I hate mice. I hate the way they look I hate the way they act. I don’t want them in my house. If they appear in my house I’m going to call an exterminator.
This is just the way it is. When they invade where I live they deserve to die. I don’t want them around. I can’t stand there little mouse droppings that are evidence of there being around. I don’t want to even think about them being alive period
That’s why it’s just her craziness that one I found a nest of baby mice in my lawn mower I felt compelled to protect them. When they were deprived of their mother and squealing at the top of their lungs out of fear I just wanted to protect them. When I left them in the lawnmower to cool off outside some of them had jumped off the mower and we’re sitting on the stone driveway. I went and got some cardboard scoop to them up and put them back into they’re little Nest on top of the lawnmower.
I then Returns the mower to the shed where their mother had decided to create a home for them. That’s my shed. The mice didn’t belong there. Yet still I had to return them. I also locked the shed door because I know that there is a cat next door. I know the cat enjoys hunting in my yard. I root for the cat to catch all the mice again in my yard. I just don’t want them to catch these babies.
This is illogical. I know these mice are going to grow up to be adults and come into my house and make me angry enough to call an exterminator to kill them. What is it about us that makes us want to protect the Young no matter who they are? I don’t know. I guess it’s just a matter of perspective.
On Sunday night I was driving home from my parents house in Marlton, NJ. This is not an unusual situation as I have been having dinner with my parents every Sunday since my family moved away last year. As I customarily do, I called my wife so that we could chat for the ride home. I use a Blu-tooth earpiece for my phone so essentially, I am hands free and legal. As I passed the abandoned Champs Bar and Grill I changed lanes from left to right and immediately caught the police lights go on in my rear view mirror.
Now, the crazy thought start to run through my head. What did I do wrong? Did I just cut him off? Did I drink at my mom’s house? (yes, 1 glass of wine). What kind of crazy encounter am I going to have? Do I have all of my documentation? Is he/she going to be nasty? Should I record this? Should I dig through my glove compartment? Will he/she think I am looking for a gun? Fear and terror filled my person. My wife said it would be better to end the call so not to confuse the issue. I hung up and rolled down my window…yes legit rolled. The car is old.
After waiting for what seemed like an eternity a knock came at my passenger window. I nearly choked myself reaching over to the other door’s manual crank. (Well, at least I won’t get a seat belt violation.) After getting it down the officer introduced himself as a member of the Evesham Police Department. At that very moment, I realize that this is a guy from my home town. I am on a drive through highway that connects many towns, but this person is here to protect my home town. I begin to relax…not in any small part related to the fact that this man was treating my like I was an honored guest at a party. He informed me that my registration was coming up expired in his computer. I checked my glove compartment and came up with the same answer. He asked for my documents and he went back to his car. I called my wife and explained to her that it was a registration issue.
When he returned to my car he indicated that the violation would not be a moving violation but since so much time had passed since the car was registered, he had to write up the violation. He also helped me with the process for registering the car and told me the best way to get it corrected without having to run the risk of a repeat violation. He also helped me identify that my insurance was due to expire in one day. We chatted about a couple of things and I ended up going away with a very good feeling.
I began to reflect on all of the traffic stops that appear in the news. You know…the ones that go horribly wrong. These are the ones that we see recorded and get plastered all over the media. I can’t help but wonder about my anxiety and just what caused it. I can’t help but think about the media accounts of discourteous cops and belligerent citizens are making us believe that this situation is far too commonplace.
I have heard that it takes 10 positive experiences to cover up the one negative impression. If this is true, then hopefully this story will go towards reminding people that one badly recorded episode of people being at far less than their best is not representative of the greater population. Maybe then, the next time I get pulled over. my anxiety level would not go through the roof.
Tomorrow, we can talk about the NJ Motor Vehicle Agency. Now there is a trip through crazy😭
OK. So I bought a Fidget Spinner. I know that it said the word “toy” at the end of it. I was attracted to it because it said that it would help with ADHD and similar focus related things. I know that I have trouble focusing on things. I know I have to fix this. I know that it is a problem. I also know…that I have just added another distraction.
OK. So it is not going to help with focus. Maybe…it is the distraction or triggering that it can help with. When, I find myself on the wrong track…I will just pull out the spinner and it will get me moving. I am really reaching here to justify my $10 investment. Oh well…time to spin.
You just don’t need one more excuse to allow students or young people to say that they have the right to do whatever they want to do. They are already confused enough about alcohol. The fact that alcohol is legal doesn’t stop them but encourages them to begin use even when they are underage. I say no.
“Faith is believing in things when common sense tells you not to…”~Miracle on 34th Street
I think that we all struggle with demons. These demons live in our minds and occupy corners and lay in wait for a weak moment and destroy our dreams and ambitions. They are assisted by those who want to share “realities” that are uniquely theirs…not yours and certainly not mine. The demons move from person to person in this way.
If you look at the quote from Miracle on 34th Street, you can see that belief is a strong characteristic and we all have it. We believe that we can or we believe that we can’t. It’s a choice. What do I choose to believe…for my life…for this day….in this moment? Don’t I really control my destiny? Do I relinquish my control to something or someone else?
In my own life, I know now that who I am and what I have become up to this day is my default position when I don’t consciously follow my dreams or my desires simply because someone else has appeared to make sense. At some point, I have to decide, and I mean really decide what I believe. My actions then have to bear that out.
I must be careful to guard these beliefs or my destiny will be lost in The River of Dreams. This really shouldn’t be…uncommon sense…but, it is.
Having been a music teacher for years and directing choirs has been rewarding for me. I have been fortunate to both perform in music ensembles and direct them with the firm belief that this art form and its inherent creativity was beneficial to the members of the group. What became apparent when attending a workshop was the challenging notion that what I was doing was the “least creative thing” I could be doing in music. This gave me pause. I dwelled on it and realized that it was true.
The person directing this workshop indicated that the persons who participated passively in the experience of listening to music also could be brought into the experience of creating music. Again, it gave me reason to think. Using digital software, you can create music and you don’t even have to know how to write it. In education, I have become somewhat of an elitist in that I believe that to be a musician you had to learn and use notation. When the ultimate experience of music is audio…why is that the case.
I bought the software and I was fortunate to have a young lady, who loved to sing, record “cover tunes”, just so I could learn the process of using the software. Still, creativity eluded me. So, we took some of those covers and made a few videos. Here, I first discovered how I could use the music to create a visual experience that would give a greater impact. I was on my way, but I didn’t understand why I was finally on my way. The cover tunes gave me structure. The structure gave me parameters to develop something. The truth is, we all need parameters.
The first day of school in the subsequent year, a contest was presented to me to produce a 2 minute video to support the need for music education funding. You needed original music. There were only 72 awards and this went nationwide. There was only 4 weeks until the submission deadline. Truly, the odds were against winning, but I finally had parameters. I finally had purpose…and the creativity flowed and the contest was won. All the participants, myself and 9 students, felt that “we had accomplished something great” For me, it was more meaningful because it supported my belief that we can all be creative. Now, I need to get others to believe it as well.
On this site is my “ongoing attempt” at creativity. I hope that you enjoy as I continue to explore this side of me that has been dormant for many years.
(This is a re-posting of an entry on a previous server. I felt I needed to revisit it.)