“Oh How I Hate to Get up in the Morning” (sheet music) page 1 of 3 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Why is it that the morning people dominate the world??? Discriminatory, I say! My rights are being trampled on!!
Night owls of the world arise! You have nothing to lose but your sack time, and that’s already happening! We need respect! We need understanding! We need coffee!
I hate mornings.
I really hate mornings when you’re with someone who’s all perky and bright and chirpy.
They sing at you: La da ti da dahh di da doe mi so la fa dahhh …
That’s what it sounds like to me. Then, because you don’t respond because you can’t understand them, they sing at you again, more loudly this time. It’s like having a gong go off in your head.
And because you aren’t like them, they can get all huffy and defensive and even start viewing you as a lesser species.
A word of advice: it ain’t about you, morning lark.
If you think that there’s no such thing as life after death, you haven’t been to my house and seen me get up in the morning.
M. is the same way. Only worse. He looks the way I feel. Slow. Lumbering. Somambulant.
If you really poke at me, I can start acting like a pissed off velociraptor. A confused one.
Nothing looks right. It’s all so briiiight, and faaast, and loooud. And I hear and see it all in slow motion, no kidding. The lights are on but nobody’s home.
Coffee is my saviour. Without coffee, I wouldn’t wake up until four o’clock in the afternoon. I wouldn’t be able to deal with plumbers, meter readers, letter carriers, work, or breathing.
Coffee bean (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
If life operated the way it should, I would go to bed at one o’clock and get up at nine. I would be functioning and contented, if still not fully awake. But our 24/7 world doesn’t allow for this. We have millions of years of evolution screaming at us to go back to bed, especially while that storm is raging outside, but we have to shoehorn ourselves into a work life that our biology hates.
I really sometimes wonder what we’re doing to ourselves. Do you?
In Praise of the Stepmother (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
There once was a horrible woman who treated her biological daughters better than her step-daughter. In fact, she treated her step-daughter like the most lowly of servants. Then a rich guy fell in love with the servant girl, married her and took her away from her bad situation. The end.
Sound familiar? Other than the fact that this silly story suggests that marriage is the answer to a woman’s dreams, it has historically been the bane of every stepmother in at least the last 200 years.
The wicked stepmother. By now it has become an archetype. I’m not sure what its origins are but it certainly has had staying power. It encapsulates the notion that if children are not your own, that you can’t love them, and worse, that you actually hate them and will carry out that hatred in nefarious and crushing ways.
What an image for women to have to cope with! Not only do they have to deal with a ready-made family but they also have to overcome these ridiculous fairy stories.
Most stepmothers try to do their best. I know, because I used to be one. It’s difficult, demanding, and requires the sensitivity of a professional diplomat. And there are few rewards for getting it right, but lots of condemnation for getting it wrong.
Yes, lots of step-parents are crap. But lots of biological parents are crap, too.
Mother’s Day is coming. Its popularity did not come out of the idea of honouring one’s mother. That came out of war. Out of the heartbreaking losses of sons that women had to endure because a government decided to send them to die. And there were lots of stepmothers among them.
Hallmark and other companies have commercialized and capitalized on Mother’s Day and it has become a colossal money-maker for florists and restaurants and the makers of cards. Its founder, American Anna Jarvis, was disappointed by this. It has been turned into flowers and hearts but that’s not really what it was supposed to be about.
It’s supposed to be about work. Hard work. And love and tears and worry and sleeplessness. And lots of people, not just mothers, have done that for us.
So, this Sunday, we should perhaps honour the fight that our mothers, stepmothers and others have carried out for us. For many of us, it was the struggle that saved us, not the flowers.
I have done a lot of travelling. A lot. It is probably my absolutely most favourite thing. I love observing the culture, trying the food, learning about the history, exclaiming over the scenery.
There are things that I have learned, however, and one of them is that I should be a little cautious about the more famous tourist hotspots.
So, here are some of my best travel destinations to either avoid or be more pragmatic about, given whatever your interests, time and/or financial constraints might be.
Stonehenge. I was a child the first time that I went there. That was a hundred years ago when you could walk among the stones. Alas, this is no longer possible, the result of vandalism and stupidity. Because one can now only view them from quite a distance, I would recommend spending your time (and your money) in Salisbury instead. Beautiful cathedral, interesting city.
Eiffel Tower. The first time I viewed Paris from the Eiffel Tower I was 12 years old and I could actually view Paris! Now it’s bound up with so many protective layers that you can’t really see much of anything. Unless you’re an architect, going to the Musee d’Orsay to oooh and ahhh over some of the world’s most impressive art works might be a much better choice. A lot smaller than the Louvre – you can enjoy the art without being totally overwhelmed by the size of the place.
Leaning Tower of Pisa. It’s out of the way and it takes about five minutes to see. A much better spot is Verona, a very charming, laid back city with an old Roman amphitheater that’s still in use – see an opera there. Juliet’s (of Romeo and Julietfame) house is also supposedly preserved; it’s unlikely to be hers but it’s a great old house and fun to visit. Check out her statue!
Verona (Photo credit: G_Malaussene)
Venice in July and August. Venice has really suffered of late, especially with the concerns about its elevation. There have been attempts to limit the number of tour ships coming through because those large groups of people are doing a lot of damage but aren’t spending much money to help with the upkeep. If you go, it’s much better to visit in May, June or September. I have been there in all three months. The weather is great but not too hot and it’s also not so crowded. Try visiting some of the lesser known, smaller islands rather than focusing on Venice proper – you will find some of the very best local food and you will be able to take your time and explore.
Westminster Abbey. Seriously impressive, of course, and everyone should go there once. But right next door is St. Margaret’s Church, almost as old as the Abbey, and beautiful, historical, and very overlooked. Its smaller scale makes the history of the site much more accessible.
Florence. Don’t get me wrong. I love Florence, but the locals are weary of tourists and this attitude will colour a visit there. If you go, expect it and accept it. I recommend staying outside of Florence, in Siena (a completely gorgeous ancient city about 30 minutes outside of Florence), perhaps, and taking day trips into the city to visit the museums and the Duomo. This is Tuscany and the food, wine and scenery are fabulous almost anywhere you go, and staying outside of Florence will give you more exposure to the Tuscan people and culture.
Santa Fe. I love Santa Fe. But if you have limited time to visit the area, I would suggest spending it in Taos, which is about an hour and a half, very scenic drive into the mountains away. Artistic, beautiful, historical and slightly eccentric, Taos should not be missed.
Quebec City. Again, very beautiful and historical, but Montreal has everything that Quebec City has with the addition of being more cosmopolitan. The restaurants are fabulous and I love the Old City and markets!
Banff National Park. This is Canada’s oldest national park and also one of the oldest in the world. I love this park, especially the Lake Louise area. However, if you’re looking for something a little less crowded or touristy and that will really give you a taste of the vastness and beauty of Canada’s mountains, try Jasper National Park. It’s more off the beaten path and much less well known.
There are lots of things that I don’t like and they seem to fall into two categories – those things that I don’t like but have to put up with, necessary evils, you might say, and those that I don’t see any reason for putting up with at all. Today I’m going to whine about the “necessary evils” category. In no particular order, here are the top ten irritants that can really get under my skin and make me grit my teeth in irritation (clichés, anyone? I’ve got lots.)
1. Housework. I HATE housework. It doesn’t help that I also hate dirt and clutter and feel compelled to clean it up. As M says, I’m a bit of a germophobe. There’s probably a psychological explanation for this but I don’t know what it is. OCD, maybe? Maybe I’m turning into Howard Hughes? Hope not. He was weird. Actually, I think I’m better than I used to be – I can now tolerate a little slobbery.
2. Politicians. If ever there was a necessary evil, they are it. Most of them don’t give a hoot about the job they are supposed to do and only care about re-election and/or getting a plush post-political job somewhere. They can interfere – and often do – in the democratic process by throwing up obstacles to change and improvement in order to further their personal agendas and those of their cronies/henchmen. If the alternative wasn’t so dire, I’d advocate getting rid of them.
3. Tax Abuse. I actually don’t mind paying my taxes. We need schools, roads, hospitals and lots of other things. What pisses me off, though, is when I find out that some politician has used my (and your) tax dollars to stay at an incredibly expensive hotel while attending a conference that she didn’t attend. Then she has the nerve to change to another, more expensive hotel because she can’t smoke in the first expensive hotel. What are we running here? A smokers’ playpen?
4. Shopping. I am definitely not one of those women who can “go shopping” all day. It’s boring, crowded and hot. My mother loved to “go shopping.” As a kid, I sometimes had to go with her. She could do it all day, from store to store to store. She might come home with some mundane item such as a pair of hedgerow clippers, or most frustrating, nothing at all. I like to get in, buy what I need and get out, as efficiently as possible.
5. Big Box Stores. This is closely related to the above. They are gargantuan, crowded and hot and you can lose your car in the parking lot. (Gosh, I’m starting to wax poetical!) I can never find what I’m looking for and store employees don’t seem to know, either. All they can focus on is to get me to sign up for some thing or other that I don’t want but will only cost me $10.99 a month. I usually leave empty-handed.
6. Christmas Shopping. Noticing a trend here? I did a post about this one.
7. Airport Security Lines. You practically have to undress. No shoes. No belt. No this. No that. I once watched an elderly couple being put through this indignity and really felt for them. The man was in a wheelchair and they made him stand up. They at least could have done this in private. Now they want you to undergo some sort of looky peeky right through your clothes and skin in that machine that looks like it’s going to teleport you to Venus. What’s next? Taking us apart piece by piece?
8. Eating Fruit. I like my vegetables. I really do. But I’m not much of a fruit eater. I have to make myself eat this stuff. Some people think that this makes me crazy. Maybe I am and living in some sort of Matrix world. Knowing my luck, however, I’m living inside a cheap snow globe.
9. Doing Yard Work. The outdoor version of #1. And to add insult to injury, I don’t have a green thumb, but at least I don’t have to do it year round.
10. Working with Someone Who Drives You Batshit. I REALLY hate this one. It’s likely someone who wants to be your friend, too. They’re needy and often not very good at their jobs. I feel sorry for them. I try to be polite without being encouraging but this usually doesn’t work. Then I try to avoid them, a difficult proposition if you have to do a project with them. ARRGH!
What necessary evils make you want to scream into your pillow at night??
As I write this my partner, M, is busy in the kitchen making muffins. He is using an old recipe book, one of those great little gems that isn’t at all fancy but completely useful and built around the notion of good nutritious food that is also meant to be comforting and filling.
Old fashioned concepts, perhaps. For many of us, living our lives of plenty, we worry about comfort foods that fill us up. At best, they are starting to become guilty treats and at worst, calorie bombs to be decried and banned.
Sadly, they have lost their position as foods to be honoured and enjoyed after a long day of hard work.
I have good memories of such foods. Walking home from school on a cold rainy day to the yeasty, thick warmth of my mother’s kitchen as she pulled new bread from the oven. My cheeks warming up as sitting on the yellow stool, she served a thick slice, butter melting into the white softness.
We talked softly, too. About school. About my plans. About my friends’ plans. Dreaming about life to the accompaniment of pure edible bliss.
Much was discussed in that kitchen with the yellow stool while a drift of gratifying comfort foods was being prepared and consumed.
The Canadian men’s ice hockey team celebrates winning the gold medal in overtime over the United States during the 2010 Winter Olympics (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
It’s official – I have a new blog name! My particular thanks to Project Southsea for his suggestion which I then altered slightly. In his football obsessed (soccer) nation, the term “back of the net” is a reference to scoring a goal, but in Canada, a hockey obsessed nation, that term would mean that the puck is “behind” the net.
My puck is definitely in the net.
Two little words, big difference, so I made a couple of changes. I am, therefore, now officially called “In the Net! – Stories of Life and Narcissistic Survival.”
My original title, “Narcissism – One Woman’s True Story of Marriage to a Narcissist” is now a category title, and I still want to post about that topic and stick to my original intention of warning others about getting into relationships with these people. But as I indicated in my last post, there are many other things that I want to write about, too.
I will still have to closely guard my privacy by altering anything that could personally identify me or the people in my life, but there’s much that I can share.
Thanks to all of you who have supported me with your follows, your comments or just by clicking “like.” You are all very much appreciated.
So, if you’re interested, ask what you would like – and with your permission, I may turn your question into a post!
When I first started this project, all I wanted to do was throw my voice into the growing chorus of warning about narcissists and the damage they can do to the rest of us. And I intend to keep posting about that topic.
But I also find that more and more, I want to post about other things – as you’ve probably noticed.
It’s interesting how this blog has changed since I started it – it has almost taken on a life of its own, something that I think is a good sign of growth and moving on – a very suitable notion for spring.
And I have moved on. I no longer feel the intense urgency to write about narcissism that I did in the beginning. I have crossed a Rubicon of sorts – I’m no longer inside the box but outside, having a peek, grateful that I’m no longer trapped in there. In the light – a much better place to be.
In tandem with this is the fact that I have a wonderful relationship with M, that we’re making plans together, that despite the crap, one can have a perfectly ordinary, perfectly good life again.
Yes, I was married to a narcissist. And I lived through it, even though there were days when I seriously thought I was losing my mind. It’s not an exaggeration to say that I felt like I was in hell.
I’m still cleaning up the financial mess that he left me with and I will be doing that for a while, but M is also helping me.
There are times when I still wish that I had never laid eyes on him, but then I remember how much I have learned, and I would never want to give that up, in spite of how much it cost me.
Easter postcard circa early 20th century (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Spring has just started and we of course will have Easter in a couple of days. For many people this is an important religious occasion but the idea of a spring celebration of some sort has been with us since ancient times.
Many places in Europe have a bonfire night at some point during the spring, the idea being that lots of light will chase away the darkness and usher in the longer days more quickly.
Down through the ages and across many cultures there has been an emphasis on rebirth and growth and rejuvenation and young, fluffy animals and, of course, on eggs – those classic symbols of birth and new life.
It’s fun to get together with family or friends to have a few egg fights (with the hard boiled ones, not the raw ones!) to find out which egg will be the “champion.”
As a child I really enjoyed Easter. The whole Easter egg hunt bit was a lot of fun.
I grew up with roasted lamb and roasted salmon at Easter and we often finished off the last of the frozen or canned produce from my mother’s garden from the previous year.
Now, of course, we can get almost anything that we want at any time of year, day or night, as long as we are willing to pay the price. Strawberries from New Zealand during December. Quinoa from South America, a product my parents had never heard of. Wine from South Africa. “On demand” movies at three a.m.
There is, of course, the argument that we should be more cognizant of “eating locally” or should attempt to follow the “Hundred Mile Diet.” The global food industry is seriously contributing to greenhouse gas emissions and our desire for exotic products like quinoa is harming accessibility to the indigenous peoples for whom it is a basic foodstuff.
Despite these arguments, though, I have to say that I’m simply nostalgic for the times when we actually had “food seasons.” Of course, I ranted about a related topic in one of my Christmas posts which you can read here.
Nevertheless, I got rather annoyed when I saw the chocolate eggs gracing the store shelves back in January. They were literally competing with the chocolate valentines. I commented on this to one of the store employees who said that they had no choice but to put them out because they were shipped to them and couldn’t sit in storage. She told me that she had heard the same complaint from other customers, a response that may or may not have been true.
The fact is, there’s nothing special about it any more. Many of us have access to so much plenty that we have no appreciation for where it comes from or for what it takes to land in our stores. We have everything we could possibly want and our expectations keep escalating. A few days ago I watched a teenager of about 14 deliberately damaging her iPhone. She then bragged to the people she was sitting with that it was okay because her parents would get her a new one.
Our desire for whatever we want, when we want it, is inflicting hardship on those with less means. It is causing environmental damage.
We’re fat. We’re complacent.
When I was a kid, I could tell what month it was from what was available in stores and even in my own back yard.
I think it’s Easter. But frankly, given what’s on the store shelves, it could be August. And that’s a little sad.
So, in this season of rebirth and growth, we might want to consider doing a little “growing” ourselves by keeping an eye on where items are coming from. To perhaps buy “locally” more often. To be a little less demanding and a little less entitled. To be a little more in control of our basic narcissism.
So I was noodling, mulling over how I was going to fashion part two on “being” Canadian, when Barack Obama put his size twelve tootsies into his mouth, both at the same time, and provided me with the perfect fodder.
It seems that while giving a speech on Israeli/Palestine relations, Mr. Obama compared the two warring nations (question – Is Palestine now considered to be a nation?) to Canada and the U.S. What he meant was that Canada and the U.S. sometimes disagree about things but that we eventually figure it out without resorting to violence, and that Israel and Palestine should get over themselves and do the same. What it sounded like was that we are at each other’s throats and that Toronto is Baghdad‘s sister city.
Twitter is beside itself with glee. The twittersphere is busy twitting, sorry, tweeting, about a movement called #TheCanucksAreComing. Sounds like a bowel movement to me.
Some of the comments are really funny. Some are just plain stupid. Some are using this incident as an excuse, oops, forum, to complain about Quebec.
Remember my comments from part one about how we can be smug and arrogant and have a self-esteem issue all at the same time? Well, some people might say that this goes a long way to proving it. The Canucks Are Coming?? In what way, exactly? According to the twits, sorry, twitterers? tweeters? it’s going to look something like this (with my respects to the originators of these comments, I have taken some liberties and made some twits, er, tweaks):
Washington will need a wash after it has been set awash in a sea of poutine. [Will we need a pipeline for this??]
All U.S. hockey players are part of a sleeper cell. [Especially Tampa Bay.]
We will change the alphabet from “eh” to “zed.” [And add an indiscriminate “u” tu euery wurd.]
The Americans will face maple syrup bottle projectiles as militants of the Canadian Intifada cross Lake Erie. [We will cross with the guidance of the ice road truckers except by dog sled. More authentic that way. Waiting for Lake Erie to freeze, however, might be like waiting for, well, hell to freeze over.]
Wayne Gretzky is an embedded spy. [Which is why his hockey team can’t get to the Stanley Cup.]
There were lots of other comments about Tim Horton’s coffee and burning down Washington, all of which give some insight into the Canadian psyche. While many were quite funny, they also had something of a scathing edge to them. A little hurt, maybe; maybe even a little bitter. A little bit pissed off that the U.S. doesn’t pay more attention or isn’t more respectful or doesn’t turn to us more often for advice or help. After all, we have all the answers!
And we also need to grow up about it, too.
What do you think?
Barack Obama, President of the United States of America, with Stephen Harper, Prime Minister of Canada. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
In the Net! - Pictures and Stories of Life 