my 'morning' has not measured up to my transcendental dreams

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Guess what! I am again victim of experimental upgrades in my commenting system! I have already botched it... not too badly... but it's going to add quite a few steps to my daily blogging regimen, that's for sure. At least we know BB2's comments didn't fall into the void. They fell into a black hole. Blogger doesn't like his little editor gizzy he uses to make comments and it called him spam. I was not alerted until today that there even IS such a thing as a spam folder and comment management now happening on my blog. I deleted a whole page of comments, thinking I was only taking them off a list, not deleting them from my blog. Sheesh.

It has to be karma that they like to do this to ME. Use ME as their guinea pig. They probably think that if this DITZ can get the hang of it, anyone can. But, not having had enough coffee yet today, and still swooning from my recall of bits of a long adventure in my sleep, I didn't realize Blogger, aka Google, is making a big effort suddenly to emulate Wordpress, give us some of the features enjoyed by those who use that system. I did not switch to Wordpress because they won't let me customize my blog. I have to pick one of their templates and do that. I guess this is not true if you have your own domain, but for us plebes who blather away on free blogging platforms, no dice in the customization gig... or at least last time I checked. Mayhap they are trying to accommodate people wanting to shift from the Evil Google now. I don't know.

So I was on a long trek, or pilgrimage, or escape from disaster, leading a bunch of people. Someone important, all important, was at my side. It didn't even get through my plastic wrap who was with me until we cut away to a scene where there was no ignoring this spectacularly lovable fact. So completely had I given up on this one coming to me, there was a need to kind of GET my attention. I feel as though too much of it has drifted back into my fog banks, but at least I know it was there, came with love, and I wish I could describe to you the kind of love I mean by "love" here. It's cosmic.

I have put the Shadow Stats unemployment graph in my sidebar and shall try to remember to keep it up to date. That video of that mob coming for a couple openings for HUD housing has broken my heart and powderized my bones. I am, of course, unsure and mistrustful of ALL stats, hate statisticians and the plagues they have brought down on our heads, but as far as I can see, all the most truthful people rely on Shadow Stats. If you look at their chart, you will IMMEDIATELY see why. They make an effort to estimate actuality instead of to cover up performance deficiencies.

Basically, the way you read that graph, the unemployment numbers from the beginning of fudging the stats for political relief, is the red line is TOTAL bullshit; the gray line is somewhat less bullshit; and the blue line is closer to not being bullshit.

Anyway, Hospice has been called to come help take care of my Poppa. This is a horror and a relief. Now he will be clean and the injuries caused by unskilled caregiving will cease hurting him, will heal. He won't be getting out of bed anymore, I don't think. I'm in the middle of freaking out about my mother and countless others insisting children should not see their parents in this shape, should be allowed to remember them when they were hale. I do not know who to kill. I have never heard anything so asinine in my life. It's akin to the incogitance of farming our incapacitated loved ones out to some institution when we have the means to help them at home. Everyone agrees this is the right thing to do... and it would be if you could not get the relief at home. I'm not saying anyone needs to be Superman to be decent. I'm saying that if it is possible to maintain any measure of quality of life while dealing with this stuff, YOU DO.

I can't kill my mother. She can't cope and in her inability to cope she is causing this to be exponentially worse, but she's like a wild animal whenever any fault might be lit for her consideration. She and everyone in her circle think this all has been the very best that could be done.

I am from another planet. This is way beyond just family baggage, but there is plenty of that too.

I bellowed, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'I DON'T WANT TO SEE HIM LIKE THIS'!?! HE'S BEAUTIFUL! HE'S GORGEOUS! HE'S STILL HIM!" But that's as much as I could bellow at her because she's going to snap. I don't want to call my wonderful second cousin again to vent, because it really just boils down to us congratulating ourselves for not being emotional midgets, but I might have to call her anyway because the intense frustration of being so powerless in this just doesn't ebb. Actually, that's another thing I don't understand about consensual reality! People say you get over this feeling in a couple weeks. BULLSHIT. If you are a HUMAN you do not. If you are a delusory version of yourself I guess you THINK you do.

I was in such a state that I almost missed the help that came in my sleep.

Maybe I oughta go over to my big chair, balance three sets of cheaters on my no nose and read the sutra aloud for a little while. Or maybe I should have some more coffee before I do another thing.

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