Should we always worry we will not be loved if we say what we feel? Have you ever said or written something which you mean in general but do not mean specifically when it comes to relatives or friends? You say it, then immediately think, I wish I could take that back. I do not mean it when it applies to so and so. Well, I do this all the time.
How are we to handle these awkward moments when what we believe is so far away from what someone whom we love believes? On the other hand often the one we are concerned about has no such concern for our sensibilities. It is a quandary isn't it?
We tie ourselves up in knots being politically correct and trying not to offend anyone, that often the one we offend by omission, is OURSELVES. I remember back in the day when Grandpa or Daddy would say exactly how they felt or what they believed and we would just keep our mouths shut or say he is just a stupid or ignorant old man, and just let it go. Age should have some privilege's and I am now 70.(or soon will be) I should be able to say what I think and mean what I say without being hated forever, or not being talked to.
What is it about our time which is so incendiary and what makes it so difficult to love each other when we disagree? We used to say let us agree to disagree. Now we think, I shouldn't let them know I disagree or they will be angry.
I say so what and damn the torpedoes. In a world where bombs explode around civic events, ricin is sent to our president, and the f- bomb proliferates, I think an old lady can certainly express her opinion and not worry about offending those near and dear.
So I will speak out and say what I feel. I have no desire to hurt anyone else but perhaps if enough people know there are those who are willing to speak up for the other side, no matter what the other side is, then perhaps we can be more accepting of each other in general. Live and let live, agree to disagree, let all voices be heard and don't be afraid. This is what the 1st amendment is all about. It isn't just to allow a voice for porn or madmen.
The only people we should worry about hurting the feelings of, are those who cannot stand up for or defend themselves, like babies, children, and persons with different abilities.
PooBah has spoken!!!
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Monday, April 29, 2013
To Exclude or Not, that is the ?
Do you have someone who is mean or nasty to you, or who ignores you and puts down things you suggest or ideas you have? In my life I have had several people like this. It is my policy to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Butter will not melt in my mouth when facing an enemy. I am soooo nice. Mama used to tell me the worst thing you can do to someone who does not like you, is to greet her warmly in public. Thus you force her to cut you or be nasty in front of others. When I follow this policy I elicit one of the following reactions. Sometimes the person will say "Oh! hello", with a puzzled expression on her face. Sometimes she will pretend she doesn't hear me and then I get in her face and say hi again. This time she will say hello, sometimes with a bit of irritation. The third and most usual reaction is she will say "Hello", back with some degree of warmth. She will then follow up with a comment like "isn't it a lovely day", etc. and we will be in a conversation.
By taking this kind of action with difficult persons I have found it has cost me nothing to be nice. The other person is forced to show her colors, and she usually doesn't really dare to do so in public. Finally, I may find I have been wrong. I have given the other person a chance to be nice and sometimes she just is nice. I may have mistaken her previous behavior for my own insecurities. The criticisms she made or the attitudes I attributed to her may have revealed more about me than they did about her.
I have to constantly examine my assumptions. They are so easy to make and can be so destructive to relationships. They say people make up their minds about others in the first 20 seconds of meeting or seeing them. I know I am very quick to judge. I quickly pick up of superficial clues, but I try real hard to not be overly influenced by them. I have learned how mistaken I have been in the past and I know people are often mistaken about me.
I am often puzzled about why people just don't seem to like me. I remember walking into the cafeteria as a kid and heading immediately to the safe zone of one or two of my friends. I still did this at work and other areas of my life. It always seems there are circles of people I am never invited into, and if I were to inadvertently crash one of these circles, I would be greeted with condescending looks or completely ignored. I have gotten on elevators with groups of these people and deliberately pushed another floor so I wouldn't have to stay and be uncomfortable. I have tried to avoid certain circles at business parties where I know I would feel inadequate or unwelcome. I sometimes would walk into such a group anyway, to see if I had misjudged them. Guess what? I hadn't. I was made to feel as unwelcome as a sardine in a shrimp cocktail.
Even now, in Church, which should always feel like a safe place, I am forced to confront these same unwanted feelings. It is even more subtle and insidious now as everyone is supposed to play nice. I have formed many real friendships in Church, and I shouldn't complain, but this goes back so many years and still continues, and I know it is not just me.
So many people are left out or ignored because they are too loud, to meek, complain too much, don't dress right, dress too fancy, talk too much, don't talk enough, etc. etc. etc. I always have to examine my own complicity in this judgemental process. One must constantly ask WWJD. Rich or poor, saint or sinner, healthy or diseased, all were welcome with our Lord. How can I stand myself if I continue to be so exclusive. So I keep trying, and trying not to bother with those who exclude me. It is really their problem, not mine.
By taking this kind of action with difficult persons I have found it has cost me nothing to be nice. The other person is forced to show her colors, and she usually doesn't really dare to do so in public. Finally, I may find I have been wrong. I have given the other person a chance to be nice and sometimes she just is nice. I may have mistaken her previous behavior for my own insecurities. The criticisms she made or the attitudes I attributed to her may have revealed more about me than they did about her.
I have to constantly examine my assumptions. They are so easy to make and can be so destructive to relationships. They say people make up their minds about others in the first 20 seconds of meeting or seeing them. I know I am very quick to judge. I quickly pick up of superficial clues, but I try real hard to not be overly influenced by them. I have learned how mistaken I have been in the past and I know people are often mistaken about me.
I am often puzzled about why people just don't seem to like me. I remember walking into the cafeteria as a kid and heading immediately to the safe zone of one or two of my friends. I still did this at work and other areas of my life. It always seems there are circles of people I am never invited into, and if I were to inadvertently crash one of these circles, I would be greeted with condescending looks or completely ignored. I have gotten on elevators with groups of these people and deliberately pushed another floor so I wouldn't have to stay and be uncomfortable. I have tried to avoid certain circles at business parties where I know I would feel inadequate or unwelcome. I sometimes would walk into such a group anyway, to see if I had misjudged them. Guess what? I hadn't. I was made to feel as unwelcome as a sardine in a shrimp cocktail.
Even now, in Church, which should always feel like a safe place, I am forced to confront these same unwanted feelings. It is even more subtle and insidious now as everyone is supposed to play nice. I have formed many real friendships in Church, and I shouldn't complain, but this goes back so many years and still continues, and I know it is not just me.
So many people are left out or ignored because they are too loud, to meek, complain too much, don't dress right, dress too fancy, talk too much, don't talk enough, etc. etc. etc. I always have to examine my own complicity in this judgemental process. One must constantly ask WWJD. Rich or poor, saint or sinner, healthy or diseased, all were welcome with our Lord. How can I stand myself if I continue to be so exclusive. So I keep trying, and trying not to bother with those who exclude me. It is really their problem, not mine.
Saturday, April 27, 2013
I'm Back, but I am not smoking........
I decided to come back to write again after a little lapse in thought. I don't know if you feel this way but sometimes it just don't feel worth it. Anything. I feel like hiding in bed with the covers over my head. But then it becomes difficult for me to breath and I already have too much of that.
The breath of life. How I used to take it for granted. At least 20 times a day I would fill my lungs with smoke I inhaled from a fragrant little tube of tobacco. Aw, how I loved the smell of tobacco. Both in the scent of a freshly opened pack of cigarettes and in the air when the tobacco was burning. The smell seems to annoy so many people. I still love it and follow, like a bloodhound with my nose to the ground, to a place where smokers just walked. In my view of heaven there will be endless packs of cigarettes and endless tins of pie and you can take as much as you desire of either without being harmed in any way.
Smoking was the worst curse and greatest joy of my physical being. I tell people I was inhaling in the womb as my dad smoked around me from conception. I grew up with smoke filled rooms and overflowing ash trays. My earliest memories included the sharp acrid scent of burning tobacco. Dad was a indiscriminate smoker. He smoked cigarettes, cigars, and pipes and at times rolled his own cigarettes. He smoked in bed, in the car, in the toilet, in the woods, in fact smokes were his constant companion. They became mine as well.
My Mom had asked me not to smoke until I graduated from High School. The day I graduated, still in my graduation gown, I made my parents stop on the way home, and I bought my first carton of Marlboros. Mother was aghast but I had kept my promise. I remember sitting on a stool in a diner with my girlfriend beside me; and almost falling off the stool because I was so dizzy with the smoke. I persevered however and soon could smoke with the best of them. Quickly I graduated to a pack a day, and from there was no stopping me.
I smoked for 50 years and I know I would most likely still be smoking were it not for prayers being answered. I had been trying to stop smoking from the mid 1970s. I really tried everything. I went to hypnosis twice. I had acupuncture and wore a staple in my ear. Every wild and crazy technique which was promoted, I tried. I had rubber bands around my wrist and snapped myself each time I wanted a cigarette. I attended smoke ending sessions and tried gum, patches and even nicotine inhalers. I got myself from 3 packs a day to one using patches. Patches were actually my technique of choice because of the constant source of nicotine. I actually did stop smoking for 8 months in 1996/97 but began again when I worked in the telephone center of Amex. The stress was too much for me and every time my friends went on a smoke break I did too.
I was finally able to quit in January, 2012 and I know it took Divine intervention. By this time I had advanced COPD. Oddly enough my breathing has gotten worse after quitting. Go figure.
The reason I am sharing all this is because I consider my journey with addiction has helped me to understand and have empathy with others who are addicted. That mindset, which forces one to continue with self-destructive behavior, despite having intelligence, spouses, friends, laws, doctors, ministers and priests, rehab programs, and all the best information and tools, is a mindset which one can only have sympathy and a certain grudging respect.
There, but for the grace of God, go I. I have been there and done that. Why do I say grudging respect. Because despite all the reasons not to do something, and the consequences one must face, there is something in the human spirit which defies all the odds and discards all the best reasoning and proceeds in spite of one's own self interest. The reason we got kicked out of the Garden of Eden is this. It is my choice. This is true will power. I will, no matter what you say or do. I will do this thing which will destroy me. What we need to get a handle on, is I will not. I believe for this we need a truth stronger than our own being. Divine Will, be done, not our own pathetic human will.
Someday, perhaps in my home in the afterlife, I will smoke again, with no consequence or regret,(or not,) we will see what the Heavens have to offer.
P.S. If you cannot stand run on sentences, do not come here.
The breath of life. How I used to take it for granted. At least 20 times a day I would fill my lungs with smoke I inhaled from a fragrant little tube of tobacco. Aw, how I loved the smell of tobacco. Both in the scent of a freshly opened pack of cigarettes and in the air when the tobacco was burning. The smell seems to annoy so many people. I still love it and follow, like a bloodhound with my nose to the ground, to a place where smokers just walked. In my view of heaven there will be endless packs of cigarettes and endless tins of pie and you can take as much as you desire of either without being harmed in any way.
Smoking was the worst curse and greatest joy of my physical being. I tell people I was inhaling in the womb as my dad smoked around me from conception. I grew up with smoke filled rooms and overflowing ash trays. My earliest memories included the sharp acrid scent of burning tobacco. Dad was a indiscriminate smoker. He smoked cigarettes, cigars, and pipes and at times rolled his own cigarettes. He smoked in bed, in the car, in the toilet, in the woods, in fact smokes were his constant companion. They became mine as well.
My Mom had asked me not to smoke until I graduated from High School. The day I graduated, still in my graduation gown, I made my parents stop on the way home, and I bought my first carton of Marlboros. Mother was aghast but I had kept my promise. I remember sitting on a stool in a diner with my girlfriend beside me; and almost falling off the stool because I was so dizzy with the smoke. I persevered however and soon could smoke with the best of them. Quickly I graduated to a pack a day, and from there was no stopping me.
I smoked for 50 years and I know I would most likely still be smoking were it not for prayers being answered. I had been trying to stop smoking from the mid 1970s. I really tried everything. I went to hypnosis twice. I had acupuncture and wore a staple in my ear. Every wild and crazy technique which was promoted, I tried. I had rubber bands around my wrist and snapped myself each time I wanted a cigarette. I attended smoke ending sessions and tried gum, patches and even nicotine inhalers. I got myself from 3 packs a day to one using patches. Patches were actually my technique of choice because of the constant source of nicotine. I actually did stop smoking for 8 months in 1996/97 but began again when I worked in the telephone center of Amex. The stress was too much for me and every time my friends went on a smoke break I did too.
I was finally able to quit in January, 2012 and I know it took Divine intervention. By this time I had advanced COPD. Oddly enough my breathing has gotten worse after quitting. Go figure.
The reason I am sharing all this is because I consider my journey with addiction has helped me to understand and have empathy with others who are addicted. That mindset, which forces one to continue with self-destructive behavior, despite having intelligence, spouses, friends, laws, doctors, ministers and priests, rehab programs, and all the best information and tools, is a mindset which one can only have sympathy and a certain grudging respect.
There, but for the grace of God, go I. I have been there and done that. Why do I say grudging respect. Because despite all the reasons not to do something, and the consequences one must face, there is something in the human spirit which defies all the odds and discards all the best reasoning and proceeds in spite of one's own self interest. The reason we got kicked out of the Garden of Eden is this. It is my choice. This is true will power. I will, no matter what you say or do. I will do this thing which will destroy me. What we need to get a handle on, is I will not. I believe for this we need a truth stronger than our own being. Divine Will, be done, not our own pathetic human will.
Someday, perhaps in my home in the afterlife, I will smoke again, with no consequence or regret,(or not,) we will see what the Heavens have to offer.
P.S. If you cannot stand run on sentences, do not come here.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Why PooBah?
As I was logging onto my blog to do a new post when Facebook informed me the site might be unsafe. I had to choose between spam or ignore to move forward. I began to wonder, why unsafe? Is it my thoughts and ideas or my name Great PooBah?
I chose the name PooBah because we put on the Mikado in highschool and I just loved Gilbert and Sullivan productions. So therefore:
Grand Poobah is a term derived from the name of the haughty character Pooh-Bah in Gilbert and Sullivan's The Mikado (1885).[1] In this comic opera, Pooh-Bah holds numerous exalted offices, including "First Lord of the Treasury, Lord Chief Justice, Commander-in-Chief, Lord High Admiral... Archbishop of Titipu, and Lord Mayor" and Lord High Everything Else. The name has come to be used as a mocking title for someone self-important or high-ranking and who either exhibits an inflated self-regard or who has limited authority while taking impressive titles.
I feel the meaning of this title fits my character and I do not plan on changing it. So please proceed at your own risk as I am now deemed unsafe. Who knew?
I chose the name PooBah because we put on the Mikado in highschool and I just loved Gilbert and Sullivan productions. So therefore:
Grand Poobah is a term derived from the name of the haughty character Pooh-Bah in Gilbert and Sullivan's The Mikado (1885).[1] In this comic opera, Pooh-Bah holds numerous exalted offices, including "First Lord of the Treasury, Lord Chief Justice, Commander-in-Chief, Lord High Admiral... Archbishop of Titipu, and Lord Mayor" and Lord High Everything Else. The name has come to be used as a mocking title for someone self-important or high-ranking and who either exhibits an inflated self-regard or who has limited authority while taking impressive titles.
I feel the meaning of this title fits my character and I do not plan on changing it. So please proceed at your own risk as I am now deemed unsafe. Who knew?
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Too Sleepy going back to sleep
Did you ever get so sleepy you could fall asleep typing. This is me now, bye!!!
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Price of Meds
Why oh why are my med costs so high? Oh what is my government doing?
With seniors so many and poor folks galoor, who is it we needs be pursuing.
I'm sick of the talk of development costs, and the safety with which we dispense,
Whatever they're costs, their profits are boss, and ad.time the most high expense.
I'm tired of rhyming and I'm just upset, the thought of the donut hole(Dough nut hole, get it?) looms for me and countless others of my countrymen, and few care about it, until they live it. Other countries have the same research and development expenses( or are you naive enough to think the research is done here in this country?) All the largest pharmaceutical houses are overseas in Europe and Asia and the manufacturing of the drugs is done, where?
I am tired of the bloviating and excuses. If Canada can have lower costs for the same drugs, why can't we? Don't even talk about Federal inspections of drugs and facilities after the fiasco over the knee injection drugs manufactured in New England, and the sequester and budget cuts which will bring Federal inspections of drugs and food to a basic halt.
Oh., I am angry this morning and all my facts may not be straight but I don't care, neither are theirs. They feed the American people a pack of lies and excuses and we all kneel to the power of the lobbies. When will we begin to stand up for ourselves?
With seniors so many and poor folks galoor, who is it we needs be pursuing.
I'm sick of the talk of development costs, and the safety with which we dispense,
Whatever they're costs, their profits are boss, and ad.time the most high expense.
I'm tired of rhyming and I'm just upset, the thought of the donut hole(Dough nut hole, get it?) looms for me and countless others of my countrymen, and few care about it, until they live it. Other countries have the same research and development expenses( or are you naive enough to think the research is done here in this country?) All the largest pharmaceutical houses are overseas in Europe and Asia and the manufacturing of the drugs is done, where?
I am tired of the bloviating and excuses. If Canada can have lower costs for the same drugs, why can't we? Don't even talk about Federal inspections of drugs and facilities after the fiasco over the knee injection drugs manufactured in New England, and the sequester and budget cuts which will bring Federal inspections of drugs and food to a basic halt.
Oh., I am angry this morning and all my facts may not be straight but I don't care, neither are theirs. They feed the American people a pack of lies and excuses and we all kneel to the power of the lobbies. When will we begin to stand up for ourselves?
Monday, April 22, 2013
I Pray on Earth Day
What does Earth Day mean to me and why do I pray for our little blue planet? I admit it, I am a tree hugger. Each time I see a tree taken down in my neighborhood, even if it wasn't looking too pretty anymore, I mourn. I am not going into all the arguments about how the planet is rapidly changing due to the myriad effects of so called civilization. I'll leave all the reasoning to the scientific community and the bullshit in both directions to the politicians.
What concerns me is my empathy for the creator's various life forms. Our planet is made up of infinitely diverse creatures. In the water, on land and even in the very air we breathe,
I admit it I cannot kill even a spider or a cricket. I trap them and place them outside. I have less problem with ants, mosquitoes and black flies but only because they are attacking or harming my being or invading my personal spaces. Everyone has a home they want to protect from invaders. Even bees and crackles defend their little territory.
Nature, flora and fauna, is so innocent and so deserving of our love and protection. Imagine a world with no dandelions with the puffy, round little heads which are blown in the wind to spread their seeds for the next generation? We try so hard to destroy them when they invade out lawns.
Imagine a world with no baby seals or dolphin. or even tuna or sharks? The incredible universe exhibited on our little planet alone, has provided for all our needs for untold generations. When a species is no longer needed it either dies out or evolves to a more useful life form.
I saw a picture yesterday of a man holding baby radishes and carrots he had pulled from his garden. My first thought was why couldn't he have waited until it was their time. Call me a hopeless romantic, call me a hypocrite because I eat dead things every day. You might say what is the difference between eating a potato or a chicken? I would answer the chicken is a more advanced life form. It can feel and sense it's environment in ways a potato or a carrot cannot. I do know that plants scream or react when plucked and I am of the mindset that talking to plants helps them grow. Vibrations of life are everywhere on the planet. I simply choose to limit my munchings to the less sentient varieties of life. I am not opposed to drinking milk or using dairy or eggs but I am very concerned with how the animals used for this purpose live out their days. I am totally in favor of humane farming, like in the good old days. Cows used to head to the barn to be milked because they enjoyed it and it was such a relief. Compare that to living your days in a stall 3 by 8 foot and permanently hooked up to a milking machine. We do things the Lord never intended. Just because it can be, doesn't mean it should be, or has to be.
I want a gentler, kinder, world where we live in harmony with all our fellow creatures. This is what I pray for on Earth Day.
What concerns me is my empathy for the creator's various life forms. Our planet is made up of infinitely diverse creatures. In the water, on land and even in the very air we breathe,
I admit it I cannot kill even a spider or a cricket. I trap them and place them outside. I have less problem with ants, mosquitoes and black flies but only because they are attacking or harming my being or invading my personal spaces. Everyone has a home they want to protect from invaders. Even bees and crackles defend their little territory.
Nature, flora and fauna, is so innocent and so deserving of our love and protection. Imagine a world with no dandelions with the puffy, round little heads which are blown in the wind to spread their seeds for the next generation? We try so hard to destroy them when they invade out lawns.
Imagine a world with no baby seals or dolphin. or even tuna or sharks? The incredible universe exhibited on our little planet alone, has provided for all our needs for untold generations. When a species is no longer needed it either dies out or evolves to a more useful life form.
I saw a picture yesterday of a man holding baby radishes and carrots he had pulled from his garden. My first thought was why couldn't he have waited until it was their time. Call me a hopeless romantic, call me a hypocrite because I eat dead things every day. You might say what is the difference between eating a potato or a chicken? I would answer the chicken is a more advanced life form. It can feel and sense it's environment in ways a potato or a carrot cannot. I do know that plants scream or react when plucked and I am of the mindset that talking to plants helps them grow. Vibrations of life are everywhere on the planet. I simply choose to limit my munchings to the less sentient varieties of life. I am not opposed to drinking milk or using dairy or eggs but I am very concerned with how the animals used for this purpose live out their days. I am totally in favor of humane farming, like in the good old days. Cows used to head to the barn to be milked because they enjoyed it and it was such a relief. Compare that to living your days in a stall 3 by 8 foot and permanently hooked up to a milking machine. We do things the Lord never intended. Just because it can be, doesn't mean it should be, or has to be.
I want a gentler, kinder, world where we live in harmony with all our fellow creatures. This is what I pray for on Earth Day.
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