Rude Awakening

My daddy used to have this expression he would use, he would say, “One of these days boy, you are going to be in for a rude awakening.” I used to sit around and wonder about that, and of course, why we had Volleyballs, important stuff like that. We have Volleyballs incidentally, because we need a place to store air, I thought everyone knew that.

Here is something else I am dealing with today. What is it about bloggin sites that make ordinary citizens feel compelled to trot out every rancid detail of their miserable lives and exhibit this to the general public. I cannot understand that. I mean “If I am six feet four inches tall, and I weigh in at approximately 224 lbs, I am NOT about to tell everyone in the Free World that my wife beats me up!”

That just isn’t going to happen.

Having slept rather well last night, feeling somewhat refreshed, I came in here this morning and sat down to a cup of micro-waved coffee that was only 16 hrs old and began to browse the net. First one out of the chute is some mother lamenting the fact that this is third anniversary of her child’s death and how it was “all her fault” (as she puts it) because she was not there to protect him.

Never explaining how it happened, where it happened, how it was that “she was at fault” just line after line of pain. (Five rules of Journalism: Who, What, Where, When and Why?) Now why she chose to send this dirge to me, I don’t understand either. I understand her pain, her sorrow, but why share it with a complete stranger and 1.5 million other people on the same site?

Internet blogs irritate the fizz out of me sometimes. Bad grammar, lousy sentence structure, all of it, I can live with. But a constant stream of nothing but “down stuff” tends to drag me down with it. It is getting to the point where I see the name, and I run right on by.

This medium should be a place where one could come and find something uplifting to take their mind OFF of stuff like that. How is a nineteen year old can hate life? At nineteen, you haven’t even experienced life …. not like most of us know it anyway. People should be posting something interesting, lite, humorous, or enlightening, why this compulsion to vent negative stuff? I don’t understand it, it just doesn’t make sense to me.

Where in the world is Dr. Phil when YOU REALLY NEED HIM. Why is it people want to do this to other people? Now I don’t want to sound unfeeling, insensitive, personally removed or any of that, but I don’t need this ….. YOU ……. Don’t need this.

This is a personal thing; it should be shared with “family or close friends” not total strangers on some website. If my little Billie wants to buy a bra, and have me take him to the Mall for some new pumps, Okay. But I am not going to tell everyone about it. This stays in the closet with all “those other things” we seldom talk about. It doesn’t go on something like MySpace are you outta your mind dot.com.

Maybe it is just me, but I want to know who is the youngest person to climb Mt. Everest might be (Temb Tasheri of Nepal at age 15) or why it is called the “Department of the Interior” when it mainly deals with things that are outside. Why people yell “Heads Up” at ballgames, when it should really be ”heads down” and stuff like that.

Here is another one …. “I slept like a baby” …. What does that mean? A baby wakes up every other hour for cryin’ out loud, someone sleeping like that suggests to me, that they could possibly have an over-active prostrate, serious stuff.

Why is it so hard to remember how to spell “mnemonic?” (I suddenly have this mental picture of all of you right clicking on that word and heading for the dictionary. Rest assured, I am not going to vent on you today or any other day for that matter.

I am not going tell you that I am depressed or that “my world is coming in around me.” I am just not going to do that. I will tell you that the largest piece of fossilized dinosaur fecal matter ever found in Utah, measured 22”X8”X7.5” or something like that.

I mean, when the doctor comes in, sits down, looks me in the eye and says the X-Ray results are in ……

Well ….. That’s MY business.

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