Should we think before we speak

Most of us are familiar with the phrase “A donkey never kicks the same stone twice”. While this might be true, there are plenty of other stones for the donkey to kick. The road of life is basically full of stones. The big ones are easy to see and avoid, but it’s the little ones that trip us up. So do we kick the same stone twice?

I know I have. Time and time again I resolve to think before I speak, but that’s not always possible. In every day conversation, people don’t usually think about what they’re going to say. Someone says something and we respond spontaneously. It’s only later on that we come to the conclusion … I shouldn’t have said that.

By then the damage is done and even apologizing doesn’t help. The words are spoken, someone has heard them and might never forget them. If we had a moment to think, we probably would have said something totally different, but we didn’t, the words flew out of our mouth and … another stone was kicked.

When this happens to me I often think … if only conversation was like to written word. I could go back, erase what was said or rephrase it.

Not that having time to think is always the solution. There have been times that I had plenty of time to think, and I still made the mistake of saying things I wish I could erase.

Take last night for instance. I had a meeting with the Board of Directors of our condo building, a representative of management and a resident, all in all it was seven against one.

I knew right from the start that I didn’t stand a chance. I should have stood up and made a graceful exit, but I didn’t. I had come to the meeting and I was going to state my case. Without any proof it was very difficult to make any of my claims stick, and like I said … it was seven against one.

So I sat there, shaking with rage, my heart hammering in my chest. While inside I was seething, I held it together though, I appeared reasonably calm.

Of course, this reasonably calm exterior only lasted so long. There came a time when I was pushed beyond my limits and like a pan of milk that had been simmering for a while, I suddenly boiled over and let fly.

Do I regret my outburst … on the one hand yes, because anger reveals weakness, but on the other hand … it felt so good, it felt so good to finally have my say and see the smug smile slide off seven faces.

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Texting ... Is anything really that important - Part II

Apparently I’m not the only one who gets irritated with people constantly texting. Yesterday’s blog post “Texting ... Is anything really that important?” 

brought about several comments of readers who voiced their own annoyance.

Before listing some of those comments, let me tell you what I saw at a bowling alley last weekend. On one of the lanes I noticed four girls and two boys, all of them teenagers. In-between waiting for their turn to throw the ball, they were sitting there, not saying a word to each other, but texting furiously on their phones.

Madeline from Melbourne commented that she was in a fashion boutique the other day, waiting for her friend in one of the dressing rooms. Next to her was a teenager looking at pictures. After a while the teenagers’ friend came out of the dressing room area and asked “Did you get my selfies?” to which the teenager replied “You should get black one.” Apparently, the girl in the dressing room had been sending her friend pictures of herself in various outfits, rather than coming out of the dressing room and showing herself.

Gina from Amsterdam, commented that she recently visited the Keukenhof in Lisse, when she noticed two girls scrolling through pictures of flowers, commenting and texting, completely oblivious to the abundance of flowers at their feet. She said “I felt like grabbing them by the scruff of their necks, forcing them to look what at the beauty around them.”

Angela of Vancouver said much the same. She noticed a couple of girls looking at pictures of cats and kittens on their phone, not noticing the cat at their feet, desperate for some attention.

There were more comments, some from as close by as Canada and the United States, others from as far away as China, Romania, Poland, France, Russia, the United Kingdom and the Ukraine, all of them complaining or making fun of cellphone use. 

But it seems in addition to texting being annoying, it could – according to Brendon Keim - also be bad for young brains.

http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/body/is-multitasking-bad.html

Friday is Cat Day - Talking cats

It is generally accepted that dogs bark and cats meow. But if that is the case, my lot didn’t get the memo. I have five cats and not one of them knows how to utter a proper meow.

Chanel has plenty to say, but when she opens her mouth she sounds more like a frog than a cat. Chanel has no clue of course and happily babbles along.

Mickey is a very quiet cat, but if he does decide to start a conversation he sounds like a bird, a very tiny bird. There are also occasions that he seems to suffer from laryngitis … he opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

Charlotte doesn’t say much either. Days can go by without her saying anything at all. When she does “meow” she sounds like a sheep, a very tired sheep.

Gabriel has his ups and downs. There are days that he lets himself be heard, and then there are days that he sulks. I can tell when he’s in one of his moods. When he does “meow” he turns the occasion into a serenade. He sounds so pitiful it would melt a stone heart.

Holly has plenty to say, usually between 10:00 and 11:00 p.m. She talks to the walls, she talks to the doors, she talks to the fireplace … we are convinced she sees things we don’t. When Dieter goes to bed at 11:00 he shushes her with a stern “Holly, be quiet”, to which she promptly replies with a string of protests. Every so often she parks herself next to his bed and talks to the nightstand.

So no, our cats don’t meow. Perhaps we should adopt a sixth cat, one who knows a proper meow and who can show this lot who it’s done.

A visit to the vet

Have you ever tried given a cat medication? If you have you know what a battle it can be.

Gabriel has an eye infection and even though some type of human eye medication was recommended to me to treat the condition, I rather played it safe and took him to the vet.

In his carrier, in the cab, he cried all the way there. At home he hardly says a ‘word’ but now he recited a whole dictionary.

At the vet Gabriel turned into a little angel. He didn’t mind being examined and he didn’t protest one little bit when the doctor put the ointment in his eye.

I thought administering the ointment myself was going to be a breeze. Yeah right.

When I tried to put the medication in his eye, he wiggled and squirmed, kicked and slapped me and generally turned into a little lion that wouldn’t be tamed.

He’s supposed to get that medication three times a day for the next seven days. Perhaps the vet should have sent a team of nurses along to help me with this task.

I’ll try again when he’s sleeping. Maybe I’ll have better luck then.