Fives

I picked this particular prompt because I thought it would be easy, believe it or not. Piece of cake! I'll have this whipped out in no time!  Which curiously leads me to the very first thing on the list...


Five Things You Don't Know About Me

1. My mouth is bigger than my brain sometimes.  I often speak before I think, which means that what comes out of my mouth isn't always what is expected.  It's sort of the equivalent of a drunk man shouting "Watch this!" before he tries to juggle chain saws.  I've improved over the years, but still have my moments. 

2. I was in an actual commercial once.  It was for the United Way in Washington D.C. in the early 80s.  It took all day to film in the hot sun. A bunch of hot and sweaty kids sang a song over and over again while they filmed.  I am pretty sure that we all sucked horribly, because I never actually saw the commercial on TV. Ever.  If I ever run for office, someone will find the video and use it for blackmail.  It is that bad.

3. I sang at the Kennedy Center.  In high school I was asked to try out for the county choir, and I actually made it by faking an ability to read sheet music. Oh, and sing. not only did we record an album, we also were asked to perform a Christmas show at the Kennedy Center. That was actually cool, even if it didn't lead to a fabulous career in the music business.

4. I was in a rock band. It was high school.  One of my friends wanted to start a band, and I had not a thing better to do.  We weren't horrible, if you don't count the time that I completely forgot an entire verse of a song during a performance. Just stood there until I remembered it.  Most people who were there still remember that, which is another reason why I haven't been to any of my high school reunions.

5. People seem to faint a lot around me. During the filming of my one and only commercial, my friend fainted.  During one of my choir concerts, another one of my friends fainted and fell from the back row of the risers.  One time I went to the movies, and a random guy behind me fainted.  If I think about it, at least one person faints around me approximately every two years.  That's too often to be a coincidence, I think.  Maybe it's that electromagnetic thing? 

And as for the other Fives, I'm not going to go into detail, but if you want to ask me about anything in the comments, I'll try my best to actually answer.

Five Things I'm Knowledgeable About
1.  Special Education
2.  Behavior
3.  Serial Killers
4.  Emergency Planning
5.  Cats


Five Things I Know Nothing About
1. Physics
2. Math
3. Combustible engines
4. The Chinese Language
5. Polo


Five Things I Believe
1. No child should ever be unloved.  Ever.
2. If an animal is terrified of a person...stay away from that person.
3. A closed mind is usually an empty one.
4. Trust your gut. Or as I like to call it, your spidey-sense.
5. Always try to learn something from every experience, good or bad.

Your turn--what are some things that nobody knows about YOU?

Head over to Mamakat and check out all the wonderful people over there sharing the love!  I chose the following prompt: 4. Five Things. List 5 things we don’t know about you, 5 things you’re knowledgeable about, 5 things you know nothing about, and 5 things you believe.

Anxiety is a PITA

I've been having panic attacks the past few days. 

They happen without warning, of course, otherwise what would be the point?   I'll be reading or working around the house or fall asleep, and that insidious little voice whispers in my ear:

"Something bad is going to happen."

What? My brain turns on the Red Alert siren, all of my neurons firing up and freaking out. That voice keeps talking:

"It's going to be just terrible. It's going to be terrible, and you're not going to be able to handle any of it."

My thoughts are now racing.  What did I forget?  Did I leave the car running?  Did I forget to lock the front door?   Is there a bad man in my house, waiting to kill me? Where is my purse?  What did I do with my keys?  What if that zombie apocalypse is real and they are heading this way? What if the new job I just got is horrible and they fire me?  What if we end up homeless because we can't pay our bills?  What if I have to sell my hair/plasma to pay some bills?  Is that a tornado or a train?  What if Zane gets kicked out of kindergarten?  Why are my palms sweaty?  What is wrong with me?  Am I having a heart attack?  What about an asthma attack?  What about a heart attack disguised as an asthma attack?  What if I have some new weird disease that nobody has even heard of before?  Who is going to pay for the medical bills for this?

And over all that, my thinking brain is hollering: what is the problem?  What is the problem?  WHAT IS THE PROBLEM?

Finally that insidious little voice answers:

"How should I know? I'm just here to get you worked up over nothing, because something might happen."

Completely wigging out over nothing, just because it might be something? Sucks.  




This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…

• Set a timer and write for 5 minutes.
• Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
• Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
• Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post (in the sidebar).
• Link up your post below.
• Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.

Six Things That I Never Learned In School

 5.) 6 things you never learned in school.

I learned an awful lot in school. Really, I did.  I paid attention in class, raised my hand often, and almost always did my homework.  Even though we moved every two or three years, I was a good student, and none of my teachers ever had cause to complain about me.

Well, except for that one time in eighth grade with the substitute science teacher. That was pretty darn awful, and I am sure that poor woman is still in therapy over it. But it wasn't just me, I had help coming up with those particular shenanigans.  Now that the statute of limitations on being a horrible teenager has passed, I would be happy to name names.

As much as I learned in school, there were several areas where my education failed me.  I never, ever got Geometry or Trigonometry, and Physics was a bit of a reality check.  But for every sonnet I was able to recite, for all of the Civil War battles I was able to recall, there were some skills that my teachers neglected.  From the vantage point of hindsight, I can look back and pinpoint where the public education system done me wrong. 

How to Cook.   After one or two extremely messy fiascos, my mother banned me from her normally immaculate kitchen. I felt that I had been incorrectly tagged as a non-cooker, so I signed up for home economics in ninth grade.  In my mother's day, home economics was a class that taught cooking and sewing and all those nifty things that women needed to know in order to keep a house in good working order.  Good information that could be used to create a happy home.  In my time, home economics was a semester of cooking.  Also, everything was done in groups.  My group was not happy with me after I mistook some overly yellow butter for cheese.  They wanted to kick me out of the group, but I argued against my ouster, since failing home economics would have been the death of my mother.   After several rounds of intense negotiations and the presence of Henry Kissinger, the rest of my group did all the cooking, and I got to write the paper about the whole episode.  We all got an A.  Even Henry. 

How to balance a checkbook.  One moment I was a former college student, taking my diploma and starting a new job.  Then I discovered that my checking account was all wonky, at least according to the bank.  I was bouncing checks, the bank told me.  Stop it now, they said.  I was agreeable to their suggestion--there are pretty hefty penalties for rubber checks.  But I discovered that I had absolutely no clue how to balance my checkbooks, so that I would know exactly how much money was available.  My mother's idea of teaching was to tell me how to do it once, get mad when I immediately understand, and then just do it all for me.  Finally, one of my friends, who was an honest-to-gosh math teacher, sat down for two whole hours and showed me how to balance everything out.  Then she came back over the following month to show me again.  The third time was the charm.

How to jump start a car/change a tire.  I tried to learn these things in school.  I really did.  I wanted to sign up for auto mechanics for this very reason, and I told the high school counselor that very thing.  She informed me that auto mechanics were only for kids who were not going to college and needed a trade so they could get a job.  She suggested that I take journalism instead.  I grumbled, but my acquiescence to her request came back to haunt me on several occasions.  The very first time I needed to jump start my car, I nearly hurt someone by putting the red squeezy-thing on the wrong point.  My friend Cathy's father woke us up one Saturday morning to change the flat tire on a pickup.  He showed us the steps, and we learned that girls have absolutely NO arm strength to turn those stupid lugnuts.  Plus, once we put the spare on and let down the jack, we realized that the spare tire was flat as well. 

How to sew.  Ever had to hem up a pair of pants?  Patch a hole in a shirt?  Don't ask me.  My mother tried to teach me how to sew, until I broke three of her sewing machine needles in a week.  I thought that perhaps taking home economics would remedy my lack of skill with a needle, but that didn't work out(see above).  I was finally able to figure out how to sew on a button, but that is about it. Now, not knowing how to sew has certainly not caused me untold misery in my life.  Except when all the other moms are whipping up costumes for school plays.  Then it will probably hurt.  A little.

How to be married.  This would have really been a helpful class.  Not the religion aspect or the big stuff.  I am talking about the day to day, little things that married couples have to get used to.  The toilet paper roll orientation.  The division of labor.  Who gets to sleep on what side of the bed.  How long do you wait until you discuss your mate's horrible toe hygiene and offer to pay for a pedicure? I lived alone for a long time before I got married, so I had an even bigger growth curve.  There were days at the beginning where  I wasn't sure what the heck to do, and leaving seemed to be a viable answer. I was used to living alone, when I didn't have to share anything and could watch whatever I wanted on tv in whatever outfit I wanted.  Luckily, love conquered all. 

How to fight.  At school, we weren't allowed to fight.  They would read out the code of conduct to everyone over the PA system, and we would all look at each other as if we had no idea what the teacher was talking about, but we knew.  Which is why we would schedule our fights for later, after school.  My dad had to go and beg for the opportunity to have a little more time. My dad taught me how to throw a punch without breaking my fingers, and that made all the difference to my confidence.  I didn't even have to actually do it--it was the idea that I could. Punch a teenager who wants to fight you in the face, and they do tend to go away without too much bother.  Or if a man in a bar happens to want to manhandle you into a dance, a punch to the right spot will cause him to look elsewhere.

How about you?  Any interesting skills that you know that you didn't learn in school?

Stream of Consciousness

I am trying something new today.  This stream of consciousness writing thing.  You look at the prompt, you set the timer and write for five minutes.  I am more of a fits and starts writer who tends to proofread and edit while I'm typing, so trying to write in a 'stream' might give me trouble.  But I like to stretch and grow.  The prompt this day is Olympics.

We've been watching the Olympics in the evenings.  Well, I have, anyway.  My husband and son have been taking the time to watch all of the Olympic soccer games that they can, and they are rooting heartily for the USA women's team.  The men's Olympic soccer team didn't make it to the show, so it is up to the women to get the gold this time around.  And so far, they are earning every single inch of ground to get to that medal.  I've only heard about some of the stuff that has been happening, but those women are rough on the field.  They certainly could kick my butt, even if I used my inhaler!  The men's soccer has been worse, with yellow card after yellow card, players pushing the refs and other shenanigans.  I don't like that.  I suppose that the stakes are high at the Olympics, but in soccer the pinnacle is the World Cup, so there shouldn't be all this messing around.   At least the Olympics has kept the hooliganism to a minimum.  Those people annoy the crap out of me, and they disrupt the game.  I don't want my child to think that sort of behavior is okay. 

I know that people were all concerned about Michael Phelps this time around.  There was talk that he had slipped, lost his competitive edge, blah, blah, blah.  I don't think so.  Because I watched that guy swim in a qualifier, and I didn't see a guy who didn't care about winning.  What I saw was a guy sure of himself, who maybe understands that being on a team is not about being selfish, going only for your own glory.  When I watched Phelps swim that qualifier, he was in fourth place until the final 50m, and then, in three strokes, he was the winner.  He's that good. 

Gabby Douglas is a brilliant gymnast, and she deserves the gold medals she has won.  However, I don't believe that anything should be made of the fact that she is African-American.  She is just an American.  She worked hard toward a goal, took advantage of the opportunities given to her, and she was rewarded.  That's the American Dream, right there.

That's five. How did I do?