Commercialism

Today's TV Commercials

I am not the greatest TV fan.  I watch TV as a break from doing something more worthwhile.   Other than news broadcasts, I do not spend too much time on TV.   Light comedy is a good diversion,  the old-time kind, (the modern ones are far too racy for me.) I also like the animal shows and occasionally a good clean movie will get my attention, but for the most part there is always something much more worthy of consuming my precious time.

I do know that commercials are a necessary evil of our time though I must admit I often wonder if they actually generate sales or repel them, especially those annoying ones with the animated gadgets that talk and whine.  No wonder people go to Netflicks nowadays. It is a means of escape from the stupidity!  I do not subscribe to Netflicks myself because I spend so little time on TV, that even  two bits would be wasted money, but I can certainly appreciate their value and understand why Netflicks are such a big hit!

I think the best thing modern technology has given us is the mute button on our TV Remote.  I have often complained about modern technology leaving us old folks too far behind, but that mute button makes me take it all back. I think those old-time TV commercials made some sense, or made you laugh or at least caught your  attention somehow, without insulting your intelligence.  Now we hear of somebody dumping garbage into a room or a car and then bringing "REAL" people to sniff it after some spray has been added to the mix!!!!!! I don't know about you, but do you actually have UNREAL people in your community, - or even in your country?!?!?
I didn't know we had them in ours either.  But obviously they do exist --- in our commercial world!!!!

Aging Woes

Confession Time

She complains about the weather
She complains about her health
She complains about being too busy
She complains the snow won't melt.

It's really grating on the nerves
It gets hard to be polite
It strains the patience to no end
Though you try with all your might.

It's really not that easy
To face the aging years
But it doesn't help to whine and gripe
And to irritate your peers.

(I hope I don't turn out that way
As my aging years advance
I hope to show how it should be done
If I just get the chance.)

But looking back at my dim past
I'm afraid I must admit
This poem is all about me
That complainer - I am IT!

End of Season Blues

End of Season Blues

Our writing group ended its fall sessions today and I already miss the group. There is something so comforting and invigorating and pleasing about belonging to a group of like-minded people who share your passions, your views and your dreams. We don't necessarily share the same genres of writing, or even the same goals about where we want to go with it, but we all share that impetus that motivates us and that enthusiasm that makes each new day an exciting challenge. We all need that to make our life complete.

We reconvene at the end of January and I can hardly wait.  In the meantime I hope to put the finishing touches on a new book of poems that will hopefully be out for January 1, 2014 and I still have to finish that novel that is still unfinished business on my computer.  So wish me luck! I need it!

Philippine Disaster

Unimaginable  Tragedy

You cannot watch the news these days without seeing those unfathomable tragic scenes of desolation and total ruin in the Philippines.  Seeing the devastation of that nation makes you stop and think about how frail and minuscule we are in the global picture and how fragile our lives (and our good fortune) are in the big scheme of the world.  In the blink of an eye, we can lose EVERYTHING, and life, itself, is certainly on that list.

I talked to a lady today whose son has been living in the Philippines over the last few years.  She is beside herself because she cannot connect with him.  She has no way of knowing if he is alive and suffering somewhere or if he is one of those thousands who perished.  Communication  is mediocre, if existent at all to the ravaged areas and I am certain that this lady is only one of many, many, many, who are feeling that same kind of helplessness.  And just think of those who were in the direct path of the typhoon!!!

How do you even begin to live normally after such a catastrophe???  How can we help - or even begin to? Donations,  important as they are, seem almost trivial against the magnitude of such colossal proportions.  I just hope that all the monetary donations reach their intended destinations and that they offer at least some relief to those unfortunate folk ravaged by this disaster. My heart goes out to all the people affected (directly or indirectly) by this disaster. Hopefully no unscrupulous scam artists are cashing in on this calamity.  That would be the ultimate tragedy and injustice!  

 

My Victory

Making Peace With My Computer

I’ve made peace with my computer

As a way of saving face

I don’t ask for special favors

It’s my only saving grace.

It’s been a long time coming

It’s very far past due

I don’t ask for fancy tricks now  

And no snubbing it will do.

 I may not like its attitude

But I won’t let it irk my ire

I’ll keep my calm demeanor

I won’t let my temper fire.

So now we’ve called a final a truce

My only chance to win

The cranky thing will not give up

And I won’t commit more sin! @#$%&*

Remembrance Day

Remembering

 I was watching the news a minute ago and much of it had to do with the Remembrance Day Ceremonies across the nation.  That is all well and good.  I totally support it.  But I feel that it does not go far enough.  While I know that losing someone in a war is an indescribable tragedy that lives on forever in the families that are left behind, there is just as much pain for the families of the soldiers who come back injured or maimed in some way.  That kind of pain is often not visible or recognizable but most definitely no less real. It is ongoing, constant, unrelenting and  and all too often never-ending.

Those are the tragedies of war that are, in many ways, almost worse.  Nobody wants to acknowledge them - certainly not the military!  Those wounded (mentally or physically) are the forgotten casualties and quite often uncompensated ones.  It  almost seems as if the "lucky" ones are the ones that perish, because their suffering ends there, and they are even recognized and honored for it! The ones that come back maimed whether it is physically or mentally, are forgotten and often left to fend for themselves when they are least equipped to do so.

While I honor the sacrifices of the fallen, let us acknowledge that there are more tragedies of war then just the fallen!

Ongoing Education

Continuing Education

Lately,( more than usual???? or am I just venturing into too many  uncharted waters lately?) I seem to  have been pestering my computer guru/mentor with a myriad of how-do-I do-this and how-do-I-do-that questions.  She seems to have the patience of Job with me, but I am always afraid I am close to pushing her over that final edge!  This "on-going" education is tough on my old brain and it's much worse on my insecure self-confidence.

In my next life, I promise (or hope) to come back as a technical genius that knows all the answers to all the questions and has a monumental and completely unshakable self-assurance that cannot be toppled by anything or anybody!!!!     There just has to be an easy way to get all my ideas on paper without struggling or faltering.  I just gotta find it!!!!

Tragedy of Alzheimer's

Forever Lost

He stands alone, weeping, broken,

Pathetic, shattered, and forlorn.

Words surround him, he can hear them

Curses, obscenities, vile, irate

Words he never thought she'd known.

Seated before him – an angry woman

Not the mother he used to know

That loving nature, forever giving

That generous soul with never a foe

Decorous persona, serene and tender, 

With a heart so pure it defied ill will!

Somewhere from the depths of evil

A cruel disease had o’rpowered her brain

Had turned that sweetness into rancour

And acrimony, unprovoked, unbidden

Had claimed authority o’er her reign.

Now broken-hearted, her son stands sobbing

Before a mother who remembers not

Those years now gone, so full of promise

Of sweet devotion and compassion, 

A life of glorious family love.

A doting mother she had once been

Cooing love songs to her spawn

Cradling children to her bosom

And her ever-loving heart. 

That mother love’s now but a memory

A mother whose son now mourns as gone!