My sister has scheduled a psychic party (I don't know what else to call it) at her house in September. A psychic, whom some of the women have already met, comes to the house and gives everybody a half hour reading for a set fee. I have wavered about attending. At sixty, how much life do I have left for her to predict? And what if all there is to see in my future is more boring stuff? Do I really want to pay money to confirm more of the same?
I used to have a fascination with psychics. Some experiences confounded me, others just left me laughing. Mostly, I consulted psychics when I was in the midst of a major life change or I thought I was in love. Since I couldn't read the uncommunicative guy's mind, I figured I'd let the psychic do it. In my many visits to psychics, some experiences still stand out.
The summer I finished my fifth year of college was a job hunting nightmare. So, I asked my cousin Joan to help me get my astrological chart done by a woman she swore by. The woman was adamant about my future job prospects. She told me I would get the job I interviewed for on Thursday. I told her I didn't have an interview for Thursday, but I had one for Monday. She told me I'd also be offered that job, but I would take the Thursday job. After my Monday interview, I was contacted by HCPS, and they set up my interview...for Thursday. The rest, as you know, is history. Before you get all goose pimply about this woman's talent, she also told me I would marry a dark foreigner and have one child. That never happened. Granted, there were some very nice dark foreigners in my life, but I had seen the movie and read the book, Not Without My Daughter, so I wasn't investing any time in those men.
I sought advice about the men in my life. One in particular really had my heart. The psychic told me that he deeply cared for me, but for reasons I would later understand, he would never, ever be mine. She was right. Like a number of men I cared for, he too, eventually came out of the closet. Another psychic described a guy I was drawn to and warned me away from him. He was not just a bad boy, he was dangerous. Before it got really bad, I took her advice and safely squirmed out of that relationship.
Over the years, I have maintained a fascination with psychics. I have read how they trick people into providing the information a psychic needs to give a reading. I recently saw an expose on one of the news shows where the psychic gave everybody the same general reading that each attendee found to be personally mind-blowing. I even went to a Sylvia Browne show; she is, by the way, a huge fraud. But, I like and still put some credence in John Edwards. I've read how psychics have been hired by police departments to solve murders, I taught a book about the sight to my middle schoolers (The Third Eye), and Medium was a not-to-miss television show for me. So, there is still a part of me that wants to believe.
I'll go to the psychic party. I hope she doesn't waste my thirty minutes by describing my personality or past adventures. I already know that stuff. I want to know what I've always wanted to know - Dear Miss Psychic: Tell me the truth, is there a man in my future? And is he straight?
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Saturday, July 27, 2013
Where the Boys Are
I was watching "Where the Boys Are," one of my favorite movies. It is a classic film that showcases the moral values of the generation in which I was raised. Teenagers today don't know what they're missing.
Dressing up to go on a date. Does anybody do that anymore? Seems like kids just hook up, meet in groups, and then pair off as the mood hits them. I used to like getting something new to wear, layering on the makeup, and even wearing pantyhose and heels. Preparing made the evening feel like a promise of something special.
Saying no. Yep, girls could do that and still be popular and find love. Guys expected it, and were ok with it. What could be easier? Kids today rush into sex before they even know each other's last names. I get it that this is the 2000's and people should feel free of guilt to do what feels good. But there are so many unspoken strings tied to sex that kids don't actually face until the act is over. There's nothing wrong with sharing minds and goals before sharing bodies. Is there?
Innocent fun. The cops rolled their eyes at the influx of kids and did what they could to keep them safe. There were no riots, murders, drug/alcohol overdoses, gang rapes, girls gone wild videos, etc. These kids were pulled into the police station because they jumped in a mermaid pool at a local restaurant. Good clean fun.
I don't know. Was life back then really so easy? Do the movies glamorize a fifties that never really existed? Life is hard for kids anymore, especially if we judge it by the movies that are made for them (gore, violence, and more gore). Maybe we need a little more "Where the Boys Are." I know that I enjoyed the escape this afternoon. Now, time to watch my other favorite, "Dirty Dancing." That too is a classic film that showcases the moral values of the generation in which I was raised.
Hmmm.....
Dressing up to go on a date. Does anybody do that anymore? Seems like kids just hook up, meet in groups, and then pair off as the mood hits them. I used to like getting something new to wear, layering on the makeup, and even wearing pantyhose and heels. Preparing made the evening feel like a promise of something special.
Saying no. Yep, girls could do that and still be popular and find love. Guys expected it, and were ok with it. What could be easier? Kids today rush into sex before they even know each other's last names. I get it that this is the 2000's and people should feel free of guilt to do what feels good. But there are so many unspoken strings tied to sex that kids don't actually face until the act is over. There's nothing wrong with sharing minds and goals before sharing bodies. Is there?
Innocent fun. The cops rolled their eyes at the influx of kids and did what they could to keep them safe. There were no riots, murders, drug/alcohol overdoses, gang rapes, girls gone wild videos, etc. These kids were pulled into the police station because they jumped in a mermaid pool at a local restaurant. Good clean fun.
I don't know. Was life back then really so easy? Do the movies glamorize a fifties that never really existed? Life is hard for kids anymore, especially if we judge it by the movies that are made for them (gore, violence, and more gore). Maybe we need a little more "Where the Boys Are." I know that I enjoyed the escape this afternoon. Now, time to watch my other favorite, "Dirty Dancing." That too is a classic film that showcases the moral values of the generation in which I was raised.
Hmmm.....
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Strong Women in Literature - My Heroes
Book recommendation time! The following are some of my favorites. They share a commonality; the women are strong and the stories are real.
The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank
I'm sure you've heard of this book, even if you haven't read it. Over the years, I've collected most versions published in the English language. It is not a book to be avoided because the subject is the Holocaust. It is a book to be embraced because of the optimism Anne felt for the human race despite the oppression she and her family experienced at the hands of the Nazis. I taught this book to my seventh graders for many years, and I was always amazed by their reactions to the story. Many of the kids were surprised that Anne was so open about her love/hate relationship with her mother. I remember reading it and thinking about how Anne's experience so echoed the difficult relationship I experienced with my mom. My kids were uncomfortable with this strained relationship; I think because her words hit too close to home at times. One year I was completely frustrated with a class who insisted Anne was a lesbian. I wasn't about to get into a discussion about blooming teen sexuality; I remember telling them to stop watching afterschool talk shows and relating their salacious topics to great literature. Instead, I encouraged them to absorb the wealth of Anne's wisdom. Here are a few gems for you:
“How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.”
“Look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness.”
“In spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart. I simply can't build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, misery and death.”
So go ahead. Pick up this book and read it. If you're lucky, it will change your life. Anne Frank is my hero.
So Far From the Bamboo Grove by Yoko Kawashima Watkins
This story takes place at the end of WWII when a Japanese family that has been stranded in Korea must return as refugees to Japan. Their father has been imprisoned (some have claimed he was a war spy), the brother separated from the family, and the tiny frail mother must get her two daughters home. Despite the harrowing journey and near death escapes they experienced, for me and my students the story really started when they settled. They were poor, rejected by their country, and suffered in ways my students couldn't begin to imagine. The harassment the girls faced as poor people in a private Japanese school and the determination they had to be educated despite the bullying, gave my students valuable insight into the importance of an education and how blessed they were to be receiving one. It's a wonderful and touching story. The sequel, My Brother, My Sister and I , finished the story. I love this book and the messages it sends: education is important, love one another, family loyalty, and peace on earth. There's some controversy that this account is total fiction, without an ounce of truth. Hmmph. Some people also believe the Holocaust never happened. Read it and decide for yourself.
On a side note, I heard the author speak at my school. This tiny, soft-spoken woman kept an audience of antsy middle school students hypnotically engaged in her talk. Some were near tears as she described the emotional torture experienced during her school years. All wanted to read her book at the end of the talk. I remember being required to send home permission slips so parents could consent to their child reading the book. No one ever declined permission. (In fact, Adam T., your mom sent me the nicest note thanking me for introducing your class to this book.) At the end of reading the book, students in one of my classes each wrote a letter to the author. She responded to every student with an individual, personal letter. Yoko Kawashima Watkins is my hero.
Warriors Don't Cry by Melba Patillo Beals
I was first introduced to this book by a Black History Month edition of Read Magazine, a periodical used in our school to supplement the reading anthology. I doubt the school orders the magazine anymore due to its contents not being test related and mandated budget cuts that eliminate all the good stuff. But, there I go again, dragging out the soapbox. Anyhow, back to the topic.
This book examines the integration of Little Rock High School by one of the survivors from the group dubbed The Little Rock Nine. It's an important book and an unforgettable story. When I first read the excerpt, I was shocked that at my age and with my level of education I was woefully ignorant of the nitty-gritty of the Civil Rights Movement. I had never heard of the Little Rock Nine. I made it my mission to teach this book and/or share the moving excerpt every year with my students. There is a lack of curriculum concerning the Civil Rights Movement in our educational system; there is so much more to this history than Martin Luther King or Rosa Parks. Maybe if more Americans understood the complexities of the movement, our society would be in a better place today. Anyhow, the soapbox is wobbly. Back to the book.
Melba's description of the actual integration of the school is riveting, from the mothers' organization determined to stop them to the National Guard sent in to protect them. The abuse these youngsters experienced once registered at the school made many of my students burst with emotion as to how/why they did all of that just to go to school. "Ms. S! I'd be too afraid to do that!!!!" Me too, kids, me too. Melba Patillo Beals and The Little Rock Nine are my heroes.
All of these books have appeared on one or more lists of banned books for schools. I'm glad that I read them, and I'm thankful that the admins at Havre de Grace Middle trusted me to teach them with diplomacy and compassion.
Now, I challenge you to meet my heroes in books you will never forget. These are quick, compelling reads. It's July. There's still plenty of time to get in some quality summer reading. Enjoy!
The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank
I'm sure you've heard of this book, even if you haven't read it. Over the years, I've collected most versions published in the English language. It is not a book to be avoided because the subject is the Holocaust. It is a book to be embraced because of the optimism Anne felt for the human race despite the oppression she and her family experienced at the hands of the Nazis. I taught this book to my seventh graders for many years, and I was always amazed by their reactions to the story. Many of the kids were surprised that Anne was so open about her love/hate relationship with her mother. I remember reading it and thinking about how Anne's experience so echoed the difficult relationship I experienced with my mom. My kids were uncomfortable with this strained relationship; I think because her words hit too close to home at times. One year I was completely frustrated with a class who insisted Anne was a lesbian. I wasn't about to get into a discussion about blooming teen sexuality; I remember telling them to stop watching afterschool talk shows and relating their salacious topics to great literature. Instead, I encouraged them to absorb the wealth of Anne's wisdom. Here are a few gems for you:
“How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.”
“Look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness.”
“In spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart. I simply can't build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, misery and death.”
So go ahead. Pick up this book and read it. If you're lucky, it will change your life. Anne Frank is my hero.
So Far From the Bamboo Grove by Yoko Kawashima Watkins
This story takes place at the end of WWII when a Japanese family that has been stranded in Korea must return as refugees to Japan. Their father has been imprisoned (some have claimed he was a war spy), the brother separated from the family, and the tiny frail mother must get her two daughters home. Despite the harrowing journey and near death escapes they experienced, for me and my students the story really started when they settled. They were poor, rejected by their country, and suffered in ways my students couldn't begin to imagine. The harassment the girls faced as poor people in a private Japanese school and the determination they had to be educated despite the bullying, gave my students valuable insight into the importance of an education and how blessed they were to be receiving one. It's a wonderful and touching story. The sequel, My Brother, My Sister and I , finished the story. I love this book and the messages it sends: education is important, love one another, family loyalty, and peace on earth. There's some controversy that this account is total fiction, without an ounce of truth. Hmmph. Some people also believe the Holocaust never happened. Read it and decide for yourself.
On a side note, I heard the author speak at my school. This tiny, soft-spoken woman kept an audience of antsy middle school students hypnotically engaged in her talk. Some were near tears as she described the emotional torture experienced during her school years. All wanted to read her book at the end of the talk. I remember being required to send home permission slips so parents could consent to their child reading the book. No one ever declined permission. (In fact, Adam T., your mom sent me the nicest note thanking me for introducing your class to this book.) At the end of reading the book, students in one of my classes each wrote a letter to the author. She responded to every student with an individual, personal letter. Yoko Kawashima Watkins is my hero.
Warriors Don't Cry by Melba Patillo Beals
I was first introduced to this book by a Black History Month edition of Read Magazine, a periodical used in our school to supplement the reading anthology. I doubt the school orders the magazine anymore due to its contents not being test related and mandated budget cuts that eliminate all the good stuff. But, there I go again, dragging out the soapbox. Anyhow, back to the topic.
This book examines the integration of Little Rock High School by one of the survivors from the group dubbed The Little Rock Nine. It's an important book and an unforgettable story. When I first read the excerpt, I was shocked that at my age and with my level of education I was woefully ignorant of the nitty-gritty of the Civil Rights Movement. I had never heard of the Little Rock Nine. I made it my mission to teach this book and/or share the moving excerpt every year with my students. There is a lack of curriculum concerning the Civil Rights Movement in our educational system; there is so much more to this history than Martin Luther King or Rosa Parks. Maybe if more Americans understood the complexities of the movement, our society would be in a better place today. Anyhow, the soapbox is wobbly. Back to the book.
Melba's description of the actual integration of the school is riveting, from the mothers' organization determined to stop them to the National Guard sent in to protect them. The abuse these youngsters experienced once registered at the school made many of my students burst with emotion as to how/why they did all of that just to go to school. "Ms. S! I'd be too afraid to do that!!!!" Me too, kids, me too. Melba Patillo Beals and The Little Rock Nine are my heroes.
All of these books have appeared on one or more lists of banned books for schools. I'm glad that I read them, and I'm thankful that the admins at Havre de Grace Middle trusted me to teach them with diplomacy and compassion.
Now, I challenge you to meet my heroes in books you will never forget. These are quick, compelling reads. It's July. There's still plenty of time to get in some quality summer reading. Enjoy!
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Paula Pounding
Paula Deen's in a lot of trouble. Social media has put her on trial and condemned her as guilty of being a racist. Her endorsements are being lost. Her television show is being canceled. Her product sales are dropping. All because she told the truth and admitted that in the past she has used the n-word. People are burning the boards condemning the woman. And they are smiling broadly as they do it. Paula pounding is fun!
Give me a break.
The trial is about unfair work practices, and the charges are mainly aimed at the behavior of her brother. (And for those of you who are unaware, the woman filing the hostile workplace charges is white. Just a little FYI.) Did Paula ever call someone a n-word in the work place? No. Is the issue that Paula personally mistreated employees because of the color of their skin? No. Did Paula have some goofy ideas about southern plantations? Yes. (And so does the rest of the South as you can't go to any state without signing up for the plantation tour. It's a money-maker.)
The question she was asked was if she'd EVER used the n-word in the past. What the hell kind of a question was that? Had they asked her if she'd ever used the term to belittle an employee, that might have made more sense. But to ask if she'd ever used the word? How many of you reading this have never used the word, either out loud or in your thoughts/opinions? How many of you have never said anything in the past that, taken out of context, could make you look mighty bad now-a-days? If you're thinking 'not me,' then I'm calling you a liar.
American social media..... gotta love it. It thrives on making celebrities out of nobodies. But where it really has fun is tearing down such celebrities and reporting on the drying up of their bank accounts. We are such a jealous society. And one that is so easily led. It should scare you (general you) how easily your thoughts and opinions are dictated to you by the media.
I saw this on Facebook today. Thanks to Kathy Lawson. You really made me think.
Give me a break.
The trial is about unfair work practices, and the charges are mainly aimed at the behavior of her brother. (And for those of you who are unaware, the woman filing the hostile workplace charges is white. Just a little FYI.) Did Paula ever call someone a n-word in the work place? No. Is the issue that Paula personally mistreated employees because of the color of their skin? No. Did Paula have some goofy ideas about southern plantations? Yes. (And so does the rest of the South as you can't go to any state without signing up for the plantation tour. It's a money-maker.)
The question she was asked was if she'd EVER used the n-word in the past. What the hell kind of a question was that? Had they asked her if she'd ever used the term to belittle an employee, that might have made more sense. But to ask if she'd ever used the word? How many of you reading this have never used the word, either out loud or in your thoughts/opinions? How many of you have never said anything in the past that, taken out of context, could make you look mighty bad now-a-days? If you're thinking 'not me,' then I'm calling you a liar.
American social media..... gotta love it. It thrives on making celebrities out of nobodies. But where it really has fun is tearing down such celebrities and reporting on the drying up of their bank accounts. We are such a jealous society. And one that is so easily led. It should scare you (general you) how easily your thoughts and opinions are dictated to you by the media.
I saw this on Facebook today. Thanks to Kathy Lawson. You really made me think.
Friday, June 21, 2013
First World Problems
After reading my last blog, my friend Anne commented that I had written about First World Problems. I don’t think that thinly disguised racism or weather reports that terrify small children count as First World Problems, but I do feel like a mini-expert in that field so I decided today to share the wealth of my knowledge with you, my dear readers.
If you are unfamiliar with the term First World Problems, it refers to a “problem” that only someone in America with no real problems (or perspective) could have. Such problems often involve eye rolling by the audience forced to listen to the person’s complaints. Usually, the person whining has no idea that the recipient of said whine would rather be walking barefooted on a rocky beach instead of listening to the drama queen/king going on and on. First World Problems sometimes involve narcissism, sometimes not. If you personally relate to a problem, you’d probably prefer to think of the universality of the issue rather than the selfishness of the complainer.
I am currently exasperated by a few First World Problems (referred to from now on as FWP). My internet went out four hours ago and has yet to be restored. Therefore, I cannot check my email, get beaten in Words with Friends by Debbie Cullum (who is really her sneaky husband Bart), stay stuck on Level 65 of Candy Crush, or any of the other things that keep me occupied throughout the day. I am, like, so totally, irritated. If I call my provider, I’ll be on the phone for an hour with “Peggy” who will eventually give up and set up an appointment for a service call. I will get anywhere between five to eight calls from the company telling me my service has been restored and do I want to cancel the service call. I will cancel the call five or eight times, and yet the technician will never get the message, so I will not get to sleep late tomorrow because robocall will start bugging me at 7:00 am and I’ll have to dress before he shows up around lunchtime. Have you rolled your eyes yet? Perhaps they have glazed over. Yep, it’s a FWP.
It is getting close to dinner, and I am in a quandary about what to do. My swim club is having its first cookout, and as much as I’d like to go, I didn’t RSVP. That’s not too big of a problem, as long as I bring a side dish and a few bucks, I’m welcome. But, do I really want to go if any of the three big families (10+ people per family) are there? Do those people bring one side dish to represent twelve people when single old me is also bringing one dish? That’s certainly not fair! And soooo irritating! Will there be enough for everybody or will those vulture children get all the food before anyone else? Will there even be a place for me to sit with that crowd of kids circling the barbeque pit? This is a real problem because it is almost dinnertime and a girl’s gotta eat. What to do? What to do? First World enough for you?
FWP: Complaining about eating too much at Thanksgiving (or Christmas, Easter, Halloween or just plain Wednesday). Woe is poor, poor you. You have too much food and make yourself feel uncomfortable when eating it. There are people starving in the world, and we Americans love to complain about too much food and how irresistible it is. Smh (This means shaking my head in computer talk.)
FWP: Getting angrier and angrier as you’re stuck in a traffic jam on your way to the beach. Hey, you’re not working - you are going to the beach! Enjoy!
FWP: You are sick and tired of people misspelling your name. Britney, Briteny, Brittany, Brittaney, Britaney - seriously? How can anyone remember which way you spell it? Be happy people care enough to remember your name.
FWP: Three of your favorite programs are on at the same time. You can DVR one and watch one, so what happens to the third? Darn those TV stations for having the nerve to schedule all of your favorite programs at the same time!
FWP: Your pants are getting tight because you’ve been enjoying so many restaurant meals and glasses of fine wine. Darn those restaurants for making their portions so big! (This one’s for you Larry.)
Do you get the picture? Do you suffer from FWPitis? If so, it’s time to take a serious look at the issues that are driving you crazy. And to start laughing at some of them, instead of boiling over in rage. Life will seem a whole lot better if you can take the bad with the good and roll with the punches. However, as desperately as I feel the need to enlighten you with my opinion, it could be a while before I get to share my infinite wisdom with you. It’s beensix thirty hours now and my internet still isn’t working! I have about had it with Verizon. This is America; there’s no excuse for such shoddy service! *&X#@#!
If you are unfamiliar with the term First World Problems, it refers to a “problem” that only someone in America with no real problems (or perspective) could have. Such problems often involve eye rolling by the audience forced to listen to the person’s complaints. Usually, the person whining has no idea that the recipient of said whine would rather be walking barefooted on a rocky beach instead of listening to the drama queen/king going on and on. First World Problems sometimes involve narcissism, sometimes not. If you personally relate to a problem, you’d probably prefer to think of the universality of the issue rather than the selfishness of the complainer.
I am currently exasperated by a few First World Problems (referred to from now on as FWP). My internet went out four hours ago and has yet to be restored. Therefore, I cannot check my email, get beaten in Words with Friends by Debbie Cullum (who is really her sneaky husband Bart), stay stuck on Level 65 of Candy Crush, or any of the other things that keep me occupied throughout the day. I am, like, so totally, irritated. If I call my provider, I’ll be on the phone for an hour with “Peggy” who will eventually give up and set up an appointment for a service call. I will get anywhere between five to eight calls from the company telling me my service has been restored and do I want to cancel the service call. I will cancel the call five or eight times, and yet the technician will never get the message, so I will not get to sleep late tomorrow because robocall will start bugging me at 7:00 am and I’ll have to dress before he shows up around lunchtime. Have you rolled your eyes yet? Perhaps they have glazed over. Yep, it’s a FWP.
It is getting close to dinner, and I am in a quandary about what to do. My swim club is having its first cookout, and as much as I’d like to go, I didn’t RSVP. That’s not too big of a problem, as long as I bring a side dish and a few bucks, I’m welcome. But, do I really want to go if any of the three big families (10+ people per family) are there? Do those people bring one side dish to represent twelve people when single old me is also bringing one dish? That’s certainly not fair! And soooo irritating! Will there be enough for everybody or will those vulture children get all the food before anyone else? Will there even be a place for me to sit with that crowd of kids circling the barbeque pit? This is a real problem because it is almost dinnertime and a girl’s gotta eat. What to do? What to do? First World enough for you?
FWP: Complaining about eating too much at Thanksgiving (or Christmas, Easter, Halloween or just plain Wednesday). Woe is poor, poor you. You have too much food and make yourself feel uncomfortable when eating it. There are people starving in the world, and we Americans love to complain about too much food and how irresistible it is. Smh (This means shaking my head in computer talk.)
FWP: Getting angrier and angrier as you’re stuck in a traffic jam on your way to the beach. Hey, you’re not working - you are going to the beach! Enjoy!
FWP: You are sick and tired of people misspelling your name. Britney, Briteny, Brittany, Brittaney, Britaney - seriously? How can anyone remember which way you spell it? Be happy people care enough to remember your name.
FWP: Three of your favorite programs are on at the same time. You can DVR one and watch one, so what happens to the third? Darn those TV stations for having the nerve to schedule all of your favorite programs at the same time!
FWP: Your pants are getting tight because you’ve been enjoying so many restaurant meals and glasses of fine wine. Darn those restaurants for making their portions so big! (This one’s for you Larry.)
Do you get the picture? Do you suffer from FWPitis? If so, it’s time to take a serious look at the issues that are driving you crazy. And to start laughing at some of them, instead of boiling over in rage. Life will seem a whole lot better if you can take the bad with the good and roll with the punches. However, as desperately as I feel the need to enlighten you with my opinion, it could be a while before I get to share my infinite wisdom with you. It’s been
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Fear Not Lest Ye Be Judged
Recently, someone paid me a compliment by telling me she admired my strength and she bet I was afraid of nothing. I was struck dumb by that because, to tell the truth, I'm afraid of all kinds of things. While I try not to let fear cripple my life, it is probably the reason I have trouble sleeping at night. Fear translates into worry, and we already know that I worry too much. So, what do I fear?
I fear phone calls after 9:00 pm (except from Dee because she never has any idea what time it is). This is, no doubt, an irrational fear because the worst calls of my life usually came in broad daylight. My father's doctor called me around 11:00 am to tell me my dad had been admitted to the hospital for his first heart attack (my mother and sister were away on a cruise). My sister called me around 1:00 pm to tell me to head home, NOW, as my father had taken a bad turn. When I taught, some of my former students were trying to torture me with prank calls, but they usually came between 4 and 7. My usual nighttime calls are harmless, like the fax machine determined to connect to my non-existent fax machine. Or a drunk misdialing a booty call. So why am I terrified of night calls? Maybe because they break the silence and startle me? Maybe because the movies have convinced me that these calls are from a serial killer who is hiding in the upstairs bedroom (and I don't even have an upstairs). Calls from my sister are the worst - I'm sure she's calling to inform me of the latest disaster decimating our remaining family. Really, I need to remember she works two jobs and her calls will come at odd times.
I am afraid of any physical symptoms that resemble cancer. Have you read the list of cancer symptoms? Fatigue. Body pains. Skin abnormalities. Fingernail abnormalities. Difficulty swallowing. And so on. How long should I observe said symptoms before going to the doctor? What happens if said symptoms just go away on their own? Am I ultimately going to blame myself for some fatal illness? It doesn't help that I am afraid to go to the doctor and the dentist.
I am afraid of driving sometimes. Is it just me, or have drivers become more dangerous, reckless, and inattentive over the years? I can't tell you how many times I've braced myself to be hit because I had the audacity to actually stop at a yellow light. I have been cut off by people talking while holding the phone in one hand and gesturing with the other. What is steering their car? (I'm afraid to ask.) I am afraid of running out of gas or the car overheating during a traffic jam. I am afraid of pulling out of parking lot spaces because I can't twist my neck enough to make sure no car is speeding down the road behind me.
I am afraid of big, unexpected household expenses. A few years ago a plumbing problem cost me close to $3000. My air conditioning system is on its last legs. On top of my expenses are the ones I help my family with. For many reasons, I have not saved much money since retiring. I am blessed to have my needs met, but I fear what could happen with an expensive emergency. I guess a lot of Americans fear money disasters (especially those who watch Faux news - they thrive on fear).
I fear going to Weight Watchers because the five pounds I lost two weeks ago found me again. Oh, how I fear that look of disappointment on Joyce's face.
I fear any change in my dog's normal behavior because I fear losing her.
I fear being alone, yet I fear dating someone from a website even more.
I fear crowds of people.
I fear passing gas in public, even though that might gain me some space in that fearful crowd of people. (Ha ha Larry - I threw that one in for you.)
I fear long flights, the aggravation of airport security measures, and putting my carry-on luggage into a bin so far over my head there's no way I can reach it by myself.
I fear guns and too many of the people who smugly feel entitled to own their personal arsenal. I especially fear the bozos who believe it is their "God-given right" to own them. I read/watch the news. That's a fear I am entitled to have.
I fear I will never again find a home church and God will be pissed off with me for being she of such weak faith.
So there. I have bared my soul; seems my desire to write is stronger than my fear of exposing the inner me. I hope the person who admired my strength isn't too disappointed to realize that I am the same bowl of jelly as she and many others are.
I fear phone calls after 9:00 pm (except from Dee because she never has any idea what time it is). This is, no doubt, an irrational fear because the worst calls of my life usually came in broad daylight. My father's doctor called me around 11:00 am to tell me my dad had been admitted to the hospital for his first heart attack (my mother and sister were away on a cruise). My sister called me around 1:00 pm to tell me to head home, NOW, as my father had taken a bad turn. When I taught, some of my former students were trying to torture me with prank calls, but they usually came between 4 and 7. My usual nighttime calls are harmless, like the fax machine determined to connect to my non-existent fax machine. Or a drunk misdialing a booty call. So why am I terrified of night calls? Maybe because they break the silence and startle me? Maybe because the movies have convinced me that these calls are from a serial killer who is hiding in the upstairs bedroom (and I don't even have an upstairs). Calls from my sister are the worst - I'm sure she's calling to inform me of the latest disaster decimating our remaining family. Really, I need to remember she works two jobs and her calls will come at odd times.
I am afraid of any physical symptoms that resemble cancer. Have you read the list of cancer symptoms? Fatigue. Body pains. Skin abnormalities. Fingernail abnormalities. Difficulty swallowing. And so on. How long should I observe said symptoms before going to the doctor? What happens if said symptoms just go away on their own? Am I ultimately going to blame myself for some fatal illness? It doesn't help that I am afraid to go to the doctor and the dentist.
I am afraid of driving sometimes. Is it just me, or have drivers become more dangerous, reckless, and inattentive over the years? I can't tell you how many times I've braced myself to be hit because I had the audacity to actually stop at a yellow light. I have been cut off by people talking while holding the phone in one hand and gesturing with the other. What is steering their car? (I'm afraid to ask.) I am afraid of running out of gas or the car overheating during a traffic jam. I am afraid of pulling out of parking lot spaces because I can't twist my neck enough to make sure no car is speeding down the road behind me.
I am afraid of big, unexpected household expenses. A few years ago a plumbing problem cost me close to $3000. My air conditioning system is on its last legs. On top of my expenses are the ones I help my family with. For many reasons, I have not saved much money since retiring. I am blessed to have my needs met, but I fear what could happen with an expensive emergency. I guess a lot of Americans fear money disasters (especially those who watch Faux news - they thrive on fear).
I fear going to Weight Watchers because the five pounds I lost two weeks ago found me again. Oh, how I fear that look of disappointment on Joyce's face.
I fear any change in my dog's normal behavior because I fear losing her.
I fear being alone, yet I fear dating someone from a website even more.
I fear crowds of people.
I fear passing gas in public, even though that might gain me some space in that fearful crowd of people. (Ha ha Larry - I threw that one in for you.)
I fear long flights, the aggravation of airport security measures, and putting my carry-on luggage into a bin so far over my head there's no way I can reach it by myself.
I fear guns and too many of the people who smugly feel entitled to own their personal arsenal. I especially fear the bozos who believe it is their "God-given right" to own them. I read/watch the news. That's a fear I am entitled to have.
I fear I will never again find a home church and God will be pissed off with me for being she of such weak faith.
So there. I have bared my soul; seems my desire to write is stronger than my fear of exposing the inner me. I hope the person who admired my strength isn't too disappointed to realize that I am the same bowl of jelly as she and many others are.
Monday, June 17, 2013
WTH
Some may say I got up on the wrong side of the bed today. WTH. I'm retired. A curmudgeon. And I'll get up on any side of the dang bed I wish to exit. Today I'm finding myself extremely irritable. Maybe it's the heat because I am not running my air conditioning. Maybe I'm cranky because I spend too much time on social media. Whatever. Today I'm in a mood and I plan to release said mood by venting. Following is my list of what annoys me today.
News That Isn't News
I am sick and tired of social media creating news from things that just aren't news worthy. Where to start? Ok, how about the recent furor over the Hispanic young man who sang the national anthem? WTH! So, a few anonymous racists wrote deragatory things about him. Why is the public so surprised? So outraged? They know that racism exists towards the Hispanics in our country; after all - social media accounts are bolstered by all the "forwards" about Spanish not being our country's national language.
WTH does anyone care if signs are bi-lingual? If phones ask you to press 2 if you want your message in Spanish? If TV ads sing a Spanish song? What does it matter? Our country's official language is English, and that's not changing. When I was in Honolulu, most signs were in English and Japanese. I didn't hear any outrage over that. So why all the umbrage every time Spanish is spoken/written in this country? (Could it have anything to do with the color of many of those speaking Spanish?) I get the feeling that the people complaining the loudest are the same ones who when/if they travel abroad grumble that everything is in a foreign language and nothing's in English. Get over it. Our country needs to embrace bilingualism (says the person who realizes most Americans can't even speak proper English).
Weather Reports
WTH Lately I've come to believe that our weather people see themselves as oracles. Why does every weather report become Armageddon? We don't have rain storms - we have tornadoes and hurricanes that blow the east coast to the west coast. We don't have snow storms - we have blizzards that will send us back to the ice age. Or so the weather people would like us to believe. "News" stations must interrupt regularly scheduled programs to make sure we know it is snowing, raining, whatever. Why? So Americans don't have to get off the couch to look out the window? WTH Weather reports work people into a frenzy to get to the grocery store before the storm. And the public shops in droves before the storm. What are they buying? Look in a few carts - chips, cookies, cake, JUNK! What really annoys me though, are the constant mini-weather reports that happen ALL DAY LONG while we, the public, wait for the storm that never gets here!! Or my favorite, the all day snow reports on all three major stations for the snow storm that never crippled the city. I have a niece who is anxiety-ridden because of the weather. We were out to dinner once, and a television at the fast food place ran a ticker about an upcoming snow storm. The kid went into a panic and demanded we leave at that very moment. I could barely calm her down. Turns out, there are a lot of kids who have become terrified of the weather, not just my niece. ENOUGH of the severe weather warnings. Stop scaring the kids!!! (and annoying me, of course) Yeah, you said it was going to thunderstorm today. Well, pox on you weather mongers. I hanged (hung?) my laundry out to dry, and it is done! Ha! Never would have done it had I listened to you! WTH
Whew.
Only two rants and I am feeling better. I need to turn off the TV and sit outside to read my book. But, if you read through this whole thing, you've already come to that conclusion, haven't you?
Have a great day. Don't let the little stuff get you down. Unless of course, you're desperate for a blog topic.
News That Isn't News
I am sick and tired of social media creating news from things that just aren't news worthy. Where to start? Ok, how about the recent furor over the Hispanic young man who sang the national anthem? WTH! So, a few anonymous racists wrote deragatory things about him. Why is the public so surprised? So outraged? They know that racism exists towards the Hispanics in our country; after all - social media accounts are bolstered by all the "forwards" about Spanish not being our country's national language.
WTH does anyone care if signs are bi-lingual? If phones ask you to press 2 if you want your message in Spanish? If TV ads sing a Spanish song? What does it matter? Our country's official language is English, and that's not changing. When I was in Honolulu, most signs were in English and Japanese. I didn't hear any outrage over that. So why all the umbrage every time Spanish is spoken/written in this country? (Could it have anything to do with the color of many of those speaking Spanish?) I get the feeling that the people complaining the loudest are the same ones who when/if they travel abroad grumble that everything is in a foreign language and nothing's in English. Get over it. Our country needs to embrace bilingualism (says the person who realizes most Americans can't even speak proper English).
Weather Reports
WTH Lately I've come to believe that our weather people see themselves as oracles. Why does every weather report become Armageddon? We don't have rain storms - we have tornadoes and hurricanes that blow the east coast to the west coast. We don't have snow storms - we have blizzards that will send us back to the ice age. Or so the weather people would like us to believe. "News" stations must interrupt regularly scheduled programs to make sure we know it is snowing, raining, whatever. Why? So Americans don't have to get off the couch to look out the window? WTH Weather reports work people into a frenzy to get to the grocery store before the storm. And the public shops in droves before the storm. What are they buying? Look in a few carts - chips, cookies, cake, JUNK! What really annoys me though, are the constant mini-weather reports that happen ALL DAY LONG while we, the public, wait for the storm that never gets here!! Or my favorite, the all day snow reports on all three major stations for the snow storm that never crippled the city. I have a niece who is anxiety-ridden because of the weather. We were out to dinner once, and a television at the fast food place ran a ticker about an upcoming snow storm. The kid went into a panic and demanded we leave at that very moment. I could barely calm her down. Turns out, there are a lot of kids who have become terrified of the weather, not just my niece. ENOUGH of the severe weather warnings. Stop scaring the kids!!! (and annoying me, of course) Yeah, you said it was going to thunderstorm today. Well, pox on you weather mongers. I hanged (hung?) my laundry out to dry, and it is done! Ha! Never would have done it had I listened to you! WTH
Whew.
Only two rants and I am feeling better. I need to turn off the TV and sit outside to read my book. But, if you read through this whole thing, you've already come to that conclusion, haven't you?
Have a great day. Don't let the little stuff get you down. Unless of course, you're desperate for a blog topic.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)