The human mind is a marvelous thing. Capable of limitless ideas and thoughts. It tells us how to walk, talk, breathe, smile and eat. What the human brain is not very good at is estimating its accompanying body’s energy capabilities. Just because we can think we can do something, does not mean we can. As for me, I have a great zeal for making plans—until it comes time for the execution part. Here’s my mantra: “This is a lot harder than I thought it would be and is taking twice the time.” I routinely overestimate my abilities by about double. Which means I am continually behind. And continually frustrated.

I figured by the time I’d reached my fifties I’d have all this time management stuff figured out. While I’m a bit better at it, I still suck. I pile on the plans until I collapse under their weight. But I don’t notice I’m falling apart until I am in pieces.

I am acutely aware of this issue because as I write this, it is three days after Christmas. I woke up this morning still exhausted from the holiday onslaught with few brain cells left. First thing I did was spill hummingbird food all down my front and flip out—in the front yard no less. I finally dragged myself inside so I could yell without censoring myself. While I knew that the level of anger I was experiencing was totally disproportionate to the severity of the mishap, I was so tired, all I could do was watch myself freak out. When I finally got hold of my emotions, I realized how bloody tired I was. And that I’d been way too tired for far too long. Not only because of the holidays, but because I’d tried to cram a year’s worth of activities into the previous four months.

Why do I think I can do more than I can? Why do I set myself up like this? Why do I believe that if I just try a little harder, I can get it all done? Haven’t I noticed what I’ve been able to accomplish so far? Why can’t I properly anticipate and gauge my energy levels? Did I used to be a disembodied brain? Am I unconsciously referring to a past life? Was I an alien that had no need to sleep? As far as I know, I’ve always been human, although some would debate that fact.

As I look back at my plans for the last four months, they don’t look that crazy. All I had to do was MC the Pescadero Arts and Fun Festival in late August; go on two back-to-back vacations in September (dumbest idea EVER, so tired we couldn’t enjoy the second); host a Halloween party for 20; then host a two-week in-law attack—I mean, visit—over Thanksgiving; get oral surgery; shop, clean and decorate for Christmas; host a party for 17 at my house on Christmas Eve; clean up the party on Christmas Day and fix a special Christmas dinner for my sister and husband. Oh, and also complete the final edits on two books—and publish them—and write my columns while working on two new novels. Plus I started a new diet and exercise regimen in July, which takes two to three hours a day. The only thing I didn’t accomplish was a full first draft of the new Patriots’ novel. Which was bumming me out until I just read this paragraph.

I think my problem is two-fold: a hefty dose of denial regarding my abilities, coupled with the unplanned. I didn’t plan on rats chewing through the wires on my car and stranding me at home for a week in October. I didn’t plan on being sick for the remaining three weeks of October. Ditto on the toe surgery I needed two days after my oral surgery. And I completely forgot about the high drama that accompanies most interactions with my family or Frank’s and the subsequent drain on my energy levels. And there was a LOT of “interaction” during the holidays this year. Nor could I have anticipated what happened on Christmas night. I was exhausted and barely keeping awake during a movie before bedtime when the hot water valve to the dishwasher broke and flooded part of the kitchen. We were forced to shut off the water to the house and stayed up all night waiting for the plumber, who finally showed up at 8 AM. And we had overnight guests and couldn’t flush the—you get the idea.

At this point, I suppose I should stop wondering why spilling sugar water on myself made me cry. But it does make me want to do something to prevent the same kind of meltdown from happening again. I need to realize that life doesn’t fit neatly into task lists and datebooks. Lists are a man-made artifice/tool used to navigate life, but life isn’t good about obeying rules or lists. The old Woody Allen quote comes to mind: “If you want to hear God laugh, tell him about your plans.”

So as I head into the new year, I am going to take this column and glue it to the inside of my calendar. I am going to write “Plan for the Unplanned” on every page. When I receive an invitation or make a date, I’ll look at my calendar closely. I won’t merely look at the day of the event; I’ll look at the entire month before and afterwards. If any of the plans coincide with a recent visit with certain family members, I will decline. And I also won’t make as many plans. As much as it bothers me, I have to finally admit the truth: I’m only human and can’t expect so much out of myself.

So now, if you will excuse me, I have to go clean the house, write and publish three books, host a party for 20, and fill the hummingbird feeders.

©2012, Janet Periat

A long, long time ago in a galaxy not too far away was a planet called Earth. On this planet there were many wondrous things—objects and phenomenon that have gradually faded from Earthers’ collective consciousnesses. While Earthers may catch glimpses of the following items in the tiny viewing screens implanted in their heads, they mostly ignore them. In the interest of posterity, here is a review of the past. While most of these objects will be foreign to average Earthers—and they may question the existence of such things—we have proof that these objects actually existed and mostly continue to exist today.

People: 1) Human beings or Homo sapiens. 2) An old-fashioned term for User. 3) Living beings that interacted with each other without the aid of a computer or smart phone. In the olden days, people would sit and chat with each other face-to-face. Instead of typing “lol” into their datapads, they would actually laugh out loud. Personal exchanges were conducted by listening to users voices and reading their facial expressions. Bonding would occur based upon mutual interests and activities that took place in the Real World (see below) rather than in an on-line world, social network or game. People spoke in complete sentences, rather than using cryptic acronyms. People would sometimes sit around their living rooms discussing the day’s events. Mostly these exchanges were civil and didn’t end in a flame session where both parties screamed expletives and wished death upon each other.

Real World: What we used to call the physical world around us, the world outside our computers. Now called our Fantasy World.

Outside: The area between and surrounding buildings.

Weather: Ever-changing temperatures and natural phenomenon that occur Outside. Weather takes on various forms: wind (air that blows without fans), rain (water that falls from the Sky), sunshine (very warm energy from the Sun), humidity (similar to the air in small meeting rooms filled to capacity with no air-conditioning) and snow (shaved ice that falls from the Sky).

Sky: The area above Earth as seen from the ground. Instead of walking and staring at a tiny screen (or viewing our brain implants), users would gaze at the sky. Clouds, Birds (see below) and gorgeous vistas would delight the users. At Night (also see below), stars and planets would appear as tiny dots of light against a blue/black sky.

Clouds: Before the age of smart phones, clouds were not data storage devices. They were (and are) visible bodies of water droplets or ice crystals in the atmosphere above the surface of Earth. They appear in the Sky and are normally associated with Weather. Users would stare at the clouds in the Sky and use their Imaginations (see below) to find familiar shapes, like a dog or a horse or a user’s face.

Day and Night: Before our world ran 24/7, we divided our time between Day and Night. Generally, Night began after sunset and before sunrise. Day occurred when the Sun (see below) rose and provided illumination and heat.

Sun: 1) A star in our galaxy that provides the light and heat experienced during the Day and sustains life on Earth. The Sun’s power is self-generated without the use of lighting fixtures or furnaces. The Sun provides nourishment for plants and is the source of power for solar-powered arrays. The Sun is visible in the Sky during the day, but staring at it for long periods of time can cause blindness. 2) A source of suntans for superficial users before tanning booths.

Nature: An unpaved area without buildings or man-made structures. These wild places may contain Plants (see below) without containers, including trees. Sometimes these strange lands contain small furry creatures. Weather is unforgiving in Nature as there are no buildings to provide shelter. Starvation and dehydration can occur quickly because there are no strip malls or fast food restaurants to provide food and water.

Plants: 1) A living green decoration some users have on their desks. 2) Source of flowers, beer, coffee, chocolate and aspirin. Note: Comes in a form called “lettuce” which sometimes appears on hamburgers and sandwiches.

Birds: Actual live creatures that fly through the sky without the aid of a mechanical device or manufactured propulsion system. Contrary to popular belief, they are not angry, nor are they normally projectiles thrown at Pigs (see below).

Pigs: 1) Source of bacon. 2) An actual live animal that lives on non-virtual farms and provides food for users. 3) Pets for rich and famous users. Note: Can only be killed online by Birds—unless the Bird is large, like an ostrich or emu, and the Pig is small.

Barbecue: An event in olden times where users would gather around a gas or charcoal grill Outside, and prepare food. Men would normally tend the fire and “barbecue” the meat while drinking vast quantities of beer, and women would prepare the side dishes and gossip about the men being drunk jerks. All communication was done without mobile devices, through speaking and listening.

Imagination: What users in the past would use to entertain themselves before the Internet. Users would allow their minds to wander and conjure up stories, plans and dreams. Before computers, the human mind was capable of such activities.

Thinking: An additional use for one’s brain other than receiving information. Thinking occurs when a user says something that is original and not a quote from a Star Trek movie, a YouTube video, or a song. Thinking aided users in accomplishing tasks before computers.

Note To Earthers: in case you don’t believe any of the above to be true, try this experiment. First, TURN OFF your mobile device. Then stand up and walk to a door that leads Outside. Step through the threshold and simply look around. If you see an avatar of a user, this is a real person (see People above). Wave and say hi. You’ll be amazed at what happens next.

©2011, Janet Periat

Pasteurized processed cheese food has always bothered me. It worries me when a food manufacturer is concerned that I won’t be able to recognize their food product as food. Like I might mistake their cheese slices for cheesy-smelling plastic coasters.

Another scary product is Libby’s Potted Meat Food Product. Such a snappy title for a food product. Libby’s obviously wasn’t worried about bowling over their target audience with tempting adjectives. The people who actually eat the stuff probably don’t pay attention to the title. Nor must they read the list of ingredients on the side of the can. I wish I hadn’t. And just what is “potted” meat, anyway? What kind of a process is “potting”? I looked through all my recipe books and couldn’t find any form of cooking called “potting”. Potting I’ve done to plants. Not to meat. Nor meat products. And what are meat products? Not meat. But a meat product. May or may not contain actual meat? Is it a product of the meat? What does meat produce? Troubling questions, all.

Another mystery no one should think about is polysorbate 60. I found it in both hydrocortisone cream and Ho-Ho’s snack cakes. And Twinkies. Which begs the question, how can a product that is supposed to be used topically be taken internally as well? Does some manufacturer make a generic “cream” that can be used in topical ointments as well as in filling for snack cakes? And exactly what the hell is polysorbate 60 anyway? And what does it do for the Ho-Ho’s? Or the hydrocortisone cream?

And while we’re on the subject, what happened to the other polysorbates? Were they all failures? After some investigating at my local supermarket, I managed to find only two other polysorbates being used: 20 and 80. Polysorbate 20 was in Murine Ear Drops. And I remember polysorbate 80 from several years back. I remember noticing it because they used it in Rely tampons. Remember the ones they recalled because they caused Toxic Shock Syndrome? The reason I remember the polysorbate 80 in there is because, at the time, I also found it in Twinkies, Ho-Ho’s, Suzie Q’s and Ding Dongs. But now they’re using polysorbate 60 instead of 80 in the snack cakes. So, did 80 leave some weird taste in your mouth? Did it contribute to the Rely tampon’s Toxic Shock Syndrome? Did it cause Toxic Shock Syndrome in people who ate Twinkies? Was it more costly? Why did they go back to the polysorbate 60? I looked around and could only currently find polysorbate 80 in Children’s Motrin Cold Medication and Afrin nasal decongestant. Maybe it did leave a horrible aftertaste and since medicines usually do, they decided to use it in those products and leave it out of Twinkies. I guess the polysorbate 60 tastes better. But I still want to know what happened to polysorbates 1 through 19, 21 through 59 and 61 through 79.

Another disturbing ingredient is propylene glycol. I found it in Oxy Acne Treatment and Zingers snack cakes. Another topical, yet internal ingredient. Sorbitan monostearate was another one I found in both the hydrocortisone cream and the Zingers. I just can’t figure out how the food manufacturers determine that they need to put those chemicals into their products. Did some product taster try some new Ho-Ho recipe and say “Hmmm, this is missing something. I think it needs more polysorbate 60. What do you think, Fred?” “Uh…no, Joe, I think it needs more sorbitan monostearate. A little more fumaric acid perhaps.” “I disagree, Fred. It’s either more polysorbate 60 or more propylene glycol.” “Well, Joe, we’re outta propylene glycol.” “Hey, Fred, look. There’s some in this St. Ives Wrinkle Corrector. Let’s just put some of this inside the Ho-Ho’s.” “Good plan, Joe.” These are the thoughts that keep me up at night.

Another thing I want to know is who makes up these recipes? Well, I suppose they aren’t recipes anymore, they’re formulas. So the food manufacturers probably hire scientists nowadays, not cooks. I can picture the food manufacturers giving orders to their newly hired scientists. “We want you guys to find a way to replicate food using chemicals. The people will never know they’re not getting real food if we dump enough sugar in the product. The sugar’s real. They’ll be happy with that.” And we are, aren’t we?

I suppose in the future grandparents will still be passing on their favorite recipes to their grandchildren. “Here’s my homemade truffle cake recipe, Leon. Remember, don’t scrimp on the propylene glycol. And always put in the polysorbate 60 to taste. Too much isn’t good. Could give the cake a hydrocortisone cream feel to it.” Okay, Grandpa.

©20??, Janet Periat

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I can’t remember when I wrote this column, but a recent post on the Weather Channel website  by Organic Authority about the ingredients in McDonald’s nuggets got me thinking about it. So here it is. You can find it in my book, Confessions of a Pink-Haired Lunatic.

At the end-of-year board meeting for ScrooMoCo, Chairman Scrooge delivered the yearly financial projections. “We’ve slashed our workforce and are earning record profits this year!”

A great cheer arose from the board.

Suddenly, the room fell into darkness and the ghostly apparition of an older man in a suit, covered in chains, appeared above the long conference table.

“My God, that’s our dead founding partner, Jacob Marley!” Scrooge cried.

“ScrooMoCo Board members,” the spirit moaned. “You’re all greedy bastards who’ve caused great economic imbalance in the world and caused terrible needless pain to the masses. When you die, you will suffer the same fate as me if you don’t repent and stop your heinous actions now. These are the chains I forged in life and believe me, they freakin’ clash with my Gucci and make getting spa treatments a bitch.”

Several board members gasped.

“You will be visited by three spirits tonight. Heed their warning or you will suffer fashion humiliation for all eternity!”

Marley vanished and the lights returned.

Chairman Scrooge snorted. “Cratchit, call maintenance and get the electrical fixed PRONTO.”

Bob Cratchit, his secretary, winced. “ But we fired the maintenance staff and outsourced the work to India.”

“Then you do it!”

The overhead lights flickered. A great crash of thunder made all the board members jump. Standing on the conference table before them was Bing Crosby.

“Hello Board Members, I’m the spirit of Christmas Past and this number goes out to all you greedy robber barons,” he announced and then broke out singing I’m Dreaming of a Rich, White and Male Christmas.

The board members clapped. “Do Swinging on a Star!”

“No, I’m here to show you how it used to be, before all you mega-corporations took over the Earth. Behold, the past!” Bing pointed to the wall behind the table.

A large movie screen appeared showing black and white footage of American factory workers on assembly lines. A happy family of six eating at a backyard barbecue. A doctor making a house call. Kids walking into shining new schools. A young couple buying their first house. A stay-at-home mother working in her kitchen of gleaming appliances.

“My doctor still makes house calls,” a board member huffed.

“Yes, and my children attend schools just like that one. Nothing has changed.”

Bing shook his head. “That used to be the life for 99% of our population. Not the 1% it is today.”

“It’s their fault for being poor,” sneered a board member.

“I give up. And now, I’d like to introduce that man-about-town, that haunting spirit you’ll all come to know and love, the Ghost of Christmas Present. Take it away, President Barack Obama.”

Bing disappeared and in his place stood Obama.

The board members screamed in fear. “A Democrat!”

“But he’s not dead,” one argued.

“Hey folks, easy does it. I’m just trying to get re-elected and this seemed like a great way to get my message across to you since none of you pay attention to what I say anymore.” He gestured to the back wall. “Behold, the present!”

A succession of film clips depicted gigantic crowds of protesters in Madrid, London, New York and Oakland. A close-up on the signs revealed the messages: We are the 99%. Corporations Must Atone. Tax the 1%. Make Jobs Not War on Middle Class and Working Poor. The images shifted to a school kid reading a torn book and sitting at a broken desk next to a bucket catching a leak in a dingy classroom. Hungry children and mothers standing in long lines at soup kitchens. Thousands of unemployed crowding job fairs. A row of boarded-up houses with brown lawns and foreclosure signs. A homeless encampment under a freeway.

“Glad I’m not poor,” commented a board member.

“Hear, hear.”

“Me, too,” said Obama. “But if we don’t change things and right now, there isn’t going to be any rich people because the poor will rise up and kill us all. Didn’t you guys study history? Remember Marie Antoinette? While you guys sip Cristal with me, people are starving out there. People can’t afford health care, homes or educations. Over the past fifteen years, you bastards have taken ALL the money. You weren’t satisfied with an extra 50% or even 75% more money than your workers, you had to give yourselves 298% raises while they only got 4%. You blew it. And your iPods and Prozac and beer and NFL championships aren’t distracting them anymore. They’re onto our game.”

A board member yawned. “I’m sorry, did you just say something? I wasn’t listening.”

“Forget it. Here’s your final spirit visitor for the day, the Ghost of Christmas Future.”

Obama vanished and a sweet little Mexican girl in pigtails and a pink dress stood on the table.

All the members shrieked in terror. “An illegal immigrant!”

The little girl nodded. “You should be afraid. Shortly, I’m going to be the majority. And you’re totally screwing me over right now. Behold, the future!”

A post-Apocalyptic landscape appeared onscreen. Mansions burned in the background. In the foreground, well-dressed people ran from pitchfork-wielding crowds. The camera panned over a burnt and cracked sign: Town of Atherton.

The board members gasped, horror-struck.

“Act now or soon it will be too late,” the little girl said and vanished.

The screen disappeared and the lights came on.

Scrooge frowned. “Wow. That was frightening.” He rubbed his chin. “So should we pay our fair share of taxes, hire more people, stop outsourcing, help rebuild America’s infrastructure, improve our education system, overhaul our healthcare system and hold big banks accountable for their crimes?”

Silence fell over the room.

One board member held up his hand. “How about we give ourselves big raises and take the rest of the money now while we still can?”

Scrooge’s eyes lit up. “All those in favor?”

“Aye!” the board members replied in unison.

Bob Cratchit muttered under his breath, “Goosed again.”

©2011, Janet Periat

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I’m trying to write this column, but I keep stopping to check out my Facebook page. This is one of the many problems with Facebook. It can easily become an addiction. Luckily, I recently found out I’m not addicted when I went on vacation and didn’t crack my laptop once. I had my computer with me in case I wanted to check Facebook, but I didn’t. Hmmm, that sounds like an addiction, doesn’t it? Great. Now I’m in denial. And I have Facebook to blame.

If you aren’t on Facebook, then you must be a Yak herder in Outer Mongolia who happens to be in the one spot left on the planet that doesn’t have cell reception. Or you’re smart. Or technologically challenged. Or a combination of all three. While there are Facebook resisters out there, most people I know have succumbed and now understand the sinking-in-quicksand feeling when you’re getting sucked whole into the world of Facebook.

There are many valid reasons to be on the social networking site. All of these valid reasons are lies. Or at the very least, self-delusions. Most people go on Facebook with great intentions. They are going to promote their business. Then they see a Farmville post from a good friend who sent them a virtual cow as a gift. Five hours later, they look up at the clock and realize they forgot to pick up the kids from school. And they didn’t post anything about their hair salon. And then they feel stupid. Really stupid. This is when the Facebook Lies begin. “Mom, where were you?” “Sorry, honey, I was working on the computer and got lost in my new promotion.” You can’t tell anyone the truth. Or they’ll think you’re a moron. Even though they’re probably guilty of the exact same thing.

While Facebook has connected me with old friends and younger family members—many people I missed dearly—there are many downsides to the interactive message board other than the massive time sink. Like when you find out that your friends had a party and didn’t invite you. Not only didn’t they invite you, they took pictures and posted them. Or a friend posts photos of you from college wearing a risqué dominatrix costume from a Halloween party you’d rather forget. Or that guy who beat you up in high school friends you and since he is connected to all your other classmates you feel obligated to friend him even though you hate him and can’t believe it when the guy has the balls to post a Happy Birthday message on your wall. Or you invite an old theater friend to be your Facebook Friend and he declines your request. Then you watch in real time as the jerk friends every other one of your theater buddies but you. Not that any of the above instances happened to me. By the way, I don’t like you either, Jeff.

Other perils of Facebook include: Faced-Book, when you post something humiliating after drinking too much. Two-Faced-Book, when your friend cancels a date with you and then posts about what a great time they had with someone else that same night. Red-Faced-Book, when you meant to send a private message regarding something sensitive to one friend and accidentally sent it to everyone. Face-Off-Book, when your right-wing nutjob friends and your left-wing nutjob friends hijack one of your innocuous posts about the government and turn it into a verbal WWF match.

Another Dark Side to Facebook—aside from its creepy practice of vacuuming all your personal information and selling it to faceless corporations who want to exploit you—is the continual changes to its interface. Nearly every time I visit the site, there is some new feature that confuses me. This week Facebook announced that they will be making giant, fundamental changes to their site, changes that “should only take users two months to adapt”. Yes, two months. The interface will supposedly become an ever-changing “scrapbook”. Where everywhere the users go and everything we do and post and read and eat and listen to will be broadcast to all our friends in real time. I don’t know about you but that idea FRIGHTENS me.

At the press conference, a perky, pre-pubescent Facebook developer reported that nowadays everyone is used to living transparent lives with no privacy. That we’ve all become very comfortable with everyone knowing what we’re doing at all times. I don’t know who their research team is, but they are INSANE. Janet Periat just checked in at Costco so this is a great time to burglarize her house. Janet Periat just bought four pounds of candy at Safeway, which proves she lied about being on a diet. Janet Periat just threw her computer across the room because she can’t figure out Facebook’s new changes.

How many people want their bosses to know that they are attending a ball game instead of lying in bed with the flu? How many people want everyone to know they just got a colonoscopy? Or that they attended a Barry Manilow concert? Okay, maybe the colonoscopy is fine, but no one could live down the Barry Manilow thing.

What my friends and I need is OldBook. Where the interface is simple, private, and stays static, like Google (not Google+ which is another bastion of confusion). A site we can learn to use in seconds. Where we can enjoy our friends’ cute cat pictures, see what they ate for lunch, and be jealous of their recent trip to Hawaii. And not be made to feel stupid because yet one more modern tool has become too complicated to use.

But here’s my biggest beef with Facebook: they’ve got us all complaining over a free service. So technically, we can’t whine. They’ve hooked us on their Internet crack and made us look like total ingrates at the same time. I hate them. And I’m never visiting their stupid site again—oh, look, my friend’s cat had kittens!

©2011, Janet Periat

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