Category Archives: life

Telemarketing at its best

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They’re out there – lurking in the shadows, fingers haphazardly typing random phone numbers into their keyboard and blind-siding unsuspecting people with their scripted sales pitch.  And as much as we despise what they represent, they are merely doing a job.  They are collecting a paycheck.  But at some point during their work day, they become desensitized to reality.  They become so immersed in that script and they no longer have the free will to listen and respond appropriately.

telemarketing

(image courtesy of Google)

My mom has lived alone since my dad passed away in 2006.  She received a phone call the other day from an unrecognized number, but she picked it up anyway.  The person on the other end of the phone asked for my father.   My mom told the caller that my father was deceased and the caller simply replied, “I’ll call him again some other time”, and the call ended.  I may not be the most intelligent person on the planet, but I’m pretty sure he’ll still be deceased the next time they call.  Or perhaps this particular company has a listed number for Heaven and, in that case, I would love to see the long distance charges for that call.

I have been one of the fortunate ones and have not be inundated with telemarketing calls since I gave up my land line.  My cell phone has been safe thus far, but I do miss the moments of trying to confuse those callers and rouse them from their hypnotic state.  I would ask them personal questions about themselves and then would inquire as to whether there was an inconvenient time for them that I could call them back.

What is your favorite way to handle telemarketing calls?

The Bones of Life

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We all need three bones to survive, a wishbone, a backbone and a funny bone.  It may seem like a uninspired observation, but those bones really brings us to the essence of making the most of our lives. These three bones, in their simplicity, outline what really should be important to us as individuals.

A wishbone will keep our imagination and hopes alive.  It gives us permission to dream and it keeps those visions alive and breathing within us.  The moment that we don’t bother to dream any more about what is still possible is the moment that the biggest and most youthful part of us dies.  Dreams are the rainbow of our soul and they give us that straw that we can grasp when reality overwhelms us.

Our backbone will lend us strength to persevere.  Life can’t always be about dreams and rainbows.  Developing a strong backbone will help guide us through those difficult and traumatic times and help develop a real sense of self.  Having the fortitude to put enough faith in ourselves makes our backbone that much stronger and makes us able to cope with the concrete that paves the path of our lives.

Our funny bone will give us the perspective to let the will of our wishbone and our backbone blend into a harmonious and happy medium.  There is a fine balance between reality and comedy, and it is that comedy that will bring that panorama of our world into a spectrum of colors that will be objective, yet frivolous.  Maintaining that sense of humor can only help get us through this journey with a sense of the childhood wonder and laughter that we all want so desperately to hold onto.

Take good care of those three bones.  They build the foundation of who we are and where we want to go.  And just remember, if they break, any bone can always mend with the proper care and attention.

Losing sight of what is important

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For all intents and purposes, I am a still somewhat of a virgin in the blogging world.  I started this journey in August and have been doing my best to stay true to what really means something to me.  But as it is in many cases, I felt somewhat lost along the way.  I spent a great portion of my time watching the stats on my blog instead of focusing on what was truly important – the honesty and sense of self in the words that I write.

I began this journey because of a deep yearning to free the ideas in my mind, to let loose the writing demon that was trapped in the confines of my cranial matter.  I spent my days off this past weekend utterly disconnected from the outside world.  I turned off my phone, ignored my television, refrained from playing any music and just lived in the silence.  And within that silence, I found my inner voice.  I connected with what it was that brought me to the blog world in the first place – the love of writing.  I finally allowed myself the chance to be what I desperately yearned to be – a writer.  Although there was no looming deadline and no urgency to put ideas on a page, I fervently followed a passion that has recently been rekindled.  I conceded to the power of the words so desperately trying to form themselves into ideas and let them paint the landscapes of my prose.

For me, watching the stats on my blog almost made me forget why I began this journey in the first place.  I don’t write for anybody other than myself.  That may sound like an extremely selfish statement, but it is based in pure truth.  I write because I want to, not because I feel pressured to write.  The fact that other people enjoy what I write makes me utterly ecstatic and urges me to continue along that path of creativity.  Throughout this journey I have met a great many people who not only share the same passion, but who are becoming friends in the process.  They are people who have found a forum to let their inner voices escape and meet in a place where they are not only accepted, but adored and applauded.

Losing sight of what is important to me may have momentarily altered my bigger picture, but spending a day listening to the writer in me brought me back to reality.  It refocused my yearning to write, if for nothing else, than to put words to a page and to connect with others who can translate my voice into their own words.

I had the rare opportunity to regain my vision and recapture what holds a true place in my heart.  My writing is my passion and I will never lose sight of that again.  The otters in the video below remind me that it is not about the people who are watching, it really is about getting back to the things that are truly important to us and forgetting what is happening in the world around us.  It is holding true to the things we value the most.

What’s in a name?

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Today’s Daily Prompt ~ brought to you by the makers of ‘what were you thinking’ ~ is this – Explain why you chose your blog’s title and what it means to you.

Perhaps it would have been wiser to choose something a little more mainstream, but when I sat myself down to create a name for my blog, the first person that spoke as a distant voice in my head was my friend Sandra.  She and I went to college together and although she was 10 years my senior, we became fast friends.  After two years of sharing great laughs and torturing our classmates, she moved back to Halifax and I remained in Ontario.

We spent countless hours on the phone and practically wore our fingerprints off spending so much time on our keyboards. When I would ask her what she had been up to, she would always reply, “pontificating on polysyllabic profundities”.  That silly statement that may not have been significant then took on new meaning when Sandra suddenly passed away in 2003 at the age of 43 after succumbing to the flesh-eating disease.   There would be no more pontificating with her.  The polysyllabic profundities were all I had left.

It made absolute sense when coming up with a name for this blog that I would somehow honor her for all of the support and encouragement she gave me in her too-short time on this earth.  I’m sure she still reads over my shoulder and I do hear that all-too-clever advise in my head on occasion.

Here’s lookin’ at you, Kid!!

Stolen Moments

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This is another story written for Edward Hotspur’s Romantic Monday.

The first thing that struck her when she saw him was the depth of blue in his eyes.  She swam in the ocean of color before she was able to say hello and when she finally collected herself it seemed awkward, but only for a moment.  His smile and wit quickly reminded her what it was about him that had attracted her in the first place.  The embrace was slight but his kiss sent a shock through her system and she blushed.

Dinner began with a barrage of laughter and good friends talking about years gone by.  They stole a few glances at each other when they thought nobody would notice – his wink melted her.  She had expected nothing to happen since he had left his commitments behind, but only for a few precious days.  After dinner ended and the laughter subsided, the house fell silent.  She lay in her bed thinking about him, thinking about the time they had spent together in the past, in what felt like a different lifetime.  The tenderness and passion that seemed so natural between them lurked in her thoughts and danced like visions behind her eyelids.   She could still feel his breath on her body from those moments long ago.

The noise in the other room pulled her from her reverie.  She stole towards the distraction and saw him alone on the couch.  Tentatively she approached and was greeted with a warm smile and an invitation to join him.  His embrace was as she had remembered it so many times and she pulled herself closer into him. His arm wrapped around her and she stroked the hair on his chest.   The moment was idyllic.  No words were exchanged and none needed to be as they rose from the couch and he led her into the bedroom.  She lay on her stomach and he gently began to massage her shoulders.  His touch was electric and, yet, the softest touch she had ever felt.

Although still partially draped in clothing, their bodies began to move together.  She felt the heat from his breath before his lips touched her back.  His kiss was soft and sweet and she gasped in anticipation of having his mouth on hers.  She arched her back and turned to meet his lips.  Time stood still in those moments and they lost themselves in each other, he feeling her emotion and she feeling his pain. They both knew this shouldn’t be happening but neither of them had the will to stop. Their bodies moved rhythmically together and eventually they lay spent in each other’s arms, lost in the moment, lost in their thoughts.  He was the first to move and, as much as she hated it, she knew she should be back in her own room.  Nobody else could know the extent of their relationship.  Nobody could know of the passion so deep and so strong that it threatened to swallow her every time she saw him. He laid in bed with his eyes closed.  She leaned over and slowly let her lips trace the curve of his.  With a gentle whispered goodnight, she left him and closed the door.

The next morning, there was no awkwardness, only longing.  She wanted to embrace him, but would have to settle for a hidden trace of his finger along her arm.  He winked and her heart warmed.  One by one their friends emerged from behind different doors, coffee was poured and the day was planned. She sat with the group at the table, staying as close to him as possible and she longed to touch him.

After a day of great adventures, darkness descended, stars filled the sky and the wine flowed freely.  Conversations and laughter were caught on the breeze and carried infectiously around the lake.  Although the rest of the group had gathered by the fire, only four of them stayed by the edge of the water staring wordlessly into the night sky.  Dusk had long descended and the darkness enveloped them, but she could feel his stare.  Neither of them spoke as the group made their way back from the lake.  The flashlight beamed in front of them but they held back behind the other two by a few precious feet.  In the darkness she felt his hand reaching for hers.  Their hands clasped with such ferocity she thought she might lose feeling in her fingers but she wasn’t letting go.  Light filtered onto the path ahead of them signaling the closeness of the cottage and their hands reluctantly parted.   Their friends took chairs by the fire and he headed towards the cottage, his eyes asking her to follow.  She found him in his room and curled up beside him.

His lips met hers in the dark.  Sweet, tender kisses were shared, his embrace was comforting and everything about being with him just felt right.  If only things could be different.  If only these stolen moments weren’t the thoughts in her head every day knowing he would never be hers.

Slaying the dragon

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Even if it is broken, it can’t always be fixed ~SN.

My mother always used to tell me that I like to find the ‘broken ducks’ and fix them…..and it’s true.   I seem to be magnetically drawn to people who I think I can “save” in some way, even though they may not be looking for salvation.  If I look at it honestly, with no rose-colored glasses, my childhood perpetuated this need to create a sane world in a universe of quiet insanity.  On the outside our life was perfect, but on the inside there were things that created the person I am today and ingrained the need to make life as perfect on the inside as it seemed on the outside.  But I chose to focus on others rather than focusing  on myself.  I felt the need to create a picture by painting by the numbers that belonged to other people instead of the numbers on my blank canvas.  I grew up as a child of two alcoholic parents and the need to fix my parents spun into a life of restoring a sense of normalcy in every life but my own.

No matter the size of sword you carry, sometimes the dragon is bigger than you anticipated and it cannot be conquered by steel alone.  Although I spent many years of my youth trying to slay that beast, it had far more power than I anticipated and my life became a battle far greater than a teenaged girl was prepared to face.  The need to vanquish that dragon spilled into my marriage and the cycle of alcoholism and redemption breathed new life.  The dragon was alive and well with a different face and a new attitude, but it was the same dragon I had been battling for years.

slaying the dragon

(Photo courtesy of Google)

Perhaps it was the wisdom that came with age, or perhaps the sword I had been wielding had gained strength over the years, but the dragon I was faced with in the days of being married didn’t seem to possess as much strength as the dragon of my youth and I was able to overcome its fiery existence and reclaim the life I was meant to have.  Maybe that dragon still lingers, awaiting its chance for revenge, but I have finally drawn the line.  My stance is rigid and I am ready for that battle.

If there is anything this blogging journey has taught me, it is to be honest.  Not only honest in my life, but honest in my writing as well.  And whether that honesty presents itself in traits of a character or a mere extension of myself in this forum, it is freeing.  I have shared parts of myself I never thought I would divulge and it has liberated a piece of myself long since buried.  I have fixed myself by escaping the confines of my past and breaking down the walls that caged my future and instead have trapped the dragon in that cage.

I don’t know if I’m writing this to remind myself of the strength that I need to hold close to my heart or if I am writing this to finally free the dragon that I may never slay.  Regardless, tears slowly slide down my cheek as I free this last bit of anguish and look ahead to what will be.  I cannot change the past, but I can certainly shape my future by letting that dragon rest as I move on to a new castle that is free of that beast.

My life is a blank canvas.  It awaits a new story board and a tale that is yet to be written.  And maybe the canvas is slightly damaged, but I will embrace those impurities because the vision of the artist still holds the potential for a beautiful new masterpiece that is waiting to be created.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

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Daily Prompt today is this – You need to make a major change in your life. Do you make it all at once, cold turkey style, or incrementally? 

I have had a great deal of change in the last two years of my life.  Because those changes deeply affected my life, they had to be well planned and contain a great deal of thought.

The first was the journey to lose weight.  I didn’t want a quick-fix fad diet that would guarantee losing 10 pounds in 3 days, I wanted a lifestyle change and I wanted to be healthy.  With a great deal of effort, I shifted my focus from ‘living to eat’ to ‘eating to live’ and it was worth doing it incrementally.  I lost 50 pounds and have kept it off.  Had I done the quick fix diet, I’m certain I not only would have gained the weight back, but increased my weight by a few more pounds.

The second major change was my divorce.  I had slowly become a person I was never meant to be.  I was drowning in a sea of bitterness and anger and those waves threatened to take any air that possibly remained in my lungs.  The decision to end my marriage was a monumental change in my existence, and after many failed attempts at fixing that relationship, I had to admit that it was beyond repair.  I left the broken pieces behind and slowly began rebuilding my life and rediscovering the happy person I once was.

Both of those changes deserved the time spent to follow through appropriately and go through the proper stages.  I may have over-thought both of them for a while, but in the end, I am where I need to be.

Hooray, hooray, the first of February

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I woke up in the wee hours of this morning and did what I do on the first day of every month – I repeated “white rabbit” three times (for luck), quietly said hello to my family and friends who have passed away and then I soaked myself in the happiness of January being over for another year.  Although I am starting this new month with the stomach flu, I nevertheless feel a true sense of joy that we have bid adieu to January and the countdown to spring has begun. Guapola….how many more sleeps?

February, for me, has always had the feel of rebirth.  The days become noticeably longer, the warmth of the sun starts to intensify and I eagerly anticipate pulling out the patio cushions on those really warm days to sit on the deck and inject my body with some much-needed Vitamin D.  Knowing that March is just around the corner puts that “spring” back in my step.

spring-forward

(Photo courtesy of Google)

While this winter was nowhere near the level of difficulty of some winters passed, it still presented its challenges, but those hurdles just make me have more appreciation for the resurgence of warm weather and the promise of spring.  From darkness to daffodils, we emerge from our winter cocoons to welcome the birth of the new season that lurks just around the corner.

Happy February everyone.  What is your favorite part of spring?

Let it go

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It takes all kinds to make the world go ’round.  My mother uttered that phrase many times during my youth, but I never truly engaged that concept until I became much older.  Life happens and, whatever that happening may be, people experience it in many different ways.  Although that instance may not have negative connotations, for many it will affect them in a way in which they cannot move forward.  They dwell on that instance and it becomes far more of a dramatic scene than was originally intended.  That moment ulcerates their brain and they cannot accept it for what it was and simply move on, and they will remind you of that circumstance every chance they get.

I have never shared that mentality.  Much like the beginning of the Serenity Prayer, I accept the little things I cannot change.  For me, that moment of acceptance allows me to move forward and not dwell on insignificant details that don’t affect others around me.  It becomes a learning tool, and with that learning comes a moderate increase in wisdom.  But for some it is difficult to let it go.  Although I can empathize with their initial reaction, I cannot understand how some people allow simple events to turn into situations of catastrophic proportion.

Those jagged barbs of bitterness are nourished and the anger grows into a withering garden of resentment.  For the unsettled mind, continuing to point the blame is the only course of action that will assuage their anger.  But they are only making life more difficult than it need be.  And those difficult people only make me realize more and more the person I choose not to be.  I don’t want to hold onto that moment.  I don’t want to let it permeate my thoughts and affect my mood.  I want to take it for what it was and let the rest of my life unfold without holding onto unwanted anger.

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Choosing how to deal with those moments, for me, is like flipping a coin.  If I choose heads, I can process the moment, learn from it and move on.  If I choose tails, I will chase that moment in circles until I am exhausted and the end result will still be the same.  Thankfully the coin I toss has two heads.

 

Daily Prompt: Ode to a cottage long gone

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The Daily Prompt has once again made me take a leisurely walk through my past.

It was the middle of three cottages, the anchor.  It stood on a point of land that encompassed three family cottages, but my fondest memories of childhood fun were created in that cottage in the middle – the one that belonged to my uncle.  Our family cottage flanked one end of the trio and my mom’s cousin’s cottage bordered the opposite side.

Tilley Cottage From Fords 1911

Our cottage was the last of the three built and was erected in 1911.  The two other cottages were built in 1907 and 1908.  Each of the cottages had rustic Muskoka charm and beautiful views of Lake Rosseau, but the thing I found most intriguing about my uncle’s cottage was the staircase that led from the kitchen to the maid’s quarters.  Although there had not been a maid occupying those quarters for decades, that passageway provided many years of childhood entertainment.

That staircase was the gateway to the best hide and seek games, it was perfect for sneaking into the kitchen for a midnight snack and it was the best spot to lay in wait for the true element of surprise, either upstairs or downstairs.

As time marched on, my parents sold our cottage.  Not long after that, my uncle sold his cottage and the structure that entombed some of my favorite childhood memories was obliterated.  It was replaced by a four-story monstrosity that has no place on Muskoka soil.  The new owner went so far as to rip out the century old trees to pave the driveway to his new eyesore. It honestly sickened me.

The remaining cottage of the three is still in the family and we gather there fairly regularly in the summer.  Thankfully the trees are in full summer foliage and our vision of the spaceship next door is limited.  It still amazes me how much a wooden structure could embed itself in my heart.