Feelings

Human beings ability to emote and feel feelings is an interesting phenomena. Some people feel too much; some people don’t feel at all. A human can be feeling content one minute, and the next feel sad because they see something sad on television or read a sad story. Humans get stuck in some emotions and ignore others.

I was feeling tired, but content. Watched something on television and felt sad for the characters???? How can I feel sad for someone who is not real. Why do emotions on television and in books trigger feelings in us?

When we meet someone, why do we sometimes feel repulsion and at other times we feel a very strong attraction. And I’m not talking about sex. Sometimes we meet people and we know, that this person is going to be important in our lives. Why does this happen? Other people we meet, we are totally indifferent to, can’t even remember their names. Other people again, we hope we will never meet them again because we actively dislike them. And we make these judgements often on very little information.

Some feelings are specific to certain genders. For instance, it is often okay for a man to be angry, he is seen as assertive. An angry woman is often seen as aggressive. We had a court case not so long here in Perth. A man viciously beat his wife to death over a period of days. He thought she was having an affair. He forced her to admit to an affair she wasn’t having and eventually killed her. He got 6 years jail. When I comment on the length of the sentence, I get comments like “He thought she was having an affair” as if that makes it okay to kill her.

A woman is allowed to be sad, but a crying man often receives scorn from others. I’ve even heard women say “I don’t like men who cry. I want a man to be strong”, as if you can’t be strong and still have sad feelings.

The feeling of being scared, again, seems to be much more okay for women than men. Happy is one we are supposed to feel. Some people believe they have to be happy all the time. Some people are scared to be happy cause something bad might happen.

So feelings are interesting. I could go on for days and I’m sure everyone out there has their own ideas about feelings, how to express them, what’s right and wrong about them. I guess the biggest thing for me to learn was that they are neither right nor wrong, they just are. It is not the feeling that causes problems it is what a person does with them that causes problems.

Madeleine
Thursday, 17 November 2005

I’ve seen everything now

I’ve seen everything now. I recently met up with an electric rubbish bin. I am serious. A rubbish bin that open when you place your hand over it. No more need to open the bin and risk germs. No more dirty rubbish bin lids. You just wave your hand over it, and it opens and gobbles up your rubbish.

For someone who looooooooooooves gadgets, this is a winner. Must admit, I wouldn’t spend that kind of money for one, but for something to play with. It is definitely a winner.

One question, though. What happens when the power goes off?

I wonder what they will electrify next. We have electric can openers, pencil sharpeners, toothbrushes and now rubbish bins. What I want is an electric house that cleans up after itself. It’s not me that makes the mess around here, it is the house. So if I could just get it properly electrified, it would clean up it’s own mess.

How about electric glasses? They automatically adjust to whatever you are reading.
Or electric bed makers? We have electric dish washers, but how about electric loading and emptying of the dishwasher?

Now I’m being silly. Sorry guys, tired tonight so the sillies come in :-)

Bye for now
Madeleine
Monday, 14 November 2005

Memories

The Tale of the Magpie

 I have written often about Susan. I don’t often write about my son. I will not identify him because I don’t know if he would like people to know who he is. He is my favourite son and I’ve got lots of stories about him as well as about the Suze.

 MA is 5 years older than his sister. He must have had it a bit rough being Susan’s older brother. At the time I am talking about, he would have been about 7 or 8 years old. We lived on a 2-1/2 acre property and he still speaks highly about that time in his life. For a little boy, it was ideal. The place had a creek, a bamboo patch, a pine tree forest next door, a horse next door, chooks and lots of other small boy entertainment.

 This day I was running late. I had always been there when he came home from school, but for some reason I was running late this day. I was worried about his reaction. Not so much that I was late, but that he would be upset and become worried if mom was late home.

 We had a long driveway and as I started driving up and heading towards the gate, I could see this small figure running towards me. I stopped the car and opened the door. MA was in tears and his mother (me) was feeling awful. What have I done to this child? I have traumatised him for life (so is the grandiosity of mothers). He climbed onto my lap and in the hiccuping tone that small crying children have, he said:

 “But mom, I did everything right”.

 “What do you mean?” replies his mother (still worried)

 “I came home from school. I changed my clothes. I even emptied out my lunch box”. He says.

 At this stage I’m wondering what is going on, why is my little boy so upset.

 He said: “I even left you a note to tell you I was going to …..’s place”.

 “And… “ I said, “why the tears. Sounds like you’ve done very well”.

 “But Mom,” he said, “I was heading across the paddock and a magpie attacked me. And mom, it hurts!!!!” and dissolves into more tears.

 So much for me traumatising him. I must admit to being less than the sharing caring mother I should be. You know what I did. I laughed. So did he eventually.

 Madeleine

Thursday, 10 November 2005

I’m a worker bee

 I’m a worker bee, not a queen bee. What do I mean by that? I am a worker. I am the person who does the work. I am the one who takes the orders, but doesn’t give them. I’m the one who sits in the background, while others take the bows.

 For many years, I have believed that because I have the intelligence, the skills, and  probably have the capability to be a queen bee, that I should be heading in that direction. Problem is, I don’t want to. I know I could do it, but I simply don’t want to. I want someone else to make the decisions. I want someone else to take the flack. I want to be in the background, taking care of my own little part of the job. Knowing the importance of all the pieces when they are put together. Knowing that each part of the puzzle is important, and without each piece the puzzle will never be whole. And in that way, the worker bee is just as important as the queen bee.

 Many people feel the head honcho is the most important person. That success is measured by how high up the ladder you go; on how much money you make. I’ve never been particularly interested in money, I’ve never been particularly ambitious. I’m not particularly competitive. Maybe I’m too lazy. Who knows. Who cares.

 Many people spend their lives looking for success. Looking towards being the queen bee, the head honcho. They get so far up the ladder and then fail. They don’t understand their own limitations and the importance of the worker bee, of those who work in the background to make the whole.

 For me, the realisation, the awareness of my worker bee status and desire, the importance of my role in the whole is the important bit. I have respect in my worker bee role and that to me is far more important than the title of queen bee. I can now feel comfortable with myself in my worker bee role. I don’t have to do any more.

 Madeleine

Wednesday, 9 November 2005

Sad this morning

 Sad this morning. Don’t know why exactly. I know that Diesel’s (Railroad Street) post has touched something. Is it Susan. It’s coming up to Susan’s birthday. She would be, how old? Damn. I can’t even remember how old she would be. This is my daughter I’m talking about and I have to work out how old she would be. 27. She would have been 27 in a few weeks time. It’s hard to imagine what Susan would be like at 27. Not your average 27 year old.

 I’ve got to go out shortly. Put on the social face. I’m avoiding it. Not ready.

 So why am I feeling sad? It’s been 7-1/2 years since she died. You would think I would be over it by now. She’s the only person I’ve lost that I really cared about. My parents and my sister died. They were people I knew, but was not really close to. I live in Australia, they lived in Canada. You can’t keep a close relationship with people that far away. I didn’t really know them or who they were.

 Susan was different. Not only was she my daughter, she was the person I gave birth to. I carried her for 9 months. We went through hell together time and time again and then came back. The last time, she left the hell that was her life, and I stayed. But even hell improves over time, and so did my life. Just a small residue of it still there. It comes up on occasion and then it goes.

 I miss you Susan. I miss who you might have been today. But I certainly don’t miss our lives together. I have a picture of you, somewhere out there, happy, smiling, laughing (you used to say “laughing keeps you healthy, mom”), being cheeky, bossing everyone around. You are able to run around, like you never could here on earth. You never get breathless. You never get sick. I wish you were here, but I’m glad you’re not.

 Madeleine

Sunday, 6 November 2005