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Friday, October 23, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Grand-Dad Harry's Motto! - (Quit Yur Judgin.)
- Still only have 1 follower (and that's actually me) =(
- I have blog posts in my head all day, but really don't know if I want to write about them when I get here.
So onto the thoughts of today...
One dreary afternoon in England many, many years ago my Grandfather (Harry Whitehouse) recalled a motto. I can remember how the conversation took this turn because I had mentioned the motto of Trosnant School. Work hard, play hard.
It really is quite remarkable and if I were a smart person (Let's out that giant gorrilla for a start) - I would have paid attention to him. But, I am always in debt with attention and can't even keep up with the payments.
So here it is...
Grand-Dad Harry's motto: THREE THINGS THAT COME NOT BACK.
- The sped arrow. -- I'm assuming this applies to bullets et al.
- The spoken word. -- Ain't it the truth?
- The mistaken opportunity.
Or is it a better lesson learned if it is learned indeed by our own mistakes? The mistaken opportunity scared me when considering moving to the US. I was afraid of regretting the decision to not come.
When Gran-Dad died I was not there, nor there for the remaining 3 Grand-Parents passings. I can never take that back, or the days they might have missed me. No good-bye greetings, but I can not say "No regrets"
Grand-Dad Harry's Boat (forgive me if this isn't a boat) he also loved to talked about his war-time travels and adventures. http://www.royalnavalmuseum.org/
HMS Tigris
HMS Tigris (N63) was a T-class submarine of the Royal Navy. She was laid down at Chatham Dockyard and launched in October 1939.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Refusing to give up the dream...
I know why I have good reason to to fear disapointment; and sometimes talking about going home gives me that knowing you could be jinxing yourself feeling.
But I am entitled to have a dream. In fact a boss I had many, many moons ago said that if you could dream it you could have it. I've dreamt about this so long that I have woken up and gone back to bed again. It feels like an old familiar saying is mocking me... I went from can't do to can't don't.
This where you can wave to me.... if I am ever there. http://www.oggle.com/dem_harboureye.php On the hour you can see the Ferry drifting out of Portsmouth Harbour. I plan to take the 7:00am ferry because when I go home I am not going to sleep.... AT ALL!
"Hi Cynthia!" (Is going to read my blog from 7-2 Schoolage/Adolescent)
But I am entitled to have a dream. In fact a boss I had many, many moons ago said that if you could dream it you could have it. I've dreamt about this so long that I have woken up and gone back to bed again. It feels like an old familiar saying is mocking me... I went from can't do to can't don't.
This where you can wave to me.... if I am ever there. http://www.oggle.com/dem_harboureye.php On the hour you can see the Ferry drifting out of Portsmouth Harbour. I plan to take the 7:00am ferry because when I go home I am not going to sleep.... AT ALL!
"Hi Cynthia!" (Is going to read my blog from 7-2 Schoolage/Adolescent)
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Snobbery!
Hmmmmm.
Have to agree on the British deserving some credit for keeping that alive!
Have to agree on the British deserving some credit for keeping that alive!
Snobbery
From Awe
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Snobbery is the state of being a snob – “[o]ne who meanly or vulgarly admires and seeks to imitate, or associate with, those of superior rank or wealth; one who wishes to be regarded as a person of social importance”, or “[o]ne who despises those who are considered inferior in rank, attainment, or taste” (OED). The adjective is snobbish; the adverb snobbishly.
Snobbery, therefore, is the state of judging people, or their status or possessions etc, by inappropriate criteria. It is sheer snobbery to assume that a Duchess is better than a collector of rubbish because she is married to a man who is descended from a man who helped to win a battle. It is inverted snobbery to assume that the rubbish collector is better than the Duchess.
Snobbery is very common in British society. We commonly make judgements about people from the way they speak; worse, the judgement is often condemnatory. “The moment an Englishman opens his mouth, another Englishman despises him” said the playwright G.B. Shaw (Pygmalion, 1916). Snobbery is also common on grounds of how one dresses, one’s table manners, one’s learning and many other irrelevant grounds.
In its most usual form, snobbery refers to judgements made on grounds of social class. This is sometimes more clearly defined as social snobbery. However, such groundless value judgements, or prejudices, can take other forms. In academic circles, for example, intellectual snobbery is not uncommon – assuming that one person is better than another because he has read more ‘difficult’ or fundamental texts. This is subtly different from academic snobbery, one form of which is to assume that anyone with a degree from Oxford or Cambridge is, ipso facto, better or cleverer or better educated than anyone from another University. (In the USA, the commonest academic snobbery puts the ‘Ivy League’ universities above all others.)
Try to avoid snobbery. It is offensive and ill-mannered. However, it is probably impossible. I fear that everyone has some more or less irrational prejudice against other people who are seen as being “not one of us”.
Retrieved from "http://slb-ltsu.hull.ac.uk/awe/index.php?title=Snobbery"
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Let's have a nice cup of....
Where do I start? The day that eventually had to come...
Yesterday: After a somewhat recent diagnosis with cancer my mother-in-law passed away. Our relationship as families go was not typical, or some may say it was.
We had not spoken for probably about 8 years. I had my reasons, and she had hers! I won't re-hash any of them because it is probably a really good time to let them go. I did reach out many years ago on my daughters 2nd birthday and was for a little while let back in to the family fold. For me that it was not a warm fuzzy place to be. Cultural differences among Americans and the British stretch from the Grand Canyon to The River Thames. In most British homes an American would still be given the common indulgence of homesickness. We would smile politely and all have a nice cup of "Shut the fuck up!"
Let's just say that the most hurtful words I have ever heard are "You're an American now!" - "This is your home!"
Is she having the last laugh? - Typing this now I am backspacing through typos, racking sobs are welling up.
TODAY: I have been asked/summoned to attend the Wake (I won't knock this because it is obviously a tradition that I am never to understand) I have attended many, mercifully it has never been a family member of mine. But a year ago in October I found out that Alice a friend that lived across the street from me had passed away in her sleep. My neighbour Lynn and I adored her. Alice was always there, her passing made the street feel different. Looking at her house was for a while painfull. At her 'Wake' I cried like a child. Mourners at Wakes have no place to hide if they can't hold the tears back.
This might be where the British would stay on the bus.
- For the British that may be reading this, it is a gathering of ALL family, friends and aquantances (spell check) to view the dearly departed as they will be interred for all eternity. The queue for some wakes has been known to flow out into the street and down the road.
- For the Americans... The British don't really get this, but it is a dignified way to say goodbye for loved ones.
I don't think Children should be there. PERIOD. I'm not going to object to my own children attending because they are teenagers. But that's just me.
Now I feel I am completely over it. Tears came. Tears went.
Yesterday I found out that I am expected to attend the funeral (and lets not forget the wake) under normal circumstances I would naturally be there. And, I will be so that my husband doesn't have to face this alone.
But, the GIANT PINK ELEPHANT in the room is my bitter, bitter resentment of the truth.
The painful, omni-present, dirty little secret. The history and the anger that I am an emmy award winning actress at hiding. When a close family member of mine died... I couldn't be there. The circumstance of being 3000 miles away was originally my fault. When she was alive she didn't agree that I should go home.
She said... "You're an American now!"
Really? So American that I have a green card, doesn't sound very American to me. I could be, I have 3 children that by birth in the United States are US citizens. I'm a British Citizen. I can't even vote or ellect an official that decides how the taxes taken out of my pay check are spent. I have to pay for the priviledge of re-newing my Green Card every 10 years by driving to New York and sitting all day waiting for a number (it was actually a letter - go figure) to be called.
These things are not necessarily my mother in laws fault. But, on an individual basis, generalised, stupid thinking did affect me.
Theres the anger! - Will it ever go away? How do you let it go?
So when today I am welcomed into the family fold within the cold arms of Aunts, Uncles and siblings. If I'm offered a drink (although I'll feel like I'll need one) I'll bite my tongue and sip a nice cup of "Shut the fuck up!"
Yesterday: After a somewhat recent diagnosis with cancer my mother-in-law passed away. Our relationship as families go was not typical, or some may say it was.
We had not spoken for probably about 8 years. I had my reasons, and she had hers! I won't re-hash any of them because it is probably a really good time to let them go. I did reach out many years ago on my daughters 2nd birthday and was for a little while let back in to the family fold. For me that it was not a warm fuzzy place to be. Cultural differences among Americans and the British stretch from the Grand Canyon to The River Thames. In most British homes an American would still be given the common indulgence of homesickness. We would smile politely and all have a nice cup of "Shut the fuck up!"
Let's just say that the most hurtful words I have ever heard are "You're an American now!" - "This is your home!"
Is she having the last laugh? - Typing this now I am backspacing through typos, racking sobs are welling up.
TODAY: I have been asked/summoned to attend the Wake (I won't knock this because it is obviously a tradition that I am never to understand) I have attended many, mercifully it has never been a family member of mine. But a year ago in October I found out that Alice a friend that lived across the street from me had passed away in her sleep. My neighbour Lynn and I adored her. Alice was always there, her passing made the street feel different. Looking at her house was for a while painfull. At her 'Wake' I cried like a child. Mourners at Wakes have no place to hide if they can't hold the tears back.
This might be where the British would stay on the bus.
- For the British that may be reading this, it is a gathering of ALL family, friends and aquantances (spell check) to view the dearly departed as they will be interred for all eternity. The queue for some wakes has been known to flow out into the street and down the road.
- For the Americans... The British don't really get this, but it is a dignified way to say goodbye for loved ones.
I don't think Children should be there. PERIOD. I'm not going to object to my own children attending because they are teenagers. But that's just me.
Now I feel I am completely over it. Tears came. Tears went.
Yesterday I found out that I am expected to attend the funeral (and lets not forget the wake) under normal circumstances I would naturally be there. And, I will be so that my husband doesn't have to face this alone.
But, the GIANT PINK ELEPHANT in the room is my bitter, bitter resentment of the truth.
The painful, omni-present, dirty little secret. The history and the anger that I am an emmy award winning actress at hiding. When a close family member of mine died... I couldn't be there. The circumstance of being 3000 miles away was originally my fault. When she was alive she didn't agree that I should go home.
She said... "You're an American now!"
Really? So American that I have a green card, doesn't sound very American to me. I could be, I have 3 children that by birth in the United States are US citizens. I'm a British Citizen. I can't even vote or ellect an official that decides how the taxes taken out of my pay check are spent. I have to pay for the priviledge of re-newing my Green Card every 10 years by driving to New York and sitting all day waiting for a number (it was actually a letter - go figure) to be called.
These things are not necessarily my mother in laws fault. But, on an individual basis, generalised, stupid thinking did affect me.
Theres the anger! - Will it ever go away? How do you let it go?
So when today I am welcomed into the family fold within the cold arms of Aunts, Uncles and siblings. If I'm offered a drink (although I'll feel like I'll need one) I'll bite my tongue and sip a nice cup of "Shut the fuck up!"
Friday, October 9, 2009
Sleepy !
had planned to write tonight, but the truth is I am sick as a dog and just about as tired. Didn't sleep well today after my 10 night marathon. (I really need to pay more attention to the schedule) - So peeps, it is time for a really long nap.
Tomorrow I have a lot to say...
What do you think about before you fall asleep?
Tomorrow I have a lot to say...
What do you think about before you fall asleep?
Trafalgar Square.
oneandother.co.uk
A live webstream running through October 16th.
All observed by Horatio on his newly renovated column.
A live webstream running through October 16th.
All observed by Horatio on his newly renovated column.
When you know a thing or two, about a thing or two!
When insulted, I have found, knowing a couple of basic "Life Rules" will get you by with a smile.
- Everything eventually exhausts itself.
- Those that think they know everything usually don't!
- Jealousy, is itself a great motivator, although it is also greeds angry cousin. Unfortunately the intentions are rarely good.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
October 4th - 22 Years away from home.
It took me a few days to get the mind set for this post, melancholy sunset skies bring me back to earth and I am ready. The colder welcoming chill of fall comforts me.
Leafy scenes surround me and I realise that years are never really over, a new one will always come. A new chance to put this sick to my stomach longing to rest. I have the support of my friends and their hands will surely be held as I walk back in time to visit the child of yesterday. I know she is still crying and I am the only person who can calm her fears. I can pick up her chin and whisper into her eyes that it is almost over. I've carried the sadness with me every minute, painfully reminded every October 4th that the "I'm so sorry" days are coming to an end.
Monday, September 14, 2009
White moths are on the wing.
Roseman Covered Bridge
Built in 1883 by Benton Jones, it is 107 feet in length and sits in its original location. Roseman was renovated in 1992 at a cost of $152,515. In Robert James Waller's novel The Bridges of Madison County and the movie of the same name, Roseman is the bridge Robert Kincaid seeks when he stops at Francesca Johnson's for directions; it is also where Francesca leaves her note inviting him to dinner.
The truck in the rain...
As is not uncommon in life, timing is not a GREAT thing.
She starts to cry, she can't tell him why and losing interest quickly he turns up the radio. Pulling into the gas station she is glad of the opportunity to re-group her thoughts and compose herself. Then in pulls the omni-present 'truck in the rain' (please note I am not talking about myself in the third person... just in case ya was thinking I had a lover) -- The truck, driven by someone else might give it an excuse to take her away. Was the whole affair an excuse for her to leave, she must have felt the homesickness all along. Now just leaving tempts her... opening up to a stranger. (OK, she did a lillte bit more than open up) but stolen in the romance of it all is escape.
An evening out is an escape. A vacation... a day at the beach is something anyone can understand. But, can you understand that given the chance to stay at the beach... would you?
She starts to cry, she can't tell him why and losing interest quickly he turns up the radio. Pulling into the gas station she is glad of the opportunity to re-group her thoughts and compose herself. Then in pulls the omni-present 'truck in the rain' (please note I am not talking about myself in the third person... just in case ya was thinking I had a lover) -- The truck, driven by someone else might give it an excuse to take her away. Was the whole affair an excuse for her to leave, she must have felt the homesickness all along. Now just leaving tempts her... opening up to a stranger. (OK, she did a lillte bit more than open up) but stolen in the romance of it all is escape.
An evening out is an escape. A vacation... a day at the beach is something anyone can understand. But, can you understand that given the chance to stay at the beach... would you?
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