Sunday Poser #64-Feeling Uncomfortable

This is an excellent question posed by Sadje.
I hadn’t actually deeply considered this as I usually greet people on their own terms. But there are people who gain favor in my eyes quickly by doing some simple things.
1. I find making eye contact especially appealing. The eyes, after all, are the “windows to the soul”.
2. Someone who is quick to smile is always endearing.
3. People who discuss ideas rather than gossip or complaints, are my favorite types.
And?
4. A healthy sarcastic sense of humor just seals the deal for me.
I know this kinda turns the topic on its head but, like I said, I’m not fond of complaining. 😉

https://lifeafter50forwomen.com/2022/01/23/sunday-poser-64/

War on Punks

English: Suspect in a possible hate crime in V...
English: Suspect in a possible hate crime in Vancouver . (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

http://www.foxnews.com/us/2013/08/21/police-say-teen-shot-australian-student-in-oklahoma-for-fun-it/

The link above is to the recent news article about the tragic killing of an Australian young man by some “punks” who were reportedly bored. The news media has offered many reasons for this atrocity. To name a few:

  • The US gun culture…
  • A racial hate crime…
  • Violence inspired by game playing…

I believe that I stumbled upon the real deeper cause when I commented in a reaction to this horror … “We need a “war on punks”!”
A punk, in my mind, is a young male who is striving for manhood by means of intimidation and violence.
Sadly, and dangerously, our society has lost the traditional definition of manhood.
Some of the reasons are economic but many stem from a “watering down” of the roles men play. Confused? So are our sons.
Back in the day, men were the providers of protection and the essentials for family survival. Since caveman times, the males had a clear role and spent (testosterone inspired) energy to fill that position.
Enter the women’s movement, government assistance, modern conveniences, absentee fathers and unemployment and you have idle time in the hands of males without direction.
Remember, to every action comes an equal and opposite reaction?
The women’s movement was a GOOD thing. This is not a puritanical conservative documentary, in the least. It is, however, a thoughtful wondering about the male experience in an attempt to shed light on a grave predicament in our culture.
“What makes a man?”
Punks seem to believe it is an adrenaline rush inspired by a dangerous act.
How did that happen?

First, we have taken the pointed scissors away from kids. That’s right. This cushioned, ultra-safety oriented, society has had a hand in making boys into sissies. Their confidence and male bravado has no inspiration.
I asked a 10-year-old to help me with lawn mowing, the other day. He said he’d never been asked. There must be a warning label, somewhere, which claims that my suggestion was illegal! (ATVs have labels too. “No one under twelve can operate them.” Funny though, the youth-sized ones are generally too small for most twelve-year-olds.)

Secondly, fatherhood is a duty not a choice. Modern society has lost sight of that in a nutshell. Boys need quality men to show them how to become men of quality.

Thirdly, Idle time and video game playing are not allowing for physical exertion. Scientifically, the lack of physical exertion MUST have an adverse effect upon testosterone fueled adolescents! I’m sure there is a study somewhere which would verify that adrenaline is a necessary drug in a young man’s life.

There must be a way to counteract the poisonous conditions of our sons’ environments.
Sports teams are one way. But many have not the means, nor interest, to take part in sports.
May I suggest, that in dealing with boys who have been expelled from or have dropped out of school, who have had scrapes with the police or are members of gangs, that we seriously entertain a type of boot camp. (Yes, those who have no pre-existing  disability, only.)
Of course, the boot camp would be the bottom line but they could be exempt from going if they entered a mentor program or volunteered in community service opportunities.

NOW, the race card would be thrown at this idea. The chances are, the black community would be in high attendance. (Unemployment and absentee fathers the catalyst.) BUT, instead of thinking this was an effort to marginalize minorities…why wouldn’t we consider it helping where the help is most needed?

These are just infant ideas for a possible cause and solution for a deep problem that just won’t be going away. What do you think?

My Handle on Anger

I don’t like feeling angry. It is an emotion that I have suppressed for most of my life. It sounds as though I think it has no value. It does. Problem is, I am unfamiliar with how to manage it.

I’m reminded of a scene from the Honeymooners. Ralph and Alice are arguing, as usual, about their finances. Ralph accuses Alice of not being able to handle money. Her brilliant reply:

“Of course I don’t, I’ve never had any practice!”

Well, that’s how I’ve been feeling about anger. Once released, though, it inwardly consumes me. Watching a Dirty Harry movie used to do the trick. I’d grit my teeth right along with Clint Eastwood as he squeezed the trigger. That “punk” was the embodiment of all the wrongs I had felt.

As a woman, my days are filled with tiny sacrifices. Martyrdom is not what this is about. I am very happy to create happiness and contentment, when I am able, but those little sacrifices serve as gasoline on my fire once anger comes out to play. It’s not important to list every single sacrifice. All you need to know is every single decision has a “pecking order” and I’m always last on the list. I KNOW…I don’t need to put myself there.

I care for kids…demanding little angels who are good reasons for some of my sacrifice. Believe me, I have a favorite comment for those who demand too much, too soon. “Do I look like I’m busy?” The problem with that statement is all too clear when I try to relax. “You don’t look busy now?” is what I will be reminded. And, the demand, although not granted every time, still rests on my shoulders as a demand.

Still, that alone does not anger me. But, with the daily demands ever fresh, my family comes home. Not only do I mange kids, I am command central for the family. “Any messages or phone calls?” “Where’s my blue jacket?” “When’s supper?” …you get the picture.

By day’s end, I have a goal, a picture in my head, of me with a book on my couch. I hang on to that picture. The phone may ring…the dog needs to go out and in and out…I may finally sit down and feel sweet release only to notice I have misplaced my glasses OR that the kids have found a unique place for them. All this, I assure you, I can handle.

Then, my husband turns on the TV. He skips from one political propaganda station to the next. A commercial for the ASPCA comes on. I try not to listen but I cannot completely tune it all out. NOW, I’m angry!

It wasn’t one single event but the sum total.

I guess the part that is so sad is that I don’t show it. But lately, there is so much buried that there’s no room for more. I won’t ever take it out on the kids or dog. I’m tempted to take the batteries out of the TV remote though.

I feel better now. Just from the release of my anger in writing. I don’t like to feel angry. I am a very tolerant person. But, if you feel the need to cross me, there’s a poignant question you should ask yourself:

Do you feel lucky PUNK?

Just because I pity you, doesn’t mean I have to listen to you.

No political correctness
No political correctness (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

There’s nothing that “grinds my grits” more than having to be careful of what I say. (I’m not from the South…don’t know why I mentioned “grinding grits” , just think it sounds irritating.)

So, political correctness really “pushes my buttons”. (That just doesn’t sound irritating enough…but you get my drift. 🙂 )

There’s something about feeling censored that makes me feel that my opinion doesn’t count, or worse, is ill intended.

On top of it all, those who are easily offended by others, keep it to themselves and share it with others who are willing and , I suggest, anxious to be offended( gives them some drama for their mundane lives of laying in wait.) or just enjoy the fact that they are less offensive than the offender.

Makes me wonder what the deep dark secret is?

My first thought is that these offended types, like to take sides. They really think that life is black and white and good and evil. Taking a side, makes them feel less wrong.

Actually, I pity their view and their low self-esteem. Makes me want to let them know that others aren’t as bad as they think and that they,themselves, are better than they think they are.

No one criticizes them more than they must themselves. If they only knew how little anyone cares about their judgement.

How horribly judgemental they must think others are too.

Hey, maybe I am wrong about them?

Don’t want to judge them…if you can’t beat them, don’t join them…block them off of your Facebook and carry on folks!

Random Word Story 8~ Being Crazy

Random words by creativitygames.net.

bingle…candle…guide…vinegar…ladder

Here’s my story:

It was just a bingle. A bingle …Ha!  Josie hadn’t heard that term since Little League. A bingle wouldn’t have made blood run down her forehead.

She was lying on the bathroom floor with a blood soaked towel on her head. Donna had told her that the collision with the cupboard door had been only a bingle. SHE WASN’T THE ONE BLEEDING TO DEATH.

Josie climbed the vanity like a ladder to get to her feet. Looking up was way too painful so she let the dried droplets on the floor guide her back to the kitchen. When she pushed through the swinging doors, the odor of vinegar stopped her as suddenly as the cupboard had done. A spilled bottle lay at her feet. The place was in shambles. Where was Donna? What had happened?

The last thing she remembers was having their book club meeting. The wine and cheese were both going down very well. She’d stayed up to read the remainder of “The Next Thing On My List” by Jill Smolinski the night before. It was a great read with a poignant message to keep trying new things. Josie never had a concussion before but she doubted that a concussion was on anyone’s list. She giggled at the thought then grabbed her head. Ouch!

“Donna?”

It came out like a whisper.

“Donna, yo Donna!”

The candle on the table was taking its last breath when Donna came in carrying a stack of books.

“Whoa…what happened to you?” Donna clearly had not remembered her “bingle”.

“I walked into the damn cupboard door. THAT’S what.”

“You Okay?”

Josie just waved at her and smiled.

” Better get you cleaned up. This kitchen needs first aid too. Book club is in an hour.”

Josie suddenly realized that her late night read had been the culprit. She’d been exhausted and regretted the Saturday morning book date because of the work load she’d had all week at the office. Wow…she’d hit her head and dreamed up the whole scenario while spending part of the night on the floor.  She sighed and realized that this must be what crazy feels like. Now THAT was a new experience.

Josie shook it off and decided to forget the whole event. She was feeling better and Donna had a way of getting overly concerned.

“So, what book are we reading next, my friend?”

“Oh yeah, it’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Thought feeling crazy would be something new to try.”

Josie laughed and looked at the ceiling, “Let’s hurry and clean this place up. Think it’s too early for wine?”

A funny thing happened…I was engaged.

Are you one of those people who “engages” others? You know, eyes forward and making contact with those folks who have their eyes up.

That’s a marvelous way to have fun and ,of course, learn.

After my early morning blogging fun, I went to the grocery store. Living in a small city, I recognize many people and come to feel that I know them. My first sight was a young man soliciting credit card applications for his bank. He was standing at the entrance. I shouted out to him,”Selling cookies?” When I reached him. We shared a laugh and he followed me into the store. As we walked in, I offered him an “opening line” that might be useful in engaging the next person.

“Did you know that it is International Women’s Day? That is a tidbit that you could use when opening a conversation with customers.”

He said,” Wow, I didn’t know that. Thanks.”

The lady walking in behind us joined in. “I just found out about the event from an email this morning. My friend in Europe told me. It’s a BIG deal over there.”

Then the lady and I shared our dismay that the interest seemed low in the US and went about our shopping.

This happens often with me. Rarely, is “running to the store” uneventful or boring. I cannot seem to walk around without engaging people. There is a line between engaging and stalking though. A brief exchange is all anyone wants or has time for. I’ve had just a few instances where an especially lonely soul wanted to come to dinner! Thankfully, those are rare and an engaging person gets a sense about who to talk to after a while.

My point is all about taking an active interest in people and your day. It’s fun and makes for a fellowship in your community. I like friendly people.

Waiting…

male

He must be important

Proud, strong and full of lust.

***

She builds, nurtures and carries.

***

Master of his world

Conquering and seducing .

***

Her life is dauntless and driven.

***

Bright colors and a posture perfect

Anticipating a fight…a war.

***

Within her beats the new life…miracles.

***

Been said, “Lonely at the top.”

He is waiting.

***

She remains to busy to notice…

female