In nature we find nothing but being: the act of existence, the cycle of life. Hate, jealousy, fear…none of that is present. But joy in the form of the vibrancy of life, that we can sense.
Anyone who would like to participate, feel free to use the “One-Liner Wednesday” title in your post, and if you do,
you can ping back here to help your blog get more exposure. To execute a ping back, just copy the URL in the address bar on this post, and paste it somewhere in the body of your post. Your link will show up in the comments below. Please ensure that the One-Liner Wednesday you’re pinging back to is this week’s! Otherwise, no one will likely see it but me.
As with Stream of Consciousness Saturday (SoCS), if you see a ping back from someone else in my comment section, click and have a read. It’s bound to be short and sweet.
Unlike SoCS, this is not a prompt so there’s no need to stick to the same “theme.”
The rules that I’ve made for myself (but don’t always follow) for “One-Liner Wednesday” are:
1. Make it one sentence.
2. Try to make it either funny or inspirational.
3. Use our unique tag #1linerWeds.
4. Add our very cool badge to your post for extra exposure!
I often feel like a servant in my own house. Because of their disabilities, there’s a good chance I’ll always have to serve my children, to some extent.
But it’s something we all do, isn’t it? There are times when it’s much easier to do a thing ourselves than take the time to teach the kids to do it. In many cases it’s justified: while in the way out the door to an appointment, or getting ready for school in the morning, when we’re tired and just want to get the thing (whatever it is) over and done with. At some point we need to stop and teach though. We do our kids a disservice by waiting on them hand and foot.
I’m tired. Not just from lack of sleep (though there is that) but because of the news. I’ve never paid much attention to what goes on in the USA except for the past few months. It is, of course, due to the Great Orange Threat. I find myself obsessed not only with what it spews but the reactions to what it spews as well, until I find myself mired in so much rhetoric that it leaves me distracted, miserable, and unable to create. A death knoll for someone like me.
My enabler is Facebook, that bottomless pit of drive-thru opinions and baseless regurgitation we all know and despise. So I’ve decided to walk away from it for a while. My posts from WordPress will continue to automatically post to my author page, but I won’t be around to comment. I’m giving it a week, if I’m strong enough. I’ll try to finish as many of the Scrabble games that I have going tonight, and that’ll be it. I’m pulling the plug.
It will be an experiment. To see how much more I get done; to spend the time I would have wasted scanning my newsfeed to write, edit, read books, read blogs, play with my family, exercise, and spend time in the place where I took the picture above. As I sat there this morning, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much we take for granted. That there will always be places like this. There won’t, unless we start doing something about changing our attitudes and caring about everyone and everything. Without exception.
I need to step back from the rhetoric and find out how I can make a difference, no matter how small. Do you know the definition of the word “rhetoric”? It is the art of effective or persuasive speaking or writing ~ Google. I find it necessary to stop listening to all the voices telling me how to go about doing what’s best for me. And especially, I have to stop watching what I have no power to control. I realize I must decide what is best for me, for my family, for the city I live in, for my country, and for my planet all by myself. Only then can I act. Facebook, for me, has become a means to pointless, futile worry. We’ll see what a week teaches me. Will it kill me? I’ll get back to you on it.
Saturday afternoon found yours truly enjoying a beer on the patio of one of Kingston’s livelier establishments. At this particular place, since it is Irish, the waiting staff wear kilts. Both the girls and the guys.
My table was adjacent to a table where three middle-aged women were sitting. Between us, a waiter stood talking to some customers. His back was to the other table. I watched as one of the women extended her arm and wiggled her fingers below the hem of the waiter’s kilt, as though she was going to reach up under it and tickle… something. I didn’t know whether to smile or be appalled. In retrospect, I’m pretty sure it’s the latter.
So let’s see… what is your reaction? Take the poll:
I could probably have come up with some more answers, but I’m interested to see what you have to say. Let’s discuss.
Edit for clarification: The woman didn’t come in contact with the waiter, and he didn’t notice she did it.
I think this year will go down in the books as the one when everyone died. Then again, all the pioneers of modern rock, the movie stars, and the famous people I’ve grown up with are getting older. Was it like this for my parents when the likes of the Rat Pack began to die off? I suppose. And I’m sure all the young’uns now will have an impact on our kids’ generation when they begin to pass away. Yet somehow I think this is a bit different. It seems to me that aging bands such as the Rolling Stones, The Who, Led Zepplin… they have a continued base in society unlike the greats of old. When the remainder of those bands disappear it won’t just affect we who are now in middle age. It will affect us all.
So today, Mohammad Ali. I found a meme on Facebook which included a quote:
Things we should all strive to be remembered for.
On a lighter note…
I picked up a book off the bargain shelf a long while ago, and I’ve just started reading it. I have to say, half-way through I’m totally engrossed. It’s a little romantic, but mostly it delves into the quirks and psychology of its characters in an amazingly profound way. It’s humorous, sad, and absolutely entertaining. Faking It by Elisa Lorello is something you’ll want to pick up. http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=faking+it+elisa+lorello
I use Booking.com a lot. In fact, I’m sitting in a room in a B&B as I type this. It’s warm in here. I’m in Kingston, and half-way between temptation to walk around and take pictures of doors and wander around the waterfront (and find a patio to sit and eat lunch) and take advantage of the quiet time away to work on one of my books. I’m this close to getting my novelette published (just have to go through proofreads and get a blurb written), I’m that close to my final edit of my epic novel, The Great Dagmaru, and I’m dying to work on finishing the first draft of the sequel. Maybe I’ll work on one of those until I get really hungry… or my bum goes numb.
She spat out her apology like phlegm, only to feel her unrepentant anger build to new and distasteful heights.
Writing this sentence has brought to mind how I feel about the questionable wisdom that by forgiving someone of a wrong done to us, we are freeing ourselves rather than the other person. I suppose it depends on whether or not we can believe we are truly forgiving.
The other popular adage is “forgive and forget.” Sometimes forgetting is much easier on the soul than forgiving. But does it teach us anything?
I’ve been battling a headache all day. It’s right behind my right eye, so I’m typing this with my eyes closed. I’m tempted to not fix any mistakes…
I think my headache is due to the barometric pressure. I’ve suffered with barometer headaches for years. I find unless I take an anti-inflammatory when I first feel it coming on, it won’t go away. Stress doesn’t help either.
I went to the mall today to find the dvd “Alice in Wonderland” – the Johnny Depp one – for Alex. Went into seven different stores and couldn’t find it. I’m blaming the new movie on the fact that everyone was sold out. I was impressed at how much of a comeback vinyl is making in the record stores. I have to wonder if the quality is the same as it used to be though. If it’s taken from a digital recording and put on an album, it isn’t going to have the same depth as it did from the master. I need to find out how they’re making vinyl recordings these days.
Anyway, I came home and found the DVD for $8 Canadian on Amazon, so I ordered it. So weird. And did you hear the news about Johnny yesterday? His new wife has a restraining order and is claiming he abused her physically. I was appalled at how many people on Twitter yesterday had already convicted him and thrown away the key without hearing a single word on his side of the story. I’m not saying he didn’t do it – he may just admit to it when he does come out and speak. What gets me though is all the armchair justice and vitriol from people who either never liked him in the first place, or are obviously jealous of his status in the world. I say that because many of the comments were “people will continue to buy his movies anyway.” What has that even got to do with it? He’s not the only person who stands to make royalties on them. Ugh, society and social media really get on my nerves sometimes.
Anyone who would like to participate, feel free to use the “One-Liner Wednesday” title in your post, and if you do,
you can ping back here to help your blog get more exposure. To execute a ping back, just copy the URL in the address bar on this post, and paste it somewhere in the body of your post. Your link will show up in the comments below. Please ensure that the One-Liner Wednesday you’re pinging back to is this week’s! Otherwise, no one will likely see it but me.
As with Stream of Consciousness Saturday (SoCS), if you see a ping back from someone else in my comment section, click and have a read. It’s bound to be short and sweet.
Unlike SoCS, this is not a prompt so there’s no need to stick to the same “theme.”
The rules that I’ve made for myself (but don’t always follow) for “One-Liner Wednesday” are:
1. Make it one sentence.
2. Try to make it either funny or inspirational.
3. Use our unique tag #1linerWeds.
4. Add our new, very cool badge to your post for extra exposure!
I’m going to go off on a rant here. It may be bizarre–it may be the most bizarre rant you’ve read all month–but make no mistake about it, it’s a rant. Laugh at me if you must. In fact, it might be for the best if you do – for all of us.
So, menopause. You’ve all heard of it. Even if you’re not there yet or you’ll never be there, you probably know about the hot flashes. Some of you may have read or know first hand about the mood swings. The books all tell us about bouts of unexpected crying, of possible depression, and of flying into rages over the littlest things. But what about the laughter?
Laughter, you ask? I’ve never heard of a menopausal woman flying into a fit of laughter. Well guess what? Neither have I? So why am I ranting about it?
Imagine this scenario: You’re trying to get your kid into bed but he’s busy playing with the dog. You’ve been asking him to get into his pyjamas for fifteen solid minutes. You’re trying to make his bed so he can actually get in it, you’re frustrated, harried from a long day, tired, about to lose your cool, and suddenly the dog jumps on you and your kid starts giggling. And then completely out of the blue, despite the fact that you were just about to blow your stack, you start giggling with the kid. UGGHHH!!! Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to start laughing when you’re trying to be mad?!?
And it keeps happening! Used to be when I was angry, I stayed angry. Wake me up six times through the night because you want to be covered up by me when you’re perfectly capable of doing it yourself, I’m going to be damned mad! I’ve got to get up in an hour, and I’ve only slept for 45 minutes all night! But now? By the sixth time I’m snickering and wondering if I’m ready for the funny farm!!
The only reason I can think of for this new bout of hilarity is menopause. Why didn’t anyone tell me it would be like this!!!???!!!
Is it just me? Is that why? If not, let’s discuss this well-kept secret so everyone can have it to look forward to, along with the damned hot flashes!
I spend way too much time on Facebook. The reasons I go there are to find things to laugh at, see pretty pictures, get world news (shake your finger at me if you must, but it’s where learn what’s going on), and get into arguments.
One of my most recent was over the gender bathroom issue. I’m talking about this here at the risk of sounding like I’m trying to validate my views. I’m not. I just really want to talk about it, because it’s been on my mind for weeks. Before I go any further, I want to go on record to state that I’m not against transgender people using the bathroom of their choice. I realize the chances of a transgender woman (male to female) getting beaten to death is much higher if she uses the men’s washroom than that she will abuse anyone in the women’s washroom. In fact chances are that she’s so self-conscious, it’s unlikely she’d even look anyone in the eye, let alone peek under a bathroom stall. I’m not here to debate whether it’s right or wrong for transgender people to choose a bathroom. If you are not of the same opinion as I, that is your right. If you comment just to state your opinion on which side you’re on, you’ll get a smile emoji and I’ll say nothing else. All I really ask is that you keep it civil.
The whole Facebook argument started when I came across a meme on a friend’s page concerning not only the bathroom issue, but whether or not transgender people should use change rooms in gyms. I wasn’t aware that this was an issue, so my comment was something like, You mean they’re allowed to use public change rooms too? Okay, yes I probably could have worded it better. I was called out for using both the word “they” and the word “allowed.” I had to explain that I didn’t mean I think transgender people are inhuman, but rather I was speaking in a broad sense the same way I would speak about men vs. women. I don’t consider men to be inhuman, even though I call them “them” when differentiating between my sex and the sex that isn’t mine. Also, I didn’t mean to say that they’re any less human by saying they’re not “allowed” to use the women’s washroom, any more than I’m saying cisgendered men are lesser beings because they’re not “allowed” to use the women’s washroom. They’re not. Right? I just love over-sensitivity.
So on with the actual discussion. I told the woman I was speaking to (we’ll call her Mary) that I wasn’t necessarily against transgender women using a change room where she could feel comfortable. I agreed it was important that she not have to change in front of men. But in all the gym change rooms I’ve been into, everyone gets naked and I wouldn’t be comfortable changing in front of a person who is, no matter how she identifies or feels deep inside to be, is still physically a man. And I wouldn’t want my daughter (if I had one) to be confronted with a grown man’s penis. Mary asked me what there was to be afraid of. It’s just a penis.
I tried to explain to her that the sex education of my children should be up to me, that I should be able to decide when the time, the place, and the mode of teaching is appropriate. I believe it is both my right and my responsibility as a parent to choose how and when my children learn certain things. No one should make this choice for me, whether it’s a person with the physical attributes of a male in a change room or a flasher on the street. She disagreed, telling me that it would be the perfect opportunity to teach a young daughter the difference between boys and girls. She said it was the same as when her daughter asked about her infant son. She then went on to tell me how much of a bigot I am, and how I’m part of the problem.
The next day I went to my government’s website to see how we deal with this situation in Ontario (Canada). I found out that my government does its best to accommodate transgender people. They state that it’s necessary for all businesses to have a safe place for everyone to go to the washroom, change, and shower. Most facilities already have family rooms that are well-partitioned and/or are for single-person use. This, to me, is the perfect solution and ensures that everyone is comfortable. Still, I’m seen as a bigot.
It seems there is a line between common sense and entitlement. Political correctness, not wanting to offend anyone and over-sensitivity overrun our society to the point that there is little logic left in the world. Society runs on emotion, and that is the case for Mary who, as I found out later in our discussion, is the mother of a transgender girl.
I believe until we, as a society, are able to think with our brains rather than our hearts we will always be in conflict. But hasn’t it always been that way?
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