Reflections and ruminations from a modern day Alice - Life is Wonderland
Welcome to the place were I chronicle my own falls down dark holes and adventures chasing white rabbits! Come on In, Take a Bite, You Never Know What You May Find...
I agree that solitude isn't just for females. I see setting is important for both of us. This evening before the sun set, there were 6 cactus wrens playing in the birdbaths happily chattering and 2 hummingbirds buzzing around. It was so relaxing watching them.
In Montana I live alone. Too much ALONE. I am sitting at the Senior Center after lunch, after having connected; but, I need connection to everyday people of all ages and this is not enough.
When I travel I usually stay in hostels for the connection. If I need solitude I take a walk. Alleyways, parks, gardens... anything.
Basically, I can find both or tolerate either for a short period of time. A cruise would probably be too much. A cabin in the woods, too little.
Very nice entry and so smart!
"I think it you are boasting about how brave you are, you are likely trying to convince yourself more than others."
Yup, you said it!
To the writer about the Titanic. I think that your observation of things that impresses you was right on. Of all the people who got passage on that ship, they became similar in that they all died. That was sad. But then there were heroes who gave up their places to unfortunate ones to go on in life and touching other parts of history.
I wonder if I would give up my place. I will never know. I also have a newspaper clipping of the 4 chaplains who gave their life jackets to a military man when a ship was sunk during a war. These men were of different religions but showed their feelings and love of God by this act. Not too many people know of that.
There are probably mention of other acts of courage and sacrifice that will never be mentioned. I just know that people do strange and unexpected things when the time comes. The Titanic might be considered one of those.
Thank you for sharing.
Don't like the Titanic. Have an irrational dislike because it was described as an unsinkable ship and sunk on its' first voyage. Upset by the amount of people who died on an unsinkable vessel. Told you it was irrational dislike.
I remember how sad I felt seeing the quarters for the less fortunate versus the wealthy in the movie because like you reading about it didn't impact me. I don't think the history books really paint the picture as vividly as they should.
I agree with you about human arrogance, nothing is invincible.
Like your friend, I'm very concerned about human rights, finances, healthcare and my grandchildren's future. I'm not getting around enough yet with the knee, but I am bombarding my representatives with phone calls, and letters.
I hope to be at the next protest on April 19th. (I had knee replacement)
He stands in my doorway, the glare of perpetual disappointment etched across his narrow face. I feel the smile. I pull it methodically from my repertoire of canned responses and hope the artificial grin masks my growing rage. I surprise myself with how breezily I manage to answer the question he has asked me a dozen times already today. I ignore his unimpressed reaction, and marvel at how openly he doubts my abilities.
Twenty years I have been locked in this labyrinth. It has been almost two decades that I have wandered the landscape of the business, teaching myself about the nuances and developing the unique skill set the work requires. I know the job inside and out. And while, no one is perfect, my mistakes have been few and far between in my long tenure here. My co-worker has no appreciation for that fact, nor of what my years of experience have taught me. He still harbors the belief that I need to be mini-managed and that the degrading way in which he second guesses my decisions, is not meant to be insulting and serves only to assure we avoid any "hiccups".
"Hiccups" ...he uses the word again now, and I feel myself rankle. I drop my eyes and survey my desk. I indulge a delightful fantasy in which I suddenly chuck something at his head. My eyes find my son's toy truck, a brick red fire engine he insisted I take to work with me that first day of kindergarten. I think it looks heavy, that it might do the trick. My fingers creep toward it before I reclaim my senses. No, no. Don't go there. He's not worth the jail time.
Instead I turn up the wattage on my Cheshire cat grin and give him the answer he's waiting for. The same one I've given him thirteen times before since 6am. He saunters off and I settle for an aggressive eye roll. I open my most disturbing playlist and crank Saliva up enough to just drown out the classical jazz streaming from his office. I fish in my desk and find the chocolate chip cookie I saved from lunch. I plan to eat it savagely, while I indulge another fantasy about stabbing him in the eye with a paperclip.
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