Working / Life…

November 9, 2017

The title slash is my personal reminder that they are best kept separate. While parts of each spill over in feelings, thoughts, and actions, ultimately it is up to me to make sure the two do not cross the line. 

Each day I watch and listen to those who have allowed the mingling, reflecting as tiredness, anxiety, and a short fuse.

I do not own part of the company. As an hourly employee my job is to  fulfil tasks I was hired to do. Each workday I perform in a steady accurate manner. Breaks and a quick bite to eat are usually under an hour per day for my  forty plus week. Interestingly, those who fritter away time with talking, smoke breaks, and whatever-else strikes-their-fancy, appear to do just as well as me. Some barely meet their forty hours and quickly leave when their  quitting time rolls around. Then there are the martyrs, who work ridiculous hours on a regular basis…regular hourly folks…those who have no ownership. Sometimes they seem to have an attitude of, ” I’m a great person/better than you, because I work such long hours.” …Bubble bust: you aren’t. You just have a bigger paycheck and more stress.

 Yes, I’m sounding cynical because I understand that the company appreciates your working all the hours…right up until the time you do something and you are no longer there. Whether through quitting, firing, retirement, or death, the company goes on. All those hours are just numbers to them. They hold no sentiment within the pages of your Human Resource File. 

Remember this when  logging in hours that stress you, take away family time, and damage your health. 

Work is good and necessary, but remember to put the slash between work and life. It will keep you better balanced all the way around. 

P.S. My upcoming “work project” is to mimic the casualness of my co-workers who seem to fare well in the above. Smoking, however, will not be part of the project!ūüėČ


No one ever cares…

November 8, 2017

about your business as much as you do. Personal? Business? Social? Spiritual? No matter what it is, you will carry a special place in your own life that no one else can share. People can care and participate, but you alone know your own joy, sadness, excitement, love, hatred, and whatever other feelings you feel within your own mind. 

Perhaps this is why so many things are just not as dear anymore. People try to feign others’ feelings and join in without the ability to succeed. The elaborate birthday parties, giveaways, endless charity drives, walks, protests, rallies, riots, etc. are nothing more than props, that end up never being able to really bring the peace that they intend,¬† never quite measuring up when all the festivities have subsided.¬†

Maybe it’s time to stop “caring” so much through actions of grandeur, after all, life is a daily thing and consistency on an everyday basis, even in small gestures can eventually yield great dividends.¬†

Lost Art Of Speaking…

November 7, 2017

This is an age of no patience. People cut others off in conversation. Worse, those who still try to maintain politeness by listening, are drowned out from the ones who loudly proclaim their stance on issues being discussed. Ever felt you didn’t matter in a conversation? It happens to a lot of us. Couple it with a soft voice and you are guaranteed to experience this first hand.  This is why I mostly listen.

 I learn about those who run the conversations . I learn their weaknesses,  their desires, the strengths they may have… everything they speak reveals something.

Listening can strengthen you, giving insight for future dealings with them. 

When the time is right , your point can be made. 

Always bear in mind,

“Empty vessels ring the loudest.”  


October 29, 2017

A long time ago, I let go of who I was because I thought by being what others liked I would get¬† what I wanted. All the seemingly small things added up until one day, “I” was no more.

Time to be “me” again.

School Profit-See…

August 1, 2017

Like clockwork the beginning schoolyear has brought out all the good hearted¬† folks to advertise how YOU can help “the children” start out the year right with supplies¬† so everyone is equipped to learn! Stuff the bus, fill the boxes, pack a backpack, and any other catch phrase that may appeal to the generous souls that are willing to help the kiddies, right? Wrong. Whether it’s cutting hair for free or donating school supplies it is not right. What in the world is wrong with people today? Underprivileged children is officially the norm. Yes, they ARE in a real sense of the word. Most have multiple “parents” or no parents, along with a childhood that includes things that I never even knew about until I was an adult.

A few boxes of crayons and some notebook paper are not going to change the child’s everyday life. ¬†Crayons get broken and paper may¬†get used, but the child remains in circumstances that put them in the line for free supplies in the first place. Parents who take them to these events smile broadly and say they¬†are so ‘thankful’ to the volunteers/television ¬†camera/radio dj who is live on location as the kiddies step up and receive.

Is there no shame anymore? Is there no questioning WHY these children’s parent’s are unable to buy school supplies when they know it will be approaching every single year?

You are a cruel and uncaring person. You have no idea the circumstances of the family. You have no right to judge. You need to mind your own business.¬† My answer to YOU is this: I am not a cruel uncaring person. I am, however, a person who is tired of all the begging, rather TAKING of people’s money and insisting that we owe it to “the children”. What do I owe to someone’s child? Better question, what does the PARENT owe to THEIR child? I don’t know the circumstances of the family, BUT I HAVE seen plenty of parents who stand in line for free stuff display some mighty fancy hairdos, nails, and clothing, along with a lot of them having no lack of body fat which says they are eating quite well. As far as minding my own business, I do very well in this area WITH THE EXCEPTION OF BEING TIRED OF GETTING BOMBARDED WITH THIS CRAZY “GIVE TO HELP” MESSAGE each year. Actually, I am tired of¬† EVERY SINGLE THING THAT PERTAINS TO GIVING. It is out of control.

This entire society is panhandling. It’s on the roads, in the airwaves, and certainly when you go outside to do any shopping or get a bite to eat after working all week. There are so many nonprofits you can’t even name them.¬† The churches are always helping people and yet it seems to be getting worse and worse. Maybe it’s time to resurrect the old way of things. Remember when people were willing to work for a living? Remember when people were ashamed to have to take something because they had no other way? Take a look at the old photos of soup lines up north during the depression. People were not laughing and looking all pleased. They were serious of face, mind, and spirit. People today only think they are underprivileged.

In case you think I’m blowing smoke, let me tell you why I think the way I do.¬† When I was a child, my mother once borrowed money from her brother to buy our school supplies because she just didn’t have the extra cash that particular year. She paid him back every cent and we had our school supplies. She did not go out and bellyache because she didn’t have the money. She went discreetly to family and family came through. The best part? She never, ever spoke of this to me or my brother as children and I still don’t know whether he knows about it, and I only found out from her after I was very grown in years.¬† Parents could use that advice, too. It seems parents today tell their children everything. Worse, they show them everything with the kinds of lifestyles they live.

Hate me if you want, but it is the truth. Look around you. You know I’m right.



Passing Of Time…

July 26, 2017

is a constant thing. When looking at the mirror and going through everyday life we realize only when we see old photographs or now, digital or Facebook throwbacks how we look different¬†and sometimes it comes as a shock. In less than a month I’ll be another year older if I should live. One never knows, but if I do, I’ll walk a bit more careful, go slower than I used to , and take precaution in areas that once were just a hop, skip, and a jump. Lately I’ve been noticing things that I myself did a decade or so back. When you are at that between age of not young but not old you tend to hold on to the young¬†rather than accept the growing years. I could not tell you the day/month/year when acceptance of no longer being young was a fact in my life. While I’m still youthful to some, mostly I’m at the stage where I’m living a life that lets me simply be. Actually, there is no longer the desire to be young because when encountering¬† young people, the conversations they have and the things they do no longer hold my interest. They are in their season and I have already passed that one and am far into another one…the one that fits me. People that try to hold on are fooling themselves. Not that you have to grab a shawl and become helpless, far from it. Something I’ve noticed recently is someone¬†although not¬†too far behind me, appears to still be in a youthful state of mind even when it comes to everyday conversations and actions. When speaking, it is¬†usually surface.¬† To date I only¬†recall¬†once a conversation on the serious side. Aside from being well set in the area of finance,(actually that is not a proven thing because again, people look well off all the time and behind closed doors there are sleepless nights, fighting, and a whole host of things that come to light when they file for divorce/bankruptcy/etc.) this person seems to either be in earnest¬† or else hiding their true personality to the public. The point I am making is,¬†to each his/her own. My life is mine and they have theirs. Personally, I enjoy not having to fool with some of the things that seemed so important in my younger years. I wear, eat, purchase, or NOT purchase what I like and do not worry about whether I’ll meet expectations of others. Living according to my own interests is something that I enjoy and it came about as I became older.

I am happy with me and so, I say to everyone young , old, or middle: be comfortable in YOUR season.

¬†Now, (THE key word ), let’s enjoy the rest of the summer …

It’s A Wrap!…

July 2, 2017

My lifelong friend has a¬†birthday shortly¬†and yesterday the perfect gifts showed themselves while shopping.¬†Deciding to wrap¬†them I was reminded of how I sang a note of joy when gift bags came to market. I’m famously known for my wrapping skills. I say I wrap like my grandmother.¬†On one occasion I¬†heard my mother¬†comment, ”¬†You can always tell when a gift has been wrapped by Nanny (her mother). It wasn’t said in a disdainful manner, but rather an endearing one. Seems she was a bit off of perfection, unlike my mother, who would wrap a present that still leaves me wondering what happened to THAT gene where I’m concerned…

I’ve decided I’m a freestyle wrapper. It’s my signature just like my grandmother.

Maybe it will bring a smile to family and friends when they think of me should I depart this world before them.

from marriages/relationship’s are exactly that. They are not yours and that, dear readers is the truth. There are occasions where step parent(s) do make the effort to treat them with kindness and instill some sense of family whether they live with them or during visitation. Facebook is full of “concerned” step parents who bemoan about the terrible parenting skills of the biological. They parade their ready made family across the timeline like a constant breeze. Trouble is…it reeks of garbage in a lot of instances. If it isn’t plastered on facebook, then it is a regular topic at work or whatever social / religious circles you frequent.

I listen and I watch. Those that talk about other people’s children are 10 out of 10 times speaking negatively against what the child does and dovetails it with the other parent being at fault. The child is cast into a shadow of gray and so becomes part of “the problem”. Just this week I heard the term “…my¬†**#t head kid…” when¬†they¬†ARE NOT theirs, but rather the spouse’s. So far,¬†every snippet of conversation¬†has been on the shortcomings of¬†parenting (not from the spouse) and¬†how the child is this or that, always lacking.

Something else…even if you try to be the concerned, loving, great step parent and have a child of your own with current spouse don’t be fooled into thinking that your preference to your own doesn’t show through.¬†I can absolutely say that I have been a witness to it happening. That little blood borne darling is yours. I’m honing in on the mamas especially, because for whatever reason, females seem to have this innate need to tear other women’s children down; even more so if they are married to the father. There is one particular child at the moment I’m feeling¬†sorry for even though I’ve never laid eyes upon them. I know what the step mother is like in an adult setting and can only imagine what she puts the kid through.

I write from what I see. I don’t see the heart, but I do see the looks, actions, and tell-tale signs that all point to my posting. I stand by it even if you don’t agree because it is my experience.

The kindest thing would be to keep your opinions to yourself. The child already knows you dislike them, as children are not stupid. The stupid ones are adults trying to pretend that they have a ‘real’ family when in reality it is only one that is built upon broken promises and dissatisfaction.¬†Throwing children of other people into your¬†SELF CENTERED¬†PLAN of ‘family’ usually¬†leads to a recipe that leaves a bad taste in everyone’s mouth.

¬†Dear¬†“…my **8t head kid…”, I hope things get better for you.


Worker Bee…

June 13, 2017

Typing is my livelihood these days. Sitting eight to nine hours a day discovering people’s names, addresses, phone numbers, and other bits and pieces of their lives brings me a paycheck. If told I had to recall them and their information outside of the few minutes it takes to send it into “the system”, as I lovingly call it, I would be hard pressed. A blur of names and ages run across my eyes and fingers like lightening bugs on a hot Southern evening. Flitting and darting until the papers are finished and laid down only to pick up another set and repeat. The sterile manner in which I see this information is much like today’s society.¬† Removed from a Mayberry landscape where everyone knows when you sneeze to a screen where millions of words, numbers, and symbols pop up and join the cyber highway to …where?¬†

Personally, I like taking the slow backroads. You know, the two lanes where trees shade the car and all kinds of shadows hammer on the exterior as you drive leisurely by individual homes rather than¬† “little boxes” as the song says…and so on that note I tip my water to a slow summer…


my chair, a child’s stool where my arms rest on either leg as I type. My life is in re-adjustment at the moment. For eight months and one week the days have been forty hours. This is the third day into the 24 hours-are-mine-mode. This morning around ten a.m. the decision was made to stop by a local business that had advertised via the internet. No internet apps¬†or¬†calls it said. Stop by in person.

Walking into the cool metal building I was suddenly aware that four heads jerked up, staring as if I were an intruder in a jungle setting.¬†The look on their faces and the feeling that permeated the air signaled DANGER, INTERLOPER, RRRRRRRR…just like an unhappy cat. While they continued to stare without a hint of smile on their lips or eyes, I asked were applications still being accepted. Scanning each face, my purpose was¬†to let them know I was open to dealing with any of the four. One finally murmured, “Yeah, I think they are…” Someone walked across and pushed the application sheets and gave me a pen.¬†My gut¬†feeling¬†indicated drama in this place. Setting down, the application was short, which was great considering I wanted to do this as fast as possible and skee-daddle. Not in a long time have I felt THAT much wariness from the female sector. You would’ve thought I’d asked could I date their boyfriend or husband. Which would’ve been hilarious since I could be their mother for sure, probably one or two, their GRANDmothers.

After squinting to read the sections, (no way was I going back to my car for glasses)¬†thankfully a male walked in and standing up, I offered the¬†application into his hand with his response of,¬†” I’ll give it to him”…I thanked him, opened the door and exited the¬†estrogen dominated chokehold. ¬†

I think I heard a faint noise¬†after the door closed…I’ll bet they have their own in-house shredders…if you know what I mean…RRRRRRR…