appear to have any function. They lumber across the room laboriously and fly into the same wall over and over and over and over and over.

This latter point is why I both hate them, because it's really annoying, and spend a substantial amount of each autumn pondering why. I've probably blogged right here about it before. It's something I think about a lot.

Right now there is one hanging ominously above me. The one that was doing the wall jig has settled. Obviously they are both waiting for me to turn the light out so they can go for the most glowing thing in the room, which is going to be either my white nightie or my clock radio.

Oh. The mad one has disappeared again. That's bad. I don't like that. Ominously hanging above my head one is still hanging ominously.

Oh wait no. It's got some wall flying into to do in absence of its pal. Maybe it thought I was sitting ominously under it and was worried I'd spring up while it slept.

I don't see the point of them. I assume they are a valuable source of food for something important. Or maybe they are the most successful species on earth and they mock us for our ridiculous notions of normality.

Whatever. I eagerly await that time when one realises that even the spiders have gone for the winter. Hateful, idiotic mini beasts be gone.

Yeah yeah, it's been a while

Crikey, I was still on the young side of very old last time I wrote this. Still, it's easier than starting over. Does anyone still use/read Blogger any more? I don't think I do. Do I?

My imaginary reader is reading bloglovin? Really?

So, here, why?

Well, the postman/fellow dog walker/person in the shop/random passer by doesn't necessarily want to know my every thought or to be ranted at.

Facebook has issues, namely it has people on it and pretty much everything I would say would offend someone.

"Good morning"

1) Good? What's good about it? I am so offended that you think this awful day could be good.
2) I am offended because I am in a different time zone and it isn't morning here and so you are being exclusive
3) I am offended because you wrote a rather meaningless status update instead of responding to my attention seeking elsewhere

Twitter has the limitation of being only in possession of 140 characters which is virtually impossible for me.

So, this stuff in my head has to go somewhere. Here is as good as anywhere.

And who knows, next time I might have something to say.