Well, I imagine many of you know, the brain works in the strangest ways. I wasn't to sure if I was going to continue on my medical rant, but I guess I am just not finished. I really wanted to go to sleep at a decent hour last night. Got a ton of stuff I must do, and, no excuses, short time line to do it in.
I crawled into my bed, closed my eyes, and suddenly that one organ, with it's own mind, as well as being my mind, kicked into gear. Apparently I have been a real negative Nelly, and somehow I managed to leave out some very positive medical folks, people who have been forgotten by many, people who have been maligned in the media, in public, by their own ...Those are the folks of the B.C. Ambulance Service.
O.K. Granted I have a pretty long history with some of these folks. My honey dedicated his time to this service for 15 years. Well, it wasn't just my honey, our whole family dedicated to the service. Our lives revolved around this, a pager was a part of our lives for the 15 years he belonged to it. I know what is behind this service in small town B.C. and when I hear complaints about the lack of Ambulance personal in tiny little town, I want to slap people, because, it is clear, they think they live somewhere the government actually cares about!!
Folks, B.C. Ambulance attendants in places that do not matter to the government are staffed with ordinary citizens who have made the choice to give up their free time, and, now, their money, to attempt to provide a lifesaving service in a location the Ambulance Service (therefore the government) feels is not financially beneficial to them. Those folks who show up when you make that 911 call, have likely crawled out of their beds, just like your local volunteer fire department, dressed, and jumped into their personal vehicles to rush to the station, start the ambulance, and make their way to your doorstep! They are not paid by our government to sit at the Station waiting for a call. Do you actually think that if they are placed on a schedule to cover ambulance for 4 nights of the week, they receive a pay check for those 4 nights? Nope, if they happen to get a call, they will get paid, but they will also simply get something called pager pay (this did not happen when we were involved) and perhaps speak to one of those you may know, and ask them exactly what that amounts to. Then decide if you would be willing to throw all your plans on the back burner, for the insulting fee they get to dedicate to your community.
Anyhow, times have changed a little since we were a part of this service, and I can't speak about much, as I could possibly be wrong in some matters, I do know that they paid out of their pockets what amounts to a whole whack of cash now, to cover in small town B.C. and , the system is set up that if they really want to make the service a career, they will not stay in a little town, they will go off to where the government and the service wants them, the big cities, where they will actually get a paycheck, and sit at the station. Their Unions will support them, and your little town will sit, hoping another citizen will dish out the cash, and step up to the plate to ensure you have a chance if something horrible happens to you.
But, onto the professionals. In the past few years, we have seen the other side of the B.C. Ambulance service, the side of the patient. It has been a pretty scary education, but, it has shown us, the compassion in the medical system is NOT dead. Each and every time we have had to get into the ambulance, we have been shown care and consideration. The attendants have answered all our questions, ensured we were comfortable, and attempted to relieve our stress. They have taken back roads that they knew where not filled with potholes to ensure my honey's back did not suffer the bumps, they informed us on what was to happen when we arrived at the hospital, they made us laugh, and continued to inquire about his comfort. They, in truth, managed to take what was a horrible situation, and make it bearable.
These folks, are at the bottom of the system. They do not make the big bucks, they do not get the recognition, and they are not allowed to speak to the public or the media, without their big wigs giving permission. They are doing this job, because they love it. Imagine that!!! It takes a very special person to be a part of small town ambulance, a person whose biggest fear is to get a call to an accident or death of family or friends (good chance in small town). A person who will give up their plans for days off, simply because they do not want to leave their community without ambulance coverage. Yet, somehow, they are still the ones who love what they are doing, are definitely not in it for the money, and are still able to actually care about the person in their charge.
So, maybe that is the answer, maybe the almighty dollar, and the need to push as many people as you can in and out the door, to try and get as big of a pay check as possible, is the problem? See, Ambulance attendants don't have that, they may hope they get a second call during their shifts, and then they will get a bigger cheque, but, if they have to dedicate the time needed to one patient, they are still getting paid.
Kudos to the small town B.C. Ambulance folks. I hope and pray that there will always be someone who feels the need to provide the community I live in with this service. I also hope (but it is doubtful) that our government makes needed changes to the lack of this service in communities that desperately need it, and stop putting all the money into the huge centers, leaving those who do not have hospitals close by, holding the bag. It has been over 20 years since we were involved in the service, and it appears they are simply making it more difficult for us to have this, so be very worried, the day you need an ambulance may be the day there is no one there. It is not because those dedicated folks are not out there, it is because our system apparently has a problem with places that do not make the big bucks at year end.
Saturday, 2 February 2013
Friday, 1 February 2013
Non professional 2
Hey, I suppose you have realized, this is something that I have kept bottled up for some time, and it has festered, right? You have no clue!!It is right next to the political chaos that is driving me nuts, in fact, it is a part of politics, so perhaps that is why I am so pi$$ed off.
Now, onto the bit that I hope my nursing friends understand. I hear the stories of overworked Nurses, I understand. I think they have simply found themselves backed into a paperwork corner, under management control, that is trying desperately to save as many pennies as they can for the big year end bonus the top dogs get, and all the bloody bits and pieces all the new departments cut right off the top, before anything actually dribbles down into the care part of things. There are so many policies and procedures that must be written up (not unlike our criminal system) that the actual time that used to be given to patients, is bogged down in the time used to fill out the forms.
If, heaven forbid, you should ever find yourself in the position a loved one has to go into the hospital for any length of time,please, do NOT let them go alone!!! If what they have is not making them totally sick, they will simply get sicker in that system. It is not only the food, it is the total lack of care they will receive. If they are bedridden, they are in trouble. Say what you will, I have seen what happens more than once. You think the lack of care my loved ones received was simply because the staff knew I was there, and did not see the need to provide for this patient, because I was taking care of them? Think again!!! There were other patients in the rooms, people I actually had to clean up urine for, and search the hallways to find a nurse for, although the buzzer was used over and over again! I had to clean the washrooms each time the other patient made his way in, after attempting to call for assistance. It wasn't the patients fault, poor person was frail, and hooked up to various tubes, but he had his pride, and wanted to use the toilet! I could not allow my loved one to walk through a mess when he struggled to the washroom.
I am aware the Health system is in shambles, places are overflowing, and it is not the staff that is at fault, but.....It appears they have become so disillusioned with the state of the mess, they have stopped even trying! One hospital has only a few actual patients, it is now basically a long term care facility, with most beds filled with old age folks, just waiting for the end. The Nursing staff have cared for these people for months, maybe even years, they need a great deal of care, and I, for one, am all for full time care for the aged, but...not in a hospital! So, between paperwork, and caring for long term patients, what is left for the rest? Nothing!!
One thing, I noticed that appears to have disappeared, Practical nurses. These were the folks who did the majority of the personal care, and lifted the work load of the Registered Nurses, so they could actually deal with folks who needed medical care. The RN's did not like having to clean bathrooms, or pick up the adult diapers, or run down the hall because a patient needed assistance to use the washroom, or had their IV tube kinked so it would not stop beeping. They did not like to be interrupted in the middle of their paperwork, that they likely would get sh*t from their boss, if it was not completed. Each time they handed out a pill, there was another paper to fill out.
Besides the fact that my loved one spent 2 nights with a broken back, laying on a stretcher in the casting room, with no washroom in it, and next to the door that leads into the morgue (yes, we were asked if we wanted to wheel the stretcher out, when they had to assess the morgue for a poor soul who had passed), the worst thing was the absolute disregard for the patients needs. Now, not many of us have broken their backs, and I could go into the whole frigging scenario of how disgraceful things were in ER leading up to his being placed in the casting room, but,maybe another time. Suffice to say, he was flat on his back, and unable, and not allowed, to get up. He had to poop!! Hey, happens to be a pretty basic bodily function. The old biddy (yes she had been around the block more than me) told me, she had no clue what to do, except, put some plastic pads under him, and let him do his business. She informed me, he better get used to this. HUH? This was 2012, I assumed we had advanced a little farther than this. BTW, this never went to the point of plastic pads, we waited until the next day, and were given the green light to figure out a way to get to the modern facilities. So...If I had taken this RN's advice, I would have had an extremely upset honey, and I would certainly have been left with a nasty mess, I am sure she would not have had time to clean up!
Now, the one and only positive note for this particular hospital was the custodial and kitchen staff. Upbeat, friendly, and compassionate. The place was spotless, during the day. These folks took pride in their work, and realized they were in a place where people were miserable, sick and often stressed. They were the ones who figured out how to get us into a more comfortable place, they were the ones who actually considered my feelings, and found a lounge chair I could lay down in, instead of a plastic seat.
It is time to bring back pride in nursing, maybe the white caps have disappeared, perhaps it is time to put in place some type of identification, to single an RN from a custodian, or kitchen staff. Something to make it obvious what they are, and who to go to for assistance. Perhaps it is time to change their shifts, make it more humane, and cut their hours so they can actually provide care, instead of watching the clock till their shift is over, buried in paperwork.
It is time for Nurses to become what they are suppose to be, caregivers, allow them to put into use all the education they spent years getting. I think if I were a nurse, I would probably be disillusioned as well, and we all know, I would likely be the most miserable one on the floor. But, something has to change, this is definitely a step backwards in time. Florence Nightingale must be rolling over in her grave!!
Now, onto the bit that I hope my nursing friends understand. I hear the stories of overworked Nurses, I understand. I think they have simply found themselves backed into a paperwork corner, under management control, that is trying desperately to save as many pennies as they can for the big year end bonus the top dogs get, and all the bloody bits and pieces all the new departments cut right off the top, before anything actually dribbles down into the care part of things. There are so many policies and procedures that must be written up (not unlike our criminal system) that the actual time that used to be given to patients, is bogged down in the time used to fill out the forms.
If, heaven forbid, you should ever find yourself in the position a loved one has to go into the hospital for any length of time,please, do NOT let them go alone!!! If what they have is not making them totally sick, they will simply get sicker in that system. It is not only the food, it is the total lack of care they will receive. If they are bedridden, they are in trouble. Say what you will, I have seen what happens more than once. You think the lack of care my loved ones received was simply because the staff knew I was there, and did not see the need to provide for this patient, because I was taking care of them? Think again!!! There were other patients in the rooms, people I actually had to clean up urine for, and search the hallways to find a nurse for, although the buzzer was used over and over again! I had to clean the washrooms each time the other patient made his way in, after attempting to call for assistance. It wasn't the patients fault, poor person was frail, and hooked up to various tubes, but he had his pride, and wanted to use the toilet! I could not allow my loved one to walk through a mess when he struggled to the washroom.
I am aware the Health system is in shambles, places are overflowing, and it is not the staff that is at fault, but.....It appears they have become so disillusioned with the state of the mess, they have stopped even trying! One hospital has only a few actual patients, it is now basically a long term care facility, with most beds filled with old age folks, just waiting for the end. The Nursing staff have cared for these people for months, maybe even years, they need a great deal of care, and I, for one, am all for full time care for the aged, but...not in a hospital! So, between paperwork, and caring for long term patients, what is left for the rest? Nothing!!
One thing, I noticed that appears to have disappeared, Practical nurses. These were the folks who did the majority of the personal care, and lifted the work load of the Registered Nurses, so they could actually deal with folks who needed medical care. The RN's did not like having to clean bathrooms, or pick up the adult diapers, or run down the hall because a patient needed assistance to use the washroom, or had their IV tube kinked so it would not stop beeping. They did not like to be interrupted in the middle of their paperwork, that they likely would get sh*t from their boss, if it was not completed. Each time they handed out a pill, there was another paper to fill out.
Besides the fact that my loved one spent 2 nights with a broken back, laying on a stretcher in the casting room, with no washroom in it, and next to the door that leads into the morgue (yes, we were asked if we wanted to wheel the stretcher out, when they had to assess the morgue for a poor soul who had passed), the worst thing was the absolute disregard for the patients needs. Now, not many of us have broken their backs, and I could go into the whole frigging scenario of how disgraceful things were in ER leading up to his being placed in the casting room, but,maybe another time. Suffice to say, he was flat on his back, and unable, and not allowed, to get up. He had to poop!! Hey, happens to be a pretty basic bodily function. The old biddy (yes she had been around the block more than me) told me, she had no clue what to do, except, put some plastic pads under him, and let him do his business. She informed me, he better get used to this. HUH? This was 2012, I assumed we had advanced a little farther than this. BTW, this never went to the point of plastic pads, we waited until the next day, and were given the green light to figure out a way to get to the modern facilities. So...If I had taken this RN's advice, I would have had an extremely upset honey, and I would certainly have been left with a nasty mess, I am sure she would not have had time to clean up!
Now, the one and only positive note for this particular hospital was the custodial and kitchen staff. Upbeat, friendly, and compassionate. The place was spotless, during the day. These folks took pride in their work, and realized they were in a place where people were miserable, sick and often stressed. They were the ones who figured out how to get us into a more comfortable place, they were the ones who actually considered my feelings, and found a lounge chair I could lay down in, instead of a plastic seat.
It is time to bring back pride in nursing, maybe the white caps have disappeared, perhaps it is time to put in place some type of identification, to single an RN from a custodian, or kitchen staff. Something to make it obvious what they are, and who to go to for assistance. Perhaps it is time to change their shifts, make it more humane, and cut their hours so they can actually provide care, instead of watching the clock till their shift is over, buried in paperwork.
It is time for Nurses to become what they are suppose to be, caregivers, allow them to put into use all the education they spent years getting. I think if I were a nurse, I would probably be disillusioned as well, and we all know, I would likely be the most miserable one on the floor. But, something has to change, this is definitely a step backwards in time. Florence Nightingale must be rolling over in her grave!!
Thursday, 31 January 2013
Medical Nonprofessionals
I know, I have ranted along these lines before. However, recent events in my life have made me decide, once is not near enough! I am aware that the last time, some readers felt inclined to argue my take on things. Hey, it's a free world, but....consider the fact, you may be the lucky person who gets all the positive results from the medical system in our Province, and our country, I, however, have seen the disgusting, disgraceful, inconsiderate, and totally non-professional side of things, one too many times!!!
For awhile, I thought maybe the lack of care and consideration when using the medical health care system, was simply because we lived in the boonies. Maybe our health care professionals were so unhappy with the weather, and hated their lives, they took it out on the patients.I have had my eyes opened, this is not the case!
I have friends in the nursing profession, and know damn well, these people joined that profession at a time when they felt pride, and the need to offer care and assistance to people. They went into this career because they had compassion. Well, many of these friends have watched their profession sink into the toilet. Overworking, under-staffing, Unions calling the shots, floors closed, jobs contracted out, filth, lack of proper supplies, and the big one, over management, have dragged a wonderful profession into the dark ages.
Who remembers the Doctor who actually knew their patients? The day when you had a file, which this person had on their desk when you arrived, one that they had actually taken time to read? Now we are like cattle, we sit and wait, appointments are without fail hours behind, you are asked what is your problem..then you get a couple of minutes while they check, and out the door you go, either with a prescription or some other paper that you must follow up on. Gone are the days when your blood pressure is taken, you are weighed, and various other things that contribute to your health are addressed. Gone are the days when they note that you are behind with certain tests. No, the issue is, sitting there in the lobby, are a huge bunch of other people waiting for their 15 minutes. Something has gone wrong, the rush is on, and because the system pays on the numbers, no one gets enough time to actually get checked, any more. People are dying because of the push!!
Now, in the past 9 years I have been to the Doctor twice!! Yep, 56 years old, should be going on in and getting a regular medical check, to ensure I don't have any of the problems that will stop me from living a full life. Hah!! First, the two appointments I did have, took me weeks to get. One required an MRI in another location, which I had to wait almost 3 months for. I traveled off there on my own dime, had the procedure, came home, and waited..What was I waiting for???Stupid me. I actually thought that the results would be sent to the Doctor, who would look at them, and then call me in to discuss things. I say stupid me,because that is no longer the way things work. After a month, I called the hospital only to be informed it was my responsibility to follow up, I had to call and make an appointment to see if the Doctor had the results. O.K. "lets do that" says I ..."Oh, the Doctor is on holidays for a month. Would you like to book when he gets back?" Not frigging likely!!!!WTF!!! Hey, maybe my bones are totally screwed up, maybe my knee will suddenly lock forever, and I will end up walking on one. But, if this "professional" got results that required further care, and did not see fit to have his high paid receptionist call me to go in , I obviously do not matter, and therefore I don't want to bother them!! Yep, that is my take. I must be a bother, how many procedure results are stacked up in a file, that these people can't take a moment to call the person attached to them?
Now, as far as I know, whatever results came from my MRI, they are not life threatening. I will survive. But...lets look at some others I have known (note the known). Wonderful,be loved friends, who had the misfortune to have cancer invade their lives. Yes, that dreaded word, the word that kills. I for one absolutely despise the ads on TV that claim my province has done so wonderfully in the cure of this killer. Oh, the Health care system is fighting this, and we are so lucky to live in this province, if we are unlucky enough to be kicked in the gut with the diagnosis. BULL SH*T!!!
I will tell you, unless you are extremely lucky to get a Doctor off the bat, who is there each and every time you have to go in, and one who actually learns your name, and has compassion, you are screwed!!!In my world, two out of 6 of my friends who went through the horror, is a survivor!!Yep, not great odds at all. The reason, because their health care providers didn't give a damn. Harsh, you say, well, it is true. Those procedure results I spoke of earlier, those were just stacked in files, left for weeks, and even months. Treatments were delayed, time and time again. Doctors went on holidays, forgetting that someones life was on the line in their stack of files. Friends were sent for treatment, only to be turned away, because paperwork did not follow, pushing things back weeks again.
There are signs placed at hospital reception areas, warning patients that they are not allowed to raise their voices, they will be removed if they cause a scene and upset the receptionist. HELLLOOOO..In other words, they are not sorry your life is on the line, they don't care if your papers were misplaced, and your tumor has grown far too big to be dealt with now, for goodness sake, do not raise your voice. Too bad, guess you can't get better, guess you are hooped because we were too busy with the next person to give you a chance!
I could understand if there was no way to beat this disease, but there are treatments that can save lives. If a Doctor would simply take the time to listen, take the time to forget about Suzy BooHoo who shows up every single week with another frigging complaint, and give the 15 minutes that one uses up wasting time, to ensure every procedure and every piece of paper that could possibly save the person with a killer inside them, is in order,maybe I would still have my friends.
I can see I have not even skimmed the surface of this rant. I have so very much more inside to tell you. I have seen things that would make you shake your heads, and I just have to share them. Today, I have spoke of the sad state of the "Line Doctors" trying to tick as many patients off each day, to ensure they get a really nice chunk of cash from our medical Tax dollars. Tomorrow I will describe the pleasures of a hospital stay.
For awhile, I thought maybe the lack of care and consideration when using the medical health care system, was simply because we lived in the boonies. Maybe our health care professionals were so unhappy with the weather, and hated their lives, they took it out on the patients.I have had my eyes opened, this is not the case!
I have friends in the nursing profession, and know damn well, these people joined that profession at a time when they felt pride, and the need to offer care and assistance to people. They went into this career because they had compassion. Well, many of these friends have watched their profession sink into the toilet. Overworking, under-staffing, Unions calling the shots, floors closed, jobs contracted out, filth, lack of proper supplies, and the big one, over management, have dragged a wonderful profession into the dark ages.
Who remembers the Doctor who actually knew their patients? The day when you had a file, which this person had on their desk when you arrived, one that they had actually taken time to read? Now we are like cattle, we sit and wait, appointments are without fail hours behind, you are asked what is your problem..then you get a couple of minutes while they check, and out the door you go, either with a prescription or some other paper that you must follow up on. Gone are the days when your blood pressure is taken, you are weighed, and various other things that contribute to your health are addressed. Gone are the days when they note that you are behind with certain tests. No, the issue is, sitting there in the lobby, are a huge bunch of other people waiting for their 15 minutes. Something has gone wrong, the rush is on, and because the system pays on the numbers, no one gets enough time to actually get checked, any more. People are dying because of the push!!
Now, in the past 9 years I have been to the Doctor twice!! Yep, 56 years old, should be going on in and getting a regular medical check, to ensure I don't have any of the problems that will stop me from living a full life. Hah!! First, the two appointments I did have, took me weeks to get. One required an MRI in another location, which I had to wait almost 3 months for. I traveled off there on my own dime, had the procedure, came home, and waited..What was I waiting for???Stupid me. I actually thought that the results would be sent to the Doctor, who would look at them, and then call me in to discuss things. I say stupid me,because that is no longer the way things work. After a month, I called the hospital only to be informed it was my responsibility to follow up, I had to call and make an appointment to see if the Doctor had the results. O.K. "lets do that" says I ..."Oh, the Doctor is on holidays for a month. Would you like to book when he gets back?" Not frigging likely!!!!WTF!!! Hey, maybe my bones are totally screwed up, maybe my knee will suddenly lock forever, and I will end up walking on one. But, if this "professional" got results that required further care, and did not see fit to have his high paid receptionist call me to go in , I obviously do not matter, and therefore I don't want to bother them!! Yep, that is my take. I must be a bother, how many procedure results are stacked up in a file, that these people can't take a moment to call the person attached to them?
Now, as far as I know, whatever results came from my MRI, they are not life threatening. I will survive. But...lets look at some others I have known (note the known). Wonderful,be loved friends, who had the misfortune to have cancer invade their lives. Yes, that dreaded word, the word that kills. I for one absolutely despise the ads on TV that claim my province has done so wonderfully in the cure of this killer. Oh, the Health care system is fighting this, and we are so lucky to live in this province, if we are unlucky enough to be kicked in the gut with the diagnosis. BULL SH*T!!!
I will tell you, unless you are extremely lucky to get a Doctor off the bat, who is there each and every time you have to go in, and one who actually learns your name, and has compassion, you are screwed!!!In my world, two out of 6 of my friends who went through the horror, is a survivor!!Yep, not great odds at all. The reason, because their health care providers didn't give a damn. Harsh, you say, well, it is true. Those procedure results I spoke of earlier, those were just stacked in files, left for weeks, and even months. Treatments were delayed, time and time again. Doctors went on holidays, forgetting that someones life was on the line in their stack of files. Friends were sent for treatment, only to be turned away, because paperwork did not follow, pushing things back weeks again.
There are signs placed at hospital reception areas, warning patients that they are not allowed to raise their voices, they will be removed if they cause a scene and upset the receptionist. HELLLOOOO..In other words, they are not sorry your life is on the line, they don't care if your papers were misplaced, and your tumor has grown far too big to be dealt with now, for goodness sake, do not raise your voice. Too bad, guess you can't get better, guess you are hooped because we were too busy with the next person to give you a chance!
I could understand if there was no way to beat this disease, but there are treatments that can save lives. If a Doctor would simply take the time to listen, take the time to forget about Suzy BooHoo who shows up every single week with another frigging complaint, and give the 15 minutes that one uses up wasting time, to ensure every procedure and every piece of paper that could possibly save the person with a killer inside them, is in order,maybe I would still have my friends.
I can see I have not even skimmed the surface of this rant. I have so very much more inside to tell you. I have seen things that would make you shake your heads, and I just have to share them. Today, I have spoke of the sad state of the "Line Doctors" trying to tick as many patients off each day, to ensure they get a really nice chunk of cash from our medical Tax dollars. Tomorrow I will describe the pleasures of a hospital stay.
Wednesday, 30 January 2013
Crap Loads
So, guess my big plans for not wasting yet another day, have gone down the toilet. Why? Because I arrived home totally exhausted.
No, I did not have an overwhelming work load, yes, I got enough sleep, I am just very, very tired of crap. I have stated before, I have my own load of crap that I carry around. My life is definitely not a bed of roses. Things occur in all our personal lives that weigh heavy throughout our days. I have gone into work, often, worried about family, friends, bills, income tax, etc etc. It is not easy. Many mornings I wake up, thinking I have too much on my mind, and not enough left to even think about work, but....I have to put my big girl panties on (yes, they ARE big) and shove that stuff off to the side for 7-8 hours, while I do what I have to, in order to get a pay cheque.
That pay cheque is a personal choice. Hey, I could struggle along, going without extra stuff, buying a few less gifts, less food, maybe pay one less bill, and not work. I do, however, have my sweetie, who works hard, and provides a pretty healthy income. But, I decided that I would find a job, and thought, along with some extra spending money, it would save my sanity, perhaps I was wrong. I am beginning to wonder if it would be better for my sanity to stay home, and become Betty frigging Crocker!!
Now, I don't claim others may have a bigger load of personal crap they have to carry about than mine, there are some. There are, however others, who seem to think their load is the heaviest, and the only one that is far too big to stay shoved off to the side. These loads must be thrown out for the whole world to endure. Everyone must hold this load in their own little paws, if only for an instant. I don't want to touch other people's loads of crap.
Life is NOT fair. This is something we are taught from childhood, and if we grow up, and forget, we are lost. Yes, I moan steady. I am jealous of those who float through life, seemingly on golden feathers, while I rocket about on a lead ball, bashing against walls on a constant basis. Like many of those I know, I will step on the golden feather and take a cleansing breath, only to find I have fallen to the ground with the lead ball smashing the back of my head, yet again. It is just my wake up call to join the real world. One that has something crappy waiting in the wings to splatter me and clutter up the nice clean space left from the last pile of crap.
We find ourselves good friends, who will help with the crap loads. They will listen to our tales of woe, and offer advice, or assistance. We know our friends well enough to see when their loads are getting heavy, and we, in turn offer help. Friends and family often know what crap loads are following folks about, when the rest of the world is oblivious. That is the way it is suppose to be.
When the crap loads of others start splattering on the rest of the world, shit happens. Things go out of whack, people are no longer able to keep their crap shoved off to the side, they run out of room. The crap load of the other person drags their problems to the front, and they start feeling the weight. To hear a constant barrage of issues from one person, makes one lose control over their own, and then they have to make their way through the work day, struggling with stuff they thought they had under lock and key.
To burden someone with problems other than their own is exhausting. People are not meant to carry the weight of the world, they are given loads that belong to them. They learn to deal with a certain amount, and they are able to manage their jobs, but when the problems of another are added, work suffers, patience suffers, co-workers suffer, and employers suffer.
It is time to remember how unfair life is. Look about, there is always going to be someone far worse off then yourself, but generally that person has learned to haul their wheelbarrow full of crap all alone, or with friends and family. Don't forget, that happy smiling co-worker might have a shit load of crap shoved off to the side, fighting to get out before the allotted time. For goodness sake, grab hold of your crap and control that sh*t. Work days only last so long, and then you can let it spew forth, when you have a good friend ready to take some of your crap, lightening the load.
Crap is personal, it's called crap because that is what it is, something that belongs inside of you. Until you find a way to turn that crap into something that doesn't smell to high heaven when it gets out into the open..leave it at home, or shoved off to the side.
I really want to be able to come home, and get my own crap smelling a little better, instead of coming home covered in sh*t that does not belong to me! So, I am hoping that all the crap loads are shoved off to the side tomorrow, and everyone is wearing their big girl panties....and big boy ones (O.K,. shorts) and we all put on our tiny little smiley work faces, because our wages include the rent for crap load storage space, and spend a happy, happy, happy day!I really need to have the energy to clean my damn house!!!
No, I did not have an overwhelming work load, yes, I got enough sleep, I am just very, very tired of crap. I have stated before, I have my own load of crap that I carry around. My life is definitely not a bed of roses. Things occur in all our personal lives that weigh heavy throughout our days. I have gone into work, often, worried about family, friends, bills, income tax, etc etc. It is not easy. Many mornings I wake up, thinking I have too much on my mind, and not enough left to even think about work, but....I have to put my big girl panties on (yes, they ARE big) and shove that stuff off to the side for 7-8 hours, while I do what I have to, in order to get a pay cheque.
That pay cheque is a personal choice. Hey, I could struggle along, going without extra stuff, buying a few less gifts, less food, maybe pay one less bill, and not work. I do, however, have my sweetie, who works hard, and provides a pretty healthy income. But, I decided that I would find a job, and thought, along with some extra spending money, it would save my sanity, perhaps I was wrong. I am beginning to wonder if it would be better for my sanity to stay home, and become Betty frigging Crocker!!
Now, I don't claim others may have a bigger load of personal crap they have to carry about than mine, there are some. There are, however others, who seem to think their load is the heaviest, and the only one that is far too big to stay shoved off to the side. These loads must be thrown out for the whole world to endure. Everyone must hold this load in their own little paws, if only for an instant. I don't want to touch other people's loads of crap.
Life is NOT fair. This is something we are taught from childhood, and if we grow up, and forget, we are lost. Yes, I moan steady. I am jealous of those who float through life, seemingly on golden feathers, while I rocket about on a lead ball, bashing against walls on a constant basis. Like many of those I know, I will step on the golden feather and take a cleansing breath, only to find I have fallen to the ground with the lead ball smashing the back of my head, yet again. It is just my wake up call to join the real world. One that has something crappy waiting in the wings to splatter me and clutter up the nice clean space left from the last pile of crap.
We find ourselves good friends, who will help with the crap loads. They will listen to our tales of woe, and offer advice, or assistance. We know our friends well enough to see when their loads are getting heavy, and we, in turn offer help. Friends and family often know what crap loads are following folks about, when the rest of the world is oblivious. That is the way it is suppose to be.
When the crap loads of others start splattering on the rest of the world, shit happens. Things go out of whack, people are no longer able to keep their crap shoved off to the side, they run out of room. The crap load of the other person drags their problems to the front, and they start feeling the weight. To hear a constant barrage of issues from one person, makes one lose control over their own, and then they have to make their way through the work day, struggling with stuff they thought they had under lock and key.
To burden someone with problems other than their own is exhausting. People are not meant to carry the weight of the world, they are given loads that belong to them. They learn to deal with a certain amount, and they are able to manage their jobs, but when the problems of another are added, work suffers, patience suffers, co-workers suffer, and employers suffer.
It is time to remember how unfair life is. Look about, there is always going to be someone far worse off then yourself, but generally that person has learned to haul their wheelbarrow full of crap all alone, or with friends and family. Don't forget, that happy smiling co-worker might have a shit load of crap shoved off to the side, fighting to get out before the allotted time. For goodness sake, grab hold of your crap and control that sh*t. Work days only last so long, and then you can let it spew forth, when you have a good friend ready to take some of your crap, lightening the load.
Crap is personal, it's called crap because that is what it is, something that belongs inside of you. Until you find a way to turn that crap into something that doesn't smell to high heaven when it gets out into the open..leave it at home, or shoved off to the side.
I really want to be able to come home, and get my own crap smelling a little better, instead of coming home covered in sh*t that does not belong to me! So, I am hoping that all the crap loads are shoved off to the side tomorrow, and everyone is wearing their big girl panties....and big boy ones (O.K,. shorts) and we all put on our tiny little smiley work faces, because our wages include the rent for crap load storage space, and spend a happy, happy, happy day!I really need to have the energy to clean my damn house!!!
Tuesday, 29 January 2013
Wasted Days
Well....I have hit the big times!!! I had comments from someone I do not know. O.K. maybe I DO know them, but they are very mysterious, so I am just going to pretend this is someone who randomly arrived at my blog (not through Kitchen sex utensils, so they claim) and has actually taken the time to read my rantings. This is thrilling! I understand my friends feeling obligated to pop in, but this person did so on their own accord.
When you live in such a tiny little world as I do, with no where to go, that even remotely resembles a social scene. When a big night is a bottle of wine, and your hubby and grown children spending an hour in the hot tub, or....no wine, and hubby and Grandchildren in the tub, the knowledge that somewhere out there, maybe someplace warm and exotic, a total stranger has commented on my blog, is exciting!
So...LB whoever you are, and wherever you are (I hope it is someplace far more exciting than the Peace) thank you so much for adding a tiny drop of happiness in my world.
Now, onto what is bashing about in between my ears today. I already realize that, about 9 tonight, as I am getting ready for bed, I will once again get hit by the fact that I did not accomplish diddly. Oh, I worked, but, I have not done a damn thing since I walked in the door at home.
It was one of those days the urge to waste hit me early. I decided before leaving work that I was going to take supper home. Cripes, I didn't even make supper!! Oh, well, thank goodness, no dirty dishes...Really, I am getting to an age that I really can't afford to waste time. Yes, I understand, we all need time to relax, but wasted days, are not even relaxing days. They are days that you wake up, climb on the Hamster wheel, and spin about managing what is necessary , not even living the moment, the motions are habit, you manage to keep your eyes open, and appear to function, but, all along, you just want to survive, until you can return to your own little space.
It's not like your personal space is terribly interesting, nothing wonderful is going on, no feature movie, no wonderful cake awaits your arrival. Why, then, do I spend the whole work day, just craving nothing? I am admitting, I have done nothing!! Came home, closed the door on temperatures that are hovering close to freezing Hell over, pulled my fuzzy housecoat on, over my clothes, swallowed down supper (as quickly as I could, so I didn't have to share too much with the dog) , turned on the TV to some absolutely anal show about Property Virgins, and now I sit, attempting to explain to you, why I did this.
Cripes, I can't explain it!! I'm not overly tired, I'm not sick, I'm not even angry, I'm just blah and hate myself!! I think I must waste about 40 days a year, at least. It's not like I don't have stuff to do, I have laundry, I have floors to clean, toilets to clean..Hummm...perhaps I am explaining it to myself right now? I think that is all it took, just putting down the words to what I just didn't want to do.
I suppose this is life. Unless I win the lottery, these nothing jobs will continue to be waiting for me. I doubt very much, today will be the last "wasted day". I will, at some point (maybe not tomorrow) have to pull up my socks, and do something. If only I could find that magic potion, a quick drink, and then suddenly all those crappy cleaning jobs are quickly accomplished, allowing me to arrive home, and do exactly what I am doing now (nothing) without the nagging guilt.
How on earth did I get to a point in life where cleaning has become a guilty burden? Those who have known me for years remember entering my home, and seeing a kitchen sink full of dirty dishes, mounds of laundry laying in wait by the wash machine, bathtub rings that you could count the years by, a toilet with a kids potty sitting on the seat. Those were the days when I was young, and should have been full of energy. I should have been following the kids around with Lysol wipes, and clorox. I did attempt to clean, back then I probably spent more energy hollering about how much I wished I could go from room to room cleaning, and be able to go back to the beginning to see the result of my work, (never, ever happened) then I now have throughout the day.
But, the sad truth, now is, I can't place the blame for an untidy home on anyone but myself and the dog. Oh, that dog!!! He must be as messy as 3 kids!!!O.K. he doesn't leave a toilet bowl ring, but he does drink out of it, and dribbles all over the place. He seems to prefer taking any food (pizza, cookie, bone) onto the nice new shaggy area rug, to eat. I stand there and watch the bugger drop it onto the grey shag, over and over again. He plops himself on the nice cloth couch, which I purchased mainly because it appeared conducive to his fur colour (it is hidden pretty well, but, it attaches itself to any clothing that comes in contact), he will sit and drool puddles while watching me eat toast and butter, which of course, ends up eaten on the carpet (by the dog, not me).
If he is not eating, he is apparently in desperate need of attention, which means he must drag out all of his toys (yes, he has far too many of these). A stranger coming to my door would think I had children, as now dogs don't just have a tennis ball, they have alligators, and snakes, and chickens, etc etc. These toys are coated in slobber, and dropped all over my floors.
So, in reality, deep down inside, I must not want a clean home. Therefore, my days are not actually wasted, right? If the house was spotless, I would not have anything to bitch about, the dog would not hear the lovely sound of my voice, and I would simply walk in the door each and every day (with takeout supper) pull on my fuzzy housecoat, and do absolutely nothing......HOLA...Now I have almost convinced myself I should be grateful for housework?????
When you live in such a tiny little world as I do, with no where to go, that even remotely resembles a social scene. When a big night is a bottle of wine, and your hubby and grown children spending an hour in the hot tub, or....no wine, and hubby and Grandchildren in the tub, the knowledge that somewhere out there, maybe someplace warm and exotic, a total stranger has commented on my blog, is exciting!
So...LB whoever you are, and wherever you are (I hope it is someplace far more exciting than the Peace) thank you so much for adding a tiny drop of happiness in my world.
Now, onto what is bashing about in between my ears today. I already realize that, about 9 tonight, as I am getting ready for bed, I will once again get hit by the fact that I did not accomplish diddly. Oh, I worked, but, I have not done a damn thing since I walked in the door at home.
It was one of those days the urge to waste hit me early. I decided before leaving work that I was going to take supper home. Cripes, I didn't even make supper!! Oh, well, thank goodness, no dirty dishes...Really, I am getting to an age that I really can't afford to waste time. Yes, I understand, we all need time to relax, but wasted days, are not even relaxing days. They are days that you wake up, climb on the Hamster wheel, and spin about managing what is necessary , not even living the moment, the motions are habit, you manage to keep your eyes open, and appear to function, but, all along, you just want to survive, until you can return to your own little space.
It's not like your personal space is terribly interesting, nothing wonderful is going on, no feature movie, no wonderful cake awaits your arrival. Why, then, do I spend the whole work day, just craving nothing? I am admitting, I have done nothing!! Came home, closed the door on temperatures that are hovering close to freezing Hell over, pulled my fuzzy housecoat on, over my clothes, swallowed down supper (as quickly as I could, so I didn't have to share too much with the dog) , turned on the TV to some absolutely anal show about Property Virgins, and now I sit, attempting to explain to you, why I did this.
Cripes, I can't explain it!! I'm not overly tired, I'm not sick, I'm not even angry, I'm just blah and hate myself!! I think I must waste about 40 days a year, at least. It's not like I don't have stuff to do, I have laundry, I have floors to clean, toilets to clean..Hummm...perhaps I am explaining it to myself right now? I think that is all it took, just putting down the words to what I just didn't want to do.
I suppose this is life. Unless I win the lottery, these nothing jobs will continue to be waiting for me. I doubt very much, today will be the last "wasted day". I will, at some point (maybe not tomorrow) have to pull up my socks, and do something. If only I could find that magic potion, a quick drink, and then suddenly all those crappy cleaning jobs are quickly accomplished, allowing me to arrive home, and do exactly what I am doing now (nothing) without the nagging guilt.
How on earth did I get to a point in life where cleaning has become a guilty burden? Those who have known me for years remember entering my home, and seeing a kitchen sink full of dirty dishes, mounds of laundry laying in wait by the wash machine, bathtub rings that you could count the years by, a toilet with a kids potty sitting on the seat. Those were the days when I was young, and should have been full of energy. I should have been following the kids around with Lysol wipes, and clorox. I did attempt to clean, back then I probably spent more energy hollering about how much I wished I could go from room to room cleaning, and be able to go back to the beginning to see the result of my work, (never, ever happened) then I now have throughout the day.
But, the sad truth, now is, I can't place the blame for an untidy home on anyone but myself and the dog. Oh, that dog!!! He must be as messy as 3 kids!!!O.K. he doesn't leave a toilet bowl ring, but he does drink out of it, and dribbles all over the place. He seems to prefer taking any food (pizza, cookie, bone) onto the nice new shaggy area rug, to eat. I stand there and watch the bugger drop it onto the grey shag, over and over again. He plops himself on the nice cloth couch, which I purchased mainly because it appeared conducive to his fur colour (it is hidden pretty well, but, it attaches itself to any clothing that comes in contact), he will sit and drool puddles while watching me eat toast and butter, which of course, ends up eaten on the carpet (by the dog, not me).
If he is not eating, he is apparently in desperate need of attention, which means he must drag out all of his toys (yes, he has far too many of these). A stranger coming to my door would think I had children, as now dogs don't just have a tennis ball, they have alligators, and snakes, and chickens, etc etc. These toys are coated in slobber, and dropped all over my floors.
So, in reality, deep down inside, I must not want a clean home. Therefore, my days are not actually wasted, right? If the house was spotless, I would not have anything to bitch about, the dog would not hear the lovely sound of my voice, and I would simply walk in the door each and every day (with takeout supper) pull on my fuzzy housecoat, and do absolutely nothing......HOLA...Now I have almost convinced myself I should be grateful for housework?????
Thursday, 17 January 2013
The Tree-Lined Path
I realize I have entered this area before, all the aches and pains that begin to surface, pretty much as you near the 40 year bracket. Then they start to rapidly increase, snowballing each decade, no each minute after that.
I have spent more than one conversation with my school chums, crying about my ouches, and hearing about theirs, this is one thing you do not try and one up a person on. HOLA...I am very happy that my body has not screamed quite as loudly at me, as those of some friends, and I don't ever want it to!
Oh, grey hair, well, if it really offends a "mature" person, it is easily taken care of. The wrinkles, well....I hear Botox can fix that, if it really becomes too big of a burden to carry, and you have the extra cash lying about, and no fear of having your face frozen(like your Mother used to warn you about).
That is all stuff you are aware that will arrive as you settle into the 1/2 decade mark. The stuff that they have neglected to warn you about, is far worse than those pains that make you go "Ow". I am going to go into the absolute worse part about growing older, the real agony, beyond that of sore body parts.
The most difficult part of being a middle aged person, and at 56, I consider myself the "new" middle age, is the loss. Not the loss of movement, the loss of bladder control, the loss of muscle, the loss of hair, but the loss of people.
I became an "orphan" years after I became a Grandmother. Strange, but I assume it certainly did not affect me, like it would a child, but, it did indeed affect me. The day I lost my last parent, was the day I became a Grown up. I realized that I was the oldest now, I may have been the oldest sibling, but on that day, I no longer had someone who was more adult than myself in my family. I actually felt that weight. I was now the oldest parent in my own family. I was now the one who would be expected to hold the most advice, the most experience, I would be the one who was suppose to have answers, and I had no one else to go to.
Now, don't think, growing up, I did not see the loss of people, I lost friends, and I lost family. I can remember how I felt with each one of them. I did my share of crying, and asking "why". But, my own personal circle was safe and secure, until I turned 26. That was when I lost my Mother, and I have written about this often. It was a terrible blow. I was the only one of my friends who no longer had a Mom. I was jealous of all the others, I felt all alone, and I hated it when my friends would speak about things their Mom's did, or how their Mom would watch their kids, and how they were going to visit their Mom. That just never seemed fair to me.
But, suddenly it seemed my friends were losing their Mothers and Fathers. What the heck was happening? It wasn't right, we were far too young to lose parents, mine was just a horrible mistake, why are all these other parents passing away? See...getting old is a very subtle process. You become a mother yourself, but, you keep thinking you will always be the second generation mother. Your Mom will be the Grandmother, and you will simply remain a Mom. Then suddenly your children grow up, and Bam! you are a Grandmother, but, you figure you are far too young to be Grandmother, so somehow, you fall into the false sense that you are unique, you will have that family with Great Grandparents, and Great Great Grandparents, and so on and so on...
Surprise!! Not the way it works. No matter how tight you squeeze your eyes, mortality will begin its slow crawl towards you. If you are "lucky" it doesn't aim directly at you. It appears to start randomly. You say things like "OMG, they were so young" , or "what a shock!" But in time, you realize it is happening too often. Oh, you never get used to it. When friends start to leave, without warning, Cancer, Heart Attacks, it is beyond the accident, it is mortality, giving you the heads up. You are reaching the tree lined path of life.
This path is the one you have been traveling the potholes to get to. It is far less hectic, the traffic has slowed, and is taking time to look at the scenery. You have a feeling of contentment, no urge to accumulate unnecessary things, you have arrived at the greatest place you could imagine. You have raised your children, you have kept those golden friends, you have a roof over your head, and food in your stomach. You have memories that can make you smile, when you need one. Oh, you have those other memories that can bring a tear, but even those will make you feel warm. You can stop and take a look around, and if you are like me, you will see that you have survived that highway. You have scars, but you have a great feeling of accomplishment. You may not have won awards, or become incredibly wealthy, or saved a life, or invented the wheel, but, you did something, and that was to put your mark on someone else. Seldom does a human being live, without touching another.
I HATE getting old. I HATE being a Grown up. I do, at times, wonder how soon it will be my turn to be the one that others say "what a shock". I try very hard not to dwell on that, but each time I hear of one who has touched my life, passing, it makes me think. I don't want to make others cry, I don't want to leave those who mourn. I don't want to think that I will someday be to blame for heartache.But when I look at the scenery all my tree-lined path, I know that one day, I will be the cause of grief.
. I had a friend ask what I thought our lives meant, who we are. Well, I guess we are the Grown ups, we are those who have reached the pathway. The place we can stop and look behind us, and see all those we touched, and those who we left a mark on. That friend, like me, has been very lucky, they have touched others and will never be forgotten. They have left memories, with friends and family, just like all those they have loved, and lost. Do we ask what our lost loved ones lives meant? Do we ask who they were? No, we realize they were gifts to us, they touched us, and left their marks, and those gifts will remain with us, until we reach the end of the path.
Rest in Peace, Jack
I have spent more than one conversation with my school chums, crying about my ouches, and hearing about theirs, this is one thing you do not try and one up a person on. HOLA...I am very happy that my body has not screamed quite as loudly at me, as those of some friends, and I don't ever want it to!
Oh, grey hair, well, if it really offends a "mature" person, it is easily taken care of. The wrinkles, well....I hear Botox can fix that, if it really becomes too big of a burden to carry, and you have the extra cash lying about, and no fear of having your face frozen(like your Mother used to warn you about).
That is all stuff you are aware that will arrive as you settle into the 1/2 decade mark. The stuff that they have neglected to warn you about, is far worse than those pains that make you go "Ow". I am going to go into the absolute worse part about growing older, the real agony, beyond that of sore body parts.
The most difficult part of being a middle aged person, and at 56, I consider myself the "new" middle age, is the loss. Not the loss of movement, the loss of bladder control, the loss of muscle, the loss of hair, but the loss of people.
I became an "orphan" years after I became a Grandmother. Strange, but I assume it certainly did not affect me, like it would a child, but, it did indeed affect me. The day I lost my last parent, was the day I became a Grown up. I realized that I was the oldest now, I may have been the oldest sibling, but on that day, I no longer had someone who was more adult than myself in my family. I actually felt that weight. I was now the oldest parent in my own family. I was now the one who would be expected to hold the most advice, the most experience, I would be the one who was suppose to have answers, and I had no one else to go to.
Now, don't think, growing up, I did not see the loss of people, I lost friends, and I lost family. I can remember how I felt with each one of them. I did my share of crying, and asking "why". But, my own personal circle was safe and secure, until I turned 26. That was when I lost my Mother, and I have written about this often. It was a terrible blow. I was the only one of my friends who no longer had a Mom. I was jealous of all the others, I felt all alone, and I hated it when my friends would speak about things their Mom's did, or how their Mom would watch their kids, and how they were going to visit their Mom. That just never seemed fair to me.
But, suddenly it seemed my friends were losing their Mothers and Fathers. What the heck was happening? It wasn't right, we were far too young to lose parents, mine was just a horrible mistake, why are all these other parents passing away? See...getting old is a very subtle process. You become a mother yourself, but, you keep thinking you will always be the second generation mother. Your Mom will be the Grandmother, and you will simply remain a Mom. Then suddenly your children grow up, and Bam! you are a Grandmother, but, you figure you are far too young to be Grandmother, so somehow, you fall into the false sense that you are unique, you will have that family with Great Grandparents, and Great Great Grandparents, and so on and so on...
Surprise!! Not the way it works. No matter how tight you squeeze your eyes, mortality will begin its slow crawl towards you. If you are "lucky" it doesn't aim directly at you. It appears to start randomly. You say things like "OMG, they were so young" , or "what a shock!" But in time, you realize it is happening too often. Oh, you never get used to it. When friends start to leave, without warning, Cancer, Heart Attacks, it is beyond the accident, it is mortality, giving you the heads up. You are reaching the tree lined path of life.
This path is the one you have been traveling the potholes to get to. It is far less hectic, the traffic has slowed, and is taking time to look at the scenery. You have a feeling of contentment, no urge to accumulate unnecessary things, you have arrived at the greatest place you could imagine. You have raised your children, you have kept those golden friends, you have a roof over your head, and food in your stomach. You have memories that can make you smile, when you need one. Oh, you have those other memories that can bring a tear, but even those will make you feel warm. You can stop and take a look around, and if you are like me, you will see that you have survived that highway. You have scars, but you have a great feeling of accomplishment. You may not have won awards, or become incredibly wealthy, or saved a life, or invented the wheel, but, you did something, and that was to put your mark on someone else. Seldom does a human being live, without touching another.
I HATE getting old. I HATE being a Grown up. I do, at times, wonder how soon it will be my turn to be the one that others say "what a shock". I try very hard not to dwell on that, but each time I hear of one who has touched my life, passing, it makes me think. I don't want to make others cry, I don't want to leave those who mourn. I don't want to think that I will someday be to blame for heartache.But when I look at the scenery all my tree-lined path, I know that one day, I will be the cause of grief.
. I had a friend ask what I thought our lives meant, who we are. Well, I guess we are the Grown ups, we are those who have reached the pathway. The place we can stop and look behind us, and see all those we touched, and those who we left a mark on. That friend, like me, has been very lucky, they have touched others and will never be forgotten. They have left memories, with friends and family, just like all those they have loved, and lost. Do we ask what our lost loved ones lives meant? Do we ask who they were? No, we realize they were gifts to us, they touched us, and left their marks, and those gifts will remain with us, until we reach the end of the path.
Rest in Peace, Jack
Wednesday, 16 January 2013
Blog Magic
Ahhhh...Surprise! For some strange reason, I feel, sort of, relaxed. Almost empty of nastiness, (note the almost). Oh, there is still a glistening drop of venom at the side of my gob, but it is very tiny. What ticked me off today, has just about died down, I think the last few blogs have purged a large amount of the crap I had backed up.
Blogs are a wonderful thing! I know my beloved appreciates this new found vent, he can now read it at his leisure, and is not the only person that has to have me natter away at. Now, I can push that "enter" button and send it off into the great unknown. where, there just might be others like me, or maybe folks who have time on their hands, and surf their way into my insanity by accident. Poor souls!!
This has been magic for me. Instead of thinking I am the only person in the whole world that is on a messed up highway of life, I have others writing me, telling me that they agree on my rantings, or maybe that they enjoy my spews. Either way, it has opened up a whole new door to the outside world. I see folks from countries that I learned about in school, clicking in.
When you live in a tiny place, with winters that would freeze a penguin, and nights that go on forever, and days that are only hours long, the knowledge that somewhere, there is someone, who has nothing better to do, but read my words, warms my heart. I don't feel alone, any longer. Oh, it doesn't warm my feet, or cut back on my heating bill, or even make the days longer, but it does warm my heart.
I do wonder, though, who actually reads this, beyond my passle of friends. There is an area I can go into to check on what brings some folks to my blog, and, without fail, every single day, someone finds their way in through looking on-line for Kitchen Sex Utensils. I did that blog so long ago, yet, it has had more hits than any other title. Oh, the other one, Spontaneous Combustion....Really????
When I first started this, I was scared to death. It has been almost 40 years since I finished school, and I have forgotten absolutely every single rule of prose, I don't know a verb from an adverb. I use commas far too often (but, in truth, I speak like I write, just louder). Mrs. Benedict would have a empty red pen after correcting all my mistakes, and I do think about this when I hit the publish button.
It is like having a baby, once you get started, it is pretty much impossible to stop until it is finished. O.K. maybe not the best analogy. Lets say, 4 months into finding out you are knocked up.....Unlike the baby bit, though, it becomes so much easier in time. Well, maybe not easier, as some days it is very hard to even decide what to ramble on about, but when the subject pops into my tiny little head, I am off like a ruptured duck.
I began, with the idea that this was going to make me a better writer (obviously that was wrong), and then thoughts that "Wow, maybe there is money in this, and I can quit my day job". Hah! Still scrubbing the toilets, and searching for inspiration when I do that. But, the one thing I didn't imagine is, how good it has been to me. It allows me to sit down with all that crud sitting inside, making me feel like I am stuffed with poison, and once I vomit it all up on the keyboard, I re-read (yes, I know it doesn't appear as though I do this) hit the button, and feel 10 lbs. lighter, instantly. Total tension release, the world's cheapest spa.
I am beyond checking numbers of hits (LIE). It is apparent I could up those numbers simply by writing about readily available sex toys found around the home. There are days when, maybe I just might do that...But not at this moment. I am not up in the Twittersphere, with my itty bitty Twitter followers. I can't for the life of me, figure out the "Bird's" Google deal, so maybe I could entice more folks to stop by, and check my rants out. I suppose I am happy enough for the ability to throw my tantrums beyond my own family and friends. But, I hope that in time, I will get much better at my blogging, and see my numbers soar beyond thousands, Hey, I do believe in magic, I just haven't quite found the right words..but give me time.
Blogs are a wonderful thing! I know my beloved appreciates this new found vent, he can now read it at his leisure, and is not the only person that has to have me natter away at. Now, I can push that "enter" button and send it off into the great unknown. where, there just might be others like me, or maybe folks who have time on their hands, and surf their way into my insanity by accident. Poor souls!!
This has been magic for me. Instead of thinking I am the only person in the whole world that is on a messed up highway of life, I have others writing me, telling me that they agree on my rantings, or maybe that they enjoy my spews. Either way, it has opened up a whole new door to the outside world. I see folks from countries that I learned about in school, clicking in.
When you live in a tiny place, with winters that would freeze a penguin, and nights that go on forever, and days that are only hours long, the knowledge that somewhere, there is someone, who has nothing better to do, but read my words, warms my heart. I don't feel alone, any longer. Oh, it doesn't warm my feet, or cut back on my heating bill, or even make the days longer, but it does warm my heart.
I do wonder, though, who actually reads this, beyond my passle of friends. There is an area I can go into to check on what brings some folks to my blog, and, without fail, every single day, someone finds their way in through looking on-line for Kitchen Sex Utensils. I did that blog so long ago, yet, it has had more hits than any other title. Oh, the other one, Spontaneous Combustion....Really????
When I first started this, I was scared to death. It has been almost 40 years since I finished school, and I have forgotten absolutely every single rule of prose, I don't know a verb from an adverb. I use commas far too often (but, in truth, I speak like I write, just louder). Mrs. Benedict would have a empty red pen after correcting all my mistakes, and I do think about this when I hit the publish button.
It is like having a baby, once you get started, it is pretty much impossible to stop until it is finished. O.K. maybe not the best analogy. Lets say, 4 months into finding out you are knocked up.....Unlike the baby bit, though, it becomes so much easier in time. Well, maybe not easier, as some days it is very hard to even decide what to ramble on about, but when the subject pops into my tiny little head, I am off like a ruptured duck.
I began, with the idea that this was going to make me a better writer (obviously that was wrong), and then thoughts that "Wow, maybe there is money in this, and I can quit my day job". Hah! Still scrubbing the toilets, and searching for inspiration when I do that. But, the one thing I didn't imagine is, how good it has been to me. It allows me to sit down with all that crud sitting inside, making me feel like I am stuffed with poison, and once I vomit it all up on the keyboard, I re-read (yes, I know it doesn't appear as though I do this) hit the button, and feel 10 lbs. lighter, instantly. Total tension release, the world's cheapest spa.
I am beyond checking numbers of hits (LIE). It is apparent I could up those numbers simply by writing about readily available sex toys found around the home. There are days when, maybe I just might do that...But not at this moment. I am not up in the Twittersphere, with my itty bitty Twitter followers. I can't for the life of me, figure out the "Bird's" Google deal, so maybe I could entice more folks to stop by, and check my rants out. I suppose I am happy enough for the ability to throw my tantrums beyond my own family and friends. But, I hope that in time, I will get much better at my blogging, and see my numbers soar beyond thousands, Hey, I do believe in magic, I just haven't quite found the right words..but give me time.
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