Sounds like a great Idea
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Must Not Fail.”
The 3 things in my life I must not fail are my children. Calling them children at their age is a bit silly. They are all in their early twenties. I can still help out now and then and they know Dad is always there for them.
Not having a good day today. My living room is getting smaller as the walls move inward. I am emotionally stuck to my chair. This guy outside is cutting up something with a very loud skill saw. the sound of which is climbing up my spine toward my headache.
My birds won’t stop screeching. they may soon regret it. Don’t worry I would never hurt my birds, yell as them is another story. but that would just make my headache worse.
I am in the pit again. the one where all sounds are amplified and all emotion is sucked out of you. I don’t like it here, it is damp and cold and dark. I can sense many of us down here, but the others just scatter when I approach. I must have hit bottom the time. I can’t see the light at the top of the hole.
I know I will get out eventually but the pain and anxiety aren’t done with me yet.
A long time ago, I used to be a Boy Scout. I would have been around 10 years old. Just old enough to cause trouble without getting caught. We would have 2 meetings a week. The first, a standard regulation meeting on Monday nights, then a “be prepared” Thursday night.
Just about anything would happen on Thursday nights. So each of us brought everything. From hatchets to frying pans, matches to flashlights ( you get the idea ). All we could guess that it would be out in the bush somewhere and we would be given a challenge of some sort.
I remember one Thursday night we were given: Kindling, Water, butter, 1 egg, and pancake mix. The first group to make and flip an edible pancake wins. The hunt was on for fire wood, we all had Dad’s newspaper ( of which he will be mad when he goes to read it ) for tinder, of course matches. What 10 year old doesn’t. I had the bowl, some one had a wooden spoon, and one would light the area with his flashlight.
I had the honour of digging out the fire trench with my hatchet, the tinder (newspaper) was placed loosely in the pit, the kindling in a tee pee shape (hey, we studies our scout manuals), and I had the additional honour of lighting the paper. The challenge was to win golden match award and light it with just the one match. As usual, I did not disappoint.
We put the mix in my bowl (mom’s going to be pissed as well), added the egg, then the water I got suck with the job of mixing it. Our fire was too high unless we wanted to cook in the tree tops. We removed the piece that was combusting the most and gave it to another group that was having trouble with their fire – I thing we won a merit badge for that one – our fire calmed down after that.
Next was heating the cast iron pan, unfortunately cast iron heats up, handle and all, very quickly. Someone had actually brought winter mitts …..be prepared. They worked just long enough to finish our challenge. The pan was buttered and then the mix put in. We all waited for the bubbles to form. Then we panicked, no one had a flipper. We were going to lose the challenge. I stepped up and knew what to do.
I grabbed the pan handle and flipped the pancake. I had never tried that before and it showed. I managed to decorate the cedar tree with raw pancake mix. At least it wasn’t burned. We cleaned up and left the place like we had never been there by Boy Scout standards. Except for my pancake hanging from the cedar bough like a Christmas decoration.
Other than private security. most of the jobs I have had were related to cooking. So after my career in security ended, I went back to school (with the help of a grant called parents) and started my journey toward being a chef. The classes were a pain on my back, but as I progressed the pain got better. The course was for a Chef de Cuisine, 4 months practical, 4 months theory.
This was all backward as we should have been able to do a mix up of theory and practical the first 4 months. Then straight kitchen time till the end. They wanted to keep classes rotating for maximum income.
After graduation ( managed to pull off an 80% ), I started my career in cooking in a medium sized restaurant. Very whole foods, everything local grown in their own garden. A chef ‘s paradise. Then I met my boss. She hired me as a chef but what she wanted was a dishwasher and a counter person.
When I went in for my second and last day, She started in on how to do the dishes properly. My favorite was when I supposedly could not make a clubhouse sandwich properly. That was the last time I worked there. It was such a nice restaurant. Then depression set in and I haven’t been able to work for 2 years.
I think I may have told this story before, but it needs telling again as I am really starting to feel better. Emotionally anyway, physically I need to work on. I start a doctor led program on the first of October.
I will start to look for work this week, hopefully I will be successful. Wish me luck!
My thought that they would fly back into their cage overnight was a bust. I have spent several hours catching them and putting them back in their home.
It reminded me when I was a child and we had gerbils. They were always chewing them selves out to freedom. We could usually find them near a heat source, like under a radiator. Our whole family would band together and go gerbil hunting. we could never find them all and for years we could hear them in the walls. probably multiplying like crazy.
Fun Fact: The average gerbil’s litter is 7+ babies, and they can have a litter every 2 months. That’s a hell of a lot of Gerbils. If you buy one as a pet stick to ONE. We all have to work together to keep Canada’s gerbil population in check.
I am talking about my budgies. I was cleaning their cage ( not one of my favourite jobs ) when one escaped, not much of a surprise. This time though the other 2 made the great escape. I chased them for a while they would smash into this and that. The never have mastered the art of filing. I have given up chasing them since they keep trying to get back into the cage.
So I have opened up all the doors to the cage and hope they have the sense to fly in. They should figure out where their food is and fly home. Bird Brains
Remember being on a high dose of paxil – It really screwed me up. I was on Prozac at the same time.
Late last week the New York Times published an article titled Antidepressant Paxil Is Unsafe for Teenagers, New Analysis Says. After reading it through twice, I sent the link to my friend. He messaged me back almost immediately: “I knew that shit was poison.”
We’d both known.
I was put on Paxil when I was 16. The best word to describe that time in my life is probably soggy. I cried. A lot. I cried in class, I cried between classes, and I cried after school. At night, instead of doing homework I would lie in bed and read Lucy Maud Montgomery books and cry. I got an F in math that semester, which somehow felt validating, as if it proved that I was the failure I’d always imagined myself to be.
I went to see my family doctor and after listening to me stumble through what for me was an excruciating…
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