Stories. Not a blog.

WORKING ON THE ENDEAVOR. STORIES ARE MAGIC. THIS LIFE IS A GIFT.

My insomnia has been awful lately and as I was lying in bed trying to fall asleep a couple of days ago, a strange series of events concerning an old teacher popped into my head. Here is that thought turned into a “story”.

A week before summer break I was pulled into a conversation held by a group of nervous 4th graders to discuss the three teachers who taught fifth grade. None of us knew what teacher we would be assigned to next year (that information was sent to us in mid to late August along with out school supplies and uniform list—-that’s right! Yours truly went to a uniform school from K-6 and I hate to admit that I kind loved it…) and as we sat speculating on the chances of being put into each class, we agreed that no one wanted to be in Mrs. H.’s class.

All year long we’d heard the angry yells and threats erupting from her room, and on more than one occasion teachers had actually stepped away from their own classrooms to tell Mrs. H. and her students to “quiet down”. Whenever this happened a polite apology would be made by Mrs. H, followed by a stupid chorus of her annoying students, and the noise would subside for a couple of minutes…until her screams broke through the stillness of the halls yet again and our teachers were forced to keep our doors shut.

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My family bought its first computer when I was in the third grade. I don't remember the specific reason we decided to take the plunge, but I do remember that we had been wanting to buy one for a long time. A lot of my classmates were slowly purchasing computers and I remember jealously hearing them talk about the wonders of CD-Room games and the internet. Since we had a computer class at school, I also remember my mother telling me that I would be in charge of it, since I knew how to use computers.

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I was going to begin this post in a very aggressive and Karen-esque manner, but after a few seconds of quiet meditation I have decided to change my tone...at least for a little bit.

I had a job interview (I was offered the position but did not accept for obvious reasons) last week at a Senior Care Facility (SCF) and I have NEVER felt more dejected by the state of the environment I was interviewing in in my entire life. Mind you, I've interviewed for some pretty sleazy and sketchy people, interviewed in some pretty crappy places, and have even had some strong disagreements with interviewers who were mildly racist, rude and/or condescending, but this one takes the cake; and the worst part is this: this SCF is apparently very “respected” among SCF's here in the U.S. and they operate in multiple states.

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I accidentally poisoned myself a few months ago. I know that sounds strange and suspicious but let me explain. I had a dermatologist appointment on May 3rd and before going in I decided to take a shower (as one should). While showering I accidentally swallowed and inhaled shampoo and spume through my mouth and nose, and some of it even got into my eyes. The experience was awful—I had horrible symptoms (pain in my nose and throat, chills, nausea, fatigue) for three days—but while “recovering” I was reminded of the time I was bitten by a scorpion and almost died. Here is that story.

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My sharing battery has officially died out; and I am afraid it won't recharge for a very long time. (perhaps it won't ever recharge, but we shall see) For days and days I have tried to think of something important, something insightful, something meaningful to share, and I have nothing. Absolutely nothing.

And I just don't feel excited anymore. With life in general and with Stories. Not a blog. I have run out of things to say; of things to share, and although a big part of me feels relieved to have reached this point I really miss waking up with the desire to spend hours working and writing for this humble yet currently abandoned Not a blog.

I will officially take a month-long “hiatus” to refocus (and recharge?). On both Not a blog. and on my Endeavor, which I have also abandoned. I need it. I need to not be here—at least for a while—without feeling guilty.

I will endeavor to be back September 1st; but no guarantees will be (officially) made (to either myself or the few souls to happen to read this). I need time to do a lot of stupid yet important stuff, and at this junction in time Stories. Not a blog. is (unfortunately, regrettably) getting in the way. Perhaps if and/or when I do return I will have more of my stories written down, and an interesting or insightful or meaningful thing (or two) to share.

Goodbye (for now?). (and wish me luck!)

Godspeed.

C. W.

I started eating mushrooms recently and have only committed myself to one species (portobello mushrooms) in particular because of an awful story I was fed as a child.

When I was a toddler a family member told me that mushrooms were grown inside used diapers. That's it. That's the story. For 20+ years I've avoided eating mushrooms because a family member scared me into believing that all mushrooms were grown inside dirty, soiled, shit-stained, piss-filled, heavy, wet, and nasty diapers.

As I grew I (obviously) realized this family member had (obviously) lied, but guess what, Stranger? Out of curiosity one day I “Googled It” and won't you fucking believe it, some scientists in Mexico ACTUALLY did it. They grew diapers inside dirty, soiled, shit-stained, piss-filled, heavy, wet and nasty diapers.

The world is fucking crazy.

Godspeed.

C. W.

Note: I know ABC Mouse News isn't too reliable of a source for some, but it was the best I could find. A simple Mushroom Diapers search on Google will give you a bunch of articles if you're interested.

A few days ago, for no particular reason, R. and I watched ALL 3 Divergent movies. In order. Without skipping around (I usually skip around when I watch movies; whether I've seen them before or not unless the movie is somehow TOO GOOD to skip (which is exceedingly rare)) and without any breaks in between.

It was a horrible (awful, excruciating, agonizing, soul-destroying) experience and unless I am binge watching the LOTR trilogy again I will NEVER do something like this (again!). Well, there might be exceptions in the future, but they will be VERY rare and sporadic and I will take appropriate breaks and skip around (just a little bit) when absolutely necessary.

We started watching around 6:30PM (Friday, July 16th) and finished around 12:48am (Saturday, July 17th).

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I'm not updating Stories. Not a blog. as much as I used to because I'm scared of being a nuisance (to you) (perhaps I'll expand more on this later?). I know you can't see or hear me (heck, you don't even know who I am and you can choose not to read SNAB if you'd like) but I am so afraid of you (stranger) thinking I'm an annoyance or nuisance of any kind.

I thought I wasn't writing/updating due to laziness, but that's not the case. After the “poems” I wrote a while ago I've felt “off” and being “sick” for several weeks made it worse. Any creativity I had is now gone and I don't know what else to say except sorry. I still have things to finish, but I don't know when that'll be. Hopefully something interesting will sprout up soon.

Godspeed.

C. W.

I am having a mid-midlife crisis. I have been desperately looking for this stupid hamburger from my childhood and I CANNOT FIND IT ANYWHERE. Well, I can cause’ I managed to find a picture, but I mean I can’t find anywhere to purchase it. I used to buy these a lot as a kid and its been over a decade since my lips have tasted their marshmallow-y goodness.

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It is 86 degrees outside and sunny, but I am still wearing a thick robe and warm pants.

Why? Well, because I am still “sick”.

The fatigue returned and my nose is still stuffy. I feel somewhat disoriented and mildly dizzy; and all I want to do is sleep.

It's been 10 days of hell and if things don't improve by Friday I will schedule a doctor's appointment and see what's going on.

In the meantime, please wish me luck. I have no idea why the vaccine is having such a horrible effect on me! (still don't regret it, though.)

Godspeed.

C. W.

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