Category Archives: rant

The Intervention

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Dear Mother Nature,

We have all been asked to write a letter to you so we can tell you how your illness is affecting us individually.  Starting off with “this is the hardest letter I’ve ever had to write” would be horrifically untrue.  This is one of the simplest tasks I have been faced with throughout my 44 years on this planet.

I’m going to be blunt in this letter and not mince words. This is an intervention.  From those of us who generally feel at peace with you, we have come to you with these words of utter disgust and contempt.  The state of your mental capacity is worrisome and borderline reckless.  For the past few days, we have endured the wrath of your mood swings and succumbed to your whimsical attitude in regards to everyone around you.  This is not the being we have known you to be and the change in your behavior is more than mildly disconcerting.

Too many times over the past two months we have shamelessly ignored the warning signs, hoping that the initial symptoms would not manifest themselves into a textbook case of narcissism.  But our hopes have been crushed in the face of the evolving disease and you no longer seem to have any concern for those in the eye of your storms.

We are pleading with you to get well.  We face each day with uncertainty and would like to see you return to your balanced and seasonally charming self.  Although the outcome of an intervention is meant to severe ties if an agreement to treatment is not reached, we are not as fortunate to have that ball in our court.  We would hope that you hear our pleas and end the 24 degree swings in temperatures during a 24-hour period.

The prescription awaits and only you have the power to take those happy pills and feel well again.

With very kind regards,

Muskoka, Ontario

She cannae take any more, Captain. She’s gonna blow!

29 Comments

People handle stress in very different ways and each of us have varying extremes when it comes to our breaking point.  Some are lucky and are able to desensitize themselves to the perils that compound normal levels of stress, while others become weighed down and feel like they are shouldering the burdens of the world.  I am perched precariously in the middle.

I have a pretty high tolerance for stress.  I can quell the volcano of emotion that begins to rise by merely separating the things I can control from the things I cannot and putting out those smaller fires, one by one.   I don’t always win that battle but I do make a concerted effort to not let things bother me that are out of the grasp of my command.

But stress has a funny way of being able to continue a slow burn without any alarms going off.  It smolders behind walls and can ignite spontaneously when it recognizes the slightest bit of exhaustion or defeat.  Exhaled oxygen will spark the embers and the fire of stress breathes new life.  I didn’t feel the heat emanating but the flames got the best of me and, when the inferno had died down slightly, the fiery beast had etched its charcoal marks deep under my skin.

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(photo credit: earthtimes.org)

My tension is now stored neatly in large charred knots under my shoulder blades.  The volcano of stress is no longer spewing lava and lighting fires as it goes, but it is laying dormant under my muscles, reminding me that it has the power to erupt with the slightest sign of newly induced tension.  Any rupture in my otherwise calm facade will bring bubbling magma to the surface and give new life to that slow burn.  Time for some deep breathing and a calming glass of wine!

How does your stress affect you?  Is it an easily controlled burn, or does it rage out of control?

Choose your words wisely

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There is a myriad of words in the English language to choose from that will accurately portray feelings.  We must go gently into that good thesaurus to succinctly define our emotions.  Words can embody beauty and timelessness, but words can also be weapons.  Words can sting and they can leave scars if not used properly.

The word “hate” is a word I try to use as little as possible.  There are very few things in this world I can honestly say I hate.  There are many things I dislike, even dislike intensely, but hate is such an absolute word and it delivers a large impact for such a small word.  If I am vehemently against something, I will do my utmost to modify my language before I allow that powerful four letter word to escape my lips.  The word hate, to me, is like nails on a chalkboard.

hate

(photo credit – creativeclass.com)

Feeling an extreme aversion to something is a normal human experience.  I have an immense distaste for liver and onions, but I have found many other ways to discuss my negative feelings about the memories of those dinners served long ago rather than use the word hate.

I hear the word hate tossed around so casually and wonder if the people using that figure of speech understand how harsh a word it truly is.   I’m sure if I looked through a magic crystal ball, I would see myself in public school using the word hate several times, not truly comprehending the consequence of using such a powerful expression.  Hate conjures feelings of bitterness and rage in the person using it and elicits sadness and depression in the person receiving it.

Hate is like a virus that slowly spreads through us and pollutes our emotions.  I have the misfortune of feeling that hatred for one person that has affected my life, or more so the life of my brother.  It was twenty-two years ago and that horrible emotion still bubbles to the surface when I think of her.  That one person made me realize the overwhelming feeling associated with that tiny word and she is the only person that embodies the emotion associated with the intense dislike it defines.

Words can be beautiful, but words can also be ammunition.  If misused, those words can cause a great deal of pain and affect people long after those idioms have been uttered.  Each of us has the power to keep our weapon of language holstered – choose your words wisely.

If found, please return to….

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Breaking news – this just in:

Spring has been kidnapped.  Mother Nature called 9-1-1  sometime in the early hours of the morning and reported it missing.  According to her statement, she had tucked Spring in for the night and left it unattended.  When she returned to check on it this morning, she found nothing but a blanket of snow and Spring was nowhere to be found.

Forensic scientists and Crime Scene Investigators have scoured the area for any evidence related to its disappearance but currently no reports have been made regarding any leads they may have.  The CSI unit is having difficulty continuing the investigation as the blanket of snow continues to grow and cover any shred of evidence that may have existed to prove that Spring had even been there.

Neighbors that have been interviewed were positive that they had seen signs of Spring earlier the previous day.  One neighbor had stated that a group that seemed oddly out-of-place in the neighborhood had been hovering around Mother Nature’s house the previous evening.  A local Sketch Artist  was brought in and a composite drawing of the potential suspect has been released to the media.

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(image courtesy of dominatus.deviantart.com)

Friends of Spring are desperate to have it return.  If you see any sign of Spring, please contact me immediately and I will share your information with the proper authorities.

Braker, braker

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Dear Driver in front of me on my way to work,

Why, oh why, must you incessantly tap your brakes for no apparent reason.  I understand you became alarmed when you noticed you were going 52 km/h in a 50 zone, but did you know that by relieving the pressure your foot is putting on the gas pedal that your car will slow its pace without having to brake?  Since you are on a relatively level road, the decrease in acceleration will happen naturally and not cause a chain reaction of undue panic in the cars behind you.

brake lights

(image courtesy of diymyhonda.com)

Instead, in a town littered with reckless wild animals that like to create their own crossing spots, you choose to feather your brakes causing drivers behind you to look for invisible dangers encroaching the sides of the road.  Your reckless braking in the wee hours of the still darkened morning is causing those needing more caffeine (such as myself) to shout obscenities that should not even be thought of that early in the morning let alone uttered aloud at a decibel suited for a live concert.

Perhaps my opinion is somewhat jaded since I have been driving a stick-shift since I was 17 and am used to gearing down rather than braking, but, for the love of God please stop putting your brakes on every 10 seconds when there is nothing ahead of you but the open road and no wild beasts leaping from the woods to ambush your car.

I thank you in advance for your cooperation in this matter.

Sincerely,

The person that flipped you off from the CR-V behind you.

Doctors with Borders

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This post was one of my earlier rants on another blog, but was brought to the forefront of my brain by a fellow blogger.

medical-symbol

Before I get into the meat of this subject, I must address a couple of things.  Number one – this post is in no way pointing the finger at all members of the medical profession, by any means.  Number two – does it bother anyone else that this lofty vocation is referred to as “the practice of medicine”?  After countless nights and days in school and residency, surviving on no sleep and horrible vending machine coffee, should you not be proficient at what you’re doing by now?  Why are you still practising?  And number three – last April my mom’s GP told us to prepare ourselves for the death of my mother which she estimated would be two weeks following our discussion.  It is almost a year later and my mom is alive and well, still living in her home on her own and caring for 8 pets.

It is inevitable that each of us, at one point in our lives, will interact with a doctor. It is also undeniable that during that visit to the Oracle that is “practising” medicine, we will be subjected to a fairly lengthy wait period before we enter the inner sanctum of the office to discuss our concerns regarding our bodily functions.

After the obligatory check in at reception, we are forced to spend an elongated period of time inhaling the infinite number of germs swarming the cramped air space in the waiting room.  Casually we glance at our watches as the seconds turn into minutes and the minutes continue to race past our scheduled appointment time.   I understand that a doctor receives compensation for each patient seen on a daily basis, but somewhere along the way a few in the selected field of saving lives have forgotten that Hippocratic Oath that they vowed to uphold.  One of the lines from that oath is this “I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon’s knife or the chemist’s drug.”

I fear that somewhere along the path, some practitioners of this art have lost that sense of warmth and sympathy and have replaced them with a pen and prescription pad.  My co-worker had scheduled an appointment with her physician.  She does not attend the office on a regular basis to leave room for those more in need of medical care.  She had begun asking a series of questions that she had prepared and before getting the answers she so rightly deserved she was told by her own doctor that there would be no more answers.  Her time was up.  Her time was up?  Was she on Jeopardy?  And when did the clock actually start?  I would hazard a guess that it began at her scheduled appointment time that had been casually overlooked.

Somewhere in the cyclical process of patients revolving in and out of the doctor’s door,  a wedge has been driven between the care provider and those in need of care.  A doctor is, by definition, a healer.  Whether that healing requires physical care, psychological care or simply an understanding ear, the healing starts in those medical chambers.

With their depth of study and knowledge, it is customary that we take our doctor’s opinion at face value and trust that they have used every weapon in their arsenal to determine the cause of our illness and the best possible treatment available to extend our perpetuity.  As much as we should put our faith in their doctrine, we have to be the advocate for our own health and seek a second opinion, because sometimes that five minutes of examination and diagnosis may not be enough to truly gauge the underlying reason for our concern.

In my growing number of years on this earth, I have encountered many doctor’s offices and a great many trips to a hospital, not all related directly to me and my personal health and well-being, but experiences that have given me ample opportunity to form an opinion.  Occasionally I feel like these experts in the medical field have put up their borders long before we attempted to enter their inner sanctum and the time required to get a proper diagnosis is cut short.

Have you experienced anything like this, or am I out in left field?

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.

 

Things that have been seen, cannot be unseen

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Social-Media-Marketing

Social media has been at the forefront of our communication for a while.   Perhaps I have just recently noticed, or perhaps I was blind to it before, but it seems the more social media is used now, the more it becomes misused.  I’ll admit I used to enjoy Facebook, but it has become less of an interest the more my eyes became privy to far too many personal issues being aired on the internet.

I am not, by any means, being hypocritical as I too have used this blog to vent some frustrations, but there are limits to what I will spew out into cyber space.  The rules of social conduct still guide my brain and do not allow me to cross the line of over-sharing information or being unjustifiably vindictive.

Before the ever-changing Facebook screen began to fade from my daily ritual,  I was one of hundreds to have my news feed littered with vulgarities and horribly personal comments as two people ended their relationship in a way that truly resembled most reality shows.  It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion – some of the things that were said back and forth were ruthless and unnecessary, but the two involved somehow felt it appropriate for those things to be shared with all of us.

It was an easy decision for me to avoid the written daggers that were being thrown with the force of an Olympian because I have no personal stake in whether that relationship thrives or dies a horrible death.  But words on the internet penetrate millions of eyes, and sadly, four of those eyes more than likely belong to her two children.  I know they have their own Facebook accounts and, unless the power of the magic eraser cleansed those Facebook walls before they saw them, they will have experienced something that never should have been aired in such a public forum in the first place.

I still use my Facebook account infrequently, as it is still a place that I can share this blog with my friends.  But that uncomfortable public display of a  genuinely personal issue made me rethink how much information and the nature of that material I am willing to share.

Halitosis – a small rant

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You know it as bad breath.  Noticeably unpleasant odors expel themselves during regular breathing and linger stealthily in the air.  I am forever conscious of my breath and am never without a pack of Trident. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the entire human race.  And as luck would have it, many of these offenders are also afflicted by another ailment known as “being a close talker”.

My brother attended high school with a fellow that used to eat peanut butter and raw onion sandwiches every day for lunch.  Every – single – day.   Now, I can only imagine the foul and sinister cloud of exhalations that followed him throughout the hallways of that high school.  It brings an image to mind of Pig Pen from the Peanuts cartoon with a large cloud ever circling his body.  He must be directly related to the people who have smoked salmon, red onion and capers for lunch, followed by a dessert of a cigarette and a coffee.  There should be a rule in very large print that these and similar meals are followed by a mandatory brushing of the teeth chased by a Tic Tac!!

There are certain foods that should either have a warning label about the danger of halitosis, or be sold with a side of Peppermint Certs.  Onions, garlic, peppers, spicy deli meat…..I think you understand the point I’m making.  How do you find a politically correct way to tell people that their rank breath is offensive?  It is a delicate topic, and in no way do I have the capacity to intentionally hurt someone’s feelings, but if it were me, I would want someone to extend the courtesy of telling me that my breath is making their eyes water!

This rant was given its breath (pun intended) by an encounter I had at the grocery store.  Mr. Close Talker, who shall remain named as such, was excitedly telling me about his most recent adventure.  He was so animated in his gestures that I really don’t believe he noticed my gradual steps backwards.  I was slowly losing consciousness because I was doing my utmost to hold my breath while he expounded on his follies, inches from my face.

There are moments in your life that you can absolutely say that you were in the right place at the right time.  I smiled, hoping he would think I was still listening, but as the world began swimming out of focus, I saw my salvation.  I prayed I wasn’t hallucinating because, after all, I was on minute number three with no oxygen.   I reached for the angel that appeared before me and felt her radiance through a foil wrapper.  Mr. Close Talker was still dealing with his verbal diarrhea and had no idea that I put two packs of Certs into his line of groceries!

Maybe he will understand the gesture as it was meant to be given, or maybe he will be so mortified that he won’t engage me in conversation again for a while.  Either way, I think it’s a win – win.

Too much information – aka “The Overshare”

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I feel compelled to talk about these people.  You know the ones that will tell you every single detail of things that a) you probably don’t want to know, b) have absolutely nothing to do with you in the first place or c) will completely gross you out.  They’ll tell you in fantastic detail about their bowel movements, the texture and velocity of their projectile vomit, their sexual escapades (including dismounts), or a wealth of other subjects that you probably have no desire to hear.  And now, with the joys of social media, everyone can read it on Facebook or Twitter!!

There are some insights into the human psyche that the masses are not meant to know, nor do they need to know.   What has been heard, cannot be unheard and what has been seen, cannot be unseen. We are simply unable to forget what has just been written or uttered, perhaps because the over share had such a perverse effect on our ocular nerves or ear canals that parts of our brain cells are slowly mutating.  Either way, that information will probably take up precious space in our frontal lobe and infect some fleeting moments reserved for day-dreaming.  You don’t want to think about them, but they seep into your thoughts and burn your brain like a syringe full of battery acid.

To these people…..I beg you, please think about what you are saying and ask yourself…..is this too much information??  Does this person really need to know about my infectious and possibly gangrenous warts?  Unless you are sexually involved with this person, chances are the answer is a resounding “NO”.  While your verbiage continues to spill out of your mouth without being filtered, we will inevitably be the one’s smiling and nodding while your mouth is making the motions of talking. We have just switched gears, completely tuned out what you are saying and are really not listening to you in the slightest.  Sorry, but it’s true.

Don’t get me wrong.  I love keeping in touch with people and getting caught up on the latest gossip, but there are rules and limitations to what you should share.  Be aware of the unwritten rules of dispensing unwanted information.  Take heed of the effect that stepping beyond those boundaries will have on the unsuspecting person on the receiving end and limit your banter to things that will potentially be of interest to both parties.

Have you ever fallen victim to over-sharing your thoughts?