bad words, sad thoughts

I realize I’m the Luddite when it comes to spelling and grammar Language grows and changes, right? But I still get a kick out of people who try to sound smart and end up abusing the language. I see it a lot in documentaries, when interviewees are trying desperately to sound smart.

“that’s how sad that I was”

“she really was a stickler at that”

“Xavier” pronounced “Ex-ZAY-vee-ur.”

“He’s the only one with the cahoots to do it”

“beyond the pale of ridiculous”

“Marino put his face on the line for his country”

“blood’s not always thick”

“The information was swept behind closed doors”

“starting to grow on her” (to mean something increasingly bothering her, as in “starting to GRATE on her”

“she earned money sucking on your heartstrings”

Most of my thoughts are sad lately. It’s the mother of all depressions. I barely function. Yesterday, I managed to make a dentist appointment and arrange for transportation, and a chore like that feels like a full day of work. The dental office had texted me that I was due for a visit, and I have a tooth bothering me, so I clicked to make the appointment. The system did not have me. So I had to call the office. Then I called my health insurance transportation line, whose voice system is generally horrible. This time, it offered an app that I could use, and asked if I wanted a link texted to me. I said yes. It asked if the text had arrived. I said no. Sent again,. Never arrived. (And yes, of course I’d had to verify my phone number.) So once more, ModivCare failed to fail to suck. But it somehow got done, appointment and transpo arranged, and I felt like I needed a week’s vacation afterward. Dealing with the outside world is unpleasant and exhausting.

Here’s something I’ve told no one: I was diagnosed with sleep apnea a few years ago, and was sent one of those stupid machines, and decided not to use it. I had nowhere to set the thing up and despaired of keeping it clean in this dusty place (the homeowner, who was living here then, was vehemently opposed to cleaning). Plus I wasn’t sure the diagnosis was any good. I’d done a sleep study at a hospital, but the pillows were exceedingly uncomfortable and I immediately got a headache. They wouldn’t give me anything for it. So I was really uncomfortable and tossed and turned all night. I can’t imagine they got a valid result.

I’d forgotten about it until recently, when my now-ex reported that I’d stopped breathing in the middle of the night and worried him. But I figure that if I do have sleep apnea, it’s a great way to go. Die in my sleep? yes, thanks. At this point, I don’t seem to have anything left to accomplish. I don’t have anything to look forward to – well, maybe the Stevie Wonder concert in December. I don’t see a future for myself, no road ahead. Until recently, when I saw obits for anyone under 80, I had to check to see why they died so young. But now, I think, I guess it was over for them, too. Some of us just take up space when we live past 65; we’re no good to ourselves or anyone else. My life won’t be turning around. I’m starting to think about some things that I realize I’ll never do in whatever life I have left, but I don’t need to do that to know how badly I’ve failed. I’ve done nothing and impacted no one. Kind of a waste.

as of now

I went to the doctor today, and they ask all kinds of “lifestyle” questions aimed at determining your mental health. Normally I try to sound as level and competent as ever. But it was tiring. One question was, more or less, do you ever wish you were dead? I gave a “so-so” hand gesture.

This whole part of my life, the past six years, seem to have been almost entirely about loss and letting go. Sometimes I think I’ve lost so much that I’m past caring about losing anything else. And really, what am I going to accomplish if I don’t live past today? I’ll just lose more things, more people, will have to cancel more plans and forego more activities. fail more, and get sadder each day.

At least I have fewer witnesses for my failures. I decided that not being willing to return a phone call, email or text for two years disqualifies Danny from being my brother any more, and I wrote a letter and told him so. He hasn’t wanted much to do with me since they moved away, and I’ve had to face the fact that even if he won’t talk to me about it or explain it, he’s a toxic person to have in my life. I am less and less willing to have people in my life who treat me badly. Got rid of the boyfriend, too, since it became weirdly clear that he didn’t actually like me. His response was, “but we can still be friends, right?” Nope, not right. I’m not going to make nice with you just so you won’t feel guilty about being so shitty to me. I don’t choose friends who are shitty to me and don’t like me and treat my interests and preferences like failings.

It doesn’t make me less lonely to be around people who don’t respect me.

I’ve been watching a documentary of HBO called Surviving the Jehovah’ Witnesses. Apart from the fact that it’s very interesting, the filmmakers (IMDB doesn’t have any production info, for shame!) have used a few interesting devices to tell their story.

Instead of repeatedly showing a handful of relevant images, they’ve used animation and micro-vignettes to convey the feelings of the interviewees or the situation they’re describing.

One of the styles is, for instance, representing child abuse by showing a child (face blanked out) holding hands with an adult, whose head is hidden by an animation of a wolf. I’m not an expert on animation, but it has that shaky look of being hand-drawn, maybe even drawn on the film; these days, I’m sure a computer was used, and of course not “film.” They will show an old photo of an interviewee, and if it’s a group photo, the faces are concealed with a white swipe that looks like Liquid Paper.*

There are also very short bits, not more than 10 seconds, that are abstract and feature people in masks. They act out things like a menacing person or group of people; they elicit emotions rather than literally acting out a story.

I watch a lot of films and particularly enjoy documentaries. (I think I’ve mentioned that many of my Bad Words come from documentary interviewees.) The method of storytelling was different enough to get my attention. We’ve seen it in fictional films but not documentaries.

Additionally, these interviews are not presented as interviews, but instead is presented as each person telling their story.** And those people (mostly ex-Witnesses, a couple of experts, and one Jehovah’s Witness elder) were articulate (so no Bad Words).

And it was made in Spain. You go, Spain!

I often avoid foreign films, I admit, because I frequently feel like I’m missing something by not understanding cultural context. An extreme case was when I started watching a lot of Bollywood films, because I realized I had tons of questions. Why does her family object to that guy? what are they implying about someone who comes from the south? what’s the meaning of this holiday? and why are they throwing around colored dust? I had to do an awful lot of research to really get it.

In the Jehovah’s Witness documentary, toward the end of part 2 (there are three), they started talking about a legal case involving “right to honor.” I’d never heard that expression before and had to look it up. (It means suing for defamation.)

*Maybe if you don’t know what it is, you should just look it up. Then marvel at my advanced age.

Bad Words and a bit of Bad Aunt

Looking for some place cheap, safe, and walkable to live. They don’t do a lot of “walkable” in this part of the country, I think. A lot of my neighborhood doesn’t even have sidewalks, or if they do, they’re broken and uneven. Then again, I’m in a food desert, so I can’t really walk anywhere except a dollar store, a “party store” (like a convenience store but mostly booze and lottery), and a pharmacy. But more on this another time, since I dislike where I live and am totally terrified about having to move.

I wanted to slap up a few things I’ve heard and read over the past week or so. Forgive me if I repeat myself. I’ve just now realized that I should cross these off my notepad once I’ve posted them, since I’m too lazy to read older posts. I’m shocked I’m unlazy enough to post at all. Winter makes me very sluggish and more than a little depressed.

“I want to shake the dust off this small town.”

“I didn’t want to shake the boat.”

“He offered her a drink, to which she accepted.”

“They took a sigh of relief.”

“All hell is being let loose.”

These are not by far the worst. A little bad grammar and some mangled idioms.

I watch a lot of documentaries, and you can find a lot of these Bad Words uttered by interviewees, who are always trying to sound smart. Especially police officers, who are trying to sound smart and official/in control.

Seeing the doctor tomorrow, getting some referrals; parts of me need an overhaul. My vision has gotten worse, and I suspect I may have cataracts. Need to have a psychiatrist assess my meds (anxiety & depression). And I don’t even want to talk about the GYN. There’s nothing I hate more than a new GYN. It really takes me a while to get accustomed to a particular person investigating those parts. So I’m hoping I don’t get referred to one of those clinics where I see a different doctor every time. I don’t know if this is something local or new or related to Medicare, but this is one of the things I hate worst about health care since I moved here. The only doctor who seems to be somewhat permanent is my primary – and when I called for an appointment with her, they actually tried to shift me to someone else since my primary had no appointments for three weeks.

I started getting very angry because none of this works if I don’t have the same primary every time. I was so pissed that I got off the phone and called back the next day – and since the day before, an appointment had opened for tomorrow. The three-week thing was a hassle because I’d been told I couldn’t get those three referrals unless I saw the primary first, so that would have been more delay than I wanted.

I find myself very prone to anger lately. Isn’t it the flip side of depression? As is usual in the winter (at least since I moved here), I have fallen into some bad depressive states. Sometimes I feel like I’m turning into my depressed and angry aunt, the mean one. (My only blood aunt, now gone.) She was quick to anger when she thought she was treated badly, which was probably mostly just frustration. She held grudges. She cut herself off from other people. I can only suppose that like me, she was alcoholic and depressed; unlike me, she never got help for either. So maybe I’m not turning into Aunt Mara.

Bad Words on a cold day

Two podcast hosts come across a distance measured in kilometers, and are trying to figure out if it’s more or less than miles. One says, “I don’t know the exchange rate.”

It’s cold. I don’t like cold. Haven’t been out for days, since I also just had several days of bad depression. I seem to be slightly better today, mood-wise, so even tho it’s 11 degrees (windchill -1), I’m going out grocery-shopping with Nabe. I couldn’t talk to anyone for a few days (I like it really silent when I’m depressed), but I do miss him and I know he misses me. He doesn’t have anyone else he hangs out with like we do. I always think about how friendship can be nourishing for me, but I forget that it goes both ways. I figure other people mostly tolerate me.

I’m still very much obsessed with Victor, or rather, his actions. It’s an old long story, but the current issue is that he and his wife have lied to me and told me they are no longer having overnight guests. I don’t know why they have gone sour on me, since they both said it wasn’t personal. Except that it is. They still have plenty of houseguests, I don’t know why I’m shut out, and I can’t visit New York City because I don’t know anyone else with room for guests. (Victor & Sherry’s loft can accommodate seven guests at once.) I gave him a year to come clean (Victor is the one who is my primary friend – we go back to the 70s), and he refused.

I have speculated a lot as to how this came about, tho I’m hesitant to share it because I know it’s made-up stuff in my head. I’m fairly sure it’s her issue and she instructed him not to tell me so or to explain in any way. I’m not 100% sure what her problem is. She’s been both mean and lovely to me.

I’ll feel horrible if I start rehashing the details just now – and there are so many details, being that Victor and I have been entangled for so many years. It’s been way past “pals” since the start. And now it seems to be nothing. And I can’t let go of it because I still don’t know what happened. And mostly, I’m afraid I’ll never see him again, as he’s 20 years my senior, which now puts him well over 80. I would like to have time to reconcile. But if Sherry has indeed found some fault with me, I’ll never be able to go back there, and she’s probably bad-mouthed me to every person in the tri-state area. She’s like that. I know from the things she’s said to me about other people. It’s not good.

Bad Words, and no vacay

Got a lot of Bad Words today. The more I read and watch, the more I gather.

“That’s out of my forte.”

One interviewee (YT documentary) used the words “satisfication” and “infestated.”

“the pilot ascends his helicopter” Another example of trying to use a fancier word and failing.

“It was shredded into pieces.” “Into pieces” not required.

“The wind would prove quintessential.” I think they were trying to say “unique” – it was about a tornado.

Winter storms are pushing in all of the country right now. We won’t get much snow, but we already have a lot of crazy wind. 4 degrees, wind chill minus 15. That’s a nope. I wish I could spend a week, five days even, somewhere warm. I’ve been to the Caribbean a handful of times. I liked St. Croix (spent a day there), Aruba (five-day honeymoon), and Puerto Rico. Ex and I went a few times when we were living together then married. He had good friends who had moved there – the husband was basically a local – and showed us a fine time off the beaten track. I have a real fondness for Puerto Rico.

When I was a little kid and going to public school, I had a lot of Puerto Rican classmates. Most of the Latinos in New York at that time were Puerto Rican. The first crush I can remember was on a little Puerto Rican boy named Fabian, with tan skin and slicked-down hair. So there’s a familiarity to the music and the way Spanish is spoken. I wish I could go there for a week every winter. A warm-weather vacation would set me right.

Even California would be fine, but I haven’t had an invite. BF is now talking about finding a pet-sit for us in this area, for spring or summer. Which I guess is OK, since I really can’t afford to fly there. But spring/summer will be a full year since we last saw each other. Really, I should be dating here.

Kitchen activity in this house is not pleasant during the cold weather. The back of the house – kitchen, laundry room, WC – is not heated. (Neither is the upstairs.) So I have to haul a space heater into the kitchen to wash dishes or cook. I’m putting a little more effort into cooking these days, but it’s a chilly business. But I need to get in there now, wash dishes and make something to eat. Cheese omelet, I think.

Reader

Nabe doesn’t let weather bother him. He’s out shopping today, and asked if there’s anything I need. (He already knew I would not go out in this weather.) All I truly needed was milk, but I also asked for cookies and for broccoli, which cancel each other out. Since I’ve been on Trulicity, an occasional cookie binge will not harm my health or even really spike my blood sugar. (In the summer, it’s generally ice cream.)

today’s Bad Words

I think I just have to call it all “Bad Words.” I’ve harvested a bumper crop since my last post.

“with whom it was based around.”

Graphic on football broadcast: DENVER BROCOS

Offset by this: one of the football announcers used the word “harbinger” correctly. Impressive.

“wreck havoc on the world”

“in the case of two consensual adults”

“his horse bolted away”

“I was fascinated with it.”

Now, here’s a great line I saw today on a social media site, author’s name unknown: “English is fifteen languages in a trench coat trying not to fall apart.”

This is what I do with my time while avoiding what I should be doing. And I’m not exactly sure what that is. I took care of a reasonable amount of business today, including the difficult Winter Shower. The upstairs here is not heated, and the upstairs bathroom is the coldest room in this entire house. Running around with a space heater is required, and it doesn’t end up being particularly comfortable. I don’t shower nearly enough in the winter.

I will tell you briefly that the cute little house I live in is a wreck. Roomie had a small inheritance and it made sense to his gf for him to buy something cheap instead of renting. So he bought the house very cheap, had to put in pipes and appliances, and then did absolutely nothing to maintain it. This is not someone who should be a homeowner. His gf suggested some years back that he should leave me this house. What I’m hoping right now is that he’ll put my name on the deed alongside his, and I will take over the bills here. He really doesn’t live here any more and feels burdened by the bills. I don’t want to move. This place could slowly be fixed up and be a very lovely home.

It all remains to be seen. That arrangement makes a lot of sense to me, and she’s very sensible, but he isn’t and never was. Not much interest in practical things. And of course he’s very slow-going now. Well, you know – stay tuned.

more Bad Language

I confess that I am often confused by the names for the parts and rules of grammar. But I guess I read enough as a kid, and spoke to enough well-spoken people, because I always know if something is wrong or inaccurate – and this does include misuse of words. (Pro tip: using big words doesn’t make you sound smart if you are misusing them.)

So I’m going to just call it all “Bad Language,” and here’s what I’ve gathered since I last wrote:

“His parents doted over him.” Should be “doted on,” not “over.” This is one where I don’t know what the rule is called – wait, it’s the adverb, right? Certain adverbs are linked to certain verbs? I have no idea. But I know that “over” is wrong and “on” is right, because I know it, and I’m 100% sure.

“[this recipe] is very versatile with seasoning.” I’m not sure if this is correct or not, but there’s got to be a better way to say, “this is a versatile recipe because you can season it any number of ways” – in a much shorter form than what I just wrote. It’s a shortcut that misfired.

“I’ve had plenty of learning curves in my life.” I think he was going for “I’ve been dealt a lot of curveballs in my life.” Or “I’ve had steep learning curves in a number of areas during my life.” This one gets a bit of a pass because he was 1) a professional athlete, and 2) a professional athlete who did not play baseball.

Lately, coming across these kinds of things gets on my nerves, instead of just cracking me up. And then I think I’ve become a fussy old lady, because it’s no longer important to nail grammar or spelling or writing or definition. Mix the metaphors! Scramble the idioms!

Oh shit, I am a fussy old lady.

sad

Roomie is suffering from dementia, and it’s progressing very quickly. When he went through a period of frustration, he yelled at me couple of times, which was not only bad behavior, but it was scary. He’s a big guy who can get loud (tho he’s usually very quiet), but not in any way violent. Still. Personality changes.

Lately, he mostly stays at his GF’s; I heard him tell her the other day that he only feels “safe” with her. (That’s not a dig at me – it’s his own fear.) So mostly now, he comes to do some laundry (GF doesn’t have a dryer or to pick up something he needs.

He was here yesterday, and like the time he stopped in some days back, he was very needy and very affectionate. He’s also cried both times. And has hugged me a good deal, which is nice.

When I moved here, in July 2020, I asked if it would be OK to hug occasionally, since I hadn’t touched another human being in months. So that was nice – it did me some good. We don’t do it often now but we do it some, out of affection. But it’s rare that he initiates it (he’s constantly afraid of doing the wrong thing in all areas of his life).

I don’t think I’ll be an important resource from hereon in, but I’m glad when I can do something. I’ve never really been close-up with someone who had dementia. It’s very, very sad. I cry, too.