From the Diary of a Mad Home Health Nurse: First Post

I created the Diary of a Mad Home Health Nurse blog with the intent to unofficially do the month-long Slice of Life blog-a-thon back in March 2016. I didn’t end up doing that. I tend to have spring depression, and this year’s version really took the wind out of my sails.

I seem to be out of the woods as summer comes on. One might believe that surmounting the spring depression for another year without offing myself means that I love summer. It doesn’t. Summer’s too damn hot in my neck of the woods. I am, however, glad to leave the spring depression behind. I didn’t know if I’d make it this year.

Living with mental illness means that I would really have been screwed if I were working in a high pressure environment. Home health tends to be a good field for someone like me. You establish a pattern and a rapport with your patient and their family. Other health fields might be more exciting, but when you live with a mood disorder, that isn’t always the best thing.

I often still regret the life I didn’t get to have. I wish I had ended up in the arts. However, as far as the profession I ended up working in, I’m happy with it at last. I worked far too many years in a facility. Home health is a much happier place for me.

~Cie~

https://twowritingteachers.org/2016/05/31/sol-tuesday-6/

Psychic Does Not Mean Omniscient

Copyright: schmetfad / 123RF Stock Photo

Once many years ago, I was given an opportunity to do Tarot readings at a nightclub. For the most part, the people who approached me were polite, and I have fond memories of one young fellow. He asked what he should do about a critical issue in his life, saying that he'd been pondering what action to take for a long time. 

I don't remember the exact cards I drew, but I immediately realized that he was considering coming out. The cards advised that there would be some strife regarding his decision, but in the long run it was the right decision and would bring him long term happiness, whereas if he kept the truth to himself, he would struggle more in the long term.

The young fellow was very happy with my advice. He squeezed my shoulder and thanked me with a big smile on his face. I will always remember this moment.

There was a young woman on that same night who came up to me and asked me where the bathroom was. I told her I didn't know.

"Well, how can you call yourself a psychic if you don't even know where the bathroom is?" she sneered.

"The cards don't tell me where the bathroom is. Such things are a waste of the spirits' time," I responded.

The lady for whom I was about to do a reading said "she's scared," as the young woman huffed off.

"I know," I replied. "A lot of people are. I wish they wouldn't be. I only want to help people."

I tell this story to illustrate an example of the way that many people think about those who identify as psychic. They erroneously believe that being psychic means being omniscient. It doesn't, any more than being a doctor or scientist means being infallible in your given field; or that a musician, artist or actor lacks talent because ze occasionally creates work that is not up to par. 

Sometimes even a psychic with a good track record is off the mark. Situations change dramatically not long after the reading, or they were simply having an off moment due to personal extenuating circumstances.

Sometimes a psychic is adept in one area but not so much in another area. For instance, I am good at reading Tarot cards, but I lack aptitude at scrying (i.e. using a crystal ball.) 

I am clairvoyant, but my clairvoyant abilities are better expressed when aided by a tool such as Tarot cards. 

I am clairsentient (otherwise known as empathic). I have the ability to sense the emotions of both incarnate and discarnate people. I am not always accurate where factual information about a person is concerned, as I tend to let my emotions and my imagination interfere, which is why I would never advertise my services as a spirit medium. 

I also want to believe the best about people in spite of the fact that I have been fucked over six ways to Sunday more times than I care to admit because of my unfortunate tendency to ignore red flags and to believe that someone taking offense at my perceived standoffishness is more important than protecting myself. My low self esteem is my downfall on many levels.

I say this as much for my own benefit as for anyone else's. When you are off the mark with regards to your psychic abilities, assess the situation. In what way were you off the mark? What else was going on at the time? Learn from the situation rather than beating yourself up or believing those folks who feel that if you can't guide them to the nearest toilet on demand, you're obviously not psychic.

~Cie~

The Cheese Grates It; Genetics, Infections, Correlation, Causation and The Blame Game

After reading this article, I'm thinking that all kinds of brain problems could be caused by a combination of infections and drawing the genetic short straw, which is why some people have these problems and some don't, even in the same family. 

The problem is, a lot of the time there seems to be finger pointing, such as when it's stated that people with depression are more likely to develop Alzheimer's disease. There is this attitude that if you just stop being depressed (wow, wouldn't that be nice) you'll become less prone to Alzheimer's disease, so pull yourself up by the boot straps, you pudding, and stop being such a Debbie or Donnie Downer. 

Well, what if the same genetic trigger is what causes both depression and Alzheimer's in some unlucky people? Also, note that not everyone with a mood disorder ends up with Alzheimer's disease. Correlation is not causation.

According to the article, "it is known that people with a gene called ApoE2 have brains that are good at sweeping out plaque, and have a low risk of Alzheimer’s in old age. Those with a different version, ApoE4, are inefficient in removing plaque and have a high risk of Alzheimer’s."

These men are brothers. The fellow on the left side of your monitor was 57 years old when this picture was taken. The one on the right side of your screen was 59. 

The fellow on the left presents as a healthy older adult man. The older brother does not look well, and he isn't. He was diagnosed with dementia two years previously. Before I was aware of this, I surmised that he was either having endocrine problems (hyperthyroidism), or he was developing Parkinson's disease. His facial expression and his stance look similar to those of a person with Parkinson's. I had also seen several photos of him in which he had spilled food or drink on himself, which would be another indicator of neurological problems. We all do it sometimes, but when such occasions become frequent, it's a red flag.

Breaking things down:

Both of these men come from a family that is prone to cancer and cardiovascular disease. Both of their parents died at age 74. (I am unsure of the reason for their deaths.) Their eldest brother died at age 57 from lung cancer. Both of these men developed an addiction to nicotine. 

The older brother had more health problems than the younger over the years. He was prone to depression and anxiety, including social anxiety, and developed an addiction to alcohol. He was one of those people who seemed to come down with whatever "bug" was making the rounds. Overall, he seemed to be of less hardy stock than his younger brother, who had no issues with addiction to alcohol or drugs, no issues with major depression, tended to be socially gregarious, and seemed to be in good health most of the time.

It would seem likely that the younger brother possesses the APOe2 gene, where the elder brother drew the short straw and ended up with the APOe4. 

My theory is that such a gene may also leave people who have it prone to psychological disorders, which I postulate are also triggered by infections. Someone with "good" genes will be able to fight off such infections and clear the resulting residue from their systems without issue. Someone who drew the genetic short straw will not be similarly blessed.

Viral infections are also theorized to trigger a tendency to obesity in people with a certain genetic code. Obesity gets blamed for everything, but here again, correlation is not causation and if shaming people worked, we would have no addicts, no one with psych disorders, and no fat people. Clearly, shaming people doesn't cure any of the world's ills, so it would be nice if we could stop doing it and instead look for solutions. 

TL:DR

Science explains physical anomalies. Go science!

Brain diseases suck and are probably caused by bad microbes and mutated genes.

One bad gene is all it takes to perma-fuck your life.

Look for solutions rather than pointing the Finger of Shame and Blame.

Be compassionate. You never know when it may be your turn to draw the short straw. 

Now you know, and knowing is half the battle. Go GI Joe! 

(If you weren't a child of the 1980's, you probably won't understand this last reference.)

~The Cheese Hath Grated It and Blinded You With Science~

Haile Selassie I On Divinity: Man Created, NOT Emanated?! Pt2 Message to...

Physical Activity Needed For All Living in Physical Bodies

One wonderful benefit that I had at my old job was access to a therapy pool. I have a lot of musculoskeletal problems, but I could do all kinds of things in that pool that I can't do on land, such as running and jumping. 

I had to resign from that job last September due to my sciatica becoming so exacerbated that I could barely walk. The job entailed me walking 3.5 miles a night to do rounds in a very large building as part of my nightly tasks. Great--unless you have severe sciatica that isn't going to resolve if you're pounding the hell out of your spine walking 3.5 miles a night on concrete floors.

My sciatica has since resolved, but I am getting no exercise. The areas where my son and I live aren't particularly amenable to walking, but I'm trying to find a way to make it happen. Both he and I need to exercise. It's negatively impacting our moods not to.

Here is what I am NOT saying.

"ZOMG, I AM SO DEATHFATZ, I NEED TO START EXERCISING SO I WILL BE A SKINNY SUPER MODEL!"

I was actually fatter when I was getting exercise. I was also doing this thing called eating. Not "overeating," just eating. I'm starving myself right now, and that is not good for my blood sugar levels.

When I start exercising again, I will be a fat person exercising, not a fat person with a "thin person inside trying to get out."

When we make exercise about weight loss, people stop exercising when it doesn't work.

Physical activity should never be about size shaming.

Everybody benefits from physical activity, regardless of whether or not they lose weight.

So, this fatass wants to start exercising again, not to make my ass any skinnier, but to make my fat ass healthier and reduce my anxiety levels. 

Do yourself a favor and stop buying into the lies of the multi-billion dollar diet industry. Believing that hype induces all kinds of unnecessary stress.

Google Health At Every Size to learn more.

~Cie~

Getting Through the Dark Night of the Soul

You're Lost, Little Girl

I found another blog hop (in which I will not officially participate because pariah).
The seven week blog hop is about kindness, and the first type of  kindness is self-kindness.

This is something I find impossible, particularly in light of recent events. How can I be kind to something that I despise with every fiber of my being?

I don't even know if it's worth going deeper.

I hate myself for my mistakes.

I hate myself for the anger which festers in my heart.

I hate my ugly physical form.

I hate this stupid, life-destroying mental illness.

My ugliness destroys every good thing, every connection I form, every dream I have ever had.

Being what I am is punishment. I am a walking abortion. I am something that never should have been born.

I do far more harm than good.

The only good I will ever do is when I finally work up the wherewithal to actually complete the suicide I think about all the time.

I cannot be kind to something that deserves nothing but hate.

Cie, the ugliest person to ever exist

The Cheese Grates It: High Anxiety

 

I have anxiety problems. 

This is one reason why I use Tarot cards rather than simply relying on my own clairvoyance.

I can't entirely trust my own unaided input. 

Every time I have done so, I've knocked it out of the ballpark.

Trouble is, the "it" I'm knocking out of the ballpark in these circumstances is usually a foul ball.

Here's the thing: when you've always been told that you're wrong and weird and stupid and no one likes you, you tend to seek out circumstances that will prove this to be true. You may (if you're me) be so unable to trust that anything good can happen to you that when it does, you sabotage it.

I also have PTSD, which is a manifestation of anxiety brought on by severe or continued upsetting, stressful, or frightening circumstances.

I don't really have much of anyone that I can bounce things off.

Anxiety can also trigger a hypomanic or mixed state and kick my paranoia into high gear. If ever there was a time when I can't trust my input, it's when this happens.

I'm looking into the possibility of using medical marijuana for treating my anxiety.

No, I'm not looking for an excuse to toke up. I actually don't like smoking marijuana.

However, I have paradoxical reactions to most prescription medications. SSRI's (the darlings of the psych industry) make me manic as all fuck, sometimes with psychosis. This isn't fun, and I don't enjoy it. I prefer to avoid it.

Most benzodiazepines induce anxiety for me. The only one that doesn't is diazepam (Valium). That one just makes me stupid as a brick. Two plus two equals huh? Why are you asking me to do trigamonometry, you bastard? Thanks, but no.

Marijuana oil works very well for people who have seizures, and some formulations have very little THC. You could smoke the entire plant that this oil comes from and never get high.

I don't enjoy depression, but I can deal with my depression better than I can with anxiety. When my anxiety takes over, that's when I'm going to do stupid shit that I'll regret later out of desperation. Better to take the edge off that shit before it happens.

Anxiety in high gear? Don't trust your input.

Another thing: making a mistake doesn't mean you are about as psychic as a brick. It means you made a mistake. 

I'm such a perfectionist that any time I make a mistake, I take it to mean that I'm bad at everything and deserve to be pelted with raw sewage. 

In my next life I think I need to be a sea cucumber. Sea cucumbers don't give one single fuck.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~

 

 

Canticle of the Turning - Rory Cooney

I am garbage and the world would be better off without me.

Fallout Fuckery

I'm still dealing with the fallout from having dealt with a sociopath.

I found myself questioning my abilities. If I were a "true psychic," should I not have been able to see that this was a sociopath rather than a troubled empath?

I took action based on an emotional response rather than trusting my intuition.

The Tarot cards revealed that there would be fallout were I to contact this person. I ignored them.

I tend to dwell on my mistakes and I don't forgive myself for mistakes.

Whenever I wake up, I am in an emotional quagmire. I feel that something as flawed as I am should not live. I am contemplating that since my son no longer needs me to drive him to therapy, I am no longer necessary and it would be better if I were to end this joke I call a life.

It is poison for empaths to deal with sociopaths, and I opened myself up to it.

I'm not much of a guide, but I hope that someone will listen when I say that you need to protect yourself. 

I had more to say, but I can't think of what it is right now.

Cie the Worthless Asshole

Suicidal Ideation by Megan Li on Deviantart

Fill-In Thoughts

Not officially participating

WEEK 1: May 13, 2016

1. I want to stop beating myself up and start forgiving myself for my mistakes.

2. I haven't been happy in months.

3. I believe I am fatally flawed.

4. My earliest memory is being three years old.

Brussels youth talk about what they would like to become

The Cheese Grates the Crazy Creatives Cheerleading Camp: Stranger Thoughts

Image by Chris Van Allsburg

Prompt Used:

A Writer's Nook

Isn’t it odd that sometimes a stranger’s words mean more than those around you?

Everyone goes through it to a degree, but for people living with certain kinds of mental illness, it can be even more pronounced. I will tell it from my perspective.
I create what I think is an inspired bit of writing or artistic piece, or a blog post with fantastically fascinating information--and it's utterly ignored. If I'm hypomanic, I say, meh, who gives a shit, people have sawdust for brains if they can't see the greatness in my work. I go on and create something else, happy as a hypomanic lark, and everyone else can go fuck themselves if they are unable to get on board with this thing of beauty.
If I'm euthymic (alas, how seldom that happens) I may find myself wondering why I'm not getting any responses, but I don't really let it bother me too much. I have something to say, so I'll say it, even if the only ones listening are a bunch of lonely ghosts. Lonely ghosts need something to listen to, after all.
If I'm depressed, I start thinking "I should stop writing. Nobody cares. I just suck."
If I'm experiencing suicide ideation, I add to that "I should probably kill myself. I'm worthless."
If I'm paranoid, there's a whole 'nother level of shit that starts happening.
What this all boils down to is, why the hell do we care so much what strangers think about what we do?
Practically everyone born human has a desire for approval. If you don't get appropriate levels of attention as a child, you start to seek approval outside the family. I come from a family which was very perfectionistic, and I was an absolutely imperfect specimen. I could never do anything well enough. I began seeking approval outside the family, often from very toxic people.
The problem is, most people don't actually care, they're simply curious. After they've sated their curiosity, they move on. They're looking for the next big thing.
Any popular thing can be compared to a big banquet. Once everyone has taken a piece, the feast is over. The populace moves on, looking for a fresh feast.

The words of wisdom that we unpopular folk need to try to keep close to mind and heart are these:

"Better to write for yourself and have no public than to write for the public and have no self." --Cyril Connolly

Being popular can be a double-edged sword. People tend to say cruel things about those celebrities who somehow disappoint them. It really never surprises me when I hear about a celebrity being addicted to a substance or ending up dead from suicide or an overdose. Such levels of public scrutiny may initially feel like one has found the acceptance they were craving but often prove to be a curse rather than a blessing. Once the public appetite has been sated, they will be off looking for a fresh feast. All that may be left following their feeding frenzy is a skeleton.

Craving approval from strangers never leads to anything positive. 

If one has something they wish to create, they should create it, and the public be damned.

Create for yourself. If anyone else gets on board, great. If not, do it anyway.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~

Cross-posted to:

Crazy Creatives Cheerleading Camp

One Love

Wrung Out

I discovered today that a person who has been causing me trouble, seemingly unwittingly, for the past several months, is, in fact, a psychic vampire. Communicating with her, I felt as if I was looking into a black hole. She is not a misguided and troubled person as I initially convinced myself that she was. I should have gone with my gut, which told me right out of the gate that there was something really amiss with this person. 

Correction: She may be misguided and troubled, but she is also cold and dead inside and doesn't care who she hurts. She is charming outside, and a lot of people fall for her "poor me" act. Dealing with her one on one, it was revealed to me very quickly that she is a sociopath and a psychic vampire.

The sociopath is the polar opposite of the empath. Unfortunately, empaths have a tendency to fall victim to sociopaths. A sociopath can mimic emotions, but they lack empathy. The only emotions they feel are obsession and anger. They do not feel love, although they may use the word a lot and may confuse obsession with love.

Unfortunately, I left myself vulnerable to this person when I attempted to help her. I believed that if I offered her a sympathetic ear, I could redirect her energies from an erroneous pursuit of the love of someone who has no interest in her whatsoever. I thought I could help him and her at the same time.

Quickly, the entire discussion became about her. I felt myself wanting to get away, but for the sake of politeness, I was trapped. After all, how do you say "whoops, you aren't just an unhappy person misdirecting your energies, you're a psychic vampire! I'm gone!"

I discovered that she wasn't trying to catch the object of her obsessions and "make" him fall in love with her. It doesn't matter if he loves her or not. She stated that she "loves" him, but this actually translates to "I'm feeding off his energy and I'm damned if I'm going to stop."

I now need to protect her victim, me, and everyone in both of our spheres of influence. 

I wish I could scream from the rooftops the name of this person and warn everybody away from her. From a psychological standpoint, she is a manipulator and a master gaslighter. 

I can't reveal the entire conversation, but for me, this was the paragraph that screamed to me everything I needed to know about what I was dealing with.

"Although you believe my romantic feelings for "Will" might interfere with the healing energy I'm sending him...you're validating that the love I feel for him is real, and that satisfies me."

 

 This is a paragraph straight from the Sociopath Rule Book. It screams ME, ME, ME.

 

This individual does not actually care about the subject of her "healing support." She is glad that I "validated" the "love" she feels for him. It is all about her. She will keep focusing on him regardless of his desire for her to cease doing so, because she does not care that her energies are detrimental to his well-being.

Sadly, she has several people convinced that her "love" for him is ever so true and pure, and they blindly encourage this "love."

After dealing with this person, I was shaken for most of the day. If I'd had either Valium or alcohol on hand, I would have used them.

I can't believe that I was so gullible as to mistake this walking black hole for a misguided empath.

It can be hard dealing with people who have hot tempers. But I'd rather deal with someone who runs too hot than with someone whose soul is cold and dead any day.

 

~Cie~

The Cheese Grates It: My Problem With The "Pieces of Classic Rock Musician Ass" Trend on Tumblr

The other day I found a narrative on Tumblr which went a little bit something like this:

Me: "OMG 70 year old musicians are so hawt!"

My Parents: "Pervert!"

Me: "I would so bang Mick Jagger!"

My Friends: "Pervert!"

Me: "Old musicians are the sexiest!"

Society: "Pervert!"

Tumblr: "OMG, UR SO RIGHT!!!! LET'S TALK ABOUT THAT!!!!"

My problem with this is not what you might think.

Little girl, I don't think you're a pervert. My problem isn't with you being such a (tee hee) naughty little girl lusting after "old men," because the truth is, if any of the well seasoned chaps you claim to have such lust for hit on you in real life, you'd run the mile. We both know it.

My problem with this trend can be filed in the "I don't like objectification" files.

Granted, these men are never going to be harmed by objectification from a handful of teenage girls who will grow out of it the way women are harmed by objectification every day and in multiple ways. However, objectification is always dehumanizing. So, let's talk about that.

As a heterosexual female (cis woman), unless I'm going to Lilith Faire, chances are the band I'm seeing is going to be mostly or all male, and chances are I'm going to find one or more of these men attractive. It is what it is. 

However, if I'm spending the entire time shrieking about how much lust I have for Willie Nelson or Johnny Van Zant or Bruce Dickinson or Chris Isaak or Vince Neil or you name him, I am not appreciating the music, I just look like a fucking idiot. 

It's one thing to acknowledge that, say, Tommy Lee, is an attractive man. It's quite another to dedicate your entire website to your (let's say) Motley Crue masturbational fantasies, even if those fantasies are as brief as the example below.

 "OMG You Guys! I would totally do Nikki and Vince at the same time!"

Motley Crue (as an example) gave us close to 40 years of great music. The music, not their perceived hotness, should be the focus. If it isn't, you're doing it wrong.
When I was in high school, I had a friend who was deeply fascinated with Jim Morrison. All you had to do was say "Jim Morrison," and you could get Kris talking for hours. Kris really did not have an off switch where Jim Morrison was concerned. However, I never found her fascination bothersome or gauche. I knew she found Jim attractive, but this really was never the focus of the conversation. It would be "Cie, listen to what Jim was saying in this poem," or "I love the lyrics here because..."
Kris had deep reverence for Jim Morrison, and, more importantly, for Jim Morrison's works. Jim Morrison was not a piece of ass to her. Such a suggestion would have enraged her. Were blogs a thing back in our day, I'm sure she would have had one devoted to Jim, and I would have enjoyed visiting it.
Unlike, say, finding something like this:

 "You Guys, Ray Manzarek is totally the hottest piece of ass ever! I would so do him!"

Now we're approaching a whole 'nother level of Things Just Not To Do, considering that Ray Manzarek is no longer part of this mortal coil, having passed away after a battle with cancer. Honest, Ray, it isn't me saying those things. Much respect, I promise!

Let's step away from the Classic Rock genre for a minute. In fact, let's step away from music entirely. We're going to use a whole 'nother example.

As someone who enjoys writing horror and science fiction, I have a certain set of heroes. Let's just say that instead of appreciating the talent they brought to this world, I were to devote a website to saying things like this:

"You Guys, Dylan Thomas was a total babe! Just look at those eyes! He's hot!"

"Civil War Era Ambrose Bierce was smokin'! Damn but I'd get with that!"

"H.P. Lovecraft totes had Specs Appeal! What a hottie!"

"I would so like to push that typewriter off the desk and push Rod Serling down on it and have my way with him! Yeah Baby!"

"Stephen King is just so doable! Am I right, you guys???"

You see what I did there? I erased all of the accomplishments of these great writers and reduced them to eye candy. I don't think that's cool, and I hope you don't either. 

Did you think that was ridiculous? I really hope you did, because it was. However, I also hope maybe it helped me get my point across.

Let's return now to our classic rock musicians.

I'm closer in age to said classic rock musicians than the majority of those blogging about their lustworthiness are. So, perhaps I can shed some perspective about some of the things that start happening to those of us who have passed the "50" mile marker.

We're (hopefully) a little wiser. We've seen some shit, and we may be a lot sadder because we've lost some key people and we'll lose more. Things are starting to go awry with our bodies. The spirit may be willing, but the flesh more likely than not just wants to take a nap.

Ageism is wrong. Saying that a person "shouldn't" get up on stage and play music because they don't look "hot" in skin tight Spandex trousers any more is bullshit. If they can play and they want to play, fucking play on! I don't give a shit if your wrinkled skin sags down to your shoes and you're wearing a fucking burlap tent! Music is not about what a person looks like, and there is no age limit on performing. If you can do it and you want to do it, play the fuck on, and fly the middle finger to the ageist asshats.

That being said, I find it disrespectful to reduce ANYBODY to a piece of ass. Yes, I find something distasteful about young girls reducing men old enough to be their grandfathers to pieces of ass. Generally, their decision is made based on photos that are thirty, forty, even fifty years old. 

Perhaps I should write the whole thing off as a harmless expression of teenage hormones, but I return to the point: I do not find objectification harmless. 

I find it particularly distasteful when the subject of these lusts is someone who is not doing well. Honestly, have some fucking respect. 

This is not a "hot piece of ass." This is a man who was a great musical innovator, who is dying slowly of a horrible disease that is adding insult to injury by robbing him of his mind as well as his physical abilities.

This is not a "hot piece of ass." This is a brilliant and talented showman who recently passed away after a brave battle with cancer.

Even the Lizard King is not a mere "hot piece of ass." He was one of the greatest rock poets who ever lived. He was a troubled soul who died prematurely. If you are missing the nuances of Jim Morrison's personality in favor of gushing over how "hot" he was, you are missing the point and doing him a great disservice.

I can't pin all the blame on young people. People in general in modern society seem to know nothing of nuances. Everyone thinks with their root chakras, and the result is banal.

It isn't that it's wrong to find someone attractive. The problem is going with the root chakra response every time, giving no thought to the matter. An occasional "Wow, Mick Jagger sure looked sexy in this picture" is not problematic. The problem is when every picture posted proclaims the sexiness of the subject and never goes deeper or bothers to appreciate the craft these people spent a lifetime honing.

If I went with my root chakra response every time, I'd have a blog full of crappy posts about how I want to fuck the entire Colorado Avalanche hockey team, plus most of the musicians in the classic rock genre, a bunch of actors, and my favorite authors. It would be crude, lacking in subtlety, and a crap read. In truth, it tends to be better to keep the root chakra response to oneself, or at least on the down-low, just between you and your closest buds. Going public with that shit is embarrassing.

I liken this sort of blogging to a group of musicians going onstage without bothering to tune their instruments and just banging out whatever comes to mind without bothering to listen to each other. It isn't something to be proud of.

I wouldn't really have anything to say about it if the people making these blogs didn't claim to be fans of the musicians whose forty year old pictures they're drooling over. If all you're doing is sharing what you consider to be "hot" pictures and you're honest about that, there's not much to be said. However, if you claim to be a fan and you know nothing about the music, but Keith Richards sure looked sexy in 1972, you aren't a fan, you're lusting over an image. At least have the wherewithal to know the difference.

I think some parting words from the late Lemmy Kilmister are appropriate here.

When asked if it was possible to work with someone you found attractive without objectifying them, Lemmy said "well, why can't you?" 

Just a little food for thought.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~