Posts Tagged ‘Life’

Thus Giving Me Something To Talk About

October 3, 2018

If you’ll indulge me in a bit of understatement, things have not been pleasant around here lately.  Between remodeling, illness, and frequent intense bouts of “being seven,” suffice it to say that if I were asking for directions to “Wits’ End”, I’d end up being told I passed it some time back.

So that’s why it meant so much to me that L. came up to me today and asked why I hadn’t talked about Algiz in a while.  When I told him it was because I didn’t really have anything to say about him, my son said, “Let me help you with pet time (i.e., the feeding, watering, etc. of Isa and Algiz).  Then you can talk about that!”

And that’s what he did.

They Run, I Suppose

June 5, 2017

Some time back I read that one way to train an elephant to stay in place for the night was to tether it with a heavy chain around its leg when it was a calf.  The calf would strain against the chain at first, but eventually the calf would learn that it couldn’t break the chain, and stop straining against it.  It would learn this lesson so well, in fact, that once the calf had grown into an elephant that could break the chain, it still wouldn’t strain against the chain because it had long ago learned that the chain was “unbreakable.”  In fact, by the time the elephant reached adulthood, the trainers would have actually dispensed with using a chain at all, because a simple rope worked just as well at that point.

I don’t actually know if this is true, or if this is just an elaborate analogy; regardless, I take the point of the anecdote . . . but I still have to wonder something:

What do the trainers do if the elephant ever does figure out that it had been tricked all those years, particularly if the elephants decides to hold a grudge over it?

The Best Time To Branch Out

April 18, 2017

The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now.

– Anonymous

I Keep Telling You That I’m Trying To Write A Philosophical Comedy Here!

April 5, 2017

Do you ever get the feeling that one the co-authors of your life keeps trying to sneak in unnecessary drama and pathos into your story when you’re not looking?

Which Probably Says Good Things About You

July 8, 2016

When I don’t say something about some recent national or world event, sometimes I wonder if anyone ever wonders if I even noticed that it happened.  While I make no special claims of omniscience, thanks to the variety of news sources available to me, odds are good that I probably did notice.  Sometimes I choose not to comment though, particularly if I’m guarding against saying something recklessly impulsive.  (For the record, heartfelt is fine, but I feel there’s more than enough . . . “non-considered” comments floating about cyberspace as it is, thank you very much.)

With that said, one of the heartfelt comments that I noticed particularly caught my eye though.  It was a comment bemoaning that sad state of the word, and marveling that kids are posting about their new Pokémon game as if nothing was out of the ordinary.  Their conclusion, logically enough, was the reason kids were doing this was precisely because this kind of news isn’t out of the ordinary for them; this is the world they grew up in . . . and that conclusion is true as far as it goes.

But the larger truth is that this is the world I grew up in too, so I understand these kids.

If you grew up in a different world than I did, good for you, but the world has been this way for quite some time now, and if you think otherwise, I can only presume that you just didn’t notice.

I Ended Up Tipping Extra . . . Just In Case

June 27, 2016

And now a partial transcript from yesterday’s breakfast outing:

Attractive Server:  “Would you like some more coffee?”

Me:  “You read my mind.”

*Has a fresh realization at just how attractive she is.*

Me:  (Seriously, even a touch sternly.)  “Don’t read too closely.”

So How AM I Doing? (Part Two)

November 6, 2015

But humor based deflections aside, recently I’ve been coping with life . . . poorly at best.  The reason for this isn’t just the perpetual interruptions to my rest, it’s the perpetual interruptions to my everything . . . sleeping, eating, working, resting, exercising, thinking, meditating, and so on and so on.   And those rare times I’m not actually interrupted, the awareness of the possibility of being interrupted can become so maddening that it overshadows everything else.  I continue to do my best to cope and adapt though, because that’s the only viable option for enduring the presence of the Sword of Damocles, and I do know that things will get better . . . someday.

I don’t know how many days, months, or years it’ll take for “someday” to arrive, mind you, but things will get better.   (This is absolutely not a statement of blind faith or a joke, by the way.  My current situation, however difficult, is transitory.)

In any event, there you have it.  You asked how I was doing . . .

. . . and now you know.

Said With Sympathy Because I HAVE Been There

July 3, 2015

When things start to get hectic, be it life or death, or something as mundane as a backup at the checkout line, the first trick is to not let yourself start to feel overwhelmed.  Tuning the situation out doesn’t count though.  You have to pull off the trick, not with a sense of urgency, per se, but with a sense of presence and focus.

Particularly when you’re the checker with a backed up checkout line.

(I probably shouldn’t have tried to pick up any groceries today.)

All’s Well That Ends Well Though

June 11, 2015

Sorry for the vagueness yesterday, but I had taken my son’s dog to the vet for a minor procedure, and was waiting all day for news that all had turned out well.

And while, as the odds heavily, heavily favored, all did turn out well, I found myself with ample opportunity to contemplate that I was the one who had taken my son’s dog to the vet, and if something had gone wrong, then I would have been the one to do my best to explain that to him.  Faced with that, even the smallest chance of something going amiss can seem daunting, but the procedure needed to be done, so it was done, and I was keeping my contemplations to myself.

Hence the vagueness.

My Thoughts On Some Of My Grandmother’s Memories (Part Five)

June 5, 2015

The truly terrible thing is that nobody ever forced that little girl who used to pretend she was typing on a typewriter to tear up her stories.  That was something she did to herself out of a fear easily understood by anyone who has ever tried to share themselves via something they’ve created.

It can be hard to do that, but the effects of not doing it, particularly if that’s what you want to do more than anything else in the world, can be horrible.  You can’t spend your entire life denying who you are and what you want to be and come out anywhere near happy, healthy or whole.

My grandmother taught me that.

The hard way.