Today has started very busy. In my head. So many thoughts are circling of things I have to do and things I need to do, and things I want to do. The urgent vs the important. Even though I am not, as they say, gainfully employed I struggle with balance in my life. Being retired isn't all it is cracked up to be. I would really like to make money, like I used to. for all the things I do that I do not want to. Did you know that I never really wanted to work in accounting/business, yet I did for more than 40 years. I did a few other jobs in other years I worked, but nothing I really loved either. All the things I loved to do I did outside of work.
When I first went to work in NYC in June of 1963,( after flunking out of College at Geneseo), I had no idea of what to expect. My first job I learned what the work world was really like by working in the mail room of a professional association of accountants. I learned to operate all the mail room machines and to sort the mail for different depts. and executives. I got to wheel around a mail cart and learn to put faces and jobs to all the names. I also learned to operate a switchboard(the old fashioned kind with wires that you plugged into an actual extension board), talk about multitasking. My first boss sent me to typing school and tried to mentor me but I was a reluctant student. She sent me to a free clinic at Belview hospital when I had an excruciating toothache for several days. The tooth was pulled to my later regret. My boss also sent me to a fancy hair salon in NYC. I will not mention the name but you would know it. My ears stuck out of my new hairdo. Too short. I cried for days. She told me how to dress, compose myself, live my outside life and would scream at me when I came in hungover after 2 hours sleep. I was the favorite victim of the "dragon Lady", but she really did teach me a lot and prepared me for my future jobs in the NYC business world. I absolutely hated her and when I went home at Christmas I told my mother I was going to resign when I went back. She advised me to get another job before I left that one. This is what I did which led me to my first airline job.
More about the job world in subsequent blogs.
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Odd thoughts on mental health
I just finished reading the some of the blog, Idoinautismland.com. It is the blog of an autistic boy who has learned to communicate through writing. He is brilliant and his thoughts are fascinating. He now has a book he has written on Amazon. I bring him up not only because he deserves recognition, and because he can teach us all so much about what those who are locked in feel and experience; but also because so often what appears normal is often abnormal and what is called defective often isn't.
I have been thinking a lot lately about apparently normal people who are going off the deep end all around us and we just pass it off. I'm thinking Jody Arias and her dead lover and the secret life they were involved with and their family and friends not knowing. The two radical terrorist's who hacked up a British drummer soldier in England. Since guns are not available in England they used a meat cleaver and knives. If they were in the States with AK47s they could have taken out a whole Band and then some. The mad motivation is the same however. People become radicalized because of events, thoughts and situations they cannot deal with in their own lives. Their internal world becomes fixated on a single solution and they can draw others into their madness, by sharing their vision. Reality becomes reduced to black and white, simple to understand concepts, that can be dealt with by simple actions or solutions. I.E.:
Our lives are shitty in our neighborhood or country and we don't know how to deal with complex solutions so "kill the infidel".
My mother is mean, nasty and has power over me so I will rape and torture other girls or women that I can have power and control over.
My father abused me when I was young so I will use my femininity to punish other men who find me interesting and attractive; or I will keep putting myself in abusive situations because I am worthless and deserve it.
I cannot be comfortable with thoughts and ideas which have mysteries or are perplexing or contradictory, so I will follow a simple set of rules which allow no contradictions and I will achieve happiness.
I can think of a thousand examples which will just repeat my same theme. The internal world of normal appearing persons can be mad and contain great evil, while the internal worlds of so called mentally ill people who might be labeled bipolar, schizophrenic, autistic, etc. are caused by chemical and over stimulated nervous systems rather defective personalities. Being locked into the mind beats acting out hostile and deadly thoughts towards others.
So now you have some oversimplified and most likely very naive rambling thoughts on a Sunday morning.
I have been thinking a lot lately about apparently normal people who are going off the deep end all around us and we just pass it off. I'm thinking Jody Arias and her dead lover and the secret life they were involved with and their family and friends not knowing. The two radical terrorist's who hacked up a British drummer soldier in England. Since guns are not available in England they used a meat cleaver and knives. If they were in the States with AK47s they could have taken out a whole Band and then some. The mad motivation is the same however. People become radicalized because of events, thoughts and situations they cannot deal with in their own lives. Their internal world becomes fixated on a single solution and they can draw others into their madness, by sharing their vision. Reality becomes reduced to black and white, simple to understand concepts, that can be dealt with by simple actions or solutions. I.E.:
Our lives are shitty in our neighborhood or country and we don't know how to deal with complex solutions so "kill the infidel".
My mother is mean, nasty and has power over me so I will rape and torture other girls or women that I can have power and control over.
My father abused me when I was young so I will use my femininity to punish other men who find me interesting and attractive; or I will keep putting myself in abusive situations because I am worthless and deserve it.
I cannot be comfortable with thoughts and ideas which have mysteries or are perplexing or contradictory, so I will follow a simple set of rules which allow no contradictions and I will achieve happiness.
I can think of a thousand examples which will just repeat my same theme. The internal world of normal appearing persons can be mad and contain great evil, while the internal worlds of so called mentally ill people who might be labeled bipolar, schizophrenic, autistic, etc. are caused by chemical and over stimulated nervous systems rather defective personalities. Being locked into the mind beats acting out hostile and deadly thoughts towards others.
So now you have some oversimplified and most likely very naive rambling thoughts on a Sunday morning.
Friday, May 24, 2013
Childhood interests
I'm going to have to change my blog time. I will experiment and try different times.
I have been sorting through old papers the last few weeks as time and energy called me. It is really interesting to see what I saved and what I didn't. I have only scraped the surface of the sorting but some things I've kept are a little strange. I have saved my scrapbooks of movie stars from the 1950s. I used to cut pictures of my favorites out of Photoplay and other fan magazines and put them in scrapbooks. They have followed me almost everywhere. My cousin Joretta Pierce mailed me a letter a few years ago, that a neighbor had found in the wall he was renovating, in the house we used to live in Slab City. The letter was written from Claire Pierce to Audie Murphy. In it I told him how much I admired him and how I enjoyed all his movies and I asked for an autographed picture. The letter was never mailed, most likely because I didn't have a stamp. It goes without saying I must hold onto this treasure.Why, I don't know but now I cannot throw it or the scrapbooks out. I guess I think my future biographer may be interested in my childhood interests.
The funny thing is I didn't save my little books of wild animal stamps and stamp books of different countries and cultures. When I was a child I used to subscribe to some company which sent booklets with written explanations and sheets of stamps which you would then tear and match to the proper area in the booklet. I remember I used to save my allowance and Christmas/birthday money to subscribe. I remember I also had a bunch of deeds to one square inch of land in Alaska. They used to put a coupon in some cereal boxes and I used to mail them in for the deeds. I think I figured I would eventually own enough square inches to own an acre in Alaska. I wasn't too smart and not good at math in those days either. I had no conception of how many square inches made an acre and how much cereal I and my family would have to eat to get that acre. I also have a scrapbook of newspaper clippings from my days in Potsdam. There is a picture of me and my friend Betsy in high school, trick or treating(we were too old), and an article on my friend Christa's family's escape from East Berlin when the wall was still there.
None of my toys were saved. I gave them to my sister Jackie's little girls after I moved to NYC. I remember all my favorites though. There was a little toy cash register that really added and rang up the fake groceries I had. Mama used to cut the bottoms instead of the tops off fruit and vegetable cans, wash them, then give them to me to play store with. She did the same with cereal, cake mix, and other boxes. I had the most realistic grocery store ever. She gave me a fashion doll for Christmas with blond hair and a nipped in waste and beautiful legs. This was just pre-Barbie so my doll was larger than she was and prettier. My Mom made her a wardrobe which included a green wool skirt, plaid blouse and a green wool coat. She made several other outfits as well. I adored that doll. I also had a little black rubber baby doll which I used to dress in exotic colored neckerchiefs to represent African or Indian princes I saw in picture books. I had more than a dozen neck scarves in solid bright colors. It was the fashion back in the day to tie them around the neck to match different outfits. I used mine to dress my dolls. My father mentioned when he first met Srini, that he remembered I always was carrying around that little black doll. and was so interested in other cultures. My favorite thing however, was my glass horse collection. I, again, used my allowance and Christmas/Birthday money to carefully choose and buy each little glass horse. I had a wooden fenced corral stand and I used to keep my collection there.
One of my favorite things to do was to read. My favorite books for sometime were the Black Stallion series, the Golden Stallion, Black Beauty, and any other horse books I could find in the school library. I had a few treasured copies of the Stallion books given to me as presents. I remember Jackie and Gene gave me a glass golden stallion for Christmas one year with the book. My childhood was spent for the most part alone and in fantasy, unless I was in school. My sister was eight years older, my parents both worked, we lived in the country and when I got off the school bus I had myself and my dog and cats and for one wonderful year, my horse.
Because I was so horse crazy my Dad bought me a horse when I was nine. This horse story will come later, but suffice it to say I had an alone childhood. The stories I made up and acted out with my toys and animal friends, and my travel adventures through books, are what prepared me for the life I began to live when I left home. Well, enough for today, more when my muse moves me.
I have been sorting through old papers the last few weeks as time and energy called me. It is really interesting to see what I saved and what I didn't. I have only scraped the surface of the sorting but some things I've kept are a little strange. I have saved my scrapbooks of movie stars from the 1950s. I used to cut pictures of my favorites out of Photoplay and other fan magazines and put them in scrapbooks. They have followed me almost everywhere. My cousin Joretta Pierce mailed me a letter a few years ago, that a neighbor had found in the wall he was renovating, in the house we used to live in Slab City. The letter was written from Claire Pierce to Audie Murphy. In it I told him how much I admired him and how I enjoyed all his movies and I asked for an autographed picture. The letter was never mailed, most likely because I didn't have a stamp. It goes without saying I must hold onto this treasure.Why, I don't know but now I cannot throw it or the scrapbooks out. I guess I think my future biographer may be interested in my childhood interests.
The funny thing is I didn't save my little books of wild animal stamps and stamp books of different countries and cultures. When I was a child I used to subscribe to some company which sent booklets with written explanations and sheets of stamps which you would then tear and match to the proper area in the booklet. I remember I used to save my allowance and Christmas/birthday money to subscribe. I remember I also had a bunch of deeds to one square inch of land in Alaska. They used to put a coupon in some cereal boxes and I used to mail them in for the deeds. I think I figured I would eventually own enough square inches to own an acre in Alaska. I wasn't too smart and not good at math in those days either. I had no conception of how many square inches made an acre and how much cereal I and my family would have to eat to get that acre. I also have a scrapbook of newspaper clippings from my days in Potsdam. There is a picture of me and my friend Betsy in high school, trick or treating(we were too old), and an article on my friend Christa's family's escape from East Berlin when the wall was still there.
None of my toys were saved. I gave them to my sister Jackie's little girls after I moved to NYC. I remember all my favorites though. There was a little toy cash register that really added and rang up the fake groceries I had. Mama used to cut the bottoms instead of the tops off fruit and vegetable cans, wash them, then give them to me to play store with. She did the same with cereal, cake mix, and other boxes. I had the most realistic grocery store ever. She gave me a fashion doll for Christmas with blond hair and a nipped in waste and beautiful legs. This was just pre-Barbie so my doll was larger than she was and prettier. My Mom made her a wardrobe which included a green wool skirt, plaid blouse and a green wool coat. She made several other outfits as well. I adored that doll. I also had a little black rubber baby doll which I used to dress in exotic colored neckerchiefs to represent African or Indian princes I saw in picture books. I had more than a dozen neck scarves in solid bright colors. It was the fashion back in the day to tie them around the neck to match different outfits. I used mine to dress my dolls. My father mentioned when he first met Srini, that he remembered I always was carrying around that little black doll. and was so interested in other cultures. My favorite thing however, was my glass horse collection. I, again, used my allowance and Christmas/Birthday money to carefully choose and buy each little glass horse. I had a wooden fenced corral stand and I used to keep my collection there.
One of my favorite things to do was to read. My favorite books for sometime were the Black Stallion series, the Golden Stallion, Black Beauty, and any other horse books I could find in the school library. I had a few treasured copies of the Stallion books given to me as presents. I remember Jackie and Gene gave me a glass golden stallion for Christmas one year with the book. My childhood was spent for the most part alone and in fantasy, unless I was in school. My sister was eight years older, my parents both worked, we lived in the country and when I got off the school bus I had myself and my dog and cats and for one wonderful year, my horse.
Because I was so horse crazy my Dad bought me a horse when I was nine. This horse story will come later, but suffice it to say I had an alone childhood. The stories I made up and acted out with my toys and animal friends, and my travel adventures through books, are what prepared me for the life I began to live when I left home. Well, enough for today, more when my muse moves me.
Saturday, May 18, 2013
I'm Sorry, but I am tired
I haven't posted for the past week because I have not been feeling well and have been getting up too late to post. I may have to change my blogging time or just get more energy. It is not funny, but I had so much energy on the prednazone. I really wish it could have lasted. I wish there were a safe vitamin with the same results. This stupid disease(COPD), I caused myself really has had some negative results for me. Not only difficulty in breathing but amazing lack of energy. The only time I feel like my normal self is when I have been up one hour, until about 4 hours later. It is all downhill from then. I sleep or rest in the afternoon and go to bed early but I am definitely operating at diminished capacity. I don't really care, either, about a lot of things I used to. I don't know if this is normal aging or slow death by asphyxiation. Well, I'll worry about that tomorrow. I need to do some other things right now, while I have the energy.
Monday, May 13, 2013
Heaven help me, Who am I???
Was too sleepy to get up and write past 2-3 days. Who's counting. It is early morning or nothing, with writing, with this being the exception. It is now 8:16 AM and oops, I'm actually writing. I tired myself last week with planning and preparing for the Mad Hatter's Luncheon at the church. We have this little Mom's and kid's luncheon every year for Mother's Day. It is a lot of work and effort for not too much return but there were about 36 ladies and young girls for the event this year. I thought of the theme and followed up by ordering posters, making part of the centerpiece decorations, and the place mats, as well as supplying the tablecloths and coordinating the set up in Fellowship Hall.
The thing that tired me most, however, was the worrying because the rest was really duck soup. (where did that phrase come from anyway).
I try not to worry about something as silly as a luncheon when so many really important things are out there which have much more reason for concern. When I take on a project it is all consuming. It is for me like going for a Master's dissertation or something. I had so much help for this luncheon from my lovely group of ladies and I did no physical work at all. They moved tables and chairs, set up and decorated the room, handled the activities and provided all the cleanup and put away. I sat there in the corner giving directions and puffing away like the caterpillar in the "Alice in Wonderland" book and movie. But instead of smoking a hookah, I was hooked up to my oxygen machine, looking for all the world like a slug which had crawled out from under a magic mushroom. We all wore crazy hats and mine was a little green flowered prairie hat number with additional flowers glued on the bonnet.
Why these lovely ladies put up with me is anybodie's guess but they do and I just keep getting us into worse and worse follies. We broke even as far as the food and other expenses went but my personal layout was at least $75.00. It was my idea and it had to be as perfect as I could make it. It was like my whole self worth was tied up to this silly little party which was only attended by my friends anyway.
I keep trying to figure out what is with me. "Know thyself" the ancient wise persons have said.(notice the political correctness). But there are so many different aspects of myself that at almost 70, I feel I am just beginning. Know who and what and where and how about myself? Which self? The one who really feels we should share all our wealth with others less fortunate and live very simply. Or the one who wants to know everything about everything, the intellectual and the scholar. Or the one who loves fashion magazines like Vogue and Harper's Bazaar, and household magazines like Woman's Day and Good Housekeeping. Or the one who reads Time, Psychology Today, Horse Mag. Architectural Digest, and Guide Posts. I want to go to Church and follow what Jesus said, as well as have a good time and party. Who am I?
I watch Project Runway, the Rachael Maddow Show, CNN, The Voice, American Idol, The ED Show, Monday Morning, House, How It's Made, etc etc. What I am trying to illustrate here is that I am such a bundle of different interests, impressions, want to be's, that I am in existential angst. If you don't know what this all means neither do I.
So just keep on expecting the unexpected from me, as I do each day. Without meaning to, I guess I just refuse to be consistent.
Does anyone else recognize themselves here?
The thing that tired me most, however, was the worrying because the rest was really duck soup. (where did that phrase come from anyway).
I try not to worry about something as silly as a luncheon when so many really important things are out there which have much more reason for concern. When I take on a project it is all consuming. It is for me like going for a Master's dissertation or something. I had so much help for this luncheon from my lovely group of ladies and I did no physical work at all. They moved tables and chairs, set up and decorated the room, handled the activities and provided all the cleanup and put away. I sat there in the corner giving directions and puffing away like the caterpillar in the "Alice in Wonderland" book and movie. But instead of smoking a hookah, I was hooked up to my oxygen machine, looking for all the world like a slug which had crawled out from under a magic mushroom. We all wore crazy hats and mine was a little green flowered prairie hat number with additional flowers glued on the bonnet.
Why these lovely ladies put up with me is anybodie's guess but they do and I just keep getting us into worse and worse follies. We broke even as far as the food and other expenses went but my personal layout was at least $75.00. It was my idea and it had to be as perfect as I could make it. It was like my whole self worth was tied up to this silly little party which was only attended by my friends anyway.
I keep trying to figure out what is with me. "Know thyself" the ancient wise persons have said.(notice the political correctness). But there are so many different aspects of myself that at almost 70, I feel I am just beginning. Know who and what and where and how about myself? Which self? The one who really feels we should share all our wealth with others less fortunate and live very simply. Or the one who wants to know everything about everything, the intellectual and the scholar. Or the one who loves fashion magazines like Vogue and Harper's Bazaar, and household magazines like Woman's Day and Good Housekeeping. Or the one who reads Time, Psychology Today, Horse Mag. Architectural Digest, and Guide Posts. I want to go to Church and follow what Jesus said, as well as have a good time and party. Who am I?
I watch Project Runway, the Rachael Maddow Show, CNN, The Voice, American Idol, The ED Show, Monday Morning, House, How It's Made, etc etc. What I am trying to illustrate here is that I am such a bundle of different interests, impressions, want to be's, that I am in existential angst. If you don't know what this all means neither do I.
So just keep on expecting the unexpected from me, as I do each day. Without meaning to, I guess I just refuse to be consistent.
Does anyone else recognize themselves here?
Friday, May 10, 2013
Are you following me?
Have you walked down the street and been sure someone is following you? It used to happen to me in NYC. Sometimes it was true and sometimes I think it was wishful thinking.(just kidding). No, I have been followed on the street and it can be a very scary sensation. First, your not sure and think you are imagining things. Then you realize it is for real and you must decide what to do. Once in NYC I knew two apartment buildings, which were on two parallel blocks, were connected by a tunnel. To escape my follower I went in one building, sent the elevator to the 6th floor, took the stairs to the basement, and scurried through the tunnel to the other apt. bldg.. and from there went out on the street. I was shaking like crazy and couldn't believe it had worked. I ran to my apt. bldg. which was on the same block as the second bldg. There is actually more to this little tale but it doesn't detract from the fact that I escaped from the situation by keeping my cool and using my wits.
There are times I went into stores and restaurants when I thought I was followed and I was the type who kept my keys in my hand so I could get into a car or a home quickly. Once when I was studying martial arts I was walking to the school on a very crowded street. I felt someone behind me and then felt the strap of my handbag being pulled from the rear. I spun around with my hands raised in a fighting stance only to confront Ralph, one of the black belts and worst practical joker in the school. He of course stepped back quickly and said "don't hit me", laughing. I wanted to punch him in the face so badly but restrained myself.
Yes, being followed is a scary thing, unless you have a blog and wanted to be followed. I eagerly check the stats every day to see how many people have logged on to my blog and what countries they are from. I don't know how accurate the stats are but I seem to have had people read my blog from USA, So.Korea, Germany, India, Canada, and surprisingly a steady flow of readers from Russia. I would really like to know who my readers are but only 2 people, who I love, ever comment on FB and a few have spoken to me in person. Please come out of the darkness of Internet privacy and let me know who is following my blog. I wish it were easier to comment here, but since it isn't, you can use face book or send me an email. Thanks guys, I would prefer to know my followers.
There are times I went into stores and restaurants when I thought I was followed and I was the type who kept my keys in my hand so I could get into a car or a home quickly. Once when I was studying martial arts I was walking to the school on a very crowded street. I felt someone behind me and then felt the strap of my handbag being pulled from the rear. I spun around with my hands raised in a fighting stance only to confront Ralph, one of the black belts and worst practical joker in the school. He of course stepped back quickly and said "don't hit me", laughing. I wanted to punch him in the face so badly but restrained myself.
Yes, being followed is a scary thing, unless you have a blog and wanted to be followed. I eagerly check the stats every day to see how many people have logged on to my blog and what countries they are from. I don't know how accurate the stats are but I seem to have had people read my blog from USA, So.Korea, Germany, India, Canada, and surprisingly a steady flow of readers from Russia. I would really like to know who my readers are but only 2 people, who I love, ever comment on FB and a few have spoken to me in person. Please come out of the darkness of Internet privacy and let me know who is following my blog. I wish it were easier to comment here, but since it isn't, you can use face book or send me an email. Thanks guys, I would prefer to know my followers.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
I'm just sayin
The news is a buzz with Jody Arias, the Cleveland rescue of 4 girls/women, Benghazi, Israel's air strikes and a few lesser evils. It is all so sensational one stays riveted to the news as the facts don't change but hopes for more information, just keep on building. I'm a news junkie and I have admitted it before. Even when absolutely nothing is happening I watch the weather channel with baited breath waiting for something. I guess I am waiting for the Apocalypse or worse. It all began with the JFK assignation, then Martin, then Robert. I was glued to the TV and hooked. Later came Vietnam, the first really televised war, and then the Watergate hearings, and a war of a different kind. The theater of the absurd then moved to the Clarence Thomas hearings. Then the Clinton/Lewinsky farce was a real attraction for me. I was drawn in again by the death of Princess Diana. Then the nature tragedies really got me hooked. The Tsunami, Katrina, Haiti, Japan, Sandy, etc. Who could ever look away from Jim Jones in Guyana, Waco, 9/11, the mad mass shootings from Columbine to Sandy Hook. Always the politicians ranting and the pundents , pundecating. How can I ever look away from such everyday fascinating and riveting news. I know some people who never listen to radio or TV, or read magazines or newspapers. They always seem to be somewhat aware of what is going on through social babble. They do not have the true, muddied, garbage picture like I do. My picture changes constantly as new information is updated. As I am riveted I think I become an authority on who, what and where and I know the truth about the motive. NOT.!
I really do not know anymore than anyone else. I just know what my liberal bias tells me about who to believe and my favorite correspondent' s theory.
So what to do? Be ignorant, get my news headlines from AOL or Yahoo. Tune into alternate Internet sites, or just tune out completely.
This is very serious because it really matters to me. Like my plan when I get to heaven is to sit at the feet of the Most Holy and for eternity ask the questions I have always had and get the real answers, the real truth, the true scoop. I have to KNOW. If the True and unending Spirit won't tell me, who will.
So I think being a news junkie is all leading up to this, my final bid for Knowledge and Truth, Heaven only knows and I cannot wait to find out. Keep turned in to me as I do for you and perhaps we will all be a little wiser for the final day.
I really do not know anymore than anyone else. I just know what my liberal bias tells me about who to believe and my favorite correspondent' s theory.
So what to do? Be ignorant, get my news headlines from AOL or Yahoo. Tune into alternate Internet sites, or just tune out completely.
This is very serious because it really matters to me. Like my plan when I get to heaven is to sit at the feet of the Most Holy and for eternity ask the questions I have always had and get the real answers, the real truth, the true scoop. I have to KNOW. If the True and unending Spirit won't tell me, who will.
So I think being a news junkie is all leading up to this, my final bid for Knowledge and Truth, Heaven only knows and I cannot wait to find out. Keep turned in to me as I do for you and perhaps we will all be a little wiser for the final day.
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