You know that song by Alanis Morissette … (yes, I know, there is more than one but I’m referring to the one that everybody knows – practically verbatim at that) … A traffic jam, when you’re already late … oh, and he waited his whole damn life to take that flight, and as the plane went down he thought “well isn’t this nice” … and so it goes … well isn’t it ironic, blah, blah, blah …
Here’s the thing … in all honesty – (no offense to Miss Morissette … I mean it’s not nice to shoot the messenger), I don’t find any of her situations ironic. Not one bit. A black fly in your chardonnay isn’t really ironic … not unless you’re use to having yellow flies in your wine. No, a bug of any kind in your drink or food for that matter is gross – not ironic. And if an old man (or any man) wins the lottery and dies the next day, that isn’t ironic either … it’s really, really, really bad luck. And being in a traffic jam when you’re late for work isn’t ironic either – it sucks. Like really, really sucks. Don’t ya’ think.
Just a little something to think about as you start your day … or end it, which wouldn’t be ironic either. Today’s post inspired by The Daily Prompt – 10,000 Spoons: “When all you need is a knife knife might not be ironic, but it is unfortunate. Add your own verse, stanza, or story of badly-timed annoyance to Alanis Morissette’s classic.”
In honor of the often misunderstood, but still undeniable genius that passed yesterday, I watched Good Morning Vietnam last night. I tried to watch The Bird Cage, a movie that’s poignant humor will never cease to put me in a good mood, but couldn’t find it On Demand so I opted for Vietnam. And to this day, there remains a particular scene that stops my mind from complaining about the, oh so mundane and tedious crap that surrounds me day in and day out … Continue reading
“My dedication to this sacred duty is total and wholehearted. In the responsibility bestowed on me never will I falter. And with dignity and perseverance my standard will remain perfection. Through the years of diligence and praise and the discomfort of the elements, I will walk my tour in humble reverence to the best of my ability. It is he who commands the respect I protect. His bravery that made us so proud. Surrounded by well meaning crowds by day alone in the thoughtful peace of night, this soldier will in honored glory rest under my eternal vigilance.” – The Sentinels Creed
HERE RESTS IN HONORED GLORY AN AMERICAN SOLDIER KNOWN BUT TO GOD
The Tomb of the Unknowns is protected by the Sentinels of the Third United States Infantry Regiment, also know as “Old Guard” – and oddly enough, even though this is the only picture I have of a “stranger” in my photo library, I would invite this young man to dinner in my house any day … Today’s post inspired by The Daily Prompt: Edge of the Frame – “We often capture strangers in photos we take in public. Open your photo library, and stop at the first picture that features a person you don’t know. Now tell the story of that person.”
Yes, Virginia, a person can over think … or wait, can they? Can a person really over think something? Is it possible to spend too much time pondering a decision? (Note, if you cannot answer that question from the get-go then you are clearly an over thinker and this post might send you into a thinking induced coma.)
I mean we’ve all seen the crazy lady in the grocery store that has to smell a dozen cantaloupe before picking one out only to decide at the check out that she really doesn’t think it’s ripe and therefore doesn’t want it after all. (Oh, was that you – sorry – but come on already!) Yes, Virginia – a person can over think … Continue reading
Nostalgia can be lovely. Of course it can be horrid and more than unpleasant as well – but that can be said about most feelings. Especially ones that conjure memories, be them pleasant or not.
There are songs like that for me – ones that instantly transport me to somewhere else … an old boyfriends car, an 80’s dance floor the statue of Mary I knelt beside on my wedding day … but I don’t have any sordid flashbacks. And for that I am thankful.
Food can do that too. Places. Tangible items. Smells. I imagine a lot of people correlate mothballs to old people – I know the mere mention of a mothball makes me think of my marmalade eating, pearl wearing, English grandmother … the smell of Jean Nate of my mother-in-law … Drakkar Noir the first man my mother dated after her divorce – to which, I might add, makes me want to vomit anytime I inhale the smallest whiff of the nasty black bottled cologne … Continue reading
Picture a busy street. One crammed with four lanes of commuters cruising along at 55 mph. Add the bike lanes. Add the sidewalks. What do you see? Is your imaginary sidewalk empty? Or did you see the runner? Did you see the children walking with their parents? Did you see the dog and his owner? Did you see the woman in the wheelchair sitting peacefully beside her companion?What do you think of the things that you see? Or do you, for that matter, think at all.
Years ago I was the runner on that busy street and I was lucky enough to observe one of the most beautiful things that I have ever seen. Although it wasn’t until very recently that I came to realize just how fortunate I was to have experienced that particular moment … the path I used to run winds alongside a river. It’s a popular path and in all truthfulness you’re just as likely to see an Olympic athlete pounding the pavement as you are to see a father walking with his four year old on a tricycle.
It was early August. The air, although hot and sticky, still managed an occasional breeze thanks to the river. And my disposition, while far from lovely, was not totally rotten; though I feared it would start to decay if I didn’t complete my standard run … Continue reading