Spamish – Yes – SPAMISH Referrers?

How come…great English, I know …but, how come when I log into my dashboard here and check my stats and then got to Referrers… it shows what appears to be spam links.  I’ve clicked some of them and they have nothing to do with my blog, any of the topics, etc. but I’m getting traffic from them?? EH????  I don’t get it.  See below – any insight?

 

SO HERE IS THE DEALIO…Wordpress is aware of the problem and is trying to filter them out.  See my comments for a thread on this.  I’ve changed the links below so that no one clicks them.

People clicked links from these pages to get to your site.

Today

Referrer Views
bitblachblachblach 4
en.wordpressblachblachblach 1
1
1
Total views referred by links to your blog 7

How I became a Confessional Professional

Last one – A Confession.

Every parent I run into lately is worrying about their child’s first penance.  Mine still stands out clearly in my mind to this day.

Waiting in the glaringly shiny, highly polished pews – clasping my sweaty palms together.  Nervously trying to sort out what I was going to say.  Rehearsing the dialogue in my head because I was SURE I was going to forget my speaking part.  This, officially, ended my acting career mind you.  All this going through my mind while staring at the ornately carved door that led to the  tiny, dusty, spider filled room.  I was hyperventilating just thinking about it.  I was truly freaking out!

My turn.  Oh.  No.

The priest opens the door to peer at me through that baroque wooden screen.  What could I have possibly done wrong to be forced into this miniature torture chamber?  I was all of seven years old.  As old as my youngest is now.  The worst thing he does is not go to sleep on time.  I was much more, ahem, rambunctious than he is, but still?  I was seven, give me a break.

I look up and freeze.  Yup, just as I suspected  – he can see me.

“Bless me father for I have sinned.  This is my first confession.  I…I…I….”

And then I did it, I lied in the confessional.  I don’t even remember what I said.  I do remember thinking that whatever it was I did do, I couldn’t possibly tell this priest what it was.  Because, let’s face it, that wooden screen was not doing it’s job of giving me anonymity as I already mentioned.  He knew darn well that it was me on the other side of that screen.  He knew my name. He knew my sister.  He knew my aunt.  He knew all of their friends.  How could I tell him the truth? This was some kind of trick they were trying to play on me.  Was there a camera in the corner filming me like in Candid Camera?  Was that guy going to jump out and fill me in on this cruel joke?

No jack in the box for me.  This was real!  Then, I couldn’t stop myself.  The lies kept coming and coming and coming.  Finally, my tongue started to feel swollen and my throat felt like it was filled with sawdust.  The words finally got stuck there and halted.

Phew.  That wasn’t so bad.

Is that all child?

Umm…yeah.

I got off pretty easy I thought.  I didn’t go to hell and my palms were finally dry.  My penance.  It was something like ten Our Fathers and three Hail Marys.  All for LYING to him.  It was absurd, and I knew it. He must have known I was lying.  Didn’t he?  Maybe not.  I could get good at this.

Go in Peace.

I always made up for it by asking for forgiveness for whatever it was that I thought I did wrong.  I’d look up at the statue of Joseph on the side altar staring down at me while I was reciting my Our Fathers and tell him what it was I really did – which, like I said, what could it have been I was only seven.  I’d double whatever the penance was just to put a band-aid on the guilt I was feeling and just for good measure in case everything about going to hell if I didn’t confess my sins was really true.

I find the whole topic cringe worthy to this day.  I realize my experience is not the same or even close to being the same as everyone elses,  but it was mine.   I became a confessional professional after that.  I still had anxiety about going into that dusty cubicle, but I never worried about what I was going to say during confession again.  I knew something would come to me.

Baciami …

I find the next three meme challenges, well, challenging.  I could take the easy way out and get all deep and dirty into my physical proclivities, but I won’t.    Aww.  Stop, I can hear a few of you all the way over here! I’ll give you one and that’s it.

When you put your mind to it, there are so many ways in which a person can be turned on…there is the spiritual aspect of it.  The ecstasy.  And, yes, I chose my words carefully there – “the ecstasy”.  Various saints and martyrs who have reached that height of awareness, or ecstasy, were constantly brought up to the eager ears of my fellow Catholic School comrades.  The subject matter was titillating, to say the least, while we sat raptly listening all buttoned up and tucked in to our homogeneous uniforms.  I didn’t “get it” until I was an adult.  One of the more famous references is to the Ecstasy of St. Theresa, immortalized by Bernini.

The information out there on ecstatic encounters, ecstatic prophecy, ancient ecstatic religions is just mind blowing.   Okay, I’m going to stop right there.  I fell down the internet induced psychotropic rabbit hole this morning on this subject matter and it’s time to come back from my trip.   What can I say, I have a thirst to learn and I find religious origins fascinating.  It really comes down to the cultures that surrounded the religion at the time of  inception.  I should have been an Anthropologist, this is becoming more apparent the older I get.

Anthropologist:  1. The scientific study of the origin, the behavior, and the physical, social, and cultural development of humans.
2. That part of Christian theology concerning the genesis, nature, and future of humans, especially as contrasted with the nature of God: “changing the church’s anthropology to include more positive images of women” (Priscilla Hart).

But I digress, I really feel that what turns a person on is an infinitely evolving aspect of ones self.  From my teens to being almost *gasp* forty my “turn ons” per se, have varied greatly.  Some years I was attuned to who I was and what I wanted.  I even, on occasion, have found that proverbial pot of gold, but most days I wake up grasping for that thing that’s going to make me tick and run smoothly like a well oiled machine.  And, let’s face it, I mentioned the boredom thing before, so keeping me in tune can be daunting.  So, for now…

Three Turn Ons

1.  Kiss me.  Well.  I mean really well.

2.  Creativity.  I am fully entrenched in the Cultural Diversity event that I am in charge of each year.  I’m a month out.  This event flutters through my thoughts year round and this is the time frame in which I gather all my loose ends and ideas and bring them to fruition.  I change it up as best I can to keep us all interested while trying to hold on to it’s original principles.  This is only one aspect of my creativity but it’s my largest end product at the moment.  In general, when I’m creative, my juices flow and I’m one step closer to being right with the world.

3.  Strength.  If I feel strong, physically, mentally and emotionally life is good and I’m open to anything.  But let’s face it, that’s a problematic task to lay at anyone’s feet.  I’ve caught glimpses of it before – it’s nice.  I know the things I have to put into place to make this happen but I don’t always hit my mark on meeting my own needs.  Meditation is a big one.   Physical activity, ie yoga, karate, weights, etc. is a close second.  That ecstatic encounter reference, although I really got off on a tangent there, has a lot to do with it.  I believe in one’s chi being aligned and the chakras being in balance.  Yes, I do.  That comes together when everything else I’ve said falls into place.  Not too much to ask.

That all being said – the biggest thing – I shouldn’t take myself so seriously – I know!

Four…just four?

I’m slackin’!  I know. Can’t it be a post every other day or so…or so, or so?  No…I’m really trying though!

Four Turn Offs:

1.  Nose and ear hair.  Gross. No, really, really, really gross.

2.  Being cornered, literally.  I used to get backed up into a corner by my ex who was 6’4″, 240, while he would shout down at me into my face.  I’m now claustrophobic due to this.  Feeling like I’m in a tight place, the covers are too tight around me, etc. etc. etc. makes me really uncomfortable.

3.  Smells. Bad smells, too strong smells, smelly smells.  Smells.

4.  Feeling fat.  If I’m not feeling good about me, I ain’t feeling it for anyone else.

GIGO

Today, or more precisely, about two days ago I was supposed to talk about six people who made a difference in my life.  My thoughts on this swayed from one end of the spectrum to the next like a cockeyed pendulum trying to seduce me into saying all the things I shouldn’t, to the lovely Glinda from the Wizard of Oz trying to sort it all out for me by asking outright “Well, are you a good witch or a bad witch?”.

I think we all go through this?  Right?  No?  Just me…okay then…back to the story.

When I was taking the computer language BASIC, I used it to create  a speed rack quiz to test bartender knowledge – which no one ever used by the way – however, if you’re not in the know about bartending, you can read all about a bar set up on this nifty blog I just came across The Bartender’s Guide to the Universe anyway my slimy college professor liked to quote the term GIGO all the time.  I don’t think I’ve heard anyone use that term recently, but maybe my fellow computer heads out there will remember it.  Garbage In, Garbage Out.  That’ s what I try to remind myself of every day.  If I think crappy thoughts, then…well, you can figure out the rest.

Today, Glinda says….

1.  My parents. For all the good things they have given me and all the bad.

2.  AJ, Golddustwoman, Kitty Kat, Tifney, SunnyPath, DreamSpirit, D and all the others I can’t remember right now because I didn’t sleep again and I have not consumed enough caffeine as of yet – thank you for your patience, your kindness, your knowledge, your friendship and understanding.  What a journey we began together many years ago.  I’ve never met a more powerful group of people in my life.

3.  My children.  Can’t imagine my life without them.  And the minute Lilly was born, my life changed in an instant.  She is my redemption, number two is my testy karma and number three is my salvation.  However, salvation is only seven…

4.  All the wonderful people I’ve met through number three’s pre-school.  Some of the strongest bonds I’ve made had to do with Children’s Enrichment Center even though no one has attended it in years now, our children are all still friends with each other, the parents are friends with each other and we’re all still friends with the teachers?

5.  The Sensei.  I met him when I was just seventeen…you know what I mean

…ha ha ha … couldn’t resist.  He’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember and I just love him bunches…hahaha!

6.  My sister and her tribe. It’s just the two of us – growing up eight years apart – being raised in two completely different households, all by the same people, but differently due to circumstances beyond our control.   I don’t think two people could be more different than we are as a result.   I love her and my nieces & nephews more than they know.

Reversal? He May Be On To Something.

Sometimes I think it would make more sense to live your life in reverse.  You know?  Woody Harrelson

Six things I wish I’d never done:

1.  If I went back and changed anything, wouldn’t there be some kind of butterfly effect?  I’m serious.

I got exactly one other answer done before I gave up.  I can’t get over the butterfly effect thing.

I know I would have much rather gotten out of certain situations I was in sooner.

Never gotten myself into some situations at all.

Never met certain people, went certain places or said certain things.

But, bottom line, it all had to happen for me to be the person I am now.

For example, I didn’t do well in school – struggled like you would not believe – acted out – was delinquent and outrageous – but what if I didn’t have that experience.  What if I hadn’t figured out by the time I got to college that the only way I was going to do “well” in school was to take my time at night and re-teach myself the classes I took during the day resulting in graduating with honors.  It was the long hard road to take, but it was my way and I did it.

What if I didn’t have this experience and I didn’t recognize the same symptoms in my own child who is now 14.  What if I didn’t pursue it only to find out she has a learning disability, like I must have had, when she was so intelligent but couldn’t memorize her ABC’s.    What if I let that all go only to tell her she was lazy and should work harder like I was told over and over again.  Would she have acted out, been delinquent and done all the things I know I shouldn’t have.  You bet your ass she would have, so why would I regret that experience now?  It blows my mind when I think of my 14 year old self now and how different my 14 year old daughter is today.  It taught me so much and I do not regret it.  I am thankful for it.  It was hard and painful, but it served a higher purpose in the end.  PS – the kids’ been rockin’ high honors this whole year and takes two accelerated classes.

I suppose if I was stuck in all of the same cycles I would regret a lot, but I’m not.  I’m only stuck in a few – ha ha ha -really, I’m not perfect and I’m learning even while writing this.  I wouldn’t want to share all my experiences, but I can honestly say I don’t regret them – I do hope, however, that I accept the things I cannot change, change the things I can and have the wisdom to know the difference.  (and, no I’m not in AA).