might have beens,
lay scattered.
I stand,
my hands
still supplicant,
staring at
the kitchen tile,
knowing
the tiniest pieces
will never be swept up,
thrown away.
I will step on them,
reminded of you,
for years to come.
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
The Break Up
Fresh, bloody shards,
might have beens,
lay scattered.
I stand,
my hands
still supplicant,
staring at
the kitchen tile,
knowing
the tiniest pieces
will never be swept up,
thrown away.
I will step on them,
reminded of you,
for years to come.
might have beens,
lay scattered.
I stand,
my hands
still supplicant,
staring at
the kitchen tile,
knowing
the tiniest pieces
will never be swept up,
thrown away.
I will step on them,
reminded of you,
for years to come.
Monday, February 9, 2015
Overconfidence Causes Baldness
I've often been accused of overconfidence. I'm one of those people who looks at a piece of jewelry, furniture, clothing, or a particular entree', and immediately thinks "I can do that." This thought is immediately followed by a second thought: "It can't be that hard." This tendency is genetic, because I grew up hearing my father actually say these exact same sentences. Overconfidence can be a great trait for a person to have. It can make you try new adventures that you might never, ever be brave enough to attempt, like trying out for a play.
Overconfidence can be not so great. Not everything that looks easy is actually that simple. Talent takes hard work and skill. Some people have dedicated their entire lives to making particular sports look easy, for instance, and I'm certainly never going to think that I can dunk a basketball like Michael Jordan or play soccer like Lionel Messi. That would just be stupid. But my tiny brain hasn't quite figured out which activities look simple due to talent and hard work, and those which I might actually be able to do. So occasionally, my tendency toward overconfidence gets me into trouble. Especially when I am trying very hard to impress a person.
It was 2000. My then-fiance' was going through chemo(yes, we've dealt with cancer before), and his wonderfully curly hair became too hot to bear. Larry asked me to cut it for him, using these clippers that he bought with an adjustable guard. The commercials regarding these clippers made everything look so simple. You adjusted the guard to a certain number, say '3', and went to work. The lady in the commercial clipped her way through her entire family of eight in the span of 30 seconds!
Easy, right? That's what I said. I didn't even blink, because I thought it would be so simple. I'd watched the commercial. How hard could it be? I was very overconfident.
I wasn't even nervous.
Larry sat in a chair in the back yard of our duplex, and began chatting about something. I plugged in the clippers, set them to '2', and turned them on. Confidently, I began with the back of Larry's head. And promptly shaved down to scalp right there in the back of his head. A rectangular strip of pink skin glared at me as the sun hit it.
I was horrified.
I first looked at the clippers in accusation. That wasn't a '2'!!! I then looked down at the hank of hair that had fallen to the ground, willing it to float back up and reattach. It did not respond to my will. I panicked a little. What had I done?
Other people would have just kept going. Other people would have been certain that they could fix their error, or at least cover it up. Not me. I had already hit skin; images of how bloody head wounds can be floated through my brain. Nor could I fix this particular issue with a comb over of any kind. It was time to face the music, so I began the time honored tradition of accepting responsibility and being accountable.
"Oops."
"What do you mean, 'Oops'?" Larry stopped talking and turned around hurriedly. I stood there looking sheepish, the clippers now held behind me.
"Um, I cut it shorter than I was supposed to?" I offered hesitantly. People have strange relationships with their hair. Would this be a deal breaker in our relationship? What if he was angry? What if he decided that an overconfident woman was not the kind of wife he wanted, all because of my error. I winced a little, in anticipation of the big blow up.
Larry just stared at me. I sighed. It was time to be me, and just be frank.
"You have a bald spot now." I said. "I screwed up. We need to go find someone else to fix it."
To my surprise, Larry took the news rather well. He even laughed a little about it, reminding me that he had wanted his hair cut short so his head would be cooler. Such a sweetie! We had to drive around town a little to find someone who would "fix" my mistake. After they stopped laughing, of course. I also had to deal with an entire salon of stylists pointing and laughing at me while Larry sat in the chair. I took it all in stride.
"Not so easy, is it, now?" They teased, and I had to agree.
Overconfidence can be not so great. Not everything that looks easy is actually that simple. Talent takes hard work and skill. Some people have dedicated their entire lives to making particular sports look easy, for instance, and I'm certainly never going to think that I can dunk a basketball like Michael Jordan or play soccer like Lionel Messi. That would just be stupid. But my tiny brain hasn't quite figured out which activities look simple due to talent and hard work, and those which I might actually be able to do. So occasionally, my tendency toward overconfidence gets me into trouble. Especially when I am trying very hard to impress a person.
It was 2000. My then-fiance' was going through chemo(yes, we've dealt with cancer before), and his wonderfully curly hair became too hot to bear. Larry asked me to cut it for him, using these clippers that he bought with an adjustable guard. The commercials regarding these clippers made everything look so simple. You adjusted the guard to a certain number, say '3', and went to work. The lady in the commercial clipped her way through her entire family of eight in the span of 30 seconds!
Easy, right? That's what I said. I didn't even blink, because I thought it would be so simple. I'd watched the commercial. How hard could it be? I was very overconfident.
I wasn't even nervous.
Larry sat in a chair in the back yard of our duplex, and began chatting about something. I plugged in the clippers, set them to '2', and turned them on. Confidently, I began with the back of Larry's head. And promptly shaved down to scalp right there in the back of his head. A rectangular strip of pink skin glared at me as the sun hit it.
I was horrified.
I first looked at the clippers in accusation. That wasn't a '2'!!! I then looked down at the hank of hair that had fallen to the ground, willing it to float back up and reattach. It did not respond to my will. I panicked a little. What had I done?
Other people would have just kept going. Other people would have been certain that they could fix their error, or at least cover it up. Not me. I had already hit skin; images of how bloody head wounds can be floated through my brain. Nor could I fix this particular issue with a comb over of any kind. It was time to face the music, so I began the time honored tradition of accepting responsibility and being accountable.
"Oops."
"What do you mean, 'Oops'?" Larry stopped talking and turned around hurriedly. I stood there looking sheepish, the clippers now held behind me.
"Um, I cut it shorter than I was supposed to?" I offered hesitantly. People have strange relationships with their hair. Would this be a deal breaker in our relationship? What if he was angry? What if he decided that an overconfident woman was not the kind of wife he wanted, all because of my error. I winced a little, in anticipation of the big blow up.
Larry just stared at me. I sighed. It was time to be me, and just be frank.
"You have a bald spot now." I said. "I screwed up. We need to go find someone else to fix it."
To my surprise, Larry took the news rather well. He even laughed a little about it, reminding me that he had wanted his hair cut short so his head would be cooler. Such a sweetie! We had to drive around town a little to find someone who would "fix" my mistake. After they stopped laughing, of course. I also had to deal with an entire salon of stylists pointing and laughing at me while Larry sat in the chair. I took it all in stride.
"Not so easy, is it, now?" They teased, and I had to agree.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
A Little Advice
Mamakat's Prompt: 2.) Dear Men, (an open letter…offer a word of advice, an issue you’d
like to address, or a solution to a problem for the opposite sex).
Dear Menfolk,
Living with a woman can be difficult. We might look pretty, but so do many venomous creatures. We come with a lot of rules, for one thing, many of them secreted away in our subconscious minds. Those hidden rules are minefields for you poor souls. In many cases, even we don't know what will set us off. Besides being a walking cesspool of hormonal fluctuations, sometimes we just get overwhelmed and we react to situations badly. Feelings have been hurt, pride has been wounded, egos have been stomped.
You, poor men, have missed some sort of clue, and now you are stranded in the center of the minefield, where any movement will result in a horrific explosion. I am here to help. Here is one very important secret to dealing with your significant other safely and keep your house in harmony: Treat all women as if we were badgers. We share many of the same behavioral characteristics. We get cranky when disturbed. We protect what we love. And we attack those who poke at us.
So stop trying to poke the badger with a spoon.
Your beloved is angry, for whatever reason. She leaves the room to calm down, muttering ominously to herself. You are concerned.
Let her go.
I know, I know--being a man, you want the problem solved right then. You don't want to wait. Your first instinct will be to get up and go to your lady. You will approach her, lovingly, with the intent of making things right. Your attempts will go horribly awry, and you will find yourself face to face with an angry badger, which is hands down the most terrifying experience known to man. Even Chuck Norris won't face down an angry badger.
(Note: this is a completely hypothetical situation. My husband knows better than to poke a badger with a spoon, which is why I married him.)
Man: "What is wrong?"
Woman: "Nothing." Translation: I am still so angry that I can't even articulate that I am angry. Leave me alone.
Man: "Seriously, honey, you look angry. What is going on?
Woman:(with clenched teeth) "Nothing." Translation: see above, especially the leaving alone part.
Man: "Is it me? Are you angry at me? Because I have just been sitting there watching television for the last 18 hours. You can't possibly be mad at me."
Silence, while fighting urge to scream.
Man: "Well if it is not me you are angry at, then who?"
Woamn: "Just. Go. Away. Now." Translation: LEAVE. ME. ALONE.
Man: (Goes away, comes back three minutes later)
Man: "Are you still mad? This isn't because you got your period, is it? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Woman: "Grrrrrr!" (that's supposed to be the sound of an angry badger, but I've never been anywhere near an angry badger, so I am just guessing.)
When I become angry, I may need a few minutes or even a few hours to calm down, process what happened, and articulate my feelings about the situation. Sometimes the person I am angry at is actually me, but I need to figure that out on my own. I cannot calm down if there is someone following me around, asking me if I'm angry every 5 minutes. If anything, that person asking me if I'm angry--makes me angrier, and is the equivalent of poking a badger with a spoon. If you can learn to put the spoon down and wait for your love to calm down, your house will be much more harmonious, and there will be no need for any emergency medical attention.
I hope this helps.
Sincerely,
Not Just Another Mother Blogger!
Dear Menfolk,
Living with a woman can be difficult. We might look pretty, but so do many venomous creatures. We come with a lot of rules, for one thing, many of them secreted away in our subconscious minds. Those hidden rules are minefields for you poor souls. In many cases, even we don't know what will set us off. Besides being a walking cesspool of hormonal fluctuations, sometimes we just get overwhelmed and we react to situations badly. Feelings have been hurt, pride has been wounded, egos have been stomped.
You, poor men, have missed some sort of clue, and now you are stranded in the center of the minefield, where any movement will result in a horrific explosion. I am here to help. Here is one very important secret to dealing with your significant other safely and keep your house in harmony: Treat all women as if we were badgers. We share many of the same behavioral characteristics. We get cranky when disturbed. We protect what we love. And we attack those who poke at us.
So stop trying to poke the badger with a spoon.
Your beloved is angry, for whatever reason. She leaves the room to calm down, muttering ominously to herself. You are concerned.
Let her go.
I know, I know--being a man, you want the problem solved right then. You don't want to wait. Your first instinct will be to get up and go to your lady. You will approach her, lovingly, with the intent of making things right. Your attempts will go horribly awry, and you will find yourself face to face with an angry badger, which is hands down the most terrifying experience known to man. Even Chuck Norris won't face down an angry badger.
(Note: this is a completely hypothetical situation. My husband knows better than to poke a badger with a spoon, which is why I married him.)
Man: "What is wrong?"
Woman: "Nothing." Translation: I am still so angry that I can't even articulate that I am angry. Leave me alone.
Man: "Seriously, honey, you look angry. What is going on?
Woman:(with clenched teeth) "Nothing." Translation: see above, especially the leaving alone part.
Man: "Is it me? Are you angry at me? Because I have just been sitting there watching television for the last 18 hours. You can't possibly be mad at me."
Silence, while fighting urge to scream.
Man: "Well if it is not me you are angry at, then who?"
Woamn: "Just. Go. Away. Now." Translation: LEAVE. ME. ALONE.
Man: (Goes away, comes back three minutes later)
Man: "Are you still mad? This isn't because you got your period, is it? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Woman: "Grrrrrr!" (that's supposed to be the sound of an angry badger, but I've never been anywhere near an angry badger, so I am just guessing.)
When I become angry, I may need a few minutes or even a few hours to calm down, process what happened, and articulate my feelings about the situation. Sometimes the person I am angry at is actually me, but I need to figure that out on my own. I cannot calm down if there is someone following me around, asking me if I'm angry every 5 minutes. If anything, that person asking me if I'm angry--makes me angrier, and is the equivalent of poking a badger with a spoon. If you can learn to put the spoon down and wait for your love to calm down, your house will be much more harmonious, and there will be no need for any emergency medical attention.
I hope this helps.
Sincerely,
Not Just Another Mother Blogger!
Monday, October 8, 2012
Email Tales
I get a lot of emails at work. I actually prefer emails and text messages most of the time, because I can immediately respond to those without interrupting my day for long periods. Someone asks me a question via email, and I can reply quickly. No chit chat or expected pleasantries. Pure efficiency. Also, with email, there is a paper trail. If I can't remember something, I can go back and look.Which sometimes comes in handy, when I want to make a point.
A few weeks ago, I sent an email to a person, asking for some dates and times so that I could set up a meeting. I did not hear anything back, became distracted by a shiny object, and forgot. It happens. Last week, I sent another email. Nothing horrible or mean, no all caps, just an "Oh hey, we need to take care of this, what about those dates?" I get a reply from a different person at the organization, saying that the person I originally emailed never got my message.
No problem, I think. I simply delve into my sent emails, locate the one I sent previously and forward it. I am not into blame, because it wastes time. All I care about at this point is getting things done, and as long as someone is helping me out in that regard, I'm good.
Then I get a email from the person who claims that she never got the previous email:
"I am a little concerned...XXX is expressing that you were of the opinion that I received some paperwork for student XYZ. I have not. I show my last email from you was on the 14th of August. I am not sure where the chain is being broken in our line of communication but am wanting to try to alleviate these types of issues in the future."
Perhaps I was in a bad mood(okay, yes, I was in a bad mood), but I took the tone of this particular email to be a bit accusatory. (it is, isn't it? Or am I just being paranoid?) It irritated me. Every other email that I have ever sent to this particular woman did actually reach her because I had her replies in my inbox to prove that. I gave her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe I threw in an extra letter in the address or something; I've done that before. I compared the email addresses, and the two matched.
What probably happened is that she read the email and deleted it. She probably intended to take care of what I had requested, but she was distracted. Perfectly common occurrence. It happens. I don't have an issue with forgetting; I have an issue with a person not taking responsibility for forgetting. Her reaction to forgetting was to point the finger back at me, and now I am irritated. If you forget, say that you forgot, and we can move on. I wasn't asking for anything more than an answer to my original question.
I forwarded the now controversial email to the woman. I also forwarded it to the other person in the organization. Either it would get through to both or it wouldn't. If it didn't arrive in the correct in-box, then I would know where the breakdown was. Since I was irritated, I did not sugarcoat anything.
"This is the email I sent you three weeks ago. My purpose in resending it to you is not to accuse you of anything, but to see if this actually reaches you this time."
I hit 'send' and wouldn't you know it, I got an almost immediate reply, with a little backpedaling.
"Nor was mine to accuse you of anything, either. Just wanting to let you know that we did not get it."
Except that she did get it.
People wonder why I am grouchy--here is reason #437. Do you have anything at work that irritates you?
A few weeks ago, I sent an email to a person, asking for some dates and times so that I could set up a meeting. I did not hear anything back, became distracted by a shiny object, and forgot. It happens. Last week, I sent another email. Nothing horrible or mean, no all caps, just an "Oh hey, we need to take care of this, what about those dates?" I get a reply from a different person at the organization, saying that the person I originally emailed never got my message.
No problem, I think. I simply delve into my sent emails, locate the one I sent previously and forward it. I am not into blame, because it wastes time. All I care about at this point is getting things done, and as long as someone is helping me out in that regard, I'm good.
Then I get a email from the person who claims that she never got the previous email:
"I am a little concerned...XXX is expressing that you were of the opinion that I received some paperwork for student XYZ. I have not. I show my last email from you was on the 14th of August. I am not sure where the chain is being broken in our line of communication but am wanting to try to alleviate these types of issues in the future."
Perhaps I was in a bad mood(okay, yes, I was in a bad mood), but I took the tone of this particular email to be a bit accusatory. (it is, isn't it? Or am I just being paranoid?) It irritated me. Every other email that I have ever sent to this particular woman did actually reach her because I had her replies in my inbox to prove that. I gave her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe I threw in an extra letter in the address or something; I've done that before. I compared the email addresses, and the two matched.
What probably happened is that she read the email and deleted it. She probably intended to take care of what I had requested, but she was distracted. Perfectly common occurrence. It happens. I don't have an issue with forgetting; I have an issue with a person not taking responsibility for forgetting. Her reaction to forgetting was to point the finger back at me, and now I am irritated. If you forget, say that you forgot, and we can move on. I wasn't asking for anything more than an answer to my original question.
I forwarded the now controversial email to the woman. I also forwarded it to the other person in the organization. Either it would get through to both or it wouldn't. If it didn't arrive in the correct in-box, then I would know where the breakdown was. Since I was irritated, I did not sugarcoat anything.
"This is the email I sent you three weeks ago. My purpose in resending it to you is not to accuse you of anything, but to see if this actually reaches you this time."
I hit 'send' and wouldn't you know it, I got an almost immediate reply, with a little backpedaling.
"Nor was mine to accuse you of anything, either. Just wanting to let you know that we did not get it."
Except that she did get it.
People wonder why I am grouchy--here is reason #437. Do you have anything at work that irritates you?
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