My Musings
Musings: a period of reflection or thought.
Sometimes I respond to situations by putting pen to paper.
Chained Emails
I stand, helplessly, chained. Handle this? No.
All I want to do is forget. Forget the heaviness of email chains as they bind me to another person higher up the chain of bosses. Person A has to ask person B for permission, who then has to question person C and D has to wait for E’s response before getting back to C, then E goes ahead and changes their mind and the damn chain starts again without me knowing. It takes time for someone to see an email. They ponder. They grab a coffee. They forget. Then they think up the answer and hit send several hours after receiving it.
It’s not your fault, she said. It’s E, D, C, B and A’s fault that you can’t book your support in time.
I have a choice: I either walk into an inaccessible room now or I walk into an inaccessible room later.
I wish I could go about my day as leisurely as E, D, C, B and A.
And Breathe..........
Deep breath in…
Deep breath out…
Calm and soothing, I am the embodiment of peace. The sun’s spring rays, casting strong shadows, beautifully significant.
Swish, Swash, Swosh. Shhh, it’s time to see a friendly past pop in. Seeds and seed pods. Tea pots and vases of weird and wonderful shapes. Body casts and animal skulls. Scattered on six shelves. Since I’ve seen those seed pods, those with perfectly imperfect spheres that come to a point and spread out like a flower, I’ve been captivated by sheer simplicity. Nature now finds its own way to my shelf, healing my heart and though broken before, now the poppy seed heads go shhh-shhh—shhhhh—shhh… as if to shush my thoughts.
The sun’s spring rays, casting strong long shadows, beautifully significant.
Deep breath in…
Deep breath out…
Am I Antisocial?
Am I antisocial? Can’t I hold a conversation?
Everything I do, everything I say, works towards a common goal.
I talk
I lipread
I sign
I listen
I use vision
I hear
I use it all yet it’s never enough. But I am enough. It’s you who let chatter chitter chatter pour into my automated audio system, a vigilant shh, rustle, chatter chitter chatter, aaaaaand I’ve lost you. Again. The meaning lingering just outside of my range, I descend deeper into darkness. I smile. I nod.
You mumble
You’re too fast
Too quiet.
You obscure
You exclude
Don’t articulate words.
You won’t let me hold a conversation. So, I ask you again, Am I antisocial?
A Simple Conversation
The sunshine beats down on you whilst you sit on the soft grass. Looking around, you see lots of people. Lots of chatter. It’s all around you. A friend taps you on the arm. Her lips are moving but the noise around drowns out the sound. The familiar frustration takes a hold as you ask her to repeat. Lip reading, you just about make out the word matter before she turns her head to the other friend. You know she said It doesn’t matter. Screwing your eyes shut, you find yourself in a dark, damp cage. A companionless cage, where you’ve been for as long as you’ve been deaf. There is no door. No window. No light. Just chatter and chatter and chatter. It’s chatter that is the enemy, not your friends. Yet you visualise yourself chatting, talking amongst your friends. Loud, bellowing laughter erupting from your belly and hearing every word that comes out of their mouths would be bliss. The imagination is a wonderful place but reality sucks. A small smile forms on your face and you reopen your eyes. It’s hard but you find your voice. Whah dya say? It’s a phrase that you say very often but others wish you say less. I’ll tell you later. And not for the first time, you have no strength to tell them so you up and leave.