Are You A Moody Blogger?


Do you post at the same time each week or when the light hits your computer at a certain angle?

Light includes both natural and unnatural lighting — a flashlight in the event of a power failure.

Instituto de la Grasa, Sevilla

Instituto de la Grasa, Sevilla (Photo credit: Colt Group)

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30M2DW III Day 3 – Temporary Insanity

 

I crossed over the threshold into the kitchen and looked at the bulls-eye I mentally etched across his chest.  “They told me you were here.”

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30M2DW III Day 2 – It was no accident. They are watching you!

 

I first noticed the clicking in my ear when I awakened to the alarm on my clock radio. I sat up, a bit lightheaded;  my ear was slightly clogged. Must be my hair rinsing dysfunction, I thought. I often get water in my ear after a shower. I have to stop tilting my head after the second rinse.

But the clicking in my ear sounded different this time. Was that static I heard between each click? Like a party line on a phone call?

Silly thought. I proceeded with my morning bathroom ritual, careful to keep my head at a 90-degree angle in the shower. Yet, the clicking continued while I towel dried my hair. But  this time a burst of static followed each click. How odd. I thought.

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30 Minus 2 Days of Writing III, Day 1: Gouda Jones

 

 SAY GOUDA!

The story of Gouda Jones, a former cheesemonger and Wisconsin resident, is a source of pride and embarrassment for Gouda’s loyal fanbase of Cheeseheaads and Happy Hour enthusiasts.

There was never any doubt Gouda Jones had a nose for cheese. She could detect the finest cheese aromas from miles away with her extraordinary sense of smell. Her legendary smelling ability was admired by cheese connoisseurs and nasal allergy sufferers across the globe and earned her a place in history as the first Nobel Nose prize recipient.

Gouda was often called upon to select the cheese served at celebrity cocktail parties. Her decision to serve a Camembert at a Justin Bieber shindig was applauded by the cheese community but condemned by local authorities as the reason Justin Bieber egged his neighbor’s house. “He was high on Camembert at the time,” the Sheriff of Hollywood remarked.

The incident prompted a backlash of bad press for Gouda who fled the country for Canada, which ultimately ended her cheese celebrity career.

One wild night of partying in Toronto, snorting coke and Splenda with Mayor Ford and his gang of thugs, sent her to the THE SMELL AND TASTE CLINIC in Pennsylvania after her nose exploded. She was airlifted to the University of Penn., with cartilage fragments packed in ice, where doctors unsuccessfully attempted to reassemble her nose and reattach it to her face. Over Gouda Jones objections, doctors were forced to perform a radical Swineoplasty using a a pig snout to rebuild her nose.

Gouda Jones’ memoir, “Life in the Cheese Lane” is scheduled for publication in the fall of 2014. Her publicist would not confirm or deny rumors that Gouda will be wearing a fake nose and glasses for all public appearances.

Nasal.

Nasal. (Photo credit: Tom Mooring)

I’m participating in We Work for Cheese‘s Third Second Annual writing challenge, 30 Minus 2 Days of Writing, a.k.a. 28 days of torture. Today’s writing prompt is “Gouda.”

Note: ReplyMe Comment is not working. You will not receive a notification email when someone responds to a comment until I call BlueHost because it’s totally their fault. And honestly, calling BlueHost is the last thing I want to do today.

 

 

 

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A Blogger Looks Back to 2009 and Asks, Why Am I Here?

 

disgusted-oh-god-why-text

I started blogging back in May 2009 shortly after I lost my job as a customer service rep at a bakery where only the baked goods were nut-free.

The gal who preceded me and the one who followed were also let go after three months. We all got the tee-shirt, but one of us didn’t survive. She killed herself several months after losing her job. The word “unstable” comes to mind. But she had help. The owner of the bakery expedited her journey into hopelessness.

I was in a dark place, too, when the owner told me, “We’re letting you go. I really need someone with more inventory management experience.”

He knew I didn’t bring that to the job when he hired me. I told him that. Nothing I said mattered. It was my time. The damage had been done.

I needed to purge dark thoughts from my head and blogged about it.

TODAY FRIDAY

A day without work. At home trying to get organized. A problem. Always. Can’t reign in my thoughts to stabilize the content in my head. The executive function in my brain takes too many coffee breaks, gets in late, and leaves early. The proverbial cluttered mind with a desk by the window. I look outside and see trees but can’t see the forest through them.

Where will the trajectory path of my day go? Probably nowhere, fast until I look outside and see darkness but not the trees. If I squint and look up, I’ll see stars, none of them for me. Although one year, I received a star for Christmas named after me. An ex-employer’s idea of a really nifty gift. The card ended up in the garbage before I knew about shredders.

Today, I hope to deposit a check (checks and balances, you know) and get some food. Food is minimal like my thoughts. Tomorrow, I hope to get up and remember that it is Saturday and not a day that I should be working when I’m not, like today.

Blogging helped me reconnect to the world. Odd indeed since I only interacted with otherworldly types, often hidden behind an avatar.

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