The Ramblings of a Mental Meanderthal

Whatever I'm doing when I'm at home, it feels like I'm carrying a box of rocks around. Each rock is something for me to remember: a task to do, an appointment to write down, a medication to take, a timer to set. I walk around worried I'm going to forget something before I get the chance to accomplish it, or at least write it down. I am very easily distracted, and I forget stuff a lot. I walk into my parents' view, and it's like they think I blinked into existence just to do things for them. Don't forget to do my laundry. Since you're up, get me an ice cream sandwich. Have you emptied the bins yet? Go look in my bottom drawer for [thing] so you can clean it; I need it on Friday. The reason I emerged from my room was to do something that would lighten my own load a little. I finish a task so one of my own rocks will vanish, but every task they unload on me is another rock. I ask them not to unload it all on me at once because I will forget not only their s

This is not a dissertation or even a proper essay, just getting some thoughts out. Babbling, really. The women's chorus I sing in is working on a song with lyrics penned by Anne Frank. (Edited, I think, but pretty close to her original words.) The piece we're singing includes the words, "I lie in bed at night after ending my prayers with the words, Thank you, God, for all that is good and dear and beautiful , and I'm filled with joy." I've had that part of the song stuck in my mind most of the evening. (I've had possible good news, but other factors have still coaxed me into anxiety. I'm still trying to look on the bright side until I know more.) I've also thought about a book by Rabbi Naomi Levy. She has written (possibly also edited) prayers for people to utter in certain situations, like success on a job hunt, the death of a child or spouse or parent, a difficult diagnosis, the birth of a baby, or success in a specific endeavor. I was raised to

 ... but mine is not one of them. I tried to head off a potential argument between my parents and ended up hurting Mom's feelings instead. I apologized for saying what I did and for hurting her feelings, and then I retreated to cry because she feels bad enough already without me piling more on. Yay guilt. Aside: I really need to cry more. When I finally do get upset enough to cry, I lose all composure and brood for an hour, minimum. If I find a way to cry more often, each weepy session might be less debilitating. Dad came in and tried to comfort me by saying he and Mom will be dead soon and no longer a burden to me. Two things: 1. I am not comforted by the idea of being alone in this world, with a horrible brother in prison to support (and the constant terror that he will be released before he dies), no partner, no kids, and no close friends nearby. 2. I have had that exact thought many times, and I feel guilty enough when I think it. To hear one of my parents voice it is horrifyin

So this is weird. There are two PC-type computers here at home: my desktop and Mom's laptop. They are not connected, but both use the same modem. I do not know why this happens, but when I change the desktop background image on my computer, Mom's computer desktop background changes, too. Though not always right away. Sometimes there's a lag. Yes, I mentioned trolling Dad. Mom doesn't use her computer much. (She hasn't even been home for like five weeks; she's been in hospital and doing inpatient physical therapy.) Dad uses her laptop more than she does. So he's the one who notices when the laptop's desktop background magically decides to change without either of us touching it. Twelve hours ago, it was a picture of that walrus that made its way across the Atlantic and is bugging people in Wales, Ireland, and France. A 2500 pound pinniped who wants to climb into little rowboats and ends up sinking them. Last night, someone asked a question at Twitter abou

Not really, but a tiny bit. Am I gay? Not that I know of. Am I straight? Nope. Despite some initial misgivings, I accepted the calling of Primary Music Leader a couple of months ago. Mom, who had the same calling some thirty years ago, suggested a game where the kids choose leaves off a tree, and the back side of each leaf names a song we then sing. I drew a tree and put Valentines on the tree. This rainbow was one of them. (Others included zig-zags, dots, hearts, and a sun.) For the record (and that isn't saying much because one cannot be sure without a lot of experimentation that the LDS Church doesn't approve of), I'm ace. Or ace-ish. Perhaps demi, because I did feel that for someone once ... I think. It's been a while. I enjoy beauty on an aesthetic level, I long for a partner in life, and I am attracted to personalities, but sex is something I'm content to bypass. Okay, so the colors for an asexual/demisexual person are white, black, grey, and purple. But I lik

Lemme start by saying that Mormons don't do Lent. It is something Christians picked up in the first few centuries after the New Testament, but it isn't in the Bible itself, except for the actual deed Lent is based on: Christ fasting for forty days in the wilderness before His death and resurrection. But some Mormons observe it anyway. I have started a number of times, but the first time I decided to observe Lent was the only time I was even remotely successful. I went meatless from Ash Wednesday to Easter Morning, except for five or six occasions when I chose to eat meat or had no other option at someone else's house. It was an interesting exercise, mostly living on cold cereal, salads, pasta, cheese, and beans. For once, I thought of Lent before Fat Tuesday and decided to remind myself what it's about. I started by listing the dates of Lent on my whiteboard and then a lot of goals I could set for myself. Then I Googled "Mormon Lent" and just "Lent."

While I managed to surpass my quota of reading 52 books in 2020, I did not finish either the Reading Glasses Challenge or the Professional Book Nerds Challenge for last year. It bugs me a little because I don't like to leave reading challenges undone -- if I can't succeed at reading , I won't succeed at anything! -- but it was a hell of a year. (Like this one hasn't been, but that's another story.) I made a spreadsheet for the 2021 reading challenges from Reading Glasses, the Professional Book Nerds, and PopSugar. I may finish the first two, but I highly doubt I will do all fifty of the last one. But I'm keeping track anyway. I also set a quota of fifty-two books at Goodreads. GR doesn't discriminate between new-to-me books and rereads; if it's in their database and I've read it this year, it counts. (I went back and checked my 2020 books on GR; At least sixty were new to me. I'm not sure about the Lumberjanes comic book series, because I'd r

So I've been making this cake for over 35 years. Literally! I entered it in a baking contest through my city's parks and recreation when I was eleven. (It got the blue ribbon.) The recipe says to bake it in a 9x13 Pyrex and slap buttercream frosting on the top, but I wanted to increase the frosting-to-cake ratio by making it as a layer cake. I tried it tonight, and the result was delicious. INGREDIENTS 1 Duncan Hines spice cake mix 1 can Comstock apple pie filling 2 eggs 1/4 cup vegetable oil INSTRUCTIONS FOR A GLASS 9x13 PAN Preheat the oven to 350 F. Pour the oil into the pan and tilt to spread, covering the bottom and sides. pour pie filling, eggs, and cake mix directly into the pan and mix with a fork. The mix usually has lumps, so this may take a while. Bake for 40-50 minutes. The toothpick test works on this cake. Cool completely in the pan. Frost with buttercream or cinnamon buttercream frosting (see below). INSTRUCTIONS FOR A LAYER CAKE Preheat the oven to 350F (325 F i