Ah, the innocent narcissism of a child. Not to be confused with the pathological sickness found in some adults, we are born with a strong sense of self-preservation, and it’s not until we grow that we realize our own needs aren’t all there are. I wonder where we cross over. Is it the first time we see our own mother cry? Somewhere, somehow, compassion becomes a part of our psyche, and that’s where the narcissism of childhood ends.
However, on days like today nothing matters to my son, Alex, except Alex. My baby turns thirteen years old today and he’s extremely proud of himself. It’s delightful to me to see him bask in his own glow. It was beyond my wildest dreams when he was born that he’d ever reach this milestone, and so I’m happy to make his every wish come true.
Alex ‘n’ Me
Four foot two, and sixty pounds, he’s a dynamo of enthusiasm and love for everyone around him. In his mind he is as small as his frail physique; as much as his physical age is telling him he needs independence, he still comes to mom for cuddles when something hurts. He retains that childish innocence – that me me me mindset, and yet he’ll pat me lovingly on the cheek if I say I have a headache.
I have no idea how long his childishness will last… I have no idea what to expect of tomorrow, but I do know one thing: Today, nothing matters but my baby.
On October 21st, 1879, Thomas Edison tested the first incandescent light bulb. Also in yesterday’s news, the government of Canada will finish with its phase-out of these very same sources of soft, comforting light that we’ve come to count on for generations, in January.
My local newspaper – the one I deliver – isn’t published on Sundays, so I instead get the Toronto Sun. I had a hard time finding anything that inspired me until I came across an actual writing prompt, so I figured what the hell.
The prompt encourages people to enter onto the Sun’s facebook page the story of a memorable hotel stay. I couldn’t decide which one I should write about, so I’ll do them all. Considering how many rooms I’ve stayed in, there aren’t that many that are worth mentioning. After all, how memorable is one room over another in most cases?
There was my weekend with my ex – a rare ‘escape-the-kids’ weekend – when we got a theme room at the Fireside Inn in Kingston, Ontario. The theme itself wasn’t the best part however. What really tickled my fancy was the shower for two, complete with two shower heads, each with its own temperature control. I wish I could say I need one of those at home, but alas… the ex is still an ex.
The only really bad experience I can remember was in Kurashiki, Japan. Since I was headed out to a concert the night I was there, I decided not to rent a lamp… So I went back to the room with my corner-store bought spaghetti dinner and ate in the dark. The next morning when I took a shower, I found the bathtub to be so creaky I hurried as fast as I could through my shower. It would have been a short but embarrassing trip from room 305 to room 205 in that state of undress.
At the Grand Prince Hotel in Hiroshima, on the other hand, I was quite impressed with the bathroom in my room. Not only was the ceramic floor heated, but there was some sort of heating system behind the mirror as well, so there was a spot at just my height (I’m short and stereotypically so are Japanese people) that stayed clear from the steam of the shower. Very impressive. The view from my room was also out of this world.
Sunrise, Hiroshima
The last and second most impressive stay I’ve had in a hotel was at the Chateau Montebello in Montebello, Quebec. (Click the link.) It was really just up the street from where I lived at the time, and I needed a weekend away. My ex agreed to look after the kids so I took the cheapest room in the place, just for myself, for two nights. I was surprised to find a note from the management on the second day to say they’d made a mistake and double booked my room so they were moving me out. Paint a picture of yourself of an outraged, overworked mother, wearing the cheapest of clothing, carrying her luggage half in plastic shopping bags, standing at the front desk of a resort hotel that has entertained Prime Ministers and Presidents, (G-7 Summit) practically jumping up and down at the unfairness of it all. Got that? Okay. Now paint for yourself a picture of a woman luxuriating in the Pierre Elliot Trudeau suite (see the Deluxe River View Room) sitting back on a king sized bed gazing out the window at exquisitely manicured gardens, and beyond, a gorgeous view of the Ottawa River, and you’ve got my wonderful stay in a room for which I paid only a fraction of the price it was worth.
So, there you have it. I encourage you to click the links. The only one I don’t have a link for is the one in Kurashiki – I don’t remember the name of the place, but I’m sure I’d recognize it if I ever go back. The town itself is beautiful, so I would encourage anyone to visit. Just check to make sure you don’t have to rent a lamp when you stay there and you should be safe.
According to an article in yesterday’s newspaper, the government of Ontario’s health ministry will be taking the warning labels on food products a step further. They are proposing legislation that will require major fast food chains to advertise, right on their menus, the calorie count and other pertinent information (fat content?) of the food they are serving. It will be right up there with the price, so we can see exactly what we’re doing to our bodies – at least those of us who understand the ramifications of ingesting 1,000+ calories in one sitting. For those who don’t, I suppose it’s not going to make a difference.
Is this information for the benefit of those who haven’t seen the movie “Supersize Me“? Or for those who didn’t realize when they watched it how, much like “Titanic,” predictable the ending would be?
I’m not saying I’m above anyone who ignores the obvious health risk of eating at fast food restaurants – I enjoy a Big Mac as much as the next guy. What gets me is that the government feels the need to plaster the fact in our faces each time we visit one of these chains. How much faith must they have in us to think we’re too stupid to realize what we’re doing to ourselves? The reason they’re planning this is to be proactive, and reduce the need for health care because as a society, we tend to be overweight… in essence they’re trying to save us from ourselves and in the same breath, admit that they are failing to educate us in the first place.
Part of me leans toward what it says in the picture, and the other part of me wishes the government would be even more proactive in the first place. By finding a better way to teach our kids to care about themselves and their future families while they’re still in school, maybe our society can learn what moderation means.
What do you think?
The posts in the category “Yesterday’s News” reflect inspiration found in the previous day’s edition of my local newspaper. They are not a retelling of the news. This is a challenge to post a blog entry once a day, every day until Hallowe’en, and possibly beyond.
Hallowe’en is coming and houses are being decorated in preparation for the big night. Parents will usher their kiddies up and down the street, teens will dress up one last time in hopes of scoring a vomit-worthy stash. Our little ghouls and goblins who are out to trick and receive treats are anticipating not only the sweets, but also the scares. The frightening begins and ends with monsters, ghosts, jack-o-lanterns and creatures of the night. Or does it?
Personally, I find the worst – the most chilling of the lot, are the yearly list of warnings:
Check the candy before you eat it!
Don’t accept anything not prepackaged!
Of course the safety list goes on. But what the hell with the poisoned, razor-blade-ladened food? Do we distrust our neighbours this much? Is anyone actually stupid enough to still attempt to get away with such abominations? After all, it’s been what… 40 years since all this paranoia began? I suppose we’ve become so accustomed to being told that there are real threats everywhere that we accept this the way we do anything else.
So kiddies, watch out, because it’s not the vampire hovering at your window, or the mummy banging at the lid of its coffin you have to worry about. It’s the nice little old lady down the street who spent weeks making candy apples that you need to fear the most.
freedigitalphotos.net
Edit: The statistics of poisoning in Hallowe’en candy – here.
Opinions. We all have them. As bloggers we put ours out there for the public to scrutinize every day, and scrutinized they are. Some of us know more intimately than others how harshly our opinions can be crushed by a troll. But still, the strongest of us brush it off and persist.
Is it possible to write without, in some capacity, revealing an opinion? Even in fiction there must be a part of our lives, our experiences, in what we say. So we write and we hope that people out there will find something of value in what we say. If we didn’t feel passionate about what we do, or what we have to share, we wouldn’t do it, right?
After all, we could just stick to posting pictures of flowers…
The posts in the category “Yesterday’s News” reflect inspiration found in the previous day’s edition of my local newspaper. They are not a retelling of the news. This is a challenge to post a blog entry once a day, every day until Hallowe’en, and possibly beyond.
In the pursuit of changing it up once in a while, we are encouraged as writers to search for different words to say the same thing. Using the same ones over and over can distract the reader from the point we are trying to make. But at the same time, if we do a bad job of it, the wrong turn of phrase can be even worse than the repetitive one.
Take the article I found in yesterday’s paper for instance. The piece is well written; it concerns the annual recognition of immigrants, refugees and international students learning English as a Second Language. There is no credit given to the writer of the article – credit is given to the paper’s “Staff,” and I have to wonder if this is the reason why:
I don’t know about anyone else, but for me this phrase conjures up all kinds of horror.
Is it possible to take the whole “find another way to say it” process too far? Absolutely. You have to appreciate it when someone has the guts to publish it in a font four times the size of the rest of the text… but then again, whoever did, lacked the balls to put his/her name on it. I know I wouldn’t.
“Yesterday’s News” is a challenge I have set for myself to post a blog entry once a day, every day until Hallowe’en, and possibly beyond.
In the interest of trying to write at least one blog post day, I’m going to start something new. I rarely have the chance to read the papers I deliver until the next day, so I thought I’d start writing an article based on something I read in yesterday’s paper, thus the title, “Yesterday’s News.” It may not last long with Nanowrimo coming up, but I’ll give it a go.
In yesterday’s editorial section there was a piece on Thanksgiving and how we, as Canadians, should give thanks just to live here rather than a war torn country. The article mentioned people complaining about ‘first-world problems’ when there are others starving to death, homeless because of weather and ongoing battles etc. etc. It didn’t take me long to put this into the perspective of my own life.
When I tell people of my home situation (that I’m single with two handicapped kids), I almost invariably hear the same things: “And I thought I had problems!” is one of the most common. I have a hard time responding to this statement, because, I believe, it truly is all a matter of perspective. Just because I have a lot to deal with, doesn’t mean you don’t too! is what I really want to say.
I was thinking about all this this morning as I was pouring my second cup of coffee – precisely the same time I realized that the filter in the coffeemaker had collapsed and I was getting a cup full of grounds. First-world problem, I thought. See? We all have them!
Another example is this:
This is the dashboard of my 2001 Pontiac Montana. You may notice the engine light is on. The gas tank appears full, but I have to reset the tripometer every time I fill up because the gas gauge doesn’t work. I have to say though, at least it has a positive attitude.
From my perspective it is worrying to drive around with the engine light on, especially when one of my kids has an out-of-town doctor’s appointment, but I can’t afford to fix it. Case in point – the gas gauge has been acting this way for about six years. BUT, take all this from the perspective of someone without insurance, whose car is sitting in a tree after a tornado rips through, and my problems seem to hardly register.
I had a friend once, who, every time she had a bad day, would phone me up to listen to my problems, just to make her feel better. She was very upfront with the fact she was doing it, and I was happy to oblige. But it makes me wonder why we read the news from other countries. Does it make us feel better? Does it help us to be thankful for what we have in the place we live? Perhaps. But we still have to give ourselves some room to breathe. It’s okay to let first-world problems give us grief, and we shouldn’t beat ourselves up for it.
Everyone has problems. It’s all a matter of perspective.
lindaghill.com 