Monthly Archives: July 2007
The Scene: Yesterday about 6:50 in the morning.
The Players: The innocent driver (Me) and two miscreants–punks if you will.
Ahhh. The crisp morning air. The pure boredom of waiting for the bus….I guess that’s what inspired two young teens to toss small rocks at my tires as I drove past them
I heard a *Clunk* as one of the natural missiles hit the hubcab of my tire and I saw their smirking little faces in the side mirror. I stepped on the brake and came to a quick stop. I was fuming. Really fuming. I resisted the urge to step out of my vehicle and “talk” to these fine members of society.
I thought better of it, as I don’t know the kids (or parents). Still, I was tempted…to give those miscreants a piece of my mind. What happened to children being raised with manners? To respect other people’s property? Ugh.
Oh dear. I think I’m turning into one of those curmudgeons that poo-poos everything. Dad warned me when I was young and foolish that I would become old and humorless, but I didn’t listen to him. Next thing I know, I’ll be calling kids—-whippersnappers.
Noooooo! I’m OLD!!!!
Ok. I dredged up an old memory. I don’t know how many of my readers implemented knowledge they learned from books, but I did.
I chipped at obsidian with a rock, in a vain attempt to make knives, arrow heads and other instruments of the Stone Age. It never worked, and I got some obsidian slivers in my hand for my trouble. Let’s not talk about making a sling and tossing little rocks. It was a painful episode in my life.
However, one of the more successful experiments in my young, eternally intrepid life was the sundial. I frequently skipped church in the summer when my parents weren’t going. I actually did set it up and use it to accurately tell me when it was safe to go home. (Generally I had to be at home at a certain time to do chores, so I couldn’t be too late). When I was young, I loved picking wildflowers and pretending I was a caveperson to going to staid and butt-numbing church.
How about you?
I know I didn’t write yesterday. Just wasn’t inspired but, lucky for you, today I am.)
We had a potluck at work today. Someone brought her kid so that we could see the adorable tyke, which I said hi to. He was too shy and hid behind his mother’s leg. It doesn’t bother me cause I know I scare kids. I’ve learned to deal with seeing other people’s offspring run in terror from the Big Bad Randi monster. *Sniff*. (Not really; children actually like me. For some freakin’ reason.)
Still, the little guy brought to mind my own long past childhood. Of school days of yore….
I learned to read at a very young age (4), so I could easily read Dr. Seuss books by the time I entered Kindergarten. I got off on the wrong foot right away with the teacher, Mrs. Sourpuss* . She kept wanting me to get more involved in singing songs, learning the alphabet and other nonsense that I already knew. The more she wanted me to do something, the more I refused. The more I refused, the more determined she was to instruct me and the more I acted out. **
Which invariably led to a punishment I like to call: Big Bird Torture Stick On My Head. (BBTSOMH for short) She took one of those old hard plastic Fisher Price Sesame Street toys and stuck it on a piece of wood. It descended on my head frequently, pointy beak down.*** It only hurt a little, but it didn’t modify my behavior. Not for long, anyway. Physical punishment hasn’t ever been a deterent to me, when it comes between me and something I want to do.
But I did manage to ‘graduate’ some how, and I moved on to elementary school. But that’s a story for another time, possibly tomorrow. Oh, shoot! Look at the time. I must leave you all.
*Not her real name but might as well have been.
**My parents neglected to tell her that I was able to read until after I ‘outed’ myself by reading a note on her desk that said that we (the class) were going to the Zoo. They thought I’d tell her myself, but I guess I saw no reason to let her know.
***I am sure if this was done nowadays, anyone who did this would have received the Law’s version of BBTSOMH.
Smart people pick people –or relationships–apart to find some fault, hoping to find some fault because secretly they choose to not be happy. Smarter people see and recognize flaws in whom they care for, but have learned to appreciate the individual ‘quirks’ of their friends.
The above theory also applies to thought provoking concepts, movies, and books. I tend to over analyze everything: Life as I know it, films, novels, motives, people and my own brain. You name it, I’ve probably thunk it to death.
My roommate says that my brain is trying to kill me when I go off on an audible tirade about whatever is irritating me at the moment. (Generally, I’m not one for complaining, but when the wind blows just so…Watch out everyone in my way!)
As an example, here’s some thoughts that I had over a movie that I love. Hope you’ve watched X-men 3.
Me: The X-Men movie was good, but Rogue isn’t nearly as whiny in the comics. Magneto is more like Apocolypse. Angel didn’t get enough on-screen time. Angel isn’t pretty enough. How dare they do that to Mystique?
So on and so forth. (Note that I am not complaining over Scott Summers’ possible demise.)
I see the movie for what is wrong with it, but I also see the good in the movie. It’s like I see the good superimposed over what wasn’t so hot about one of my favorite movies. I know it’ll never win an Oscar for Best Motion Picture, but I love it nonetheless.
I submit to those who may not already know my little secret that this might be the ‘better’ way to look at life. There will always be good and bad in one’s life. The trick is to visualize it all balancing out.
(Note: All these opinions are mine alone.)
I work for a large health care company. I am not going to mention the name, sorry, as I refuse to get into trouble.
I’d like to say that insurance isn’t supposed to pay ALL of your medical bills. YOU do need to be both physically and financially accountable for your own well-being. Anyway, I’m tired of my fellow Americans bitching about how expensive health care is. I am really sick (no pun intended) of the belly aching, moaning and groaning about how national health care would be so much better and that employer provided insurance doesn’t do enough.
Yeah, it IS great….. IF you want 50% of your paycheck automatically gone ~poof! Somehow, I doubt our economy, let alone individual budgets, would be able to withstand that much money out of our pockets.
There are many of factors in rising health care. I could talk about all of them, but I’m not going to live for 129 more years. Probably. But here’s a few of them:
- Malpractice insurance rates going up.
- A growing number of uninsured people not paying their bills.
- People not taking care of themselves is probably the most frustrating factor. Mainly because most ailments due to neglect is preventable.
I’d like to tell people that if they are serious in helping bring down the cost of health care, that they should take care of themselves. Eat healthy. Monitor their health. Exercise.*
Look, I’m not claiming that I have all the answers to solve the alarming health crisis, and it’s VERY easy for me to sit here and say blah, blah, blah….but something needs to be done to alter people’s misconceptions about their own personal involvement in their most valuable possession. Their health. People need to be educated on how to make better decisions, people need to take the time to care for themselves.
Wake up, people! Time to smell the stethoscope and become more aware of the importance of taking an active role in health care.
Ok, so I’m not an angel in that regard either, but I’m getting better.
Once upon a time there was a girl, a princess whose realm had been turned to stone. She had always been lonely, growing up in her castle all alone. She played among the stone statues of her family, of the people who were hers to love and to take care of.
Then the princess, out of boredom, made up characters and worlds in her head, and delighted in spinning her tales. For a long time, these stories were her only friends. Every day, she rejoiced in adding more to her worlds, bringing her people to life. The princess smiled, for the first time in her life, and it was beautiful as the dawn. She thought she was happy.
She ignored the changing of the seasons, as the leaves near her castle turned to gold. She began to live for the chance to live inside her own mind and ignored what was really going on.
The princess became her own nemesis, as the years sped by, she entrenched herself ever more firmly in the “spells” that she created.
What broke the spell, finally, was a handsome woodcutter who had discovered the rundown castle and the princess who sat at the fountain, lost in her mental meandering. Her dull gaze reflected the bright cheeriness of the water spilling down into the pool
From a wisdom that he did not know he possessed, he took her hand and whispered into her ear, “Life is worth living, so wake up and see the beauty that you’ve left behind.”
Somehow, those words sunk in and she came back, her eyes gleaming with what she had been in the past and who she would become. He let go of her hand. Slowly, life returned to the castle, stone fell away from all the people she had loved. Birds chirruped. Horses neighed.
Her parents, splendid in their regal finery and as radiant as she, came up to her and gave the princess a hug. “You shut us out for so long, you didn’t want to let us in.”
“You mean that I did this to myself? I turned everyone I loved to rock?” The princess glanced around, feeling ashamed.
Her father gave her a stern but loving look. “You protected yourself from love, even though you didn’t need to. We forgive you.”
“Life is for living, not for regretting.” The princess said softly, as she gave the woodcutter a smile. “Maybe that’s what I should be doing right now. Living in the here and now.”