I’m often asked what I’m passionate about and I can’t think of a single thing. If I had to grab stuff and leave my apartment forever, I wouldn’t angst over too much. Pictures of the kids, this laptop, maybe a couple of favorite books. It’s just stuff.

I have interests. Right now it’s podcasting, but if you told me I had to stop tomorrow I’d be bummed but it wouldn’t like, break my heart. I used to love to read but I can’t tell you the last time I sat engrossed in a book.

I have future plans to somehow get an RV to move into permanently and just take off across the country. Not enough gumption to actually make any moves in that direction, mind you. I figure my credit is shit and it’ll never happen, so I guess I haven’t really invested my heart into that either.

I feel I’m trudging through life. It used to be when the kids were set, I’d go. But the kids are pretty much out on their own (I’m still around for quick rescues and babysitting) but I’ve no ambition make a move. My lease is up August 1st so I’d be free.

Wow, that’s not where I’d planned this post to go…

Anyway, about passion. I can’t think of anything I’m not meh about. Maybe Kira, but aren’t most Grandparents a bit overboard about teh babees? I like social media events, but I don’t get upset if I miss a few. I enjoy IgnitePhx and ImprovAZ stuff, but again I wouldn’t sit home and cry if I had to um, sit home.

Why am I so closed off? I don’t feel. I keep going hoping something will strike – something will spark an interest. Something that’s more than just going through the motions.

Is that depression?

Every week I go to #evfn and gather with 20-30-40 people. The body count differs every week but there’s a core group. Some people come and go and some come back every time.

The problem is I don’t like every one of them, and I’m sure there are some that don’t like me. For the sake of the social situation we appear friendly at best and civil if there’s a real dislike. I think I can tell when someone doesn’t like me and I give them plenty of space.

The thing is, I really don’t want to hurt your feelings even if we didn’t click. Not every has to like everyone else. We’re not in kindergarten, we’re adults and we should realize and recognize when we aren’t connecting.

There are a couple of people who attend I actively dislike. There’s no hope for a connection or friendship and I can’t even be civil to them, but they still seek me out for conversation. Get a couple of drinks in me and I get downright rude. So far I’ve held my nasty comments, but should I? Are we required (as adults) to be at the very least civil to those who completely irritate or worse, creep us out?

What’s the best way to let someone know they should avoid you without being the real downer in a social group situation? Some people are so obtuse. I could be really nasty (which is my instinct) but then I’m the group bitch. While I’m naturally going to be a bitch, I don’t want to be THE BITCH.

By the way, don’t respond with a bunch of whiny “is it me?” shit. If I talk you you, I like you. If I smile politely and nod for short conversations but don’t hang around, we’re not connecting. If I see you coming and head the other way, duh-you.

Stupid TV commercial repeats this old saying over and over.

What I really want to know is…

Who cares if it is written anywhere?

Life is change, change is good, evolve.

We should high five sometime.

Just kidding, this felt like a Tyler post

I had this conversation with Casey the other night:

C: You made pork chops?

M: Yes, I made pork chops.

C: And what are these? Au gratin potatoes?

M: Scalloped potatoes.

C: I don’t like pork chops.

M: I don’t care.

C: You should have made ham, don’t you usually make ham steak?

M: I don’t like ham.

C: Since when?

M: I’ve always preferred pork chops over ham. It was your father that always wanted ham.

C: Huh. Did you know you bought chunky peanut butter?

M: I prefer chunky peanut butter.

C: Really? Since when? Nevermind.

M: And you know what else?

(He looks at me warily)

I NEVER HAVE TO LOOK, COOK, OR EAT CREAMED CORN AGAIN!

You know I have a Grammi Gummy Bear tattoo, right. That our family has an affinity for that particular program. Other than the cooking up stuff stuff, I relate to Grammi Bear.

I don’t usually relate to the Mother Bear until I come home and someone’s been sleeping in my bed and it’s all stinky. Someone’s been scarfing all the food and water in my fridge and not replacing it. Someone’s been using up all the fucking toilet paper in my bathroom and not getting more.

WHAT THE FUCK FAMILY!

It seems no matter how much I bitch, how many times I bring this shit up for discussion, how many time I go off on screaming tangents… nobody seems to give a shit about my feelings.

FUCK OFF!

I realize these are tiny little annoyances, but really they are each symptoms of the big giant disrespect I get. I put my foot down a couple of weeks ago and said basically, “get your goddam shit together and let me off the hook by December 1st.” Get real jobs, pay your bills on time, stop making me responsible for whether or not you eat. Get out of my life except for the normal amount of parent-adult child time most people subscribe to.

I’MFUCKINGDONE! IT’SNOTMYJOBANYMORE!

And yet… nothing. No change. Well, Casey’s managed to get other people to babysit most of last week – which I feel is just a gesture and pretty soon they’ll both be up my ass daily again. Ginnie STILL hasn’t tried to get a job. I get bullshit from her. Supposedly she’s applying online – doubtful. Then she’s waiting until she’s 19 on the 15th so she can get a better server job. Right. Fucking Excuses.

I FEEL LIKE I’M SPITTING AGAINST THE WIND.

How? How do I get my children to, as my new friend Donna would say, HARDEN THE FUCK UP. I feel so… powerless again. I’m not mealy mouthing and letting myself be a doormat. I’m telling them exactly what they need to do but they’re just ignoring me. I don’t want to be the screaming shrew but that’s the only idea I have left. I’ve stopped buying groceries other than what I want. I’ve made plans for myself regardless of what they want me to do. Why do I want to run away from MY HOME?

I’m going to die on December 1st and you all need to get on without me.

I chuckled at a post on How Not to Act Old regarding stalking your adult children on social media sites.

What if you’re more worried about what they’ll learn about you by your posts?

Ginnie’s been my friend on MySpace (I have a lame page there just to keep track of her and her friends back when they were all in High School) for some time. So has Max. I’m pretty sure the only time I was at all parental was when I suggested to my niece that she remove the photos of her using a bong. Ginnie’s also been a friend on Facebook for a while and Max just signed up. It’s fun to look at pictures and some of their comments, but I seldom (if ever) post anything to their sites.

But what do they see from my feed?

Snark about children’s programming, where and what I’m drinking, how horny I am, et.

My twitter feed also posts to Facebook so there are odd comments like this:

I think he said he’ll be leaving there tomorrow and should be back in Hawaii in a week. I think. Or he’s pregnant with cows. I’m not sure.

http://twitpic.com/hno0h – Pool supplies. 1 inch vodka, fill with cherry 7-up.

GirlChild is going with me to friend’s *ahem* party. This is going to be fun.

This weekend someone showed me the ASL sign for horny. I feel empowered to a whole new bunch of menfolk.

I battle with the urge to be discrete considering my audience. I seldom do censor, but I have this whole mental argument before some of my posts. Fuck it, I’m me.

In the immortal and always appropriate words of Bon Jovi,

It’s my life
It’s now or never
I ain’t gonna live forever
I just want to live while I’m alive
(It’s my life)
My heart is like an open highway
Like Frankie said
I did it my way
I just wanna live while I’m alive
It’s my life

Damn, I’m going to be soooo busy this month! Even though I’m missing Dragon*Con this year, I won’t be sitting at home feeling sorry for myself.

Friday evening there is the usual #evfn. This week we’re back at Studio 5C. It’s a nice little gallery type place with a great patio for socializing and it’s right off Mill Ave if we want to carry on for the rest of the night. Plus, lots of people I kind of know through podcasting (and some I really do know) are gathering this weekend for…

The Deadpan BBQ Saturday afternoon-evening at my friend CJ’s house. Those are always lots of fun, and with no kids around this time I’m pretty sure it’ll be even better than before.  Sunday evening is another Deadpan party, this time at the Tempe Palms hotel.

Tuesday evening I’m helping someone set up their recording studio and Wednesday night is our usual Evo@11 recording at Gangplank.  Friday (11th) I’m going to my friend Dani’s for another “Slumber Party.”  This time it’s a different presenter so we’ll have to see if she’s as funny as the last one.

My Dad turns 73 on the 13th. I wish he didn’t live so far away. He called me today while I was at IKEA so I was a bit distracted, but I had the hardest time explaining to him how my cell phone number stayed the same even though I’d moved. He just doesn’t get it. He wanted my new address so I’m standing there in the middle of the stupid store practically yelling it out for everyone to jot down. I was one of *those* people!

There’s a Brand-X T-Shirt Tweetup the following Thursday night. I’m still debating that one.

On the 18th I’m joining friends for my very first major league baseball game at Chase Field. I’ve never been so I can’t pass up this chance. After that I’ll be going to my very first Rocky Horror Picture Show! Thanks to the light rail I won’t have to do a lot of driving as everything is on the rail.

Yet another Can’t Stop the Serenity showing on the 19th. I don’t care what anyone says, it never gets old. Plus there’s a sing-along to Dr. Horrible’s Sing Along Blog, so there!

And Kira’s 3rd Birthday is on the 29th. I don’t know what’s planned for that yet, but I’m sure we’ll do something. She’s excited. Practicing her three finger thing and asking where her birthday cake is already.

Busy, busy month and I’m sure there will be more adds to my calendar as I go along.

Plus that certain someone has said that September is a good possibility for a visit. We don’t communicate much so I’m not sure yet. Everything (except the slumber party) is something I could actually take him along and have fun. We’ll see.

Well, moving is done. Old apartment is empty and as clean as I can get it, but fully expect them to charge me to replace the carpet. It’s NASTY. After two years with a toddler, a dog and too many sloppy adults there’s just no way that’s getting clean. And when I moved in I paid a non-refundable re-painting deposit so I’ve already paid them to repaint, right?

The new place? Smaller, which is fine. I’m just sweating where I’m going to stick stuff. There’s not  a lot of storage for holiday decorations (I dumped our Christmas tree) and extra hardware/home improvement/craft stuff I’ve gathered over the years. I have a habit of buying the necessary parts for a project and then never actually DOING it.

And speaking of sweating, the A/C had been running since the first moment we got here Saturday morning but it hadn’t cooled off. All through the move and through the night it maintained at probably 85° . You know, cool enough so you’re not dying in the 114° heat, but not cool enough to actually DO anything like sleep. I headed over to the office and within the hour they’d fixed it and as of sometime in the middle of the night it got downright cold in here.

I’ve got a cough that at first I attributed to dust from the packing and moving but now I think it’s officially a cold. Nyquiled last night so I feel a bit better this morning.

Max and Kela are journeying back to Iraq right now for a couple of months then they’re back in Hawaii. I’ll post pictures as soon as I find my cords in this mess.

This new apartment doesn’t have overhead lights in the bedrooms. Desk lamps really don’t put out enough light to unpack at night. We’re moving slow. And someone ripped the coax hookup right out of the back of Ginnie’s TV, which we’d planned to put in the living room. Roger has a better one for their bedroom and I gave mine to Casey, but had to get it back last night after spending a couple hours trying to get this broken TV to work some other way.

Small problems in the scheme of things. But I now live back in Tempe! Yay!

ob⋅li⋅ga⋅tion

–noun

1. something by which a person is bound or obliged to do certain things, and which arises out of a sense of duty or results from custom, law, etc.
2. something that is done or is to be done for such reasons:
to fulfill one’s obligations.
3. a binding promise, contract, sense of duty, etc.
4. the act of binding or obliging oneself by a promise, contract, etc.

I’ve been cataloging and making decisions about my own obligations lately. I’m obligated to pay my bills. I’m obligated to make sure my kids are set up in the world, but to what degree? I’m obligated to continue podcast editing, which I actually like doing. I’m obligated to maintain a connection with my mother due to a (not deathbed per se as she wasn’t actually near death just succumbing to Alzheimer’s) promise to my grandmother.

Mom called last night and bitched and moaned about some woman she knows. The woman for all intents and purposes is going senile. I mean, bringing your pillow and blanket to the casino and wearing a bra on your head… these are obvious signs, right? Anyway, Mom feels obligated to entertain the woman’s fantasies, to answer the phone the 437 times a day she calls, to make sure she eats, etc. Why? Because no one else will? How is that your obligation? And once you take it on, does that let everyone else off the hook? Isn’t it your own damned fault for taking on people you don’t have to, so quitcherbitchin. Mom tends to do that, take on needy people and then bitch the whole time. Martyr much?

What obligations should we choose to take on? How many obligations have you taken on in your life that turn into burdens? I know the whole care for your fellow man thing, but when you don’t get anything but misery out of it isn’t it time to let it go?

I’m obligated to pay my bills, but I get something out of that. I’m obligated to raise the children I chose to have, but (and this is what I struggle with) when is that day-to-day obligation over?

This process of finding ME is taking a long time. Shedding obligations is a major part of it and I’m finding it really hard to dump the last few.

Hell yes, R and I are talking on Facebook! And on the phone.

Shut UP!

I’m talking like a teenager because suddenly I feel more like a teenager. I’m almost giddy.

Giddy. Me.

Oh I don’t know, there are tentative discussions of visits and hawt secks. Because if memory serves, ALL our sex was hawt secks. I’m not holding my breath or banking on this. Years of trashed expectations and disappointments have taught me to not get excited about anything until it happens.

We’ll see maybe in a couple of months. I really need to brush up on my phone sex. Actually, that might be the only kind of sex I’ve never had. I’m much more of a hands on (among other parts) person.

In the meantime, I don’t give a rat’s ass if that neighbor guy ever comes over for a booty call anymore. I have better options ahead… I hope.