tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1701465038062786253.post79162806842501586..comments2024-03-28T02:25:56.451-07:00Comments on The Fictator: To Do or Not to Do Katharine Coldironhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10710500266239699918noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1701465038062786253.post-24871538268296955442013-05-01T05:31:30.515-07:002013-05-01T05:31:30.515-07:00Don't get me wrong, life in the booby hatch ai...Don't get me wrong, life in the booby hatch ain't all that bad, all things considered. But never underestimate the reaction you may have the first time you go someplace where you're patted down, security-wanded, and locked in. No matter how nice they are about it, there's something about having to find someone with a key and ask permission to leave. <br /><br />Other than that, though, it's entirely workable and even occasionally pleasant. And man, the stories you hear...Chadnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1701465038062786253.post-4939127009205921002013-04-30T15:06:07.706-07:002013-04-30T15:06:07.706-07:00@Chad, "the powerlessness of childhood was co...@Chad, "the powerlessness of childhood was compounded by the capriciousness of some of those who DID have power over me." WORD. UP. The situation you describe is like what happens to people in a prison camp. Not the conditions, of course, just the logic - there is no good reaction aside from silence. <br /><br />@Denise, although I don't fantasize about senility or prison, I have had more than a few passing thoughts about how nice it would be in a booby hatch. Nothing to do but focus on your own mental health and boring-ass activities like checkers. Sounds grand to me. <br /><br />Also, during the week of my wedding, I slept probably 10 hours over the five days. But once it was over, it was like a gigantic weight was off my shoulders. The last time I remember feeling such relief was when I graduated from college. Katharine Coldironhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10710500266239699918noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1701465038062786253.post-63300651598037771182013-04-27T07:36:05.655-07:002013-04-27T07:36:05.655-07:00I've thought about this in recent years too-th...I've thought about this in recent years too-the constant running in my brain of all the things I have to do and the actual lists, which usually get about 3/4 done before I abandon them for new ones. That's an adult thing that no one tells you about, really. I'm feeling this a lot with the wedding this year especially. It sure makes senility sound appealing, doesn't it? I mean, to get to a point where you don't even wipe your own ass when you poop sounds pretty sublime sometimes, ha ha! I remember this online list from a few years back of signs that you're stressed and the one that I still remember is "You fantasize about how relaxing it would be if you were in jail." Even though my life has been busy this year with a new job and wedding planning, it's the mental business that really gets me. On that note, I had insomnia last night and only slept 4 hours in two two-hour increments. Sigh.Denisehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10877825352612931131noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1701465038062786253.post-10486408491228615332013-04-26T09:54:32.552-07:002013-04-26T09:54:32.552-07:00For me, the powerlessness of childhood was compoun...For me, the powerlessness of childhood was compounded by the capriciousness of some of those who DID have power over me. I'll never forget being ordered to do yardwork for the babysitter when I was 7 or 8, remarking to one of the other kids to receive this duty (it wasn't a punishment for something, we were just told to do it) that boy, I'd be glad when I grew up and had rights - a third kid reported this to said babysitter, and I was punished for THAT. What the hell kinda sense did that make? <br /><br />But when comes to that long-ass list of responsibilities and just plain ol' annoying Shit To Do, yeah, sometimes kid-dom still has an appeal.Chadnoreply@blogger.com