Seriously, I do these things. In this past year I’ve put a book in the fridge, a package of ground beef in the bread cupboard, the television remote in the car, my phone in the pantry, and garbage in the laundry hamper . . . I’ll stop there.
I don’t even have little kids anymore. I think they may have damaged my frontal lobe somehow.
A is for ASSHATS everywhere I look
B is for BUTTHEADS who give dirty looks
C is for CRYBABIES that never stop whining
D is for DOUCHEBAGS that never stop lying
E is for EVERYONE who can’t behave well
F is for FOLLOWERS who won’t think for themselves
G is for GROUCHES who bring everyone down
H is for HOOLIGANS acting like clowns
I is for IDJITS and everything they say
J is for JERKS who just want their way
K is for KISSASSES who bring so much strife
L is for LOSERS who need to get a life
M is for MONSTERS who are mean just for fun
N is for NINCOMPOOPS every single one
O is for OPPRESSORS and the peace they disrupt
P is for the PESTIFEROUS who need to give it up
Q is for the QUITTERS leaving everything undone
R is for the RADICALS who target everyone
S is for SNOBS who make me wanna scream
T is for the TROLLS who hide behind their screens
U is for the USERS who never pay their dues
V is for the VEXATIOUS twits who bother me and you
W is for WINY ones with their panties in a bunch
X is for the XENOPHOBES I’d really like to punch
Y is for the YOKELISH YOUTH who seem to have no manners
Z is for the ZEALOTS with their speeches and their banners
Now you know new ABCs, next time please don’t sing with me, (you know, the whole misanthrope thing?) It’s not that I don’t like you, it’s just . . . well, you’re a people and misanthrope’s don’t much care for people, so –
I suppose you think I’m an asshat now, it’s right there in the first line. I’m not one, an asshat. Not all the time. Rarely even. As a matter of fact, I’m actually a really sweet person and now I feel bad, not bad enough to change it or anything, because I’m also a little mean and my sense of humor is warped beyond repair and I really DON’T like the kind of people mentioned here in The Misanthrope’s Alphabet.
Come to think of it, you don’t have to be a misanthrope to get on board with this alphabetic rant, as a matter of fact, I bet super good, super nice folks would maybe even agree with me.
I wonder if I should have used MISANTHROPE for M?
I do like people, in theory, and sometimes in real life too. Just so long as they cannot be assigned any of the attributes described in A – Z.
So, I guess that’s all. I really am a nice person. So nice.
(for real)
I’m gonna do something I’ve never done before. Join me?
Lately I’ve been having one helluva time finding the motivation and the inspiration to do the thing I most need to do, which is write. When I don’t write, I’m not quite right . . . You know what I mean, don’t you?
So yesterday, this meme popped up on my Facebook feed and it kind of made me giggle because I was thinking, “Oh yeah, I totally relate.” But then I was like, “Wait, I don’t have a cat.”
Obviously I may need to schedule an appointment of some kind to address this, we’ll see.
Mental health concerns aside, it did cause a little spark and a silly scene began to swirl inside my mind, so I jotted it down.
You see, yesterday, (a long, long time ago), I fell into a rabbit hole (I’m assuming that it was, though I’ve no real way to know), I fear I may have bumped my lid, at least I think I’m thinking this is what I did – I must have bumped my noggin at the very least once, or perhaps maybe even thrice, but for the sake of sake itself, let’s just say I bumped it twice.
No. That simply cannot be! I’ve no particular way to be certain that was indeed the case, so never you mind my kindest dears, forget all that I’ve just said, for if indeed I’d cracked my melon, surely I’d be dead.
Why then do you think, I would answer queries from a cat who isn’t really there? Oh bother with the bother, you needn’t answer something quite so silly. Anyway and besides, it makes no difference really. I like that cat, and he likes me back, so I suppose it matters little, (if it matters much at all), whether he’s real or whether he’s not, especially since, (and I think this might be true), that cat that’s not just might, as he seems to me to be, my very best and truest friend, perhaps the best that there could be.
Nonsensical scribblings led to an outpouring of other words, ones that made sense, and I wrote something real and good and lovely (and I’m still working on it).
I love link ups, I really do. I’ve found some amazing blogs and some amazing bloggy friends because of them and I’ve always wanted to host one of my own, but I’m lazy and kind of, sort of, almost (but not completely) certain no one else will link up and I will seem silly for trying, BUT, I’m working on squashing that doubtful, mean-spirited voice that’s always telling me not to bother with things like this, so . . . I’m doing it. A linky, sharey thing.
Here’s my idea – find a random meme and write about it. Something silly, something fun.
I need a great big break from the ebb and flow of red and blue we seem to be drowning in . . . I need a good giggle and I know, without a doubt, ya’ll can make that happen!
So please dear sirs and ladies, help a bogged down blogger out and link with me?
Follow The Qwiet Muse here on WordPress and/or (may I suggest AND?) The Qwiet Muse on Facebook (over there on the right, it’ll take just a second), to check back and read what others are (hopefully sharing). Check them out and let them know what you think!
I have some ideas to bring my little corner of the blog world to life, can’t do it without ya though, (insert most sweetly pathetic smile I can muster).
Okay, meme me with a little story. Please. (and maybe share with your bloggy friends)
Coming clean, clearing the slate, confessing, purging, owning up . . . I did some awful things in 2015. Some of them were honest mistakes and unintended mishaps, but some of them were choices. Bad choices, and in effort to start this new year with a clean conscience I must own up to them.
This isn’t easy for me. I’m not a bad person. I’m only human, of flesh and blood I’m made. I’m only human, born to make mistakes. Thank you, Human League, for lending those lines of perfect subterfuge to the world.
I’d like to say I fully intend to atone for my wrongdoings, but the truth is – I probably won’t. Confession is good for the soul they say, I’ll just do that and try to do better this new year. It’s not like I broke any major laws or caused irreparable harm in some way, unless you count the couple of dishes I broke (and didn’t own up to).
Alright, might as well get this over with. Don’t judge me too harshly, you’re only human too.
1 – I went through the 15 items or less line with more than fifteen items. Twice.
2 – I stayed in my bed and my jammies all day and watched a Snapped marathon on the ID Channel then told my husband I was still in bed because I wasn’t feeling well.
3 – I told my husband I needed to get a gift at Barnes and Noble for a friend and bought three books for myself. I forgot the gift.
4 – I told my family the chicken I’d taken out for dinner was freezer burned so I didn’t have to cook dinner. We had pizza.
5 – I told my doctor I’d been drinking lots of water. I didn’t tell her half of it was coffee flavored.
6 – I let my phone go to voicemail when I wasn’t too busy to answer it.
7 – I told my husband the art supplies I bought at Michael’s were on sale, I may have misspoke – the truth is, they were for sale.
8 – I spilled a cup of coffee on the floor and blamed it on the dogs.
9 – I spilled a bowl of soup on the floor and blamed it on the dogs.
10 – I spilled a cup of soda on the floor and blamed it on the dogs.
11 – I bought cookies and hid them from everyone.
12 – I clicked like on a Facebook post without reading it.
13 – I did not read the terms and conditions before agreeing to them.
14 – I used the word literally when I should have said figuratively.
15 – I cheated on a Buzzfeed test to get a better answer.
16 – I had to re-run more than one load of laundry because I was too lazy to put it in the dryer in time.
17 – I forgot to water the plants. Most of the summer.
18 – I threw away leftovers . . . and the containers they were in.
19 – I didn’t always pay attention when people were talking to me.
20 – I answered more than one question with ‘I don’t know’ so I didn’t have to keep talking.
21 – I took pictures of an article in a magazine instead of buying it.
There may be more.
It feels good to get that off my chest. I’m not gonna lie, I may make the same mistakes in 2016.
When I opened my eyes the darkness blinded me. The black night encompassed me in its ebony veil. I could feel long icy fingers of fear wrapping round my quickening heart. The silence surrounding me pounded in my ears, but I wasn’t alone. I sensed a presence somewhere near. So near.
I was in pain, my muscles cramping as I lay there, no room to extend my legs for relief. I was cold. So cold. So many thoughts raced through my mind, how did I get here? What had happened? What would happen next?
Time passed slowly as my unanswered questions turned to thoughts of my children and I knew I had to survive, they needed me, but I could barely keep my eyes open. I was fading, fading into a dark, cold oblivion I could conceive of no escape from.
As a lay shivering, waiting for the inevitable, I heard something. A faint rumbling at first, but it grew steadily louder and louder and I realized I had to move. I had to save myself. Clarity found me and I realized I’d fought this battle before. That rumbling was the night beast and I’d beaten him before.
It took everything in me to turn myself over and poke him in the head. I took back my blankets, kicked the dog off the bed and as my body warmed, I drifted off to dream . . .
From Original Bunker Punks – “Welcome to the blog battle zone of the best writers fighting to be featured on the OBP. Our theme this week is to write a day in your life where there would be no boundaries and you could do anything you want. The winner of this competition will be featured on OBP and other social media in our writers spotlight where your blog will be showcased each week to bring more traffic to your wonderful words. The post needs to be between 800-1,200 so get creative and linkup on Thurs. Sept. 10 th to Fri. Sept. 11 th from 9 am to 9 pm. I look forward to reading you there let the games begin.”
You should probably join in the fun. You should, because it’s fun.
Tomorrow is a big day for me, like BIG, as in I can do anything I want. Seriously, like whatever my heart desires, without boundary, without limit . . . it’s going to be fantastic. I should thank the badasses over at Original Bunker Punks before I start planning my ME day, the whole ‘do whatever you want day’ was their idea. Dreams come true, folks. Dreams really do come true, in this case on the page, but still . . . Thank you Punks. Thank you.
Alright, first things first, I have to figure out what I’m going to wear. Obviously, my tiara, that kind of goes without saying. Why have one if you’re not going to wear it, right? I’m trying to decide between staying in my pajamas the whole day or going full on princess. So far, I’m leaning toward my pajamas, I have the most divinely comfortable pair of baggy pajama bottoms with freakishly adorable owls adorning them, paired with my favorite worn out skull t-shirt it’s a full on comfort fest. I’ll finish off the look with a messy bun and the tiara, and BOOM, style. Oh, and a tutu. Maybe.
Damn I’m excited. I’m a fairly simple gal, I don’t ask for much. Honestly, my desires are pretty down to earth for the most part. I don’t want to travel the world or have super powers, well, maybe a few superpowers, but really, who wouldn’t? So I don’t have any truly outrageous plans, tomorrow will be filled with simple things that make me happy, simple things that are surprisingly and frustratingly difficult to make happen.
So – the first thing I’m gonna do is sleep in till I simply can’t sleep anymore. Now, I may actually need superpowers to make this part happen, but no phones are going to ring. No kids are going to knock on the door. No dogs are going to bark. There will be silence. Sweet, perfect, blessed silence and I’m going to wake up so freaking refreshed and well rested I’ll feel like I could take on the world. Then, I’m going to adorn my crazy bed-head with that sparkling tiara and sip a never-ending cup of perfectly sweetened coffee while I watch my kids silently do chores without complaint or hesitation. I’m going to read a book without interruption while they work. Awesome. (I might need those superpowers for that part as well.)
While they scrub floors I’ll get myself ready, (I’ve decided against the tutu – I think) The next part of my day will be spent at the bookstore. I’ll get to stay as long as I want. Long enough to really peruse the selection of beautiful words, printed and bound, just waiting for me on those shelves. No quick skimming the surface tomorrow. Nope. I’m going to surround myself with stacks of stories and possibility and lose myself inside of them, and THEN, I’m going to bring them home with me. Maybe ALL of them.
Once home, I’ll be so inspired I’ll sit down to write, and the words will flow freely and without abandon, my opus will breathe into life, line by easily written line, born into reality like a new babe the world cannot wait to hold. Then, of course, I’ll need a nap. I’ve quite obviously never written an opus-esque anything, but I imagine it’s quite tiring.
Upon waking, I’ll indulge myself with another coffee and perhaps some of the freshly baked cookies my children prepared and cleaned up the mess they made afterward, that are cooling in the kitchen while I decide which of my new books to peek inside of first. My heart and tummy filled, I’ll likely take another short nap before my husband arrives home from a long day of work to begin dinner preparations. He’ll be making me a fabulous Quiche. He really does make a fabulous Quiche. He won’t even say anything about the multitude of new books scattered about the house, he’ll simply ask where I’d like the new bookshelf he’ll be building after dinner to be placed.
Wait. There needs to be a picnic in here somewhere. You know, like the TV picnics, with the checkered blanket and one of those baskets that have simply everything possibly picnic related in them? Yeah. One of those. A nice family picnic. I think we can fit that in after the bookstore, before my opus, then books and cookies and another nap and dinner and new bookshelf. Perfect.
Now then, it will be getting late and the soothing sounds of Pachelbel and Bach will fill my home as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. Calm and peace will reign. The sunset will paint me a masterpiece of softly fading pastels upon my windows, and the glorious song of a night-bird will float into my room on a gentle breeze, ushering in the eve with a sweetly warbled lullaby to lead me into tranquil repose.
I’ll swiftly drift off to visit the land of nod with thoughts of my positively, perfect day dancing through my mind . . .
OR
I’ll just stay in bed all day, I will be in my pajamas after all.
Crystal R. Cook
When I was a kid I never pretended I was a princess, like ever. I had no royal inclinations when it came to my dreams, I’d have rather been a vampire to honest. I didn’t want to grow up and be a veterinarian or a nurse or an astronaut or any of the other things little girls my age dreamed of becoming, I wanted to be an archaeologist who drove a big rig when I wasn’t busy running a library. Thus far in life the closest I’ve come to being an archaeologist was the time I found fossilized french fries under my daughter’s bed, and my big rig turned out to be a minivan filled with kids. I do have enough books scattered about my home to operate a small library though, except I don’t want anyone touching my books. Mine.
I really don’t know why I decided to buy myself a tiara. I’m not a girly-girl by a long shot. I don’t have a closet filled with shoes that match all my outfits, come to think of it, I don’t really have outfits. I have a closet full of crap that is too small, too big, or just plain comfy. Some of it even matches. None of the items crammed into drawers or haphazardly hung are fancy or colorful, I have one pink shirt and that’s only because it has a kick-ass skull on it. Vibrant color to me is a new black t-shirt I won’t really love until it’s faded a bit.
I’m wearing my tiara right now actually, I think it looks fantastic with my grey tank top and my husband’s old plaid button up I cut the sleeves off of. I feel positively regal. I really wanted to go in search of a scepter or a wand of some sort to match, but my son forbid it. He seems to think there’s a chance I might hit someone with it. He’s probably right.
Last night I put on my tiara and waited for the rest of my offspring to notice, but they didn’t say anything. I was like, “Dudes – I’m wearing a tiara!” and they were like, “And?” They are far too accepting of my weirdness, nothing phases them anymore. I tried to banish them from my kingdom but they wouldn’t leave. They did agree to help me dig a moat around the house, so I guess I won’t push it.
My husband is out of town and doesn’t yet now I’ve elevated my status to princess, he’ll likely be about as impressed as my children were. I’m going to need that scepter . . .
I’m a follower . . . of blogs. This morning I happened upon a fun post over on Part Time Monster, she runs a weekly feature called The Thursday Thirteen, a themed list of various things, 13 things (obviously). This week, her list consisted of things you can always find in her bag or purse.
I’m lazy and uninspired today, and I have a purse. For these reasons I felt compelled to copy and share, so I dumped out the contents of my purse and snapped a picture. I hope she doesn’t mind me piggybacking on her idea . . . imitation is the greatest form of flattery, right? So says Charles Caleb Colton anyway.
Just yesterday I cleaned out my purse, so all the crumbled receipts, loose change, gum wrappers, and other miscellany that typically find their way into my bag is thankfully not pictured. It can get pretty messy in there.
So what am I left with? The important stuff . . .
1. My Wallet. I love this wallet. It fits everything I need, nice and neat. I’ve had about a dozen different wallets over the past ten years or so, they all sucked. I like this one.
2. My Insulin and my blood tester. I never leave him without them except when I forget them.
3. Glucose tablets. These have the ability to save my life so they are ALWAYS in there.
4. Pepper spray. You never know. I have a couple of knives in there as well. Again, you never know. Plus, they come in handy when you need to cut a tag off a new pair of shoes.
5. Itch cream. Diabetic skin gets mighty itchy sometimes.
6. Pens and a notebook. Always. The terrible thing is, I sometimes forget my insulin, but always have a notebook and a pen handy.
7. Books. I take a book everywhere.
8. Reading glasses. Gotta have them or I can’t read my book.
9. Eyeglass cleaner wipes. Gotta have them or I might not be able to use my glasses to read my book.
10. Gum and lip balm.
11. Toothpick thingys. I can’t stand having anything in my teeth.
12. Hand mirror I never use.
13. Little catch-all owl pouch. Holds my fingernail file, nail clippers, and some ear plugs.
So there you have, crap that’s in my purse.
At least I posted something today . . .
I’ve been asked several times why my blog is called The Qwiet Muse, and have also recently been informed by a few folks that I spelled quiet wrong, (just in case spell check didn’t catch it). So sweet. To put those helpful minds at ease, I spelled it that way on purpose. Spell check has been my saving grace on many occasions, however, this one I fought it on.
Words, as you know – must know, or should know, often have more than one meaning; you may think of the word muse and envision some mystical, magical creature of beauty floating overhead, gently guiding along inspiration. But believe me, if some ghostly apparition ever stops by for a brainstorming session, I’m outta there. I’m running and writing about it later (and elsewhere).
Muse can also be defined as an instance or period of reflection, a source of inspiration . . . My particular muse comes from everything around me; my faith, my family, my friends. My muse exists in all the wonders of God’s creation and in my unique human experience.
The Qwiet Muse is a reflection of me. It’s derived from my original screen-name, qwietpleez, and muse for my inspiration; the reasons I write.
Onto to origin and etymology of, ‘qwiet‘ –
qwi-et [kwahy-it] adjective. Basic definition – the same as quiet. It’s the same word, with the obvious distinction of containing a W in place of the U.
verb form
* to make qwiet: Qwiet down in there, or else!
* to make tranquil or peaceful; pacify: to qwiet a crying baby.
* to calm mentally, as a person: There, there, be qwiet now.
* to silence: Qwiet!
Origin: 1997; English(ish). Derived from (adj.) Middle English quiet < Latin quiētus, past participle of quiēscere ; (v.) Middle English quieten, partly derivative of the adj., partly < Late Latin quiētāre, derivative of quiētus.
*credit and apologies to dictionary.com
Historical Account:
In the summer of 1997 a young mother (me) was creating her first AOL.com email account. Her beginning attempts all failed, the names she chose were unavailable. She wanted something witty, something fun, and memorable. After several hours and many unsuccessful attempts, her frustrations began to rise, as did the playful rambunctiousness of her children.
Her attempts at quieting them were equally unsuccessful. Finding it increasingly hard to think, she found herself repeatedly requesting silence. Calm down, lower your voices, hush, go to the other room, knock it off, zip it, chill out, and other such requests went ignored.
Her final, shouted request, not only stilled the room of sound (for a moment), but became her victory at the keyboard as well.
“JUST BE QUIET PLEASE!”
She was filled with trepidation, dreading another ‘unavailable’ message but she pressed on, one key after the other. Q w i e t p l e e z. This was it. It was perfect. Her finger hovered over the enter key, she closed her eyes and pushed it. When she opened them, the message said ‘success’!
So there you have it . . . oh, by the way. I realize please is spelled wrong, I like it that way.
My son decided to go out this afternoon and get some job applications. Thankfully, he changed his clothes before he went – he had the foresight to realize the shirt he was wearing wasn’t the most appropriate for the task at hand. I was really proud of him . . .
Turns out he wasn’t thinking what I was thinking.
– This is the shirt he changed into –
Nobody seems to be hiring right now.
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