Sigh....of course you would only find this here in Eugene. It's like a bad car wreck, you can't help but look. Now, I feel compelled to check it out.
Accordians Anonymous <------- Click here.
Friday, January 20, 2006
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Now On A Lighter Note....
I've had occasion recently to ponder my many faults. As many of you know (via Catholic school or Brad Pitt movies), the Seven Deadly Sins are Pride, Covetousness, Lust, Wrath, Gluttony, Envy, and Sloth
Let's start with the ones that don't trouble me. Bear with me,this will be a short list.
Covetousness:
Nope. Having money or things just because it's there. That mentality has never interested me.
Envy :
I'm not particularly afflicted with envy. Not that my life is so shit hot, but everyone has problems. Sure it seems like it would be great to be filthy rich but who knows. It would certainly suck to be famous and of that I have no doubt.
Gluttony:
I wasn't sure where to put this because let's face it; the munchies are a universal phenomenon. On the other hand, I don't make it a habit with either food or drink. But I've certainly had my moments.
Lust :
And to round off this category (and I'm not going to dwell on this), the only thing I remember about lust is how to spell it. The last time I had an x-ray, before the technician activated the machine he asked, "Is there any chance you could be pregnant?"
"Gee, I don't know," I replied. "Is there a star rising in the east?"
Now, onto to the "capital vices" that have an implacable grip on my soul.
Wrath:
I admit that every now and then I can have moments of wrath (I am typing this with a straight face), but I prefer to see the funny side of things rather than react with blind anger. On the other hand, I am not someone you want to piss off. You might wind up in this blog.
Sloth:
I agonized over this for days and even now, I'm still not sure if Sloth should come in at a mere second. Sloth's grip on my will is absolute and weak sinner that I am, I generally find it easier to just give in.
Who am I kidding? I embrace it. I luxuriate in it. I fling myself at it with giddy abandon. So epic is my laziness that family legends have sprung up around it.
And when added to my cardinal sin, pride, the mix creates a Louis the Sun King aura (without, of course, the royal heritage, pots of money, accomplishments and a place in history).
Which leads me to my next item.
Pride:
What can I say? I admit it. I am a vain woman. But it's more than that. Sometimes I'm quite convinced that I am really rather marvelous.
While obnoxious, this would not be all that remarkable, there are thousands of vain people in the world. In fact, our whole society is all about vanity and glorifying the superficial. We've all been assaulted by media images of perfection and many of us have fallen for it. I just happen to be one of them.
Besides, I'm a Leo with four other planets there, which apparently makes this sort of thing more or less inevitable.
But since I've also been cruelly cursed with self-knowledge, I must acknowledge that my behaviour could be the result of an undiagnosed narcissistic personality disorder. So sue me.
(This is what is known as "The Likely Story".)
But take heart, "A pride did indeed goeth before a fall." Here it comes.
Ladies, we all know that each of us has three sizes of clothing, 1. the skinny stuff you get into when you're in great shape, 2. the normal stuff that you usually settle for and 3. at least one pair of "fat jeans".
I can't say now what in the world possessed me to stuff myself into pants I was about 5 pounds too heavy for but I think that a heartbreaking dose of caffeine and a delusional episode had something to do with it.
Hmm, I thought, gazing at my reflection, not bad at all. Kind of hot as a matter of fact. OK, so they were a little tight but they'd loosen up, right?
I was doing stuff around the house, so I had not really had a chance yet to sit down. The first glimmer of foreboding I had (apart from complete numbness below the waist) struck me at the two stairs leading out of my house. As I attempted to descend them, I found there was not enough play in the fabric to allow me to bend my knees, but I persevered and hauled myself down the steps.
Whew! Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all but I was stuck with it now and I knew I could suck it up. Besides I was getting ready to go out and sing Karaoke and that I was sure would distract me from any discomfort I might experience courtesy of a size four denim tourniquet. I could do this, no sweat. Once I was at the bar and absorbed in the fun, none of this would matter. Convinced of this, I tottered confidently into the bar, put my coat away and sat down at a table.
I sat down -- and felt a little thrill as my legs went dead.
I heaved myself to my feet, desperate to sort myself out before I was struck dead by deep vein thrombosis.
The blinding lightheadedness caused by the sudden surge of blood thundering back into my parched lower extremities staggered me only momentarily and was soon replaced by a case of pins and needles so severe that I began to pray. The tingling, numbness and an inability to bend my knees (combined with the inseam's increasingly menacing assault on my most intimate areas) lent my gait a jaunty, almost pirate-like air. (Argh!) I reeled to the other end of the bar, determined to make it to the sanctuary of the bathroom in record time.
Once inside, I desperately dug into my viscera (belly-flab-overhang) for the button at my waist.
The relief as I popped that button was immediate and as my grateful lower body began to swell, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. In addition to cutting off all my circulation, my reflection revealed that I had magically been transformed into an interesting performance art piece; a topographical map rendered in exquisite detail on flesh.
There was a deep groove where the zipper had been and the line of the seam was imbedded so indelibly onto my thighs I could count the stitches. In fact, I was pretty sure the pattern could be seen from space. Clearly, I was now one with the jeans in an unpleasant Borg-like way. Peeling them off was no small task, as it soon became apparent that they had bonded to my flesh, evidently on a cellular level.
Then a chilling thought struck me. Oh, gawd.
Have you ever removed your boots after a long hike? Ever tried to put them back on five minutes later? It was kind of like that. Unless I could manage to stuff myself back into the damn jeans immediately, I'd never get them back on. I gritted my teeth, sucked in one last, unencumbered breath and hauled the button toward the buttonhole.
This endeavour gave me an idea of what it must be like to force 100 pounds of Jello into a straw. By midnight, I was seriously considering calling the paramedics. Clearly, the only thing that could separate me from my jeans was the Jaws of Life.
Don't ask me how I got through the night - I have no memory of it, thanks no doubt to imminent death by constriction. It tends to be a bit distracting.
Let's start with the ones that don't trouble me. Bear with me,this will be a short list.
Covetousness:
Nope. Having money or things just because it's there. That mentality has never interested me.
Envy :
I'm not particularly afflicted with envy. Not that my life is so shit hot, but everyone has problems. Sure it seems like it would be great to be filthy rich but who knows. It would certainly suck to be famous and of that I have no doubt.
Gluttony:
I wasn't sure where to put this because let's face it; the munchies are a universal phenomenon. On the other hand, I don't make it a habit with either food or drink. But I've certainly had my moments.
Lust :
And to round off this category (and I'm not going to dwell on this), the only thing I remember about lust is how to spell it. The last time I had an x-ray, before the technician activated the machine he asked, "Is there any chance you could be pregnant?"
"Gee, I don't know," I replied. "Is there a star rising in the east?"
Now, onto to the "capital vices" that have an implacable grip on my soul.
Wrath:
I admit that every now and then I can have moments of wrath (I am typing this with a straight face), but I prefer to see the funny side of things rather than react with blind anger. On the other hand, I am not someone you want to piss off. You might wind up in this blog.
Sloth:
I agonized over this for days and even now, I'm still not sure if Sloth should come in at a mere second. Sloth's grip on my will is absolute and weak sinner that I am, I generally find it easier to just give in.
Who am I kidding? I embrace it. I luxuriate in it. I fling myself at it with giddy abandon. So epic is my laziness that family legends have sprung up around it.
And when added to my cardinal sin, pride, the mix creates a Louis the Sun King aura (without, of course, the royal heritage, pots of money, accomplishments and a place in history).
Which leads me to my next item.
Pride:
What can I say? I admit it. I am a vain woman. But it's more than that. Sometimes I'm quite convinced that I am really rather marvelous.
While obnoxious, this would not be all that remarkable, there are thousands of vain people in the world. In fact, our whole society is all about vanity and glorifying the superficial. We've all been assaulted by media images of perfection and many of us have fallen for it. I just happen to be one of them.
Besides, I'm a Leo with four other planets there, which apparently makes this sort of thing more or less inevitable.
But since I've also been cruelly cursed with self-knowledge, I must acknowledge that my behaviour could be the result of an undiagnosed narcissistic personality disorder. So sue me.
(This is what is known as "The Likely Story".)
But take heart, "A pride did indeed goeth before a fall." Here it comes.
Ladies, we all know that each of us has three sizes of clothing, 1. the skinny stuff you get into when you're in great shape, 2. the normal stuff that you usually settle for and 3. at least one pair of "fat jeans".
I can't say now what in the world possessed me to stuff myself into pants I was about 5 pounds too heavy for but I think that a heartbreaking dose of caffeine and a delusional episode had something to do with it.
Hmm, I thought, gazing at my reflection, not bad at all. Kind of hot as a matter of fact. OK, so they were a little tight but they'd loosen up, right?
I was doing stuff around the house, so I had not really had a chance yet to sit down. The first glimmer of foreboding I had (apart from complete numbness below the waist) struck me at the two stairs leading out of my house. As I attempted to descend them, I found there was not enough play in the fabric to allow me to bend my knees, but I persevered and hauled myself down the steps.
Whew! Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all but I was stuck with it now and I knew I could suck it up. Besides I was getting ready to go out and sing Karaoke and that I was sure would distract me from any discomfort I might experience courtesy of a size four denim tourniquet. I could do this, no sweat. Once I was at the bar and absorbed in the fun, none of this would matter. Convinced of this, I tottered confidently into the bar, put my coat away and sat down at a table.
I sat down -- and felt a little thrill as my legs went dead.
I heaved myself to my feet, desperate to sort myself out before I was struck dead by deep vein thrombosis.
The blinding lightheadedness caused by the sudden surge of blood thundering back into my parched lower extremities staggered me only momentarily and was soon replaced by a case of pins and needles so severe that I began to pray. The tingling, numbness and an inability to bend my knees (combined with the inseam's increasingly menacing assault on my most intimate areas) lent my gait a jaunty, almost pirate-like air. (Argh!) I reeled to the other end of the bar, determined to make it to the sanctuary of the bathroom in record time.
Once inside, I desperately dug into my viscera (belly-flab-overhang) for the button at my waist.
The relief as I popped that button was immediate and as my grateful lower body began to swell, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. In addition to cutting off all my circulation, my reflection revealed that I had magically been transformed into an interesting performance art piece; a topographical map rendered in exquisite detail on flesh.
There was a deep groove where the zipper had been and the line of the seam was imbedded so indelibly onto my thighs I could count the stitches. In fact, I was pretty sure the pattern could be seen from space. Clearly, I was now one with the jeans in an unpleasant Borg-like way. Peeling them off was no small task, as it soon became apparent that they had bonded to my flesh, evidently on a cellular level.
Then a chilling thought struck me. Oh, gawd.
Have you ever removed your boots after a long hike? Ever tried to put them back on five minutes later? It was kind of like that. Unless I could manage to stuff myself back into the damn jeans immediately, I'd never get them back on. I gritted my teeth, sucked in one last, unencumbered breath and hauled the button toward the buttonhole.
This endeavour gave me an idea of what it must be like to force 100 pounds of Jello into a straw. By midnight, I was seriously considering calling the paramedics. Clearly, the only thing that could separate me from my jeans was the Jaws of Life.
Don't ask me how I got through the night - I have no memory of it, thanks no doubt to imminent death by constriction. It tends to be a bit distracting.
Monday, January 16, 2006
Emotional Manipulator Part Four
If you have a headache an emotional manipulator will have a brain tumor! No matter what your situation is the emotional manipulator has probably been there, or is there now - but only ten times worse.
It's hard after a period of time to feel emotionally connected to an emotional manipulator because they have a way of de-railing conversations and putting the spotlight back on themselves. If you call them on this behavior, they will likely become deeply wounded or very petulant and call you selfish - or claim that it is you who are always in the spotlight. The thing is, that even tho you know this is not the case you are left with the impossible task of proving it. Don't bother - TRUST your gut and walk away!
Emotional manipulators somehow have the ability to impact the emotional climate of those around them. When an emotional manipulator is sad or angry the very room thrums with it - it brings a deep instinctual response to find someway to equalize the emotional climate and the quickest route is by making the emotional manipulator feel better - fixing whatever is broken for them. Stick with this type of loser for too long and you will be so enmeshed and co-dependent. You will forget you even have needs - let alone that you have just as much right to have your needs met.
Emotional manipulators have no sense of accountability. They take no responsibility for themselves or their behavior - it is always about what everyone else has "done to them". One of the easiest ways to spot an emotional manipulator is that they often attempt to establish intimacy through the early sharing of deeply personal information that is generally of the "hook-you-in-and-make-you-sorry-for-me" variety. Initially you may perceive this type of person as very sensitive, emotionally open and maybe a little vulnerable. Believe me when I say that an emotional manipulator is about as vulnerable as a rabid pit bull, and there will always be a problem or a crisis to overcome.
Some would say it is possible with time, a great deal of honesty and communication to work through emotional manipulation. Personally I think life is short and precious - the only worthwhile thing to do when confronted with an emotionally manipulative person is to SWEEP THEIR ASS TO THE CURB! A relationship with emotionally manipulative person is similar to re-exposing yourself over and over and over to a highly toxic and potentially fatal virus. Each brush with it reduces your immunity and weakens your defenses. It can take more time for someone that has been in an emotionally manipulative relationship to recover than it does for someone that leaves a physically abusive one. At least you can name that punch that hit you. Emotional abuse is subtle. It is insidious. It is dangerous. If you are in it - walk away and never look back. Make it a rule! Because, it could become abusive physically. Why take that chance?
It's hard after a period of time to feel emotionally connected to an emotional manipulator because they have a way of de-railing conversations and putting the spotlight back on themselves. If you call them on this behavior, they will likely become deeply wounded or very petulant and call you selfish - or claim that it is you who are always in the spotlight. The thing is, that even tho you know this is not the case you are left with the impossible task of proving it. Don't bother - TRUST your gut and walk away!
Emotional manipulators somehow have the ability to impact the emotional climate of those around them. When an emotional manipulator is sad or angry the very room thrums with it - it brings a deep instinctual response to find someway to equalize the emotional climate and the quickest route is by making the emotional manipulator feel better - fixing whatever is broken for them. Stick with this type of loser for too long and you will be so enmeshed and co-dependent. You will forget you even have needs - let alone that you have just as much right to have your needs met.
Emotional manipulators have no sense of accountability. They take no responsibility for themselves or their behavior - it is always about what everyone else has "done to them". One of the easiest ways to spot an emotional manipulator is that they often attempt to establish intimacy through the early sharing of deeply personal information that is generally of the "hook-you-in-and-make-you-sorry-for-me" variety. Initially you may perceive this type of person as very sensitive, emotionally open and maybe a little vulnerable. Believe me when I say that an emotional manipulator is about as vulnerable as a rabid pit bull, and there will always be a problem or a crisis to overcome.
Some would say it is possible with time, a great deal of honesty and communication to work through emotional manipulation. Personally I think life is short and precious - the only worthwhile thing to do when confronted with an emotionally manipulative person is to SWEEP THEIR ASS TO THE CURB! A relationship with emotionally manipulative person is similar to re-exposing yourself over and over and over to a highly toxic and potentially fatal virus. Each brush with it reduces your immunity and weakens your defenses. It can take more time for someone that has been in an emotionally manipulative relationship to recover than it does for someone that leaves a physically abusive one. At least you can name that punch that hit you. Emotional abuse is subtle. It is insidious. It is dangerous. If you are in it - walk away and never look back. Make it a rule! Because, it could become abusive physically. Why take that chance?
Sunday, January 15, 2006
My Tenant For The Week
I have rented some tiny bit of space out on this here blog, so give a warm welcome to Miss Ann Thrope. You will find her link in the Renters Box underneath Teh Blogfather. Please check her out, and tell her I sent ya!
I had several bids, and I need to put in a note to the others that wanted to move in: Try again next time, please! Although I loved Miss Ann Thrope, for she is funny, full of wit, and tells it like it is (I like that), I actually had to do "eenie-meenie-miney-mo" to decide. Thanks.
Now back to our regularly scheduled program.....
I had several bids, and I need to put in a note to the others that wanted to move in: Try again next time, please! Although I loved Miss Ann Thrope, for she is funny, full of wit, and tells it like it is (I like that), I actually had to do "eenie-meenie-miney-mo" to decide. Thanks.
Now back to our regularly scheduled program.....
Emotional Dirt Bag Part III
Crazy making - saying one thing and later assuring you they did not say it. If you find yourself in a relationship where you figure you should start keeping a log of what’s been said because you are beginning to question your own sanity --You are experiencing emotional manipulation.
An emotional manipulator is an expert in turning things around, rationalizing, justifying and explaining things away. They can lie so smoothly that you can be sitting there looking at black and they’ll call it white - and argue so persuasively that you begin to doubt your very senses. Over a period of time this is so insidious and eroding it can literally alter your sense of reality.
WARNING: Emotional Manipulation is VERY Dangerous! It is very disconcerting for an emotional manipulator if you begin carrying a pad of paper and a pen and making notations during conversations. Feel free to let them know you just are feeling so "forgetful" these days that you want to record their words for posterity’s sake. The damndest thing about this is that having to do such a thing is a clear example of why you should be seriously thinking about removing yourself from "shooting" range in the first place. If you’re toting around a notebook to safeguard yourself - that ol’ "bullshit meter" should be flashing steady by now!
Guilt. Emotional manipulators are excellent guilt mongers. They can make you feel guilty for speaking up or not speaking up, for being emotional or not being emotional enough, for giving and caring, or for not giving and caring enough. Anything is fair game and open to guilt with an emotional manipulator. Emotional manipulators seldom express their needs or desires openly - they get what they want through emotional manipulation. Guilt is not the only form of this but it is a potent one. Most of us are pretty conditioned to do whatever is necessary to reduce our feelings of guilt.
Another powerful emotion that is used is sympathy. An emotional manipulator is a great victim. They inspire a profound sense of needing to support, care for and nurture. Emotional Manipulators seldom fight their own fights or do their own dirty work. The crazy thing is, is that when you do it for them (which they will never ask directly for), they may just turn around and say that they certainly didn’t want or expect you to do anything! Try to make a point of not fighting other people’s battles, or doing their dirty work for them. A great line is "I have every confidence in your ability to work this out on your own" - check out the response and note the bullshit meter once again.
Emotional manipulators fight dirty. They don’t deal with things directly. They will talk around behind your back and eventually put others in the position of telling you what they would not say themselves. They are passive aggressive, meaning: they find subtle ways of letting you know they are not happy little campers. They’ll tell you what they think you want to hear and then do a bunch of jerk off shit to undermine it. Ugh. Example: "Of course I want you to go back to school Honey, and you know I’ll support you." Then exam night you are sitting at the table and poker buddies show up, the kids are crying, the t.v. blasting and the dog needs walking - all the while "Sweetie" is sitting on his ass looking at you blankly. If you dare to call them on such behavior you are likely to hear, "Well you can’t expect life to just stop because you have an exam can you honey?" Cry, scream or choke ‘em - only the last will have any long-term benefits and it’ll probably wind your butt in jail. I hate that.
An emotional manipulator is an expert in turning things around, rationalizing, justifying and explaining things away. They can lie so smoothly that you can be sitting there looking at black and they’ll call it white - and argue so persuasively that you begin to doubt your very senses. Over a period of time this is so insidious and eroding it can literally alter your sense of reality.
WARNING: Emotional Manipulation is VERY Dangerous! It is very disconcerting for an emotional manipulator if you begin carrying a pad of paper and a pen and making notations during conversations. Feel free to let them know you just are feeling so "forgetful" these days that you want to record their words for posterity’s sake. The damndest thing about this is that having to do such a thing is a clear example of why you should be seriously thinking about removing yourself from "shooting" range in the first place. If you’re toting around a notebook to safeguard yourself - that ol’ "bullshit meter" should be flashing steady by now!
Guilt. Emotional manipulators are excellent guilt mongers. They can make you feel guilty for speaking up or not speaking up, for being emotional or not being emotional enough, for giving and caring, or for not giving and caring enough. Anything is fair game and open to guilt with an emotional manipulator. Emotional manipulators seldom express their needs or desires openly - they get what they want through emotional manipulation. Guilt is not the only form of this but it is a potent one. Most of us are pretty conditioned to do whatever is necessary to reduce our feelings of guilt.
Another powerful emotion that is used is sympathy. An emotional manipulator is a great victim. They inspire a profound sense of needing to support, care for and nurture. Emotional Manipulators seldom fight their own fights or do their own dirty work. The crazy thing is, is that when you do it for them (which they will never ask directly for), they may just turn around and say that they certainly didn’t want or expect you to do anything! Try to make a point of not fighting other people’s battles, or doing their dirty work for them. A great line is "I have every confidence in your ability to work this out on your own" - check out the response and note the bullshit meter once again.
Emotional manipulators fight dirty. They don’t deal with things directly. They will talk around behind your back and eventually put others in the position of telling you what they would not say themselves. They are passive aggressive, meaning: they find subtle ways of letting you know they are not happy little campers. They’ll tell you what they think you want to hear and then do a bunch of jerk off shit to undermine it. Ugh. Example: "Of course I want you to go back to school Honey, and you know I’ll support you." Then exam night you are sitting at the table and poker buddies show up, the kids are crying, the t.v. blasting and the dog needs walking - all the while "Sweetie" is sitting on his ass looking at you blankly. If you dare to call them on such behavior you are likely to hear, "Well you can’t expect life to just stop because you have an exam can you honey?" Cry, scream or choke ‘em - only the last will have any long-term benefits and it’ll probably wind your butt in jail. I hate that.
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