Almost all the conversations we overhear are because people tend to think that their conversations are the most important words to be said over the phone line ever. Turning down the next lane, you find the same cart pusher on the phone still carrying the phone and the same conversation. The next aisle there’s the same cart, but this time, no talker, oh, wait a minute I hear that cart pusher coming.
The cart is the same conversation walking and shopping. Blocking the aisle, I say “Excuse me,)” the cart doesn’t move. The second time, I myself being tired of this cart pusher said again “EXCUSE ME!} This time when I said that, I was louder and bolder by bumping the cart.
They may be talking about the kids’ school projects. This conversation seems to be the only thing going on in their lives. To all those who stand in a checkout line, and there people you’ve still talking while the cashier is trying to collect their money and people are behind them. I say to you that their conversation is BORING, your talking is RUDE, and it is totally IRRELEVANT to anyone standing in earshot.
If you’ve gotten this far, don’t you think that this was the most irrelevant one-way conversation you’ve heard in a long time???
There was a time I was shy and it was in the childhood years. The feelings within me were too much for me to bear alone, but alone I did bear them. I was only five or six years old. It’s truly strange that they were so severe that I wanted to go to sleep and not wake up. I wanted to die but I didn’t know how to do that. If I could just disappear, I would have been happy. I never could do that either. Continue reading Shimmer
When I was in school, mind you I’m giving away my age, we had to wear dresses or skirts, and boys had to wear dress pants and dress shirts. There were no exceptions, nor were there any excuses. It was automatic that you put them on and it was expected with no variations to that rule. It was the school dress code and girls dresses and skirts could not be above the knee. It had to be just below the knee or longer or you were sent home no questions asked.
As a matter of fact, I was a senior in high school before the code changed. The schools became a little less strict on the matter. They dared to let girls wear pant suits and this was allowed for the girls. Boys dress didn’t change yet. Girls pant suits had to match top and bottom with a blouse if it didn’t cover the below the neckline. The style in that day was that the neckline was covered. I felt absolutely scandalous wearing pants to school. It was utterly unheard of.
The next style to appear on the scene were mini skirts. Oh my goodness! That was allowed in school but it could not be any shorter than 3 inches above the knee. Already thinking that was showing too much, never would anyone be catching me wearing one of those kinds of dresses. That’s what I thought. Bob, my boyfriend at the time want me to wear one, so he gave it to me for a gift, all wrapped up in pretty paper. I already thought that the school dress code had gone too far. In fact, when I was wearing a pantsuit I had felt as if I should have a dress on. Bob knew my opinion, but wanted me to wear one anyway.
Casual was the word for these mini skirts dresses and skirts. I wore one out on a date with Bob. He loved it and I hated it. I felt positively naked in it. I kept trying to pull it down over my knees, but every time I tried to pull it over my knees, he would push my hand away. I hated this dress and I hated Bob for making me wear it. Our heads clashed once the two piece bathing suit came out. I gave in and bought myself a two piece bathing suit, but I found my own style of two piece. I bought a two piece that covered the midriff and the bottom was the length of our gym shorts had been, and our behinds did not hang out.
Anything goes today and nothing is casual really, that is not according to the words above. So be careful ladies.
It’s funny in a facetious way how my profundity of love for my husband would be tested in such a way such as it is at this time. While I was growing up, there was no real love in our family. If it wasn’t for my step-father who I have always felt was my real father I would not have a speck of love within me. He put us, his family first. He never cared what time we called or what he was doing at that time; his secretary was given instructions to put his family through to him even if he was in a meeting. That’s how he thought of us; we were his family.
Since he married my mom when I was eleven years old, it was almost too late for real family love to shine through and actually recognize it as being something special or even important. My real father had no love for us kids, and a future series on growing Continue reading How Could I Show the Depth of My Love?
Life is a Saga
Birth is a constant and death is a constant. These two constants happen in every one’s life. As soon as birth takes place that constant has begun. Now it becomes intermittent and irregular. When that part ends, then the other constant is in place, death.
Intermittent and irregular things happen to all of us between the constants of birth and death and that is called life. There have been many things that have happened to all of us. Many of them were good, and those are the memories that should be the only things in the forefront of our minds. Unfortunately, there were also the many tragedies that happen in all of our lives and people think they should just forget them; as it were, out of sight out of mind.
Wouldn’t that be nice if they were wrapped in neat little packages of good and bad? If that were the case then life would be good. The intermittent cycles of life would be in neat and self-contained packs. Life isn’t like that though. The bad things in life are not ever wrapped in neat little packages. Unfortunately, the bad always contaminates the good and the owner spends a lifetime trying to clean up the contamination.
That is what makes everyone’s life a saga. Each of us could write a story about our own lives. They would all be different, very interesting, and no two stories would be the same. At the same time, that other constant is the end of the line for everyone, and isn’t that the end of everyone’s story?
Is there an art to gift-giving?
My thoughts on gift-giving are not very impressive. Many of today’s kids are thankless and no matter what you give to them they are going to return anyway. My first question is; What kind of gift is it going to take for them to treasure instead of return it? You’ve probably already asked yourself this question. What are their likes and dislikes? They are not going to be satisfied with something ordinary. If it is ordinary, they can exchange it and buy something for themselves. How about something they have asked you to get for them? Where is the real pleasure in giving something that someone asked you to buy? That sounds routine; as if they’re asking you to pick up a loaf of bread on your way home. Where’s the surprise?
Do you honestly want to buy them something they really don’t need or want another of the same thing? Give cash? You do that every week anyway, what would make that special? Besides, if you give them cash again what are they going to want to do? They are going to want to go right out with their friends and spend it, leaving you alone and feeling used and empty. Continue reading Is There an Art to Gift Giving?
When I sing, the birds disappear, the trees shiver, and people cover their ears with a look of terror in their eyes. I don’t understand why. I love to sing. A song can make you feel as if you are floating on a cloud but it could also make you feel as if your heart is about to break. Sometimes songs can make you feel empowered as if you can accomplish anything.
I have heard the expression, “…couldn’t carry a tune in a basket.” I wonder what that means? Well, it doesn’t matter. I sang in the chorus in school, and I sang in the church choir when I was a child. I even sang a solo once in church. I was too soft, so the choir director motioned for me to sing louder. I thought I was doing great. The louder I sang, the more people began stirring. At the end of my part, I was singing so proudly, and I ended with a smile from ear to ear. As I waited for the applause, I looked up. I saw the seats empty, and the choir director galloping out the door. Was it something I said?
“I’ve always loved to write, unfortunately my best writing has been when I was in crisis. To my dismay, I am not having any problems today so don’t expect too much.” by cm