I went with my mother and Alex to a small diner down the street today for lunch. The place was pretty busy, but nothing out of the ordinary. It seemed by the way they were dressed that most of the crowd had come from church.
So we sat there, minding our own business–my mom and I both had a toasted western each and Alex ate five noodles out of his dish of mac and cheese. We finished our lunch and the waitress came over to ask if there was anything else. I said no, just the bill please. You can imagine my shock when she said, “It’s okay, it’s taken care of.”
“Wwwhy?” I asked, totally stunned.
“The lady at the next table,” she pointed to the recently vacated table behind us, “paid half your bill and I took care of the other half.”
My mom and both said thank you, to which she replied, “No problem,” and walked away.
I left a five dollar tip.
What the hell? I have no idea who the lady was who sat at the other table. She didn’t even smile at me when she left, and I looked right at her. But the waitress too?
I don’t know whether to feel grateful or pathetic because I haven’t washed my hair in two days and wasn’t wearing my Sunday best.
It happened again yesterday. I was sitting in a Tim Horton’s with my mother and Alex (my youngest son who is Deaf and doesn’t eat much by mouth – he’s g-tube fed), and my mother and I were eating and drinking coffee. Alex, in his usual sociable way was looking around and smiling and waving at the other customers. Beside us were a pair of elderly ladies. They were enamoured of Alex, which is par for the course.
One of them observed Alex as he took his Timbit (a doughnut hole, for those of you who haven’t been in a Tim Horton’s in the last 20 years) and put it back in the bag. He wasn’t really interested in eating it as I knew he wouldn’t be. He just likes me to buy him something so he doesn’t feel left out… and at 20cents, I can’t complain.
The ensuing conversation went something like this:
Lady#1: Isn’t he going to eat that?
Me: No, he’s not hungry.
Lady#2: He’s very cute.
Me: And he knows it.
Lady#1: Maybe he’d like something else. A sundae maybe?
Me: (thinking ‘I’m glad he can’t hear you.’) No, he’s okay.
Lady#1: (to Alex) Aren’t you hungry?
Me: (signing to Alex) Are you hungry? (note: I could have signed ‘Are you a chicken?’ to ensure he’d say no, but his laugh would have given me away)
Alex: (shakes his head, no.)
Me: (to Lady#1) Nope, he’s not hungry.
Lady#2: How old is he, six?
Me: No, he’s 13.
Lady#1: Does he know sign language?
Me: (thinking ‘No, we just flail at one another and hope for the best’) Yes, he does.
Lady#1: Isn’t that nice. (She then proceeds to perform the sign for ‘please’.) “Love,” she says to Alex.
Lady#1: (to Lady #2) That means ‘love.’ (she signs ‘please’ again.)
Alex: (smiles and nods even though he’s totally confused)
Having strangers tell you to feed your child, in front of your child, makes me see red on the best of occasions. But I’ve gotta say, this one was amusing enough that I only saw pink.
1. Your post must be stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing, (typos can be fixed) and minimal planning on what you’re going to write.
2. Your post can be as long or as short as you want it to be. One sentence – one thousand words. Fact, fiction, poetry – it doesn’t matter. Just let the words carry you along until you’re ready to stop.
3. There will be a prompt every week. I will post the prompt here on my blog on Friday, along with a reminder for you to join in. The prompt will be one random thing, but it will not be a subject. For instance, I will not say “Write about dogs”; the prompt will be more like, “Make your first sentence a question,” or “Begin with the word ‘The’.”
4. Ping back! It’s important, so that I and other people will come and read your post! The way to ping back, is to just copy and paste the URL of my post somewhere on your post. Then your URL will show up in my comments, for everyone to see. For example, in your post you can copy and past the following: “This post is part of SoCS: (https://lindaghill.wordpress.com/2014/03/01/socs-stream-of-consiousness-saturday-the-rules/)” Also, you can come here and link your post in the comments. The most recent comments will be found at the top.
5. Read at least one other person’s blog who has linked back their post. If you’re the first person to link back, you can check back later, or go to the previous week, by following my category, “Stream of Consciousness Saturday,” which you’ll find right below the “Like” button on my post.
6. Copy and paste the rules (if you’d like to) in your post. The more people who join in, the more new bloggers you’ll meet and the bigger your community will get!
I often wish that I could teach people not to sweat the small stuff. I can’t stand watching people walk around with their minds so focused on trivial matters, that they’re unable to see the big picture.
So what if that guy just stole your parking spot? At least you didn’t have to take the bus with all your children, your strollers, and bags of groceries once you’re finished shopping. What’s the problem with getting the blue ipod when you wanted the black one? At least you have one. How does it matter that you listened to someone at the next table complain about their food? Did you enjoy yours? Then stop eavesdropping!
Don’t get me wrong – it’s not really the complaining that bothers me. If that was the problem, I would be just as bad as they are. It’s the fact that small things stress a lot of people out. Getting one’s blood pressure up, in my opinion, had better come with a whole lot of real problems. Yes, all the little ones can add up. We all have days like that. But even then, don’t dwell! It’ll put you into an early grave… and who wants to die over a chipped fingernail?
I think we all have something that we’ve learned from experience, that we wish we could give the benefit of to others so that they don’t have to learn the way we did: the hard way.
So tell me in the comments: of all your personal life lessons, what would you teach the people around you, if you could?
I need organisation. First, I must state that this post was inspired by our lovely Belinda at Idiot Writing. (You can find the post here: http://idiotwriting.wordpress.com/2014/03/14/organisation/ .) In it, she tells how much more organised she is than I.
When I do finally get a moment to myself to sit and write, I invariably get comfortable with my laptop and, before I begin, I look around the room. It’s a mess. I think to myself, “I need to be more organised,” but do I do anything about it? Of course not! I just got comfortable.
So I write, but in the back of my mind there is the mess I should be cleaning up. I’m unable to fully relax and enjoy myself. Why don’t I just clean it up? Because it will take hours–hours that I could be spending writing. And what’s the use when my darling children will just mess it up again anyway? Doing a little bit at a time is useless. I’ll just end up doing the same little bit again the next day.
It’s a vicious circle of discomfort for me.
I did, actually find something that worked for me once. When I was selling my house back in Gatineau, Quebec, I had to clean up the place to show it to perspective buyers. So I took a picture of the mess, one room at a time. I then worked my ass off, non-stop, until I was ready to take an “after” picture. I was truly amazed at the progress I was able to make, and I had a reward at the end to boot–a picture of my immaculate room.
Before
After
I swore I would do that again when I moved. I made a New Year’s resolution, four years ago, to make and keep this place clean. I did it again three years ago, two, one, and this year as well. HA! The difference? First, I’m not selling, and second, back then I wasn’t writing.
One of these days…
How do you deal with organisation? Or do you? I’d love some suggestions.
There are worse things in the world than getting motivation from a fortune cookie, I suppose. But then, I think I can win the lottery. Will I? I guess I can if I buy a ticket.
While the statement on this tiny slip of paper is true, to a certain extent, it’s vague at best. Where is the trying? What do we get out of life if we just sit and imagine we can, without making an attempt? We get nothing, most of the time.
Case in point: I think I can make something out of this post. Am I giving it a half-hearted effort? Yes. Was I motivated by the piece of paper I found in a fortune cookie? Yes.
All this to say that, just because you think you can, doesn’t mean you’re going to be good at it. And there’s my de-motivational post for the day.
Chew on it.
Okay, but seriously. To be creative–to create something out of my own mind that is brand new–I have to be in the right frame of mind. No amount of external motivation is going to change that. It may help, but in the end nothing is going to inspire me quite like, well, me. When that spark fires in my brain that tells me I have something to write about, or I fall on something I’m passionate about, it’s like I’m a ball of energy, rolling down a hill, unable to stop. I can zing through a paragraph as though I was propelled by an elastic band, my fingers flying around the keyboard, unable to keep up with my brain. That’s when I would say to myself, “Yes I can!” except that I’m too busy creating to think such a thing.
So is the fortune cookie wrong? Personally, I think it’s possible to think too much.
It all started on Sunday when I had a sore tooth. Actually, scratch that. It really started in 1996 when I went on Zoloft for six months, to help me get over post-partum depression. I don’t know for sure whether it’s a side effect of that particular antidepressant, but while I was taking it, I began to clench my teeth. It was like I constantly had tension in my jaw, and the condition exists even now.
So back to Sunday. My tooth hurt, and I’m pretty sure it was due to the clenching. Though the pain went away, I was thinking about going to the dentist.
Then last night, I had a dream. I was sitting in a dentist’s chair, totally doped up on nitrous oxide. I remember the dentist and her assistant talking while filling one of my teeth. I could feel it, a little, but I didn’t care.
When the dentist asked me if I wanted Novocaine for my second filling, I said yes. She told me that was probably a good idea, since the cavity was deep. Here’s where the freaky part begins.
As she put the needle in (which I didn’t feel at all because in my dream I was doped up) I realized I was going to sleep. At that point, I realized I WAS asleep and that I was dreaming… so with that in my head, I allowed myself to go to sleep in my dream.
It was the best experience I’ve ever had at the dentist. I highly recommend the nitrous… not that I’ve tried it in real life… at least I don’t think I have.
I sometimes wonder why I push myself so hard. My determination to write a post every day here on WordPress; my aspiration to finish my novel; my involvement in The Community Storyboard, HarsH ReaLiTy, and A Good Blog is Hard to Find; my ambition to read more, and write book reviews; my wish to help out friends by critiquing their unpublished works… the list itself is overwhelming. Most days I barely notice the work piling up. I love being busy with writing and the pursuits that involve it.
But, Spring Break. Yes, it’s that time of year again. While I’ve had much of today to do the things I needed to get done, I know it’s only a matter of time before Alex gets bored keeping himself busy. And just because the kids are home doesn’t mean the shopping doesn’t still need to be done – a task which requires me to leave my Autistic son by himself – and my paper route, and then there’s my mother’s appointments because I’m the only one who can take her… again, overwhelming.
I think everyone gets to this point occasionally. It’s the stage where we just have to start saying no, and not give in. While it’s exciting, and best of all not boring, there’s a limit at which one shuts down and curls up in a little ball with a straw and a bottle of one’s favourite Merlot.
So if I up and disappear at some point this week you’ll know why. And if I do manage to keep it all together AND keep my blog going without consuming a bottle of wine per day, well, give me a cape and call me supermom.
Just don’t push me off the side of a building to see if I’ll fly. I push myself too hard already.
I’ve never been one to have much affection for the things I own. Apart from old photos, I have very few things that can’t be replaced – and if I took the time to scan all those photos I could add those to the list of replaceable items as well. Yes, my laptop is valuable, but only inasmuch as what is on its hard drive. If I lost it but was able to retrieve everything off it, meh. I could buy another.
There is one thing however that I can’t replace. It’s the one thing that, if someone asked me, “If your house was on fire, what, other than your family would you save?” that would be it. It’s a CD. It’s not the music on it, nor is it the case which makes it my most prized possession. In the cover booklet there is a signature by the artist, that reads, “To Linda, with love…”
And I’ve misplaced it: the whole CD, case and booklet.
I’ve spent much of a very frustrating day searching, to no avail. Whilst doing so, I’ve tried convincing myself that it doesn’t matter if, somehow, it ended up in a bag that was put out for garbage without proper inspection. After all, I still have the memories of the event which led up to my having it autographed. That I went all the way to Japan, to a concert–never met the artist, but my booklet did–and came back home with this coveted piece of memorabilia in my hot little hands.
After all, what really matters? It’s only a piece of paper, albeit one that I’ll mourn the loss of, if it never turns up. But I can always hold the memory close to my heart.
You have to love it when your utility company sends the most gorgeous man on the planet over to your house to upgrade your internet speed. Needless to say, as my day has progressed it has gotten better.
I’m currently procrastinating over picking up my manuscript. Oohh, a muffin!
Despite what I said yesterday – wait, was it yesterday? I’ll go check. No, it was Thursday, in this blog post. Anyway, despite what I said in Thursday’s post, procrastinating when it means completely putting off something is detrimental. Allowing my mind to wander whilst doing something mindless, as a break from hard work is nothing like what I’m doing now.
It brings to mind an excellent article that my new blogging friend, Angie, shared with me in my comments. In it, she cites the well proven fact that sometimes we procrastinate for fear of failure. What if we finish what we’re doing (such as writing a manuscript) just to have it rejected? It’s silly, really, to think that way. Why begin something in the first place if you’re never going to finish it?
I wrote the novel I’m editing as a NaNoWriMo project in 2011. When I started it, I was writing it for myself. I needed a distraction from the chaos that was my life at the time. Had I not written it, I probably wouldn’t be here right now – I’m sure I’d be in a padded cell, plucking my arm hairs out one at a time and tying them into the rope which would become my escape – one way or another. By the time I finished my manuscript, I knew I wanted to share it with the world. And so, editing began… and continues. It’s a huge project and is going to take many more hours of work before I’ll even allow it into the hands of beta readers.
So why am I typing a WordPress post instead of working on the manuscript I can’t wait to get out? I’m up for suggestions.
Winter is being such a bitch this year, particularly on my roof. Granted there are many people in the neighbourhood who have it worse: it seems on every street there are houses missing so much of their eavestroughs that I can see their rafters from the street. And trust me, no one wants their rafters showing.
In an effort to not be one of them, I’ve tried a couple of different methods to relieve my roof of the eight inches of ice that is threatening to pull down what’s left of my eavestroughs. Chipping at it didn’t work – it’s far too solid. So I figured, why not throw some salt up there? As soon as we have a nice day, maybe it’ll melt from the top rather than the bottom as it has done for the past couple of weeks, causing the residual water to come in around my window frames – inside the house.
The salt, however, seems to be rather picky when it comes to the roof. It melts the ice just fine on the sidewalk.
After putting almost a full ten pounds of salt on my roof, what do I have?
It would seem the salt has created some interesting formations out of my icicles.
What else?
Everything dripping off my roof is crystalised. I have white splattered all over my exterior walls, I have white steps at the front of my house, and best of all, I have a saltwater cascade dripping down my windows and onto my hardwood floors. And still, I have eight inches of ice on my roof.
The good news? The mold that I’m positive is growing on the other side of my drywall will be well preserved.
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