Think! Before You Speak!

This doesn't have anything to do with why I came here tonight, but it's a thought I had and would like to share. I have two ideas floating around between my ears in the muscle that resembles a brain. Two ideas that I would like to commit to paper. In my minds eye these two ideas translate into pretty good stories, something I would like to read if it were written by someone else (that's the way it should go, right?). Well, I shared them with my co-worker the other day, and this isn't her fault because she was as gracious and receptive as any audience should be, but the magic is gone. I feel like I did something wrong. The stories sounded silly out loud. Perhaps they are, maybe I am not meant to write a single fiction that will be enjoyed by others and that's OK, but the proof is in the puddin' right? I can't get past myself to find out what anyone else thinks. I shut myself down before I've even begun. My imagination is wonderfully overactive, I could churn out stories left and right (I'm not suggesting they would all be quality) but I don't. Why? The answer differs everyday. I've got a dozen of 'em. Sucks. I'm sick of it, I want that freakin' turtle back. I want to believe in myself.

Moving on.....

I'm currently debating whether or not I should take part in a flame war of sorts on Facebook.

Oh, Facebook, how I love your ability to start all kinds of trouble. Just this weekend, I was checking the statuses of various family member's (and how you nurture the voyeur in me, Facebook). My cousin's status says she "feels bad for So 'n' So's family, RIP, So'n'So will be dearly missed" Just so happens So'n'So in my Grandfather's name. I call my Grandparents house. My Nan answers and sounds perfectly OK. Feeling a little silly, I explain why I've called. She assures me that no, it wasn't my So'n'So, but someone of the same name. Then she curses Facebook because several times over the past year or so, loved ones who are away from home have found out that a loved one has died before they have been properly informed. When did it become Ok to announce your condolences on Facebook? One of the many grievances I have with social networking sites.

Back to tonight. A friend's (loosely used term) status said he thought having an aerobatic flight show above the town was dangerous. The performance was given by the Military Snowbirds. The town, Gander, is home to an international airport. Is, in fact, the first stop for many transatlantic flights. Do you see my problem with his status? To live in a town that hosts an airport and complain about air traffic is ridiculous.

I realize now that I shouldn't have, but I commented. I tried to point out that the Military would hardly put the lives of civilians in danger for the sake of entertainment. That I had lived on an air base for years where the Snowbirds practiced regularly (I didn't mention the countless aircraft that had flown overhead everyday) without incident. Granted, the Snowbirds have a less than stellar track record. I've done some research, though, and while the Snowbirds are the worst, their counterparts in the US and the UK have spots on their records as well. As does Nascar, Monster Trucks, drag racing. I haven't actually checked any of those facts (for Nascar, etc.), but it would stand to reason that once in awhile things go wrong. If I'm wrong, fine. Correct me. If all of these spectacles have impeccable records then I will shut up. But I doubt that they do, because you are dealing with machines and humans and both are prone to error, regardless of the best of intentions.

If safety is your number one concern then you should be railing against the dangers of all of the events listed. But he wouldn't. Why? Because he takes part in a demolition derby every year. Yes, the man who cried unsafe to the Facebook world, gets into a car at least once a year (sometimes more) and intentionally collides with other cars. Sure, they take precautions. But accidents happen. Just last year a car caught fire (I can't find the YouTube video of it now!).

Let's just pretend he's not that kind of hypocrite. Really, there is only one argument to be made here; you live in close proximity to an airport. Planes fly overhead everyday. Period. They could fall out of the sky, overshoot the runway, run off the end of the runway, hell, they can even catch fire while grounded. They do. But rarely. If you still fear for the lives of your family, move.
Otherwise, quit your bitchin'.

Yeah. I'm not going to continue debating with him. He's going to think he said something brilliant that made me see the error of my ways, I'm sure. I don't care. Let him. I don't have the energy to argue when there is no hope in hell of getting through.

Where does the time go?

Hi! Tomorrow is No Whining Wednesday, so I thought I'd pay a quick visit to purge my weekly complaints. First and foremost, last NWW was a doosie (sp? it's not in spell check!) and I hope this week is better. Already I've guaranteed it's going to be trying. The hubby decided he wanted to paint tonight, which of course is spilling into tomorrow and seeing as he's from Mars (or more likely a further planet, we've yet to figure out where, because he's unlike anything anyone has ever seen before) and I'm from Venus, we disagree on just about everything. Whenever we try to do something like this, we both have entirely different ideas on how to go about it and neither one of us is very adept at compromising most of the time, so inevitably we end up arguing. Neither of us is rational when we're angry. Well, you can see where this going. I'm determined though. Tonight I will let it all go, tomorrow I will be a clean slate!

1) We started the painting process, were actually having a pretty good time lovingly nagging one another, even had a drink. Bam! I have a migraine. It isn't bad yet, but I put my drink down, declared I wasn't going any further tonight and logged on here. I'm going to finish up here and hit the hay.
2) I sent my resume to two places today. Both are government positions but in different departments. I hate, with a green galvanized passion, writing cover letters and tweaking my resume so that it looks like I was made to do the position I am applying for. Hate it. The two of them took me better than an hour to get just right -no, I am not a perfectionist, why do you ask?-and I was wound tighter than a bloody spring when I was done. (the good news here is that I applied for two jobs though).
3) I have mentioned that I work in the seventh circle of hell presently, right? Well, I do. Normally though, the temperature inside the office doesn't reflect the level of hell I work in, but the past two days.....Oh Sweet Jesus, it has been hot! 29 and 30 degrees with 85% and 65% humidity (that's 84 and 86 degrees Fahrenheit for my American friends). Makes for a nice day at the beach. The office? Not so much.

This one isn't a complaint. My daughter is fantastic. While her Father and I were taping the family room in preparation for the paint, we were in all kinds of ridiculous positions, stretching over furniture, trying to get the hard to reach places (I would have moved all the furniture first) and she gets her camera. I told her to go right ahead and take a picture if she wanted, she could even post it to Facebook if she was prepared for my retaliation with 13 years of blackmail photos I have been saving up. I told her she would have to ask herself one question "Do you feel lucky punk?" (Of course I did). She didn't take any pictures, but then logs on to Facebook and updates her status. What does it say, you ask? "I was watching my parents getting ready to paint, was going to take pictures of it, but Mom might murder me in the face." Awesome, right?

Edit-It's Wednesday morning and I've just come back to check things out, only to discover this thing was rife with errors. I apologize for my lack of attention. And I will refrain from blogging with a migraine. It's better for everyone that way!