If you have read my “About Cat” page, you will have read that I am left-handed. I didn’t know I was different into I began to learn how to write. I attended private school in the early 70’s. Taught by the Franciscan Order – Nuns! Penguins! Old lady’s in habits with those witch type black shoes and giant rosary beads hanging from their belt.

I was sitting down at the table practicing my letters, when my father noticed something.

“Why is your left hand behind your back?”

I told him that’s how the Sister had told me to practice. He looked at my homework. Some of the letters I had written backwards. He started yelling. He went into the living room, yelling to his mother (my grandma) about how he was taking to me school in the morning because he was going to talk to the principal. He came back into the kitchen. “Stop writing & put your arm down. Now pick up the pencil.” I picked it up with my left hand. He smiled. “Feel better?” I smiled.

That was my first memory of being “different” or left-handed. My dad did go to my school and had a talk with the Sisters there. I never had to put my left arm behind my back again.

I remember writing was and still can at times difficult for me. Especially when writing in spiral or composition notebooks. And don’t even get me started on those erasable pens. Those were never meant for lefties to use. I ended up wearing most of the ink on the side of my hand.

I do not write like most lefties. I hold my pen the “correct” way as right handers do. My handwriting can slight in all three directions. I can’t hold my pen and turn my wrist inwards. That hurts. I hated those left handed scissors. UGH. I would turn them upside down and try to cut with them that way. I remember there were even notebooks with the spiral on the opposite side, just for lefties.

I only use my left hand to write, drive and eat with. However there are times I can use my right hand to eat with. And I will say something to my family like “Something doesn’t feel right.” And my kids would be the first to notice that I was using the “wrong” hand. I can if needed use my right hand to eat with, write with and drive with. When I was younger and was forced to participate in sports I could use either hand. I actually performed better with my left hand, it was just never strong enough. I never trained with my left hand. I used to bowl (stop laughing) and I was taught to use my left hand. My score increased by 10-20 points. When going out to dinner I need to pay attention to where I sit. Sometimes I forget and I don’t enjoy my dining experience.

My maternal grandmother was left-handed. I have a few close cousins who are lefties. And out of my three children I have only one lefty. That’s the Manchild. Who is very creative and very intellectual. I am not as creative as I was when I was younger. Maybe I never was, just thought I was. I did do a lot of art projects, however at times it was difficult.

I never have given it much thought to being left handed in everyday life. I probably struggle a bit more, but I don’t attribute it to being left-handed which that might be the cause of my difficulty.

I know it was difficult to learn to dance. Doing the steps, for some reason I always got turned around. I tend to carry things in my left hand, such as my phone, car keys. Then I find it difficult because when I get into the car I have to put everything down before I can closed the car door behind me. I use my right shoulder to carry my purse, I used to wear my wristwatch on my left wrist. Then my father explained that it should go on my right wrist because I would continuously bump it on things. I would have a pen in my left hand, watch on my left wrist. That was weird.

Playing guitar when my dad attempted to teach me, I played right handed. It felt so uncomfortable playing left. I don’t think I am a true lefty. Because they do everything left-handed. I don’t. Sadly, my right hand, arm has taken a beating because I use it so much. Not to long ago I tried using my left hand for other things, just felt uncomfortable. I don’t take a lot of stock in those articles that a lot of statistics about lefty’s. That they are more satifified sexually, they are more likely to die younger, recover from a stroke faster & better and so on. I just don’t give it much thought. I’m just a left-handed woman in a right-handed world.

Are you left-handed? Not sure? Ask yourself these questions. Find out more at Lefthandersday.com

  1. Imagine the center of your back is itching. Which hand do you scratch it with?

  2. Interlock your fingers. Which thumb is uppermost?

  3. Imagine you are applauding. Start clapping your hands. Which hand is uppermost?

International Left-Handed Day

TMI Tuesday: April 1, 2014

Computer Love

1. What’s the wallpaper (photo, design, etc) on your phone, laptop or PC? Is it the same or different on these devices? There is a photo of me taking  a photo of the London Eye, from my holiday in September 2013. On my iPhone there is a photo of my cereal – Fruit Loops with marshmallows.

2. What’s on the desktop of your phone or notebook/tablet (i.e., icons, files, windows etc.)? There is the recycle bin and some icons from Xfinity cable company. On my iPhone there are two pages with my apps on it.

3. What type of computer device do you use most often? I joke that my iPhone is forever attached to my right hand. Second would be my PC, desperately in need of a laptop. Sadly I’m not able to get one right now due to the manchild’s finance situation. Maybe you wanna buy me one for my birthday.

4. How many computer type devices do you own including smartphones? Three

5. Do you make sexy videos with your smartphone? No

Bath Time for SassyCat3000.

Bath Time for SassyCat3000.

6. Do you video-chat naked or have virtual sex using your computer? No. I used to use Yahoo messenger all the time, but not for cyber sex kind of thing. Sure I talked about sex and watched some of my guy friends on am *wink*

7. How many naked photos of your whole body or your body parts have you taken with your smartphone camera? Never the whole body, but a few erotic, teasing photos, yes. Cleavage shots,  shower shots, legs and face.

8. What is the most photographed part of your body? My legs & face.

Bonus:  Post a photo of the most photographed part of your body.

Bonus, Bonus: Do you use a screensaver? If yes, post a pic of it. My screen saver on my PC is a slideshow of my England holiday and on my iPhone it’s the Fruit Loop photo.

How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblogfrom your website!

Happy TMI Tuesday!

Some are Cracked, while Others are Broken and Missing Pieces.

That there is no “normal” in people. We are all defective. Some sort of behavioral defect, learning defect, childhood trauma. Everyone that I know, including myself has been through some sort of childhood trauma that has affected that person (either negatively or positively). I guess it’s how we learn to cope as an adult indicate whether we are “normal” or not?

I am amazed of the amount of people that live completely “normal” lives. OK, they seem “normal” until you hear about them on CNN news. Then you remember “oh yeah, I always know that was something different about that person.”

Think back to how your parents raised you. Did you bring up your children differently? Maybe you were spanked so much that you made a conscious effort never to spank your child. How has that worked out? I guess I am amazed at the generational way for all works. How I can see so clearly how my mother is with her great grandson. My children can see how their grandmother is with their kids and how they now realize and ask…”how do we change it?’

I laughed and laughed and laughed. I shrugged my shoulders … “I don’t think you can.”

I look at a person and wonder to myself. “What is their life like? What was their childhood like?” Especially working with seniors, I wonder about their life and how it made them into who they are now. Some so bitter that no one would ever be there for them.  Maybe they hold a grudge for so long that the weight completely crippled them from the inside out. Some of them who never leave their apartments for fear of some kind, unable to socialize with others.

I guess I am just thinking about all the people I come in contact with on a daily basis who are “faking” and trying so hard to fit into the “normal” that we all live in. Example, Dennis Rader (BTK Killer) he seemed pretty normal on the outside, but not on the inside. What childhood trauma did he endear that pushed him on the destructive path he took?

Taking a look at Jeffrey Dahmers childhood you will find that at an early age he was a fun and active child who his father described as, “Very exuberant, he liked to wrestle, liked to run around, ham it up for the camera and he liked to play with kids and get together with them” (The Monster Within). These are not characteristics of a serial killer who scientists say are born with this gene of aggressiveness. Dahmer had been a normal child until his father received his Ph. D in chemistry the family moved to Ohio relocating three times before settling down in Bath Ohio. When Dahmer had moved his father and mother noticed that he had become shy and anti-social. Jeffrey then began collecting road kill and dissecting it in experiments.” – Serial Killers: Nature vs. Nurture

So. My understanding of the above paragraph is that of a simple re-location due to his father’s completion of his education. Might have triggered Jeffrey’s criminal behavior. That the simple uprooting of his childhood life was enough of a trauma for him. Geesh, just imagine the other kids who are not even remotely close to this behavior. However, they personality changed with a simple family move. Maybe they suffered in a smaller way, developing other traits of mental disorders and are functioning in the cubicle next to you. Just makes me think that’s all, that none of us are undamaged. Just broken on different levels, from cracked to broken & missing pieces.