Yesterday, I brought up a video during a conversation that had impacted my understanding of people many years ago. I was talking with my mother and sister. I’ve always had the feeling that we each found the other’s temperament a little ‘off putting’.
If you have 20 minutes to give the video below, it may help you to understand others better. That odd, ‘off balance’, feeling we can have even with people we love (and/or like) might have an explanation. [The video is quite entertaining too!]
People are FAR more than their temperaments, but our temperaments are quite a baseline measure of how we approach life.
The varying approaches of individuals are fascinating, often maddening, to us. It’s nice to consider that we aren’t just ‘doing it wrong’. We may be approaching everything with different expectations.
I think this guy (Mark Gungor) pretty much nails down the ways we vary by temperament.
I was a person from “Fun Country” sitting in the same room with my sister, from “Peace Country” and my mother, from “Perfect Country”. [BTW… I married a man from “Control Country”.]
If asked, I believe we would all admit that we’ve had moments when our understanding of each other was strained. Recognizing our differences at the elemental temperamental level gives me a better plan for making myself understood to them… and behaving more patiently while trying to understand them.
So, I ask, “Might our temperaments cause misunderstanding?”
I think so. Enjoy!
Simply Six Minutes- 1/24/23 Maximus RIP
The challenge is to write a story in 6 minutes using the photo below as the prompt.
My people called me “Fluffy”. But you can call me “Maximus”.
That’s what my homies called me.
Yep, I was all THAT after dark with the ‘ladies’ too.
I lapped saucers of milk (that gave me gas), squeezed into tissue boxes, sprawled on keyboards, but mostly lazed on windowsills during the day… every day, until last Spring.
It was then my people decided to renovate the cellar, but they conveniently forgot to barricade the crawlspace under the front porch, so it was then I found my avenue to FREEDOM.
Tipping garbage cans and yowling at the moon made me feel alive!
Then I saw her. The prettiest little calico on Earth!
Matty was her name and lovin’ was her game. M-E-O-W!
Now it’s over. My 9th life left me after an ill-timed leap showing off for my Matty at the dump.
My only regret is all these darn steps on this stairway to heaven!
I wonder if they’ll have windowsills up there. I could use a rest.
Sunday Poser #110- Who are YOU?
I had to think on this question for a short while. None popped to mind. I’m not inclined to worry much about other people’s opinions on what I’m doing but I am, I assure you, human.
Since I don’t “keep tabs” on people, in general, I find that I can be poor at remembering people. I am quite attentive to them when we’re introduced but I don’t hold on to “who they are ” efficiently. That being the case, I’m embarrassed a bit when people approach me, and I don’t know who the heck they are! Especially when they know my name.
Being flawed in that way, I’m pretty good at faking it until I can place them but ultimately, I’ll apologize and have to ask now and then.
A comment like, “Oh, hi. How is everyone?” can sometimes offer me a name in their response that will spark my memory. LOL
Even when I do remember, I often confess to having been unsure. Then I make fun of myself for being so forgetful. Most people appreciate that.
[ I’ve known hundreds of local families through my day care profession and many times it’s a child’s aunt or teacher with whom I only briefly interacted.]
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.
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. 😉
War on Punks
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?