Ok, so I’ve been thinking (scary) and observing. As a reformed “Don’t even think about getting in my personal space” person AND the fact that Lent begins tomorrow and my “Lenten To Do” list was a bit lacking, I’m making an addition. From March 8 until April 24, I will hug someone every day. If you think this is an no-brainer, think again.
A hug can be supportive, comforting, affectionate, or welcoming. We are born with the “innate need for human touch”. Several years back, I tried to explain this basic need to a group of friends. My comments were met with, “there she goes again” looks and the subject was changed. But I press on. When I lived with a houseful of people, I never thought about it, either. In my techno world, I can communicate with tons of people on a daily basis without actually seeing live human being for days. Not. Good. Physical connection is healthy and hugs are nice so there you have it.
I’ve got two weeks covered; daughter visits and trips. But the rest of the time … well, talk about stepping out of my comfort zone. I might have to hug strangers, which could lead to my arrest and jail is not a good place to launch a “hugging project”. But I’m getting ahead of myself. At the end of the day, I think it might be good. Will keep you posted, whether you care or not. Must add a warning to “dates” during this time: if I hug you, it is NOT an invitation to grab my ass. It means I am fulfilling my daily duty AND I don’t like you enough to even produce an air kiss. The old “hug and SHOO!” Just sayin’.
Speaking of madness (see header), let me tell you how insane the state I live in is. I won’t address public education, which the powers that be are trying to do away with. Really. I won’t address the fact that our state has a “rainy day fund” for education emergencies and the
moron Governor does not consider this tsunami a rainy day. But I will briefly address mental illness (not mine, ha!).
Drive by any bus stop in my city, and I promise, you will see someone talking to themselves. In a crazy way. Because when the mentally challenged use up their chits at state institutions, they are loaded up on a bus and dropped off – wherever. This process is tragic. As I drove into the Target parking lot this morning, I saw a woman pulling a suitcase toward the door. She was yelling up a storm – at nobody. She obviously had some mental issues and her angry ranting was scary. I parked, went into the store, and started my bargain hunting. She was right behind me. And she was some kind of pissed off. I kept moving to different parts of the store, but I could hear her wherever I went. “I’m a 33rd level Mason! I don’t have a husband! But I’m a Mason.” Don’t know much about Masons but I’m pretty sure they are men. I was outta there. But not before she verbally assaulted two checkers and ventured back into the belly of the store. I suggested they might want to have security “assist” Ms. Mason, especially since she has her suitcase in her cart and God only knows what’s in there. They laughed. As I left, I noticed security filing her fingernails; that’s what 16-year-old security guards do, I guess. Situations such as this make me feel helpless. And I hate that.
On a different note, I’ve got my F-It Bucket all ready to go. For those of you who are unaware of what a FIB is, you will have to read my previous post. Or not. Your choice. Nevertheless, … ta -da ……..
This may only be big enough for a couple of days. But it is the official F-Bomb depository. Feel free to add yours – all I need is the name of offender/offensive situation that makes you want to say “F-You”; I’ll write it out and make a deposit. Sharing. Hugs. Madness.
Happy F-ing Tuesday!