Burning Flame of Procrastination

Something burning? Yes, you know the odor of smokey filled spaces but this time it lingers with you as you move room to room, rearranging pillows, relocating mail from the kitchen table to the desk in the den. The bag is still unpacked and you leave the country in 48 hours. What's the problem?
Procrastination is a not so distant cousin of Burn Out and hangs on like a bad cold... or like one of those guys you shouldn't have given your number to...listen to your inner voice, you scream..on the inside while in a downward dog position. Procrastination is actually an active state of doing nothing to avoid doing something of real value, purpose or necessity. Some people may argue that it's a passive state of mind, but I will argue this point vehemently while I drink my third cup of coffee and (drum roll please) think about doing the list of things that have to be done before I leave for France on Monday. I am not the founding member of Procrastinators Unanimous but certainly an active participating addict. I have a theory about those people who do well on game shows, like Minute to Win It. I propose they are all members of the Procrastination club.
Why? Because I said so... the lazybones argument of a procrastinator who didn't research the demographics of personality types drawn to these shows. I believe and therefore hypothesize that these adrenalin junkies find the timely motivation from the pressure of last minute, 11th hour, racing against the clock rush. It's the high point of procrastination which is like a very, very long period of foreplay, was that Lynrd Skinner or Boston? Well, anyway, I look it up later. This may not make much sense, and it may not be socially significant dialogue. But who cares, there's time later to research the truth...after I finish this beer...and the list of things to do before Monday.

Proverbial Q's..So What?

That's what I thought as I watched American Idol with my Mother this past week. I thought, "so what?" Hadn't Simon Fuller seen that a cappella talent show with the guy from Boys to Men and the sex kitten from Pussycat Dolls? For the record, I had a similar reaction to the local news and anything Rachel Ray has on her daytime program-...so what happened to her voice? Did she swallow her husband?
Well, I feel like a toddler again...a gainfully unemployed wobbly wanderer with a driver's license, a passport, and a laptop asking "why" a lot more than a woman having lived through her third decade maybe should...out loud. But what's worse is how often I now ask, "so what?" From toddler to freckle faced adolescent-minded rebel with a cause... on a mission, maybe. The good news is that I believe I am not alone in my irreverence for popular mainstream manufactured packaged goods and services. I know this because you are reading this now and shaking your head in agreement. And this is good news because it means that our condition cannot be classified by the APA nor is there a reserved room for people like us at a special convalescent compound off of PCH.
I am also equally irreverent with those in authority who are frankly, one tequila shot away from the Betty Ford clinic, and more with those whose behavior is kin to Dictators. So what... I ask you? Maybe if we drank more tequila the Dictator would be more tolerable? No? No! Of course not, because tequila is angry woman liquor- haven't you seen the spanish day time SOAPs? They'll cut a bastard and a bitch. I digress...
Why? Why is cracked wheat berry popular as breakfast porridge when as children we only ate it at memorial services in little cups with powdered sugar, candied covered almonds and pomegranate seeds? Is it now popular to remember the dead even at breakfast? Is their memory more eternal as a breakfast food?
(I am drinking china jasmine iced tea at Turquoise Cafe in Pacific Beach right now...only intoxicated by sunshine and potentially oxytocin high from the combination of fresh air, ocean breeze, and hot guys surfing...well, a few walking with their surf boards up. I only offer this footnote to explain that I have not frequented the Pub across the street yet... Pub Lattitude 32* (Asterix inserted creatively because I can't figure out where the degrees symbol is on this Macbook). Why? because I'm an impatient frazzle-dazzle senorita who will likely ask you to show me where it is later.
So What? I ask you...

Burnt out on hate and hostility

All you have to do is turn on any national TV station or internet news source to realize that the planet we live on can be hostile and dangerous. Stories from China to the Middle East to the U.S demonstrate the lack of human caring, kindness and basic civility. Racism, sexism, agism live on despite progress in a democratic society. Whether in rural and urban areas hateful prejudice and hostile discrimination exists in the attitudes of corporate cultures as well as in the blue collar workforce.
Mass media run a steady news stream about the struggles to achieve equality in the pursuit of happiness, often overshadowed by economic disparities and disparate value of what is or is not a human right. We hear about victims from religious, ethnic and economic wars and those from violent acts of serial murders, crimes of passion, random shootings, domestic abuse and emotional warfare in the workplace. How couldn't the human spirit be shattered?
Some people are left empty, jaded, desensitized to the continuous stream of hate and hostility. Others are fearful, angry and anxious to be seen, heard, respected, and valued. There is a growing impatience for change from extremists on the right and left, intolerance with differences and widening divide in American values. Public officials, celebrities, athletes aren't immune from acting ugly or looking the other way.
We life in the land of the free but can one person or a country's people truly be free if they live in fear of hate and violent acts of hostility?

Dreams and Night Terrors

So I was thinking about dreams and how many of them are on the verge of unveiling their darker side in real life. The romantic girl in me floats the ideas that come to me in my dreams until the cynical woman emerges to drape that beautiful simple thought with a dark cloak of terror. Just like a Ninja-Zombie, the cynic steals away the spirit of dreams. So what's the ideal dreamer to do? Some people suggest avoiding certain foods and beverages before bed to avoid constipating your galaxy of dreams. Perhaps this is the reason for two cups of black coffee in the morning? In any case I had a dream recently of a group of horses running and one spirited caramel brown horse leading the pack and running towards me. This horse was on a mission- and how did I know this? The look in his eye- presumably male but conceivably female- I digress...so he gets close enough to look me straight in the eye and put his face up against the right side of my face. So what does it mean? My mother says it's "good luck", I suppose it's better than it talking to me or biting a body part off.

Sometimes dreams aren't about horses, unicorns, storms or screaming in tongues at your former boss... sometimes they are simply what you have subconsciously been wondering about and haven't explored via google. For example,  I recently joined Linked In and thought about a doctor I once knew- and dated for a hot minute. Later that night I dreamt he had a new baby...only to learn today that in fact, this was true. Is this dream like life imitating the subconscious or just mere coincidence? Again, the scientists in the family warn against dairy before bed time. Whatever you may think about dreams they serve a purpose to nourish our imagination, rest our minds from the mutiny of daily tasks and provide an escape from the terrors of our past mistakes or as a dear friend reminded me.."learning experiences." And if you don't believe this, then you've probably spent too many hours guzzling Belvedere and watching Bravo or the E network!

Make your Mama laugh

After dinner conversation at the compound in Diego on a Saturday night led to an exploration of various birds that you don't want in your home, such as geese and peacocks, particularly if you have white sofas and have an aversion to cleaning up after an angry feathery fowl with human size bowel. YUCKY DUCKY! 

Choosing the right Dessert is a contemplative process

This is the very first post for On the Road, Off the Record. 
What to say about choosing the right dessert? Is it really all that it's meant to be? Is it worth the additive gain in the curve of your hips and the bulge of your belly? Will your satiated stomach deter you from the midnight binge standing stark naked in front of the double wide fridge? The hesitation is momentary as your fork dips into the chocolate before your husband's fist comes to his mouth to hold back the anticipation of the delicious layered yumminess from a local legend in La Jolla. Yes, it's all that and better than what you thought.
It's a mouthful of contemplation!