Mondays are just another example of tortuous human behavior.
You would think waking up to a brand new week of work and play would garner more excitement. Not so here. Work is the hard part. It’s another day, another dollar, another 50 cents in debt. Wow what a pessimistic attitude. Where did this come from?
Yesterday I spent a few minutes at the Little Rock National airport. My wandering daughter was due in from a conference in Cleveland. Her husband was outside the city competing in a triathlon. He came in first in his age group and seventh overall. Yay Simon!
So, I’m at the airport observing and keeping an eye on the escalator coming from the concourse. A couple of folks are getting coffee at the Starbucks. Some sit in the area designated as a waiting area. It’s a small airport so the Sunday traffic on a non-holiday weekend is minimal. People are waiting for their loved ones or their business associates. Some arrive and exit the airport alone to find their parked cars or an airport shuttle.
I rarely fly. It is an experience I do enjoy however, especially the airports. I loved the shops in Charlotte, loved flying into La Guardia and catching a glimpse of the Statue, was fascinated by the moving sidewalks in Atlanta and the little hop, hop, jump you make at the end of one. Toronto’s airport was a definite experience. So many people and languages and cultures represented. This little Southern girl was awed! Everyone is rushing, hustling and bustling on one mission or another whether it is a search for fun on vacation time or a search for success in a business venture or a homecoming long anticipated. All of us enter an airport with a mission, an agenda.
I wonder how many of us approach life in general with a mission.
I am a common woman of a certain age. And I, like many of us, have been on a quest to survive. I’ve worked. I’ve played. I’ve dreamed. And I have tasted the otherness of lives not my own. I have travelled a little. I have read a lot. I’m of average intelligence.
But my mission has largely remained unknown to me. Is my mission to make a living? That doesn’t seem like much of a mission. Is my mission to help mankind? Well I’ve certainly failed at that. Do I have a shopping mission? Well I do love to shop, but I’ve got way too much stuff now. Richard Bach wrote in Illusions: The Adventure of a Reluctant Messiah, paraphrased, that if you are still here your mission has not yet been accomplished. So be it. I’m still here.
Now, what I’m doing here, literally or figuratively. I’ve waxed philosophic on both topics. Seriously why would anyone want to read a blog by some unknown weirdo woman with a penchant for random behavior and a love of anything design, craft, sew, knit, crochet, on and on….And then there is the point of being here in this life, on this planet, this plane of existence. The IS (see ABOUT) must be having a ‘larpin’ good time enjoying the machinations of humans.
So here we are. What are we doing? Finding peace and prosperity for the whole human body doesn’t seem to be on the agendas of our leaders. Their interests seem to include only the acquisition of power and money. Like you’re gonna take that with you. Unnnhuh. Tolerance and understanding seem to be in short supply as well.
I’ve become jaded. Oh no. We can’t go there! And I’m rambling. The phrase ‘Get the Hook’ comes to mind. Entertainers on stage who were considered less the remarkable in the old days were dragged from the stage by a huge hook. The audience demanded the extraction of those less than stellar performers by screaming the phrase.
So yell out you two readers I have. Yell out ‘Get the Hook’ and I will exit by demand stage right or left in my case. After all, the Donkey on my mailbox says ‘Stay Left’.
Oh…I’m pretty sure I spelled it wrong, but ‘larpin’ is Southern for exceptionally. For example: them wuz some larpin good vittles you cooked Ma. I love Southern. If you need instruction in how to speak it, just call. I ud be raight glad to hep ya.