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.
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Road Rage
I have a dirty little secret. I like to drive fast. I am usually a good little law abiding citizen, I would never demean another person for following the letter of the law, even when I have chosen to bend a law a teensy bit. Normally, I have no problem whatsoever sharing the road with drivers who obey the speed limit.
I grew up in Toronto, the 401 ( the MacDonald - Cartier Freeway or Highway of Heroes, as it is more recently known) was where I learned my highway etiquette. Granted, it may have bred a slightly aggressive driver where speed is concerned. But the aggression was not unknown. In fact, if you were of a less aggressive nature, you knew your place on my fair city's highway. The unspoken rule (one the Ontario Provincial Police would, I'm sure, love to rid the highway of) is the actual speed limit is 15 - 20 km/h above the posted speed limit. At least. If you cannot bring yourself to follow the flow of traffic, remain in the far right lane and deal with merging traffic. Otherwise, prepare to be tail-gated, flashed at (lights, dirty minded!), or flipped the bird. If you are the reason a driver going faster than you has to brake or *gasp* cancel cruise control, prepare to be ridiculed. You most likely won't hear it, so the emotional damage is minimal, but know that it is happening. The other driver is most likely cursing the day you were granted a driver's license.
Mr. Sprite is a member of our fine country's esteemed military -no, I didn't just choke, why do you ask? A couple of years ago, the powers that be determined my husbands ability would better serve another military base and so being the patriotic family, we obeyed orders and were relocated. Since relocating, I have to travel a good portion of the 101 highway in Nova Scotia's Annapolis Valley in order to make it to work. I don't mind. I like to drive. I like to drive fast. Fast is not a word that often enters the common resident of the Valley's vocabulary. So much so, they have robbed Mexico of their laid back motto and more often than I care to admit, I hear the locals refer to Valley Time.
Even though I grew up in a city where anything I could ever want was literally at my front door, where I could buy diapers, roofing nails and roti all a four o'clock in the morning, it wasn't hard to get used to "Valley Time". I polished up on my organizational skills, adjusted my expectations and voila! I am no longer a child of instant gratification.
I cannot, however, handle the drivers in this portion of the province. While in Ontario the posted speed limit suggested the slowest you should drive, here, I am lucky to encounter a driver actually approaching the speed limit! It is not uncommon for an entire caravan of vehicles to be trudging along at a leisurely 90 or 95 km/hr. The speed limit is 100! To add insult to injury, the majority of the highway is a single lane in either direction. The passing sections, where the line is not solid to one or both sides of traffic, is use at your own risk. Because I know a guy, who knew a guy, who has a degree in civil engineering, I am confident when I say; this road was not designed to support a 100 km/h speed limit. 80 maybe, but not 100. Attempting to pass in the oncoming lane is a game of Russian Roulette. It's a twisty, turny, sort of hilly stretch of road and those passing sections may be sufficient if drivers were coasting along at a comfy 80. But when you are trying to pass the Pappy Parade, propelling past at 130, it is grossly insufficient.
So, I often find myself chomping at the bit. Inevitably, I am usually the 32nd car in a line of 50. I await the opportunity to pass with baited breath. I used to enjoy driving. I drove in a city that boasts two of the country's 10 most dangerous intersections and rarely felt stress as a result of driving. After moving to a more rural location, my anxiety behind the wheel was usually weather related. Here, in what is peddled as one of the most relaxing provinces in the country, I fear my daily commute. I would hardly have cause to complain if my complaint were speed limit obeying drivers. But it isn't. My complaint is people who can't seem to find the strength in their right foot to apply the pressure required to the gas pedal to go just a leeedle bit faster. It may be my sanity's undoing.
I grew up in Toronto, the 401 ( the MacDonald - Cartier Freeway or Highway of Heroes, as it is more recently known) was where I learned my highway etiquette. Granted, it may have bred a slightly aggressive driver where speed is concerned. But the aggression was not unknown. In fact, if you were of a less aggressive nature, you knew your place on my fair city's highway. The unspoken rule (one the Ontario Provincial Police would, I'm sure, love to rid the highway of) is the actual speed limit is 15 - 20 km/h above the posted speed limit. At least. If you cannot bring yourself to follow the flow of traffic, remain in the far right lane and deal with merging traffic. Otherwise, prepare to be tail-gated, flashed at (lights, dirty minded!), or flipped the bird. If you are the reason a driver going faster than you has to brake or *gasp* cancel cruise control, prepare to be ridiculed. You most likely won't hear it, so the emotional damage is minimal, but know that it is happening. The other driver is most likely cursing the day you were granted a driver's license.
Mr. Sprite is a member of our fine country's esteemed military -no, I didn't just choke, why do you ask? A couple of years ago, the powers that be determined my husbands ability would better serve another military base and so being the patriotic family, we obeyed orders and were relocated. Since relocating, I have to travel a good portion of the 101 highway in Nova Scotia's Annapolis Valley in order to make it to work. I don't mind. I like to drive. I like to drive fast. Fast is not a word that often enters the common resident of the Valley's vocabulary. So much so, they have robbed Mexico of their laid back motto and more often than I care to admit, I hear the locals refer to Valley Time.
Even though I grew up in a city where anything I could ever want was literally at my front door, where I could buy diapers, roofing nails and roti all a four o'clock in the morning, it wasn't hard to get used to "Valley Time". I polished up on my organizational skills, adjusted my expectations and voila! I am no longer a child of instant gratification.
I cannot, however, handle the drivers in this portion of the province. While in Ontario the posted speed limit suggested the slowest you should drive, here, I am lucky to encounter a driver actually approaching the speed limit! It is not uncommon for an entire caravan of vehicles to be trudging along at a leisurely 90 or 95 km/hr. The speed limit is 100! To add insult to injury, the majority of the highway is a single lane in either direction. The passing sections, where the line is not solid to one or both sides of traffic, is use at your own risk. Because I know a guy, who knew a guy, who has a degree in civil engineering, I am confident when I say; this road was not designed to support a 100 km/h speed limit. 80 maybe, but not 100. Attempting to pass in the oncoming lane is a game of Russian Roulette. It's a twisty, turny, sort of hilly stretch of road and those passing sections may be sufficient if drivers were coasting along at a comfy 80. But when you are trying to pass the Pappy Parade, propelling past at 130, it is grossly insufficient.
So, I often find myself chomping at the bit. Inevitably, I am usually the 32nd car in a line of 50. I await the opportunity to pass with baited breath. I used to enjoy driving. I drove in a city that boasts two of the country's 10 most dangerous intersections and rarely felt stress as a result of driving. After moving to a more rural location, my anxiety behind the wheel was usually weather related. Here, in what is peddled as one of the most relaxing provinces in the country, I fear my daily commute. I would hardly have cause to complain if my complaint were speed limit obeying drivers. But it isn't. My complaint is people who can't seem to find the strength in their right foot to apply the pressure required to the gas pedal to go just a leeedle bit faster. It may be my sanity's undoing.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
I Never Promised You a Rose Garden
My parents are divorced. Which is ok with me. Maybe in another lifetime, another universe, another dimension, their marriage may have succeeded. Not this one though. There were just too many things going against them, including each other. Don't get me wrong, I believe once they loved each other passionately, but all of that passion did a severe about face and they began to despise each other passionately. Their fights left destruction zones of nuclear proportions, they measured on the Richter scale. It was brutal. Which is why it's surprising when I say I think divorce is an option far too easily exercised in today's day and age.
Before you start screaming at me through ground teeth and spitting all over you monitor, hear me out. There are exceptions, of course. There always are. Physical abuse, chronic infidelity (yes, I said chronic), a permanent and drastic deviance from the person that was, these are a few. I'm here to talk about the reasons that are being used that really amount to nothing more than "I'm looking for an easy way out" (Oh Boy! I am going to take a shit kickin' for that one!).
Call me a little old fashioned, but I kind of took the "for better or for worse, through richer and poorer, etc" to heart. Sure, you started it all full of the warm and fuzzies, but then you both got comfy. Maybe she put on a couple pounds. Maybe he goes to work and comes home and sits his butt on the couch and doesn't move it again until 11pm and then crawls into bed, farts and goes to sleep without so much as a "G'nite". Nowadays, people start thinking back to the chant their parents relied on during child rearing years "You can have anything, you can be anything". You look at your significant other and you start comparing her to the new receptionist at the office or him to that hot guy on Grey's Anatomy. You're thinking you could do better. You are thinking that maybe someone else would be more fun or marriage just isn't your bag, single is what you need.
Your marriage is not like your cell phone, your computer, your whatever is broken or you have grown bored of. You cannot replace it. Suck it up, buttercup. You signed on for the long haul. Before your go dipping your stick in someone else's tank or picturing yourself in another mans button-down shirt, take a long hard look at your spouse. It may seem like a cliche but it works, ask yourself why you fell in love with the person across the breakfast table? Why did you marry the person who's hogging all the blankets.
If your answer falls anywhere near the territory of; I thought he/she would change, it never hurts to try, if it'll make you happy, etc. You were doomed from the beginning. This is your stop, my friend, you were on the wrong train to begin with. You just better hope you haven't left too many casualties in your wake.
Then there is the ever popular "She was pregnant". Let me put a nasty little rumour to bed. For good. It will not, I repeat, not be better for your child to witness the loveless marriage that is a result of someones misguided attempt at being responsible. And for the women out there that think a man should marry them because you are hosting his offspring; you are mistaken and both of you deserve better. As I have already said, there will be no benefit to your child nor will there be either of you. It is perfectly acceptable to choose to raise a child separately. In fact, if you are not compatible, it is down right responsible to decide to raise the child as a team of parents rather than a husband and wife. Also, I will say it just in case there is someone reading that thinks I may be, I am not condoning having children all willy nilly, with whomever, whenever. I'm a big advocate of birth control, but if an accident happens, I don't believe it's a death sentence...ahem...marriage license (Oh, good golly! Take it easy, would ya? I am trying to be funny!) The only saving grace in these scenarios is that they happen less and less often.
Back to the blanket hogger and the other occupant of the breakfast table. For the sake of argument, your marriage was never a sham. You didn't do it for some ridiculous reason, but the only good one; Love. You look at your spouse and remember a time when you hung on their every word. When you couldn't wait to spend more time with them. When the sun rose and set on your partner. When the thought of causing the object of your affection even the slightest discomfort, let alone pain, was unheard of! Now, you're here, looking at your marriage and wondering what the fuck happened. Well, let me ask you another question; did you think it was an eternal flame? To burn forever without the even the tiniest of stoking? I've got news for you. Any flame, left unattended long enough, will go out.
If you find yourself with a smoldering pile of ashes; you have work to do. Getting started will most likely be the hardest part. Communicate. I know, I'm freaking Confucius. It's true, though. Tell your other half how you're feeling. Sometimes, the other half is completely oblivious, for whatever reason, kids, work, selfishness. Sometimes, your significant other was starting to feel the divide as well and didn't know how to close the gap and is intensely relieved that you have. Whatever the problem, talk about it. No sex? Talk about it. Boring sex? Talk about it. Working too much? Talk about it. Not helping out around the house? Talk about it. Not doing enough together? Talk about it! Not talking to each other anymore? TALK, damnit! Don't forget to listen too. For this to work, you are both going to have to hear what the other has to say. Don't sit there thinking that everything you're hearing is an attack on you, cause you aren't really listening then, are you?
Look, I don't have all the answers. I'm not naive enough to think that every marriage can be saved. Like I said, there are situations where divorce is the only option. Marriages die. Sometimes they are loud, painful deaths and other times they just slip away quietly. And occasionally, they were never meant to be in the first place. But it seems to me, that so many relationships end because we are taught we can always do better. So, when the going gets tough, we go looking for better. I have known a number of relationships to end this way. More still that almost did, but for one partner being the screaming voice of reason. Everyone has doubts, everyone has a wondering eye, everyone wonders if the grass is greener on the other side, everyone gets a little lazy, everyone forgets to fan the flame. The real test is whether you recognize the relationship has gone stale, and try to revive it or you simply walk away and look for a replacement.
Before you start screaming at me through ground teeth and spitting all over you monitor, hear me out. There are exceptions, of course. There always are. Physical abuse, chronic infidelity (yes, I said chronic), a permanent and drastic deviance from the person that was, these are a few. I'm here to talk about the reasons that are being used that really amount to nothing more than "I'm looking for an easy way out" (Oh Boy! I am going to take a shit kickin' for that one!).
Call me a little old fashioned, but I kind of took the "for better or for worse, through richer and poorer, etc" to heart. Sure, you started it all full of the warm and fuzzies, but then you both got comfy. Maybe she put on a couple pounds. Maybe he goes to work and comes home and sits his butt on the couch and doesn't move it again until 11pm and then crawls into bed, farts and goes to sleep without so much as a "G'nite". Nowadays, people start thinking back to the chant their parents relied on during child rearing years "You can have anything, you can be anything". You look at your significant other and you start comparing her to the new receptionist at the office or him to that hot guy on Grey's Anatomy. You're thinking you could do better. You are thinking that maybe someone else would be more fun or marriage just isn't your bag, single is what you need.
Your marriage is not like your cell phone, your computer, your whatever is broken or you have grown bored of. You cannot replace it. Suck it up, buttercup. You signed on for the long haul. Before your go dipping your stick in someone else's tank or picturing yourself in another mans button-down shirt, take a long hard look at your spouse. It may seem like a cliche but it works, ask yourself why you fell in love with the person across the breakfast table? Why did you marry the person who's hogging all the blankets.
If your answer falls anywhere near the territory of; I thought he/she would change, it never hurts to try, if it'll make you happy, etc. You were doomed from the beginning. This is your stop, my friend, you were on the wrong train to begin with. You just better hope you haven't left too many casualties in your wake.
Then there is the ever popular "She was pregnant". Let me put a nasty little rumour to bed. For good. It will not, I repeat, not be better for your child to witness the loveless marriage that is a result of someones misguided attempt at being responsible. And for the women out there that think a man should marry them because you are hosting his offspring; you are mistaken and both of you deserve better. As I have already said, there will be no benefit to your child nor will there be either of you. It is perfectly acceptable to choose to raise a child separately. In fact, if you are not compatible, it is down right responsible to decide to raise the child as a team of parents rather than a husband and wife. Also, I will say it just in case there is someone reading that thinks I may be, I am not condoning having children all willy nilly, with whomever, whenever. I'm a big advocate of birth control, but if an accident happens, I don't believe it's a death sentence...ahem...marriage license (Oh, good golly! Take it easy, would ya? I am trying to be funny!) The only saving grace in these scenarios is that they happen less and less often.
Back to the blanket hogger and the other occupant of the breakfast table. For the sake of argument, your marriage was never a sham. You didn't do it for some ridiculous reason, but the only good one; Love. You look at your spouse and remember a time when you hung on their every word. When you couldn't wait to spend more time with them. When the sun rose and set on your partner. When the thought of causing the object of your affection even the slightest discomfort, let alone pain, was unheard of! Now, you're here, looking at your marriage and wondering what the fuck happened. Well, let me ask you another question; did you think it was an eternal flame? To burn forever without the even the tiniest of stoking? I've got news for you. Any flame, left unattended long enough, will go out.
If you find yourself with a smoldering pile of ashes; you have work to do. Getting started will most likely be the hardest part. Communicate. I know, I'm freaking Confucius. It's true, though. Tell your other half how you're feeling. Sometimes, the other half is completely oblivious, for whatever reason, kids, work, selfishness. Sometimes, your significant other was starting to feel the divide as well and didn't know how to close the gap and is intensely relieved that you have. Whatever the problem, talk about it. No sex? Talk about it. Boring sex? Talk about it. Working too much? Talk about it. Not helping out around the house? Talk about it. Not doing enough together? Talk about it! Not talking to each other anymore? TALK, damnit! Don't forget to listen too. For this to work, you are both going to have to hear what the other has to say. Don't sit there thinking that everything you're hearing is an attack on you, cause you aren't really listening then, are you?
Look, I don't have all the answers. I'm not naive enough to think that every marriage can be saved. Like I said, there are situations where divorce is the only option. Marriages die. Sometimes they are loud, painful deaths and other times they just slip away quietly. And occasionally, they were never meant to be in the first place. But it seems to me, that so many relationships end because we are taught we can always do better. So, when the going gets tough, we go looking for better. I have known a number of relationships to end this way. More still that almost did, but for one partner being the screaming voice of reason. Everyone has doubts, everyone has a wondering eye, everyone wonders if the grass is greener on the other side, everyone gets a little lazy, everyone forgets to fan the flame. The real test is whether you recognize the relationship has gone stale, and try to revive it or you simply walk away and look for a replacement.
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