“To find a pearl dive deep into the ocean don’t look in fountains. To find a pearl you must emerge from the water of life always thirsty.” ~ Rumi

Sailboat at Sunrise

“Do what you must, be wise, cut your vines
and forget about hope. Time goes running, even
as we talk. Take the present, the future’s no one’s affair.” ~ Horace

Cabo San Lucas, image by cabo-sailboats.com

Long time no post.  It’s peculiar, but every time I opened my blog, the picture of the woman with the anti-semitic posters greeted me, which disturbed me, so I closed my blog without writing. Finally, I decided that I could either keep getting put off by something in my post, or I could write a new post to replace the one that causes me so much disquiet. So I’m posting.

Besides, my stats are taking a big hit with no new posts, and I don’t need anything else to fret about in my fret-filled life.

Yesterday, I witnessed something that was astounding. Brett and I were in the waiting room at his doctor’s office. She is always running late, so spending time in the waiting room is tedious but anticipated. I usually take something to read, but not yesterday. It’s a very busy office, so the check-in window has two people sitting there to greet people, check them in, take money, make follow-up appointments—the usual. In my subconscious I heard one of the women say, “May I help you sir? Sir? Oh well, I guess you don’t like me. May I help you ma’am?

The woman was obviously joking and making light of the line of people waiting to be helped. However, when said man got to the front of the line, he demanded to see whoever was in charge, “right now!” He went off for about 5 minutes without pausing, saying how she had made a joke at his expense (for which she apologized profusely), accused the office of having deep-rooted problems (it’s a therapy office, you think there are problems?), his voice getting louder and louder with each word. By this time, the woman sitting next to me was transfixed, and the man across from me was clenching and unclenching his hands, clearly ready for a confrontation.

The obstreperous man at the window went on: It’s not so funny now, is it? I’m the one laughing now . . . How dare they make fun of him . . . ya da ya da ya da. I looked at the woman next to me, who said, “You know, I thought that he was joking at first.” To which I agreed. He obviously was not joking. I told the woman that he was precisely the kind of person who went postal.

At that moment, Brett’s doctor called us into her office. Unfortunately, the loud man had been moved into the hallway right outside Brett’s doctor’s office, and he was now yelling at the office manager, who told him that if he didn’t calm down, he would be removed from the patient list. Apparently, this man must do something disruptive each time he comes for an appointment because I heard the manager say to him that he needed to call before he arrived at the office for his appointments so that they could avoid these scenes.

Man oh man. What is it with people that they feel the need to be noticed, no matter what? If the complainer was upset by what the receptionist said, he could have just said that to her, given her a chance to apologize and moved on. But no. He had to turn it into a major case in which he, the aggrieved, was intentionally belittled and the entire office was out to get him.

At one time in my life I had thought that I would have made a good therapist. Yesterday reminded me of why that would not be true: Patience in the face of rampant boorishness is just not my strong suit.

“I don’t know where I was going to lead these thoughts, or where I might want to lead them. It’s a foggy, humid, hot day, sad, without threats, monotonous for no reason . . . I’m slowly filling white paper—the paper for wrapping sandwiches they give me at the cafe, because I don’t need better and any will do, so long as it’s white—with lazy traces made with a rhombic pencil. And I’m satisfied. I sit back. The afternoon fades monotonously, without rain, in a discouraged, uncertain tone. And I stop writing because I stop writing.” ~ Fernando Pessoa from The Book of Disquiet

Sailboats in Sydney Harbour

So, the temperature around here went from the 60’s to a current high of 88 degrees. It’s muggy, humid, and too warm for April. Why am I not surprised?

I spent the weekend doing taxes: our taxes and Eamonn’s taxes, federal and state for both. We already received notification that we will not be getting our federal refund again this year because the government needs the money more than we do. Not. We are getting a small state refund, but of course, that is already spent.

So I worked on taxes for two days, and then spent yesterday recovering. When we got home from Brett’s appointment, I read. I thought about posting, but just couldn’t find the energy to do so. Brett is on spring break, and I am on perpetual break.

I had asked my ex if he would contribute towards all of the senior fees that Brett has upcoming. When I first mentioned it, he was reasonable and said to tell him how much I needed. When I told him now much I needed (which was half), of course, he balked. Surprisingly, he did manage to come through. I mean, we have to order Brett’s cap and gown, pay for his graduation announcements, buy his yearbook, on top of paying for his SAT, college applications, etc. I don’t think that I was being unreasonable to expect him to come up with half. But quite frankly, I don’t really care if he thinks that it was unreasonable. I have let him slide on so many things over the years because it is easier than dealing with his attitude.

Wednesday is Alexis’s follow-up appointment with the neurologist in which he is going to discuss her MRI and her EEG and come up with some kind of game plan. I want her to talk to him about her sleeping habits as she has missed work a couple of times because she has not heard all of the alarms. One day she woke up at 3 in the afternoon. Her friend had called her. Mike had called her. Her boss had called her. Four alarms went off. She slept through all of it. How is that possible? Fortunately, the people at her job are being very understanding at the moment, but I expect that that will not last after this appointment with the neurologist. It’s been a wait-and-see for them (wait to see what caused her seizure before deciding how to handle it).

“An unfulfilled vocation drains the color from a man’s entire existence.” ~ Honoré de Balzac

Sailboat at Porto Koufo, Greece

Corey has a spring cold. The pollen is not helping. This week, he only works two days, and both of those are for training, which means he will make less per hour. He has told me that when he is at a port and sees the tugboats, he longs to be on one. I know how much he misses doing his real job. He read an article in his work magazine that said that shipping is not picking up as fast as they had anticipated for 2010. Really? I think that we knew that.

I really thought that he would be working for Vane Brothers by now, but they are still not bringing on any new people. The unfortunate reality is that Corey made more money on unemployment than he is making at this job, and the logic escapes me. I mean, port security is kind of a big deal around here. Port security has been a big deal ever since 9/11. Given that reality, am I the only one who thinks that the people tasked with watching these boats should be paid more than someone who is selling men’s clothing at a department store?

Apparently, I must be. Of course, there is that whole thing about being glad for what you have, being grateful for having a job, which of course, we are. But both of us also know that Corey would be much happier on a boat doing what he has been trained to do and earning what he is worth. It’s not the money that he loves about being on a tugboat. It’s the job itself. The money is nice, but the satisfaction means more.

Anyway, that’s about all for now. More later. Peace.

Music by Regina Spektor, “Field Below”

                                                                                                            

I read this on Crashingly Beautiful, and it seemed appropriate to my discussion about boats:

Cradles

Along the quay, the great ships,
that ride the swell in silence,
take no notice of the cradles.
that the hands of the women rock.

But the day of farewells will come,
when the women must weep,
and curious men are tempted
towards the horizons that lure them!

And that day the great ships,
sailing away from the diminishing port,
feel their bulk held back
by the spirits of the distant cradles.

 ~ Rene Francois Armand Prudhomme

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“How one walks through the world is affected by the shifting weights of beautiful things.” ~ Elaine Scarry

 

Snow Crystals by Wilson Bentley (ca 1902)

“The Eskimo has fifty-names for snow because it is important to them; there ought to be as many for love.” ~ Margaret Atwood

It was snowing earlier today—big, fat flakes. But it was also raining, so none of the snow stuck. It’s not that I’m eager for the area to be locked in again as a result of snow, but more that this snow was so beautiful. Oh well . . . Now, it’s just very windy and wet outside, and cold, of course. The forecast is calling for record accumulations in the D.C./Northern Virginia area, up to 2.5 feet. Glad I don’t need to travel to Northern Virginia for anything.

Apparently, it’s already pretty bad out there. Over 200 accidents have been reported, and flights have been cancelled. Even the Smithsonian closed early. No idea what will happen in Hampton Roads, but I’m just hoping that we don’t lose power. The forecast is calling for freezing rain, which means that the dogs will stick their heads out the back door but will not venture outside.

Not much else happening here. As I told Corey, I am so sick and tired of being sick and tired. Sinuses. Pressure. Headache. Yuck. Advil Cold & Sinus is my friend.

“Art enables ut to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.” ~ Thomas Merton

Tomorrow I need to drive Brett downtown so that he can drop off his piece for the student art show at Selden Arcade. That gives me something to look forward to as I have not seen this piece yet, and it is always nice to look at what the students have been creating.

When I worked at the museum, the annual Irene Leache student art show was hung in the community gallery each spring. I don’t know if that contest still exists. I loved looking at all of the different works in the different media. Some of the students were tremendously talented. I have always been envious of people who are natural artists. I am hopeless when it comes to drawing.

Other than those tidbits, not a lot to report. I don’t feel inspired enough to write anything of consequence. The world news is too depressing to comment on: Even though the unemployment rate dropped from 10 to 9.7 percent, 8.4 million people are jobless. Just not a club I in which I would seek membership.

Yesterday, Corey was pretty down about the whole job thing. Apparently, one of his former boat mates was giving him a hard time, telling Corey that he isn’t really looking for a job. Who says that to someone who is out of work, not by choice? I reminded Corey that once this position with Vane Brothers comes through, he’ll be working for a really good company, a company that has a good reputation in the industry, which is more than can be said for his former employer.

The waiting is hard for all of us, but I really think that it will be worth it. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself and Corey.

“The snow goose need not bathe to make itself white. Neither need you do anything but be yourself.” ~ Laozi

A few parting thoughts:

  • I agree with Gordon Gee, president of Ohio State University: Excellence in teaching should be considered in granting tenure. I’ve known people who were lousy in the classroom but great at research who had tenure. There should be a balance.
  • Why oh why is AIG going to be allowed to pay out $100 million in bonuses this year when the company still hasn’t paid back the money from the bailout?
  • President Obama should meet with the Dalai Lama. It’s a question of human rights, something for which China isn’t known.
  • At what point in my life will I stop having break outs? I don’t have bad acne, but I still get those few days during which my cheeks get zits. TMI? Just wondering.
  • So glad that Corey is not a sports addict as it means that Super Bowl Sunday will not be a hallowed day in this house. I like college football, but really have no affinity for pro football.

Told you I didn’t have much to say. Even my ponderables are mediocre at best.

Images are by Wilson Bentley, a Vermont farmer who was the first person to photograph a snow crystal in 1885. Bentley photographed more than 5,000 snowflakes during his lifetime but did not copyright any of his images.

More (with any luck better) later. Peace.

Happened upon this video of “And Winter Came” by Enya.