Delete...Delete

There it is again

A blank, and very white page

Staring at me 

or am I staring at it. 

Willing brilliant thoughts

   ~ any thoughts ~ 

to appear and make sense.

 If I had been trying to compose on paper, 

my waste basket would be overflowing 

with crumpled lines of drivel.

(The delete button has replaced 

the satisfying crunch of paper.)

“If I waited for perfection, I would never write a word.”

~ Margaret Atwood

The Rule of 5

I don’t like rules

they don’t like me

they do have their place

in the world of my home

for the stack of papers

that need filed and fixed

the ironing waits

‘til I need clean clothes

so five at a time

each stack gets done

I don’t always play by 

the rules that I’ve made

but once started, momentum

takes care of the rest.

“Any fool can make a rule

And any fool will mind it.”

~ Henry David Thoreau, Journal #1

The Out Basket ~ Complaint Department

The Out Basket ~ 

Complaint Department

No one ever really thinks about me and how important I am. ‘Oh, it’s just the the out basket. Toss it in there and the secretary will take care of it.’ There are days when I just look like a glutton. In an office, where I am usually treated with a modicum of respect, a good secretary keeps the out basket as clear and free of all incoming mail and interoffice memos as possible. She, or he, adds a reminder now and then in bold lettering: ‘OUT BASKET ONLY. This is not a garbage can.’! 

But, at home, that is so different. That same efficient secretary ~ her name by the way is Matilda ~ just keeps loading me up. Not just mail though. Oh no. Mending, bills to be paid, unopened junk mail, book returns, lists. So many lists. File folders jammed with who knows what. I should be kept neat and tidy, not overflowing with every stray item that Matilda has saved for ‘another day’. I mean, really, I am not attached to pneumatic tube system that delivers everything to their places. I am not a direct route to the trash can. I do feel like I’m being treated like one sometimes. Or is it a safety deposit box? 

And what kind of an out basket did Matilda, Miss Efficient Secretary, at work get? A cold wire metal basket or a brittle, shiny plastic tray? I am much more attractive. Beautiful honey coloured wicker with a strong metal frame. Handsome, even if I do say so myself. I’m much bigger and can hold so much more, which may be my downfall. Never the less, I am beautiful and at the same time handsome. Until of course, Matilda starts stacking things inside my wonderful spacious self. 

And, not to sound like a martyr, but I do have to listen to all the muttering of this motley array of items stacked and crammed between my stalwart sides. If any of us could really and truly voice our concerns, we would be moaning and groaning loudly with directions to “Please, please! File us away. Get your mending done. Take that book back to the library. This very nice basket, although very welcoming, keeps us all in limbo!! Sadly, we just have to sit here patiently until Matilda needs some important piece of paper she has lost. Does that sound like a ray of hope? It is a very thin ray. She comes digging through all of these myriad contents. Shuffles them all up. Then with either a ‘yay’ (very infrequent) or a sigh of resignation, she takes what she needs, puts everything back ~ completely out of order ~ leaving us alone once more. It is so very annoying.

“Being taken for granted can be a compliment. It means that you’ve 

become a comfortable, trusted element in another person’s life.”

~ Joyce Brothers

Listing

Whiteboard fridge magnet!

‘List’ is a word with sound like a hiss 

that snakes on tables, counters and desks

reminders for todo's to be done any day

on a scrap of paper that slithers away.

’til the search is done, that papery scrap

is the errand today in our circular trap.

chalk boards, whiteboards, recipe cards?

magnets on metal or tacks into cork?

No papery scraps for me, you or they.

Cell phones with notes save every day!

If the cell phone is lost, panic’s a stress

for lost is a list and everything else! 

“I can make another list because the choice is mine. 

A list of what to do. So I won’t be listless ever again.”

~ Johnny Rich, The Human Script

A Paper Life

I have my paper trail all laid out. On the bed, on the card table, on the top of my desk and one or two things on the floor. Some of the files are in order. The telephone bills and the utility bills. I have found one or two more things that may be helpful, however I am coming close to making some long distance calls! What I have learned is that when you start looking for that proverbial needle in a haystack, you have much more hay than you bargained for! And in so many little cubbyholes! I have at least two places left to go through. Oh, I’m keeping everything spread out! I want to cull the duplicates - there’s a lot of them - and create a better order of my paper life.

A paper life. In the paperless world that has been talked about for so long, and has yet to come, we still need a paper trail. Like cookie crumbs we drop through the years to lead us back to a starting place when we need to find our way again. It has actually been quite fascinating to piece together, bit by bit, where I have been, how far I have travelled in life, and where I have arrived today. Certainly there are gaps, or I wouldn’t still be on the hunt, but my memory fills in many of the gaps with faces and names, struggles and joys. Have I found any regrets? A few, but without them I would not have gained important self knowledge. For that I am grateful! 

“Tossing away a piece of paper is clearly taboo.”

~ Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl

Signal Changes

'Tapping out a signal.' Envisioning a Morse code operator hunched over a desk, his or her finger tapping out code that traveled along a wire to the receiver on the other end, has given me pause. Pause to think about signals sent via pen and paper and now through the airwaves bouncing from computers to satellite and back again. Communication over distances, sending signals of warning or of joy, have long been how the human race exercises it’s need to speak with one another. My personal experience with tapping out a few words was prior to nurses training in the summer 1965. I took a limited business course learning speed writing and typewriting. I did not develop the necessary skills that even remotely suggested that I would make an awesome secretary. Speed writing, different from shorthand, had it’s own format. I find, from time to time, that I slip into some of what I learned that summer. Typewriting was not taught in all schools yet, but I remembered hunting and pecking only on Grandpa’s old typewriter as a young child. Learning to actually type on a ‘real’ keyboard intrigued me. Now in this age of computers, I am using that knowledge on a daily basis - at home and in my nursing work with much gratitude.

Reading is one of the activities I enjoy frequently. I’m not sitting every minute of every day with my nose in a book, my eyes glued to a page, but I read regularly and often. Each time I read, there is some form of message delivered through the air. If it is a novel, my heartstrings are plucked. If it’s an advertisement, I may get annoyed, amused or intrigued with the creativity. If it’s an article in a magazine or on-line, my heart-strings again get plucked or my anger button pushed. In it all, I can visualize the author sitting with pen in hand or, more likely, at a keyboard tapping out a message for any and all of us to read. No longer a simple signal, but a wordy message.  While I am not always grateful to read opinions diametrically different from my own, I am definitely pleased to live in a country where opinions can be expressed openly. Not suppressed. Unfortunately, and at the same time, we are living too close to an edge where some have leapt off into a hurtful expression of opinion. There are too many tapping out, or more vociferously shouting, their thoughts. Maybe I should be grateful when my ‘anger button’ is pushed. Grateful for the energy I feel when such injustices are felt. Hunting and pecking on Grandpa’s typewriter was merely an exercise in finger gymnastics and seeing a black mark appear on a blank page. The black marks we hear, read and see today have a huge potential to distract us from reality.

“Distinguishing the signal from the noise requires 

both scientific knowledge and self-knowledge.”

~ Nate Silver

The Missing Blog Post

Before pen on paper

fingers to keyboard 

body said otherwise.

out of the blue, 

too much rich food,

Christmas Eve and Christmas morning blew in a fog

an entire day blurred 

into the sofa. 

Incredibly grateful for my son's stay to offer tea and kindness,

movies rolled on, 

grand-dogs creatively snuggled beside me,

grand-cat slept on my shoulder

joy and merriment tucked away for the day

to be savoured for the love on Christmas Day.

“The happiness in your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts.”

~ Marcus Aurelius,  Meditations

Mixed Messages

Mixed Messages

“Curiousity furthers the next step, son”.

“Daaad! What does that mean? I’ve got to get this paper in tomorrow and you tell me that?!” 

Gavin was so fed up with his assignment. And then for his dad to get all weird on him didn’t help. He really wasn’t worried about getting it done on time. He could come up with some excuse. The dog ate it. His mom spilled coffee on it. His computer crashed before he had time to save it. He was worried about Amy being at The Pitbull House in two hours. He was really curious about……..and the light went on. The next step. Wow!  His dad was cooler than he let on.

“Ok! I get it. I need to write up a summary at the end of my paper; save it and print it out. Think I can get that done in an hour and a half?”

“Yes son, I do think you can. Just keep focussed. I’m done with the printer in about 30 minutes. By that time, your ‘curiosity' should have moved you forward.”

Gavin’s dad smiled. Gavin was a good kid. He had heard Gavin’s phone call to make the date with Amy. Dad was reliving his own time in the Land of Adolescence and enjoying the memories.

“The mind is not a vessel to be filled, but a fire to be kindled.”

~ Plutarch

2015 In Paper

A stack of papers
Files not yet put away
Gathered neatly on desk and table
Over weeks and
Who knows?  Months?
Sorted
Ordered
Tucked away in file folders
Tax files prepared for ‘the tax man’
Old statements….and I mean some are old….
Bound for the shredder.
Another year
From beginning to end
Story in statements, reports and warranties
Everything in its place.

“Nothing good in this world come for free! For everything 

there’s a payment of time or money or soul.”

~ Kellyn Roth, The Dressmaker’s Secret

Bedsheets and Bedpans

In the beginnng
Of bedsheets and bedpans
When pencil and paper noted notes 
Record departments had yet to be born

As the world of health care progressed
So charts and flowsheets progressed
Bigger notes noted progress and vital signs
Yet bedsheets and bedpans remained the same

And now in the present 
With reams of paper shrinking
into microfiche and digital readouts
Bedsheets and bedpans still function the same

“Evolution is more about adaptivity than adaptability.”

~ Raheel Farooq

Proof of Purchase

Receipts ~ what good are these crumpled itemized bits of paper 

cluttering pockets, purses and dashboards, filling trash bins with shopping history?

Some long, some short, some barely legible.

Dates, times, taxes, maybe even the name of the clerk.

Sometimes a little happy face and a thank you.

But really ~ what good are they?

Made of paper ~ trees have fallen for their very existence.

Jobs were created from all that chopping and paper making.

Pristine and coiled, glossy and white

ready to serve a chugging, whirring machine

spitting out a proof of purchase ~ a detailed shopping reminder

What I do know is this ~ 

when the number of receipts in my purse exceeds the dollar bills that I started out with, it’s time to leave the store and go home.

(In the case of plastic, attention to detail is the order of the day.)

“We need proof in our society.”

~ Shirley MacLaine