Category: Snip-Its

This morning, my wife decided to drive me to work.  With her usual thoughtfulness she went out a few minutes early, unlocked the car and turned it on to warm up.  After admonishing my boy to brush his teeth I went out and climbed into the passenger seat.

Julia appeared a moment later, opened the driver’s side passenger door, then stopped.  A brief pause, then she closed the door and came around to the passenger side and clambered in behind me.  Her brother is much taller than her, as I am to my wife – who had moved the driver’s seat forward.

Julia hadn’t needed prompting to grant her brother the additional leg room, I doubt she’d even analyzed her action.  She’s thirteen, caring, and considerate… she’s my JuliaGem.

Our son had a two hour delay this morning.  Julia, my 13 year old daughter, expressed her delight, “Great, with Gareth not going to school, I get to ride in the front.”

Puzzled by this lapse in judgment from a child well versed in math, I frowned and responded, “Ahhhh… no, you get to ride in the back.”

Julia shot me a disbelieving look, her brow imitating mine.

I explained, “Mom’s driving, I’m in the front, and you’re also in the front – what’s wrong with that equation?”

A smile crept onto Julia’s lips, as part of her school credit she had been forced to watch the Presidential Debacle on TV.   Eyes twinkly, she quipped “Nothing dad, in Gromney Math it makes perfect sense.”

After laughing, I shook my head and said “Gromney math be damned, you’re riding in the back!”

Yes, my 13 year old did indeed coin that phrase, along with many, many others.  If you’re interested in another of her little @middengem’s , then you might want to waste…
{did I say “waste“, I meant “invest“. Ouch, I think I was bitten by a politician – is it contagious?}
… more of your time reading this.

As I climbed into the front seat of the car for the ride to school, my daughter Julia nudged me and said “I wanted to sit in the front.”

Ignoring her, I climbed in and responded “You might want to, but you’re not going to.”

Julia clambered into the back seat of my wife’s Altima, mumbling “One day I’m gonna.”

Naturally {for this is the way of things in our household} , I responded “You’re not gonna.”  I felt no need to complete the correction, Julia is sharp as a tack.

My wife leapt into the fray, words blazing across the darkness like bright rounds of tracer, “You mean ‘going to’.”

Mistakenly thinking she was agreeing with me, I nodded in satisfaction at her unexpected support and said “Yes, that’s what I said.”

“No”, she responded, “You said ‘you’re gonna’.”

Belatedly I realized she had probably not heard Julia’s mumbled words, and that her tracer had been aimed square at me – her intended victim,  {Are you starting feel sympathy for my plight yet, for I surely am.}  I held up the white flag of truce in vain hope of a peaceful resolution to her unwarranted, pre-emptive attack on the innocent, and explained “I said I’m going to.  Julia said I’m gonna.”

Julia corrected me, “You said ‘you’re not gonna’”, and indeed I had…

I shook my head, lowered reason’s weary flag, and sighed in wounded knee.  Yes, terrible things were done in times past – I know, I watched the video with my son.   In fact, I’m ashamed to admit I committed a few atrocities myself.  How times have changed, my kids can’t have a bush pig for a pet.  Bacon, is such a sweet animal.  My tea tastes bitter, I really dislike not having time enough to steep it…

My wife interrupted my reverie, “Your problem is that you’ve got so many voices inside your head you don’t know which one’s speaking aloud”.

Blinking in surprise, voice portraying my inner calm, I said “My head is filled with serene tranquility.”

Delight in her voice, Julia murmured “Oh, you mean a void?”

I laughed, as I often do to hide grievous pain {well actually I thought Julia was really witty, but this is my version of the truth, so I’m the protagonist}.

My wife snorted, “Sometimes you’re such a fool…”

Julia added, “Yes, an impetulant fool.”

Lips curling in a sardonic smile, I entered my preferred mode of defense – attack, and exclaimed “HAH!  Impetulant is not even a word!  But I like it… you should use it more often.”

We drove on, everyone chuckling at their inner thoughts – three people, three versions of truth.

{footnote, my wife is really not the wicked person I intimate she is. However this is my blog, and my ever so slightly modified version of reality – and, well, having an antagonist is fun!  Frankly, I think I’m remarkably generous in granting her that much sought after role in many of my little tales.}

{footnote to a footnote. Did I happen to mention they’re all the pure, embellished truth? They are :).)

{footnote to the footnote, of a footnote. Nope, I’ve got nothing… just liked the way that looked.  What’s that up there, there, at the top of the page… I think it says smaple, or something with an s, can’t quite make it out. Ha! got you again!}

Smug satisfaction fills me, my ploy prevailed… the mopping done, my wife cooked me a delicious meal :).

— C.G.Ayling (@CGAyling) October 13, 2012

This morning my wife dragged me upstairs, enslaved me, then forced me to clean up my tools – which had mysteriously begun accumulating in the kitchen.

After my release from this barbaric and prolonged internment, (it must have taken nearly five minutes!), I looked at her hopefully and said “I’d love some fried green tomatoes for breakfast.”

Steel gray eyes glinting, she responded “And I’d love you to mop the floor.”

Turning away, I started toward the stairs, murmuring, “I’ve lost my appetite”, in piteous tone.

A chuckle, a derisive snort, “Thought of cooking has robbed you of your appetite?  Poor boy.”

Deliberately misunderstanding her callous coldness for sympathy, I responded “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll get it back… as soon as you’ve finished mopping the floor.”

Though we hold being unique and original in high esteem, we strive for conformity and slavishly follow trends.
~ http://t.co/RQbCXV37

— C.G.Ayling (@CGAyling) October 11, 2012

I believe we’re almost universally filled with these strange little inner conflicts, perhaps they even aid in defining human nature.  Today, I’m considering how we value our individuality, while actively trying to fit in.

Our upbringing might well seed this particular conflict.  Even before we start school, our parents encourage us to be imaginative – they express avid delight in our every word and deed, while telling us how special we are.  Then, they insist we conform to whatever their “normal” is – maybe that’s our table manners, or the way we greet our elders, or following their religious observances.  Though none of this is bad, it certainly sows the seeds of conflict.

Then our early education begins.  Now, we’re constantly told how valuable imagination and originality are, while being subjected to an endless barrage of tests to see how well we conform to “normal”.  Personally, I think this type of educational system stinks – unfortunately, in the USA my children have access to no other.

What a confusing world for the young…  No wonder kids dress in crazy clothes, dye and cut their hair into bizarre styles, then graduate to cover their flesh in piercings and tattoos, or worse.  Their desire to be unique is so powerful it approaches despair.

We deprive our children of creative outlet by stripping arts programs from schools to save someone a dime.  We enforce mediocrity by compelling our kids to “do well” in school, AKA conforming to the one size fits all mentality.  We lower the academic bar to the lowest common denominator, then measure their scholastic success by how well they imitate their peers.  Sad.

Society values originality, yet it demands conformity.

It took me over fifty years to learn writing grants my inner demons escape.  Malmaxa, my first novel, reveals some of them.  How long has it taken you to find release?  If you’re yet to attain it, how long do you anticipate waiting?

What you say you heard isn’t what I think I said.
~ http://t.co/TJBJIqq2

— C.G.Ayling (@CGAyling) October 8, 2012

Language is crucial to modern man, without which we probably would never have developed further than extended family units.  However, effective communication is much more than mere words arranged into an understandable order.  Indeed, my suspicion is that during primitive man’s early development non-verbal signals received significantly greater attention.

As language improved, the need for these other skills gradually diminished, reducing them to the subliminal.  However, they’re still there and we still rely on them.  We just no longer pay them conscious heed, perhaps even training ourselves to ignore them – from the mistaken belief that words are all we truly need.  Sadly, the only time this comes close to truth is in the hands of masterful writers.  For the rest of us, the things we say are often a jumbled, incoherent mess understandable only due to instinctual understanding of the non-verbal communications accompanying the gibberish pouring from our mouths.

According to my wife, and she is right far more often, I said this “I can’t believe how bad these pictures on the TV is.”  Quite rightly, Suzanne called me out – gleefully repeating what she thought I had said.  (Perhaps a little less gleefully than I would have, had it been her who made the error, but there was significant delight.)  After listening to her echoing what she thought I had said, I indignantly exclaimed, “I would never say that!”

And indeed, I never would – intentionally.  Unfortunately, sometimes our mouths betray our minds, uttering things we aren’t thinking.  (Take that as an admission if you like, subliminally it seems to be one…)  After a few enjoyable minutes of indignation butting heads with glee, and neither gaining ground, my youngest child walked in.

Appreciating the value of a first strike, I immediately turned to Julia and said “Mom says I said ‘I can’t believe how bad these pictures on the TV is.’”  Julia’s disbelieving eyes sufficed to halt any further explanation.

Appalled, Julia turned to her mother and asserted “Dad would never say something like that!”

Since appalled disbelief more closely matches indignation than glee, I immediately claimed victory.  Was I right, or was Suzanne wrong?  In truth, I think we were both correct – sometimes what you think you’re saying isn’t what the listener hears.

One of age’s rewards is the little memories that bring a smile, for example the way in which my children have learnt the alphabet…

You know, the sing-along version… aye bee see dee eee ef gee and so on.  Well, without fail all four of them at first believed that “elemenoh” was a single letter :).

Since it is sung that way, I never had the heart to dissuade them (besides it made me laugh then, just as it does now).