Still Half Silly for the Invisible Man

I still think about John from Hamilton. Why? I’m not sure. It’s like he has stuck himself in my mind and won’t fall into place with all the other men who have wandered in and out of my life so easily. I feel that I should shake him lose. I think I must be pretty wishy washy to hold onto any thoughts of actually meeting him at this point. Of course, I have no real way of knowing what he thinks at this point. He’s become The Invisible Man.

Have you ever met someone (of the sex you are usually attracted to on personal, romantic level) and found they just become more and more like the person you always hoped to find? Sure there were some minor imperfections like a slightly overly serious side. But, he could draw/ paint and write. He was interesting and had a lot of deep thoughts, average thoughts and he was sort of normal. I’ve learned to appreciate normal in so many ways. He’d gone through rough spots in life and I had some of my own which gave me some understanding of his own. Yet, he had pulled through and become a pretty decent seeming guy. With good manners and that little touch of traditional old fashioned-ness which I really do like. The old fashioned-ness which I thought I’d only ever see as memories of my Grandfather and the odd fakery on TV.

John didn’t seem to be the kind of guy who would just disappear and give me the brush off without notice. But, it’s been a long time since I heard from him. A lot of things were going on in his life and I understand that. But… it seems unfair to be left on the side of the road, alone again when I thought I had met someone who I could really have liked.

Anyway, I have not closed that door. I just feel a bit like a clingy, dippy female for keeping it partially open. I really do feel like a drip for how often I still think about him. Like I have so little real life of my own that I keep drawing on memories of the emails I had with the Invisible Man.

Stalled Like a Dead Battery

I’m pretty sure I will be moving this coming Monday, this time. I would have gone Wednesday but today the car battery died. Right now we aren’t sure if it will start to take it back to Barrie when they call and let us know they have the battery in. We went to the Barrie Honda dealership cause they are always good and explain things until you really run out of questions. They never rush you and, they don’t charge for every least thing they do with the car. Likely that’s cause it’s a Honda. Anyway, that is where we spent a large part of this afternoon. Turns out the car has it’s wires crossed so the battery that routinely would have been right for the car, wasn’t. When they phone tomorrow we will be taking the car back out there again.

At this point in the great migration I’m glad for another reason to stall on moving. My brother says everything I have moved down there already (most of my clothes, books and kitchen gadgetry) is all musty from being in a dampish basement apartment for the past few months. Oh joy and bliss. One more thing on my list of things I have to do and already won’t be overwhelmingly happy about.

The people upstairs have not one, but three cats. I had heard about the one. Likely the other two are the kittens they promised to get rid of back in May when they shat all over the basement apartment. The very basement apartment that the people upstairs were not renting but decided to remodel into a cat toilet anyway. Thanks… Not quite.

At this point I have no savings and there is no part of me, not even my littlest finger, that can find some enthusiasm for job hunting. Not that I have a choice there. My savings are pittifully all gone. I have bills from the apartment which I have yet to move into. But, I did sign up for phone service, back in June.

I have a lovely cold sore too. It’s itchy and not very cute looking. At least I just finished my bloody mess for the month, it came more than a week early. Still, I prefer that to having it stop and making me think I was going into early menopause as it did when I got divorced.

What else… the bus thing. I can’t dig up enthusiasm for going back to taking the TTC everywhere. Having a car has spoiled me. Especially when I think of grocery shopping and most of all, grocery hauling around back to the dwelling of musti-catness.

I’m trying not to say anything about anything I’m thinking or feeling to anyone involved in the apartment massacre. Each time I say anything about how pissed off I almost feel they tell me how wrong I am to feel that way. It’s always been like that for me. The nice sister is not allowed to be un-nice. Never get angry or be less than nice and pleasant towards all mankind. People don’t get it that nice grrls are not stupid or door mats. So, I kindly let them live with their blinders on and I just deal with everything inside myself. Though, it is odd to have them ask me why I don’t talk more about my feelings and choose to keep most of what I think to myself.

If they don’t really want to hear or to allow me to have feelings (not according to the Nice Grrl Plan) then stop asking for my thoughts. Don’t ask me to pull threads and then get pissy if I begin to unravel in ways you don’t like.

Your Road Not Taken

I posted this to Skye’s blog post about regrets.

I think you can’t afford to have regrets. It makes you put time into looking back and analysizing things that are already history and can not be changed. Just look forward and do your best each day: personally, on the job and for yourself too. What better can you do? Don’t try to be perfect, only robots are perfect and not even they are error free. Be yourself and look forward to all the good things still to come ahead in your life. Don’t be afraid or intimidated to look up and smile at people too. If you can smile at a few people everyday and do your best, what will you possibly have to regret? One road not taken means you did take another road, you’re still traveling. Don’t stop for looking back and regrets.

Regrets don’t bother me. But, sometimes the road not taken theory does bug me. Not that I regret or especially think about the roads I have taken. I think about all the roads, endless streams of choices not made. Think of one choice/ road which would have led to other roads and choices which you never even knew about. Roads in the future, even more than roads in the past. After all, the past is gone and can’t be changed. What about the future, where there are so many endless roads and choices.

An Avalanche

Some people collect belly button lint and dust bunnies. Maybe that’s enough adventure and discovery for some people. I like to collect other things. Actually, I don’t collect belly button lint at all and the dust bunnies seem to collect me, on their own.

I began collecting postcards when I wrote to other young people around the world. I still have almost all of those. Later I asked family to send me postcards when they went anywhere. My Dad traveled on business now and then too so I had some from places that weren’t just vacation spots. My Dad collected stamps and he would sometimes take my letters and confiscate the stamps. Now and then he did this before I had even read the letter.

At some point I began with the idea of collecting coins. I had offers to send me all sorts of things, whatever would fit into an envelop and go through the mail. I think I still have some of those too. But, my siblings liked them too. They just didn’t understand that the money wasn’t very spendable over here in Canada. Of course, they didn’t let that bother them. Later I began collecting old Canadian coins and I do still pick up a set now and then. I have the set of never used coins from the year I was born, 1964. I was pretty impressed with those cause that was the year they changed the picture of the Queen on the back. She got older the year I was born.

I also like china posy bowls. I began keeping those when I got one from my Aunt Sally. I can’t remember now if she gave it to me or if I was given it in some other way. Anyway, that was how that got started. I have five of them now.

My family would say I collect books. They complain about how many books I have quite often and for any reason what so ever. Usually this comes up when connected with moving, yet again.

I collect addresses too. If that’s a real collection. I’ve lost count of how many addresses I’ve had. There’s a reason I called my BackWash column Bewitching Vagabond.

I try not to collect other things but things seem to creep up on me and become collected. Other people think I will like something and then give these things to me. I always feel obligated to keep them, these treasures. Most of the time I like them, but sometimes I feel like I’m being buried alive under a lot of really nice stuff.

Do you feel obligated to keep things people have given you? Especially something someone has made or if it’s something they truly treasure themselves and really feel you would too.


Three sisters ages 92, 94 and 96 live in a house together. One night the 96 year old draws a bath. She puts her foot in and pauses. She yells to the other sisters, “Was I getting in or out of the bath?”

The 94 year old yells back, “I don’t know. I’ll come up and see.” She starts up the stairs and pauses. “Was I going up the stairs or down?”

The 92 year old is sitting at the kitchen table having tea listening to her sisters.
She shakes her head and says, “I sure hope I never get that forgetful,” as she knocked on her wooden table for good measure. ” She then yells, “I’ll come up and help both of you as soon as I see who’s at the door.”

Do You Hate Anything?

Val wrote an interesting post about hate. It really did make me think. I tried to think of anything or anyone I really hate and I came up blank. I suppose something like serial killers could be hated but even those I don’t want to spend my time and energy on. (In my opinion the government should take care of them, permanently and be done with it).

Anyway, I read Val’s post and wrote comments. Like most blog comments they were spur of the brain thoughts. But, I kind of liked what I said so I’m sticking it in here.

Hate is a really strong word. Consider dislike in at least some cases. I don’t think you really hate everything you think you do. If you really hate something or someone you wouldn’t be able to tolerate having them around. Of course, I’m not speaking from a lot of experience. I’ve never hated anything for longer than a few minutes but I’ve disliked some things most of my life. To hate something or someone is taking a huge burden upon yourself. To hate requires a lot of passion and energy. Settle for just disliking in most cases and just get on with your life.

Very Wise Advice

It’s interesting that advice is so often free. Doesn’t that make it just about worth what it costs?

People are so often ready and quick with offering advice, but really it’s all their opinions. Some of it may be very well meant, unselfish and even a good idea based on their past experiences. That doesn’t mean it’s going to be good for you.

I give advice, though I do try to just shut up and say nothing too. Giving advice is tricky. People might actually take it. The fools!

Most of my advice is good though. I’ve been told I’m very wise. Which is kind of spooky. If I’m considered wise that isn’t saying much for the rest of you! Just thought I’d let you know. 😉