The Magic of the Fairy Tale

The magic of a Fairy Tale stays with us all through our childhood, our adolescence and adulthood. I have always loved Fairy tales, whether they end on a sad note or a good one. Someone almost always dies. Look at Disney. When my daughter was younger I never really realized how traumatic Snow White could be...I mean this hunter follows her into the Forrest and tells her that the Queen, her stepmother, has sent him to kill her and cut out her heart and bring it back. ACK!!!! That was Disney in the 50's. Have you ever noticed that not one mother has made it out alive in a Disney film! Oh, I take that back, in Sleeping Beauty I think her Mother was still alive. But for the most part they are either killed off, or died an abrupt death. Why is this? Is is symbolic of the a child growing up and depending less on their parents. If that is the case my poor parents are doomed. I call them for everything, even to find out if my socks match. (That is when my sock Dragon decides to be kind).

I have decided that all of the books and movies that I really love, the ones that stay with me for weeks at a time are sad. So very sad. Does that mean I like to be depressed? Do I really need that wellbutrin? Or is it a release of emotion that I crave. Like an addiction I want someone to make me cry, or maybe because these peoples lives are so screwed up it makes mine seem so much less than? Everytime I watch one of these movies, I start thanking my lucky stars.

Today was a good day, other than the fact that I hit a brick wall at about 2:00 o'clock when I was supposed to call Janie back and went and passed out on the love seat. I dearly love an afternoon nap. I think we should all adopt that Spanish custom of the Siesta...maybe that would get rid of some of the road rage problems. Cause you know all these men need their naps.
And if they got their naps out they wouldn't be so grumpy! Earl is most definitely included in this one. I make sure he gets his naps!

Losing your filter. I posted something about filters on Jane's blog a couple of weeks ago. For all of you who don't know what the filter is, here is the definition. A filter is the thing that stands inbetween your brain and your mouth. It's primary function is to filter out the nasty horrid comments of your thoughts and twist them around to being politically correct or at least not detetrimental when said comments come out of your mouth. Example: Telemarking telephone calls. They call, your thoughts are "I wish this stupid idiot would get off my phone, I don't care about their new telephone service, water purification process, and I don't need any more magazines subscriptions. I just want to eat my dinner in peace" [That was the thought process] However, once having made it through the brain filter you say "no thank you, I'm not interested, but I do hope you have a lovely day. No, no. Truly, I am not interested in purchasing the rubber urinal. What would I do with such a thing? Strap it to my leg? Oh, surely you jest. No, must go now. Have a nice day. Oh, I'm sorry? You are going to lose your job if you don't sell at least ten rubber urinals? Oh, that is bad. Why did you choose a job selling rubber urinals. Surely you knew that would not be a lucrative business to begin with." And it goes on and on. Now as you get older that filter that allows you have such incredible comments as above diminishes. Earl has lost his filter. I knew it was coming.

Just tonight, he purchased a whistle. Which I might add he blew into the phone. I don't think we shall have to worry about THAT particular telemarketer again. There are other tell tale signs of losing your filter. The older you get the less able you are to handle such mundane situations. I'm beginning to lose my filter as well. I really don't want to lose my filter. Just the other day, I had a "moment" when I lost all trace of sane thought and became very ugly. I'm ashamed to say I did that, truly I am. But hey, it wasn't me. It was that darn filter, it's going, going, and almost gone!

Til Later,
Miss Sweet Pea