When I was a kid, I used to chew on rocks. Just thought you should know.
As I got older I moved into construction. Paper. I preferred green.
Once I hit grade school, I chewed on my fingernails.
Middle school started the "biting the insides of my cheeks" thing.
Finally, I moved to biting my tongue.
Some would say I moved to biting my tongue far too late. There are many many instances during my formative growing up years in which I did NOT practice the lingual gnawing, and was shocked and surprised to learn that not everything that came out of my mouth was greeted with "huzzahs" by the recipients of the words.
Often , there would be stunned silence or tears. Or, um, punishment, for some of the worser things I said. The licking a bar of soap? Not so effective for a kid like me, who had (and has) a very rusty self-edit feature. The next infraction would be nearly assured before the last bubble had disappeared from memory.
Once there was threat of physical violence. I deserved it, if you must know. What I said was awful, and shouldn't have been said, no matter HOW angry I was.
As I've, uh, matured, it's gotten a touch easier to watch my mouth, but I fear it's never going to be totally easy. Things come out of it sometimes that are baffling, or awful, or so offbase that "quirky" doesn't even begin to describe them.
Now, y'all know me. I can say some weird/shocking/provocative/outright odd stuff from time to time, but some of the stuff that I do not say here is of the worst sort imaginable. It's actually OFFENSIVE, even to ME, the one who thought it. When my brain uses words like "retard," I (the other "I" that isn't my brain, just in case you're keeping score) take myself by surprise. I don't say things like that, do I? Why should I even THINK them then? When I think horrible things, I try to parse out the deeper emotion that blurted out such bilious spew so that I can erase it from my future MO.
But, you guys, it's HARD. It's so damned HARD. I've got snark and sarcasm and cynicism in my BONES, and the horrid things I think are sometimes really funny, and if they're not funny then they're indicative of a deep psychological problem that, if explored thoroughly, might lead me to an real explanation of why I hate clowns. But still, horrid. Offensive. Shockingly bad, and not in a "ha ha I meant that as a joke" kind of way.
I've learned to bite my tongue on those things.
Anybody else suffer similarly, or am I alone in my leaky boat, yet again?
As for anything more, I got kinda nothing, except that my children saw a roach as big as a palmetto bug yesterday at the KMart.
Oh, and that microwaves are one of the best things ever. I've been living without one for the past few weeks, and didn't realize until I got one yesterday how much I missed it.
Also, where the hell did Spring go? It's freaking COLD here today.
In addition, I would like to state that preadolescent boys can watch an inordinate amount of teevee, and, if given a new gaming system, can virtually stay alive just on a steady diet of electronic mayhem (it's Lego Star Wars so it ain't bloody, but those little Lego bits do fly when you whack a clone with your lightsaber, lemme tellya) and nothing else. I'm in a state of amazement at this.
That is all. Have yourselves a wonderful weekend.