virtual plethora

scrapbooking for narcissists

Sorry for the delay in posting folks, but apparently I accidently forgot about blogging and had a life there for a day or two. Oh, wait, my mistake, I was merely napping. Ah, the life of leisure one indulges in while visiting grandma’s house. 11329I’ve had more sleep in the last four days than I’ve had in the last 4 months. Ironically, I am also just as tired as ever. How very irritating. Not, however, very surprising. 

There are myriad (see, just paprika) psychological factoids regarding the neurological behaviors of the human brain that can make for interesting cocktail conversation. For instance, if an individual were able to ingest a small dose of simple nicotine without all of the additives included in modern tobacco products during the most stressful time of their day, it would actually be highly beneficial due to the calming effects. But cigarettes are bad! you cry out. Go back to the part where I say “without all of the additives included…”. My favorite bits are the ones regarding the differences in how men and women think (or, in some cases, don’t). And let me tell you, there are a virtual plethora of these. And my very most beloved piece of neurological knowledge has to do with why women have always and will always be the ones who run the world. And we do. You all know we do. We’re not supposed to say it out loud because it scares the boys, they wet themselves, it makes them look bad, they feel all impotent, sometimes become impotent, this causes procreation problems, etceteras and etceteras, but we all know its true. And there is actual scientific information to back up the intuitive understanding that all of us in the Girl Club have always had. 

So here’s how it works. In a nutshell, men are linear thinkers, women are contingency thinkers. Men think in terms of getting from point A to point B in a straight line — like tunnel vision. Literally. There can be a gazillion little stops along the way, but it’s still a straight line. Women, on the other hand, not so much. Not really even close. I picture it like a ball of string where a lot of pieces have been cut and tied back together — a lot of things depend on a lot of other things. Duh, contingency. We have to think about A to B, but also what’s happening all around these points, as well as all the other points, not to mention what happens after we get to point B, what happens if we don’t get to B, what happens if we get there late, what happens if point B moves, if it’s the wrong size, the wrong color, or if it’s not available on Tuesday. We also have to keep in mind the history between point A and point B and whether or not we can seat them next to point C for a dinner party. 

I had this discussion with my brilliant mother the other night, graphs and all.  For like, the third time. From time to time, my poor mother has a sort of cognitive identity crisis if you will. See, she’s an engineer. Actually, she’s a double engineer. Her first degree is in chemical engineering and her second is in environmental engineering. And I have to add, because I am overwhelmingly proud of this fact and that I am her daughter, she was the first woman to be accepted into the chemical engineering program at Montana State University. Go Mom. But I digress… sort of. Engineering, math, all pretty linear stuff. Not to mention being the only woman in an all male program, talk about screwing around your neurons to conform to the male perspective. And having this initial “brain training”, she never really got the hang of  “girl brain”. So, every few years, we have this same discussion, I draw her a few pictures, she tries to de-linearize her brain, and laugh about what a moron my dad is for a while. We do the last bit way more often than every few years, but it always ends the boy-girl brain conversation since he is pretty much the prototypical linear brain. 

And how does any of this, you may be wondering, relate to the pithy title of today’s installment? Do you need an explanation? Does there have to be a reason? Does it have to relate? Must there always be a neat little ribbon on the package? Okay, fine. 

1. Blogging is like (insert title).

2. It is. I mean really, think about it. Not that I’m condemning or anything, just saying.

3. I wonder how will deal with this…


but I WANT to drink the kool-aid

…even if the mothership isn’t coming to take us home and we’ll all be dead in the morning. I’m thirsty dammitt!

Its kind of amazing the difference that writing can make. I mean, the simple act of putting words on the page, it seems like such a small thing, and yet … Writers write because they must; it is not optional. Without the act, something slowly (or quickly) withers, rots, or just disappears. Without the act, the writer is somehow less than… different… un…


For the last four years, the only writing I can claim to have done is academic. And while yes, this is still writing, it is not writing, if you know what I mean. Don’t get me wrong, I love research, and am far more intimately acquainted with several academic databases than anyone really ought to be, but somehow my right brain was still feeling very, very sad no matter how often the left brain asked it to insert the term “virtual plethora” into an otherwise ho-hum paragraph. And lets face it people, “virtual plethora” will spice up any reader’s day. Its like the scotch bonnet pepper of descriptive phrases.

And what am I trying to say as I wander around this bush continually whacking it with such ferocity? That I am a little less un than I was before I started this… whatever it is… blog. It’s sort of a journal, but not exactly, as the biggest-baddest-deepest-darkest is still mine-all-mine (and my psychiatrist’s, of course). And it’s not exactly a mommy-blog, since there are no parenting tips, look-how-cute-my-kids-are pictures (although they are, and you would love them, except the best ones are always the naked ones and isn’t that considered kiddie porn?) and not all my posts are concerned with parentdom since that is not my entire life and (call me selfish) I need it that way. Its my life en writ, just like I’ve been doing for roughly the whole of it, except now I’m sharing with whoever wants to look. It reminds of my visit to Amsterdam (now there’s a future post…) and all the working girls in the windows of the Red Light district. So many of them were doing such normal things like sitting in a chair, reading a book, I think I saw one actually ironing. Granted, they were all in various levels of undress and/or interesting forms of lingerie, but still… is was life on display for whoever wanted to peek. Or stare openly. Or ogle with dropped jaws. Or piss on for that matter. Everyone pissed on the streets in Amsterdam. What a city. In oh so many ways. But that’s for another post…

So here’s to writing. To writing: To the Right Brain, the virtual plethora of meanderings done on endless drives along hwy12 in the middle of the night, to ginormous herds of deer who lose their way whilst searching for the elusive Teddy Bear Keggers that are rumored to take place in the ethanol corn fields of South Dakota, and here’s to my sister who harassed me into trying the cyber-crack that is facebook. “C’mon, go ahead. Try it. Just once won’t hurt…”