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Daily Issues Dead in the Water
Daily Issues has been bought out by another blog, same editor and writer |
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This blog has been "bought out" by another blog, same editor and writer. There will be no new entries in this blog in the foreseeable future. For current entries by Karen Marie Crump go to: "Daily Issues"  |
| Saturday activities and such... |
| Guess I've kinda switched to my other blog. Not much to add to this one. Maybe I just need to free-wheel this one and see what spins out of the middle. Huh. Right now, I'm listening to J.D. McPherson rocking from songs on his album "Signs and Signifiers." I am pretty sure he is working on a new album from what he said on Twitter. He's the rockin' best! He sets my feet to tappin' and my head to boppin'. I can almost sing along. "Sweet Rock n Roll" Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, say yeah! Made homemade beef vegetable soup for eating later and I mixed up a batch of sugar free chocolate pudding for dessert. On my diet, I have lost four pounds this week. Not really staying to a strict diet like before. Have so darn much to lose this time, I don't think it matters. Guess part of the country is bathed in snow and here we are with a desire for rain and only a little coming down - sprinkles. Went to the bank to see if my money had come in. The answer was no, so I'll have to go back on Monday. Working to put up a temporary fence on the south side of the house to make a yard for Buffy and Maddie and sometimes Little Bit, so they can be outside without me being there with them and they can't chase cats or go under the house and eat cat shit which they really like to do. It's kind of a hassle because I have to take them leashes and put them in the south yard, but it is really better. They have to be outside more and get more sunshine which they need to do. Glenn is going to have his helper J.J. tighten up the fence I put up and add some T-posts. I only put in little rods which are not adequate, especially to hold the gate which is not actually a gate but a piece of cattle panel. As long as it works.... I've started downloading books to my Kindle on computer. I read them in the evenings while the dogs are still in and resting before going out to do their business before bedtime. I've read a couple which were very enjoyable. I need to do some work, but can't quite figure out what. |
| More to the Story |
A Story of Bad Turning into Good Dr. Carol A. Johnson died from cancer on Monday night. She was a person I was close to for 20 years 1980-200. But in that last year she stuck a knife in my back and gave no reason for it. She was joined by an accomplice, Cindy Ainsworth, whom I had known for many years as well. Cindy is still alive. In recent days, I thought about these women and wanted to tell them how much they hurt me. I am not sure I have actually forgiven them their cruel act. Now Carol is dead. She is the one I think was tricked by Cindy into stabbing me and making me bleed. Carol was a coward or at least she let me think she was. Maybe she was actually the implementer of my torment. Details: I worked at Wesley Family Practice Residency Program in Wichita, Kansas, from 1980-2000. Carol A. Johnson, MD, was on faculty there and later became the Program Director. As Faculty Secretary and then Residency Coordinator, I worked closely with Carol and became a friend and confident as well in the later years. Cindy Ainsworth was and is the Director of Medical Education at Wesley Medical Center. In effect, she is over the Residency Programs associated with Wesley Medical Center, including Family Practice. In 2000, the Residency Program moved into a new stand-alone building. Each employee helped design their own office or working space and picked out the furniture. On the day we were to make the move, Cindy sent my two co-workers to the new building and told me to stay at the old one to assist in the move from that end. Unbeknownst to me, she had changed the plan. I had a big office right next to Carol’s (Program Director) as I was also her secretary. Donna was the Faculty Secretary to the other faculty. Janelle was an assistant to all of us. Well, lo and behold, Carol and Cindy sat me down and told me my office had changed and my job duties as well. I was no longer to have the big office next to Carol and I was not to be her secretary any more. Donna would get that office and that job. Janelle would get the space where Donna was to be. I would get the little office off in the back behind the supply area that was to be Janelle’s. I was shocked. I found out the computer people and others had already known because they had to know where to put each computer, etc. Donna and Janelle knew as well when they got to the new office. This was just the first move on the part of Carol and Cindy. A few months later, after I’d adjusted to my new space and the disconnection with Carol on a personal basis and as her secretary came an even bigger shock. On a Friday afternoon, I was asked to attend a meeting with Carol and Cindy. Uh, oh! Friday afternoon meetings meant only one thing, and I was right! They fired me after my giving 20 years to the Residency. I asked, “Why?” All I got from Carol was, “You know.” as she sheepishly lowered her eyes. No, I did not know. Cindy was the real “hit-woman” and made it clear there was no negotiation. I left the room and asked Janelle to help me get a box to pack up all of my stuff. I drove home in shock and disbelief. If I had not had God on my side, I don’t know what I would have done. As it was, I prayed about what I was supposed to do. “Have faith” was the answer as it had been for the past two years as I went through other struggles. I lived day by day with no savings or retirement money. I knew I would still get two weeks pay which was coming to me. Was I supposed to go out and look for a job, I asked God. No was the answer. What I was supposed to do was call my husband who had moved to Texas leaving me in Kansas to fend for myself. I was just to tell him what had happened. I did and, boy, was I surprised. He said, “Oh, I guess God is moving up the timetable.” God had been speaking to him about having me back in his life although I didn’t know it. My husband had been gone since November 1999 and this was June 2000. By August 2000, I was with my husband in Texas having sold most of my worldly goods and moving from Kansas, my home for over 50 years, to Texas. I know that my losing my job was part of the plan, but it did not feel like it at the time. I guess I should actually thank Carol and Cindy. |
| Another Death |
| A woman died on Monday night. A person I was close to for 20 years, but in that last year she stuck a knife in my back and gave no reason for it. She was joined by an accomplice whom I had known for many years as well. She is still alive. In recent days, I thought about these women and wanted to tell them how much they hurt me. I am not sure I have actually forgiven them their cruel act. Now one is dead – the one I think was tricked by the other one into stabbing me and making me bleed. She was a coward or at least she let me think she was. Maybe she was actually the implementer of my torment. I’ll never know because I’m not going to ask the living one. I wish her no ill. |
| Tiger! Tiger! Burning Bright! |
| Question of the Day: If you could choose to be any animal in the world, which one would you choose and why? You might think I would choose to be a dog because I love dogs, but this is not so. Dogs are so mistreated in our world today; I wouldn’t want to be one unless I was the master. And that would mean I was in two places at once. Not likely to happen. My big animal favorite is the mighty predator Tiger, but their habitat is getting smaller every day. I still think I will say Tiger is the one I would choose. Tigers are strong, independent, nocturnal, and quiet in their quests. They are beautiful with their broad stripes which also serve as camouflage in the grasses where they hunt. After the cub is raised, the mother Tiger goes her own way alone. Tigers also purr, such a great sound, and don’t forget the mighty roar. Writing Item for the Day by Karen M. Crump: The Mighty Predator It’s another hot, humid night in the Nepalese jungle. The night birds are calling to their mates as insects flit here and there hoping to avoid the sharp beaks of those larger winged creatures. This is my home; this is my time. I have rested in the shade during the heat of the day waiting. Waiting until the sun has fallen beyond the hills, and the moon has risen high above. Then my hunt begins. Hunger is my companion and it drives me, one step after another, always listening, waiting even as I walk. I’ve learned well the walk of the predator, the stealth of my kind. I hunt alone. My travel takes me by the river where I lap the flowing water. In the heat of the day, you might find me splashing in the water to wet my fur and cool myself. But not at night. I know that others will come to the water. I hide myself within the dense jungle watching, waiting to pounce and tear the life from some unsuspecting deer or antelope who comes to drink this night. My ears twitch as I hear twigs crackle, but I make not a sound. Wait; I must wait. Now I can see it; my mouth starts to water. Dinner on the hoof. An antelope approaches the river cautiously. She’s been trained well to listen and look and listen some more. But my silence is all that greets her, and as I lie downwind, not even a scent arouses her suspicion. Her head goes down to drink. Like wind, like fire, like volcanic eruption; I rise and run and strike all in one smooth motion of power and grace. Her neck is broken and the blood flows. And all the jungle is reverently silent. The mighty tiger has found its prey; my dinner hour has begun. Who says the lion is king of the jungle? No here, not now, not in this my kingdom. November 20, 2009 by Karen M. Crump Poem for the Day by Karen M. Crump: The Last Siberian Tiger He roams the snowy slopes In solitary stealth he stalks across the colorless slope creating small craters where his heavy paws crush the snow. He does realize he is the last, his kind vanishing by violence or vanity in another species’ mind. With power undiminished, his stride is long and liquid: pursuing prey his purpose. He hunts without thought to enemies for there are none whose strength would compare. But there are millions out there encroaching on his territory. He does not know his time is limited and would not change his days or nights even if he did. He hunts. He lives until he hunts no more. Poem for the Day by William Blake: The Tyger (from Songs of Experience) Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, & what art. Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? & what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears, And watered heaven with their tears, Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee? Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? 1794 By William Blake Song for the Day: “Eye of the Tiger” Quotes for the Day: “It is not part of a true culture to tame tigers, any more than it is to make sheep ferocious.” Henry David Thoreau “Where there are no tigers, a wildcat is very self-important.” Korean Proverb “God made the cat so that man might have the pleasure of caressing the tiger.” Unknown “Appeasers believe that if you keep on throwing steaks to a tiger, the tiger will become a vegetarian.” Heywood C. Broun (American Writer, 1888-1939) “An oppressive government is more to be feared than a tiger.” Confucius |
| Lies, Lies and more Lies |
| The Question of the Day: Is it ever okay to lie? My answer: No. My husband often says, "The two things I can't abide are liars and thieves." In a manner of speaking, these are the same thing in some regards. Lying steals from the integrity of the person speaking the lie and steals from the person who is lied to because he does not receive what he is "entitled" to, and that is the truth. Poem for the Day: Lies – A Naani Poem Delicately circling Circumventing truth Evading reality In a trail of white lies Copyright © 2006 by Karen M. Crump Author's Note: Naani is one of Indian's most popular Telugu poems. Naani means an expression of one and all. It consists of 4 lines, the total lines consists of 20 to 25 syllables. The poem is not bounded to a particular subject. Generally it depends upon human relations and current statements. This poetry was introduced by one of the renowned Telugu poets Dr. N.Gopi. Small Poem for the Day: Truth/ running rampant / unbelievable Quotes for the Day: For every good reason there is to lie, there is a better reason to tell the truth. Bo Bennett A half truth is a whole lie. ~Yiddish Proverb This above all - to thine own self be true, and it must follow, as night follows day, thou canst not then be false to any man. William Shakespeare Songs for the Day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DtUI0b3dGlI https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1n03a7cLf0M |
| Birds, Birds, Birds |
| January 31, 2013 Question of the Day: Name a movie that frightened you. In days gone by, I was always very frightened of birds – their flapping wings, pecking beaks, etc. So, as a result “The Birds” was a scary movie for me. I had to close my eyes as the birds gathered and especially when they flew into the phone booth. In more recent years, I have overcome this fear and now like birds, even chickens which terrified me as a child. I have chickens in the chicken yard and two ring-necked doves in a cage in my office. My scary chicken story: My cousin, Jimmy, and I were playing at my grandmother’s farm. He had polio and a brace on his leg and could not run very fast. A mean old rooster started chasing us. Oh, my! I shoved Jimmy out of the way and got onto the tractor as fast as I could. I did not care if the rooster got Jimmy. That wasn’t very nice of me, but fear will do that to a person.  Poem for the Day: Chicken Rap Gangsta’ chickens are on the move, cluck, cluck, cluckin’ to their own grove, as they pilfer the fat cats’ food. Gangsta’ chickens outside the door, cluck, cluck, cluckin’ that they want more. Peckin’, scratchin’ – lookin’ to score. Gangsta’ chickens rulin’ the coop, cluck, cluck, cluckin’ and droppin’ poop. Not goin’ in the noodle soup. Gangsta’ chickens run to their pen, cluck, cluck, cluckin’ “Let us get in!” ‘cause big ole dogs have droolin’ grins. Gangsta’ chickens on their high roost. Cluck, cluck, cluckin’ is then reduced. Sleep ‘til mornin’, then be let loose. Gangsta’ chickens are on the move. Copyright © November 17, 2008 by Karen M. Crump Author’s Note: This is a true story. We really did have three gansta’ chickens who did get out of the chicken yard and steal the cat’s food. Small Poem: “Hawks” Birds soaring / overhead predators / zoom in kill “Mean” Food Stealing Birds Video: Quotes for the Day: “It's just a job. Grass grows, birds fly, waves pound the sand. I beat people up.” Muhammad Ali Birds of a feather flock together and crap on your car. Author Unknown |
| Disasters |
| January 30, 2013: Question of the Day: Which natural disaster freaks you out the most? Reminds me of the music group “Earth, Wind, and Fire.” Not the same thing. Huh. What are included in “natural” disasters? I guess the list would be made up of: hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes, floods, blizzards severe droughts, plague, volcano eruptions. Never having been truly affected by any of these, I do not have a predisposition to any one through experience. I have seen the results of tornadoes when I lived in Kansas, and I’ve gone through a few blizzards. The other events I have only viewed through the eyes of the media. Where I live now, we don’t get really bad weather in any of these areas. Since I have to choose one, I’ll go with hurricanes since they combine the wind and water – you can die by being blown away or drowning. And the destruction of property is incredible. Small Poem for the Day: unnatural / overwhelming government / disaster Quotes for the Day: “Sometimes it takes a natural disaster to reveal a social disaster.” by Jim Wallis “We cannot stop natural disasters but we can arm ourselves with knowledge: so many lives wouldn't have to be lost if there was enough disaster preparedness.” By Petra Nemcova Songs for the Day: by Earth, Wind, and Fire https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vwc0AW67CmA https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8bF9X7qnWro |
| What gets better with age? |
| January 29, 2013: Question of the Day: What gets better with age? Puppies turn into dogs; kittens turn into cats; babies turn into adults – these are things that get better with age. I definitely like dogs, cats, and adults much better than puppies, kittens, and babies. Other than that, absolutely nothing gets better except some kinds of foods like peas, beans of various kinds. I hear that wine gets better with age, but I wouldn’t know about that. I don’t like alcoholic beverages; if I did, I’d be drunk quite often. Blotting out the day. Life most certainly does not get better after a certain age. Small Poem of the Day: aged awhile / drunken stupor / no improvement Poem of the Day: Not exactly on topic My Existence Where is the ending of this existence? Life creates it’s own wandering path way. Is there reason for prolonged persistence? Looking at my arrival’s resistance, breath’s reluctance impresses as foreplay. Where is the ending of this existence? At the commencing of co-existence, there was desire to keep others at bay. Is there reason for prolonged persistence? Still running the race, I see the distance, when rounding the corner; I’ve come halfway. Where is the ending of this existence? Slower steps now striding for subsistence, fewer risks taken – less run and more sway. Is there reason for prolonged persistence? Here in the last days, I need assistance. Umbrage rages in the face of decay. Where is the ending of this existence? Is there reason for prolonged persistence? © Copyright 2011 Karen M. Crump Villanelle A Villanelle is a nineteen-line poem consisting of a very specific rhyming scheme: aba aba aba aba aba abaa. The first and the third lines in the first stanza are repeated in alternating order throughout the poem, and appear together in the last couplet (last two lines). Quote for the Day: Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter. Mark Twain Song for the Day: “Better with Age” by Dan Norris https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qg-gvVux13Q |
| Intelligence or Beauty |
| Question of the Day: Would you rather be super intelligent or extremely good looking? Easy. Super intelligent. Although, this can carry with it issues of its own. I just finished reading the novel Over the Edge by Jonathan Kellerman. Super intelligent individuals were the subject behind the suspense/mystery, and they were more or less outcasts or thought weird by “normal” people. Some were rejected by family because the family couldn’t cope or understand their super intelligent child. Some of the super intelligent people became withdrawn and others became belligerent to cope with other people of normal intelligence. Extremely good looking people as a whole have a host of other issues including jealousy from those less beautiful. And often extremely good looking people are thought to be not as intelligent. Looks fade, but intelligence remains into old age. Poem of the Day: Exploration for Perfection Bordering on sheer lunacy is the concept of perfection. It only takes one look to see upon casual inspection that nothing here on this mortal plane comes close to this conception. Give no credence to this fallacy; take time for introspection. When searching the depths of your soul, give special examination to the way you believe you measure up in your own estimation. Then let your conventional wisdom go and change your destination; for if perfection be your goal, you will only find frustration. In the passing of your daily life, you’ll miss without exception, the beauty found in things so flawed they appear beyond redemption; if all you seek is that unspoiled realm where all runs in precision. Life cannot sustain your narrow view and such constant derision. Lay down that stick that you measure by and let go your pretension take a look at life less filled with strife and find alleviation from the disease that afflicts your soul and brings such aggravation: the fear that in not being perfect, others will find you less whole. Copyright © 2006 by Karen M. Crump Small Poem for the Day: Vast Intelligence / streaming into / pure insanity Quotes for the Day: When a true genius appears, you can know him by this sign: that all the dunces are in a confederacy against him. Jonathan Swift There is no great genius without some touch of madness. Lucius Annaeus Seneca, Song for the Day: “She’s a Genius” by Jet (not particularly a favorite group or song – only Genius song I could find) |
| Silence |
| Silence is the theme of the day. I have my silence within music. Without it, there is so much noise in my head, I cannot function. Everyone finds their own silence in whatever way comes natural. We all need to remain silent for periods of time in each day. In silence, we hear; in silence, we see; in silence, we feel what we would never have known any other way. Hush! Be silent! Poems of the Day: In Silent Strength Rising The quiet man grows strong By nature, not one born to give protest But rather one to hide the fire and flame contemplating as if in quiet rest as heat and passion rise within the frame. Marvel not at the man who soars, but measure the steps of the slow. Silence comes to the one that roars as quiet man is seen to grow. With sound and fury, the impatient wait to see their name engraved on banner high; but in a flicker, they learn that their fate is to flounder within their mournful cry. As those with wisdom on the rise bring others with them on the way, their silent strength is such a prize that their fame will not pass away. © Copyright 2008 Karen M. Crump Author's note: Virelay-A very rarely used form of French poetry written in quatrains of varying lengths which makes it unpopular. The standard Virelay is 4 quatrains, the first in five foot lines, 10 syllables, the second in 4 foot lines, eight syllables, the third is back to five and the forth in eight. There can be as many quatrains as needed but it must end with a four foot, eight syllable quatrain. The rhyme pattern is progressive with each consecutive quatrain-AbAb BcBc CdCd DaDb and so forth. Quiet Listening in silence hear Ears attuned can recognize the language of the earth: howlings of sorrow, chirpings of mirth. So much in the tunes that all around play, matching their resonance to time of the day. Do we hear? Do we listen? Are we aware? Do we care? Quiet listening. © Copyright 2010 Karen M. Crump Small Poem of the Day: Close eyes / hush / listen in silence Quotes for the Day: Nothing strengthens authority so much as silence. Leonardo da Vinci Silence is the universal refuge, the sequel to all dull discourses and all foolish acts, a balm to our every chagrin, as welcome after satiety as after disappointment. Henry David Thoreau Song of the Day: “The Sound of Silence” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BvsX03LOMhI |
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. Hope your animals are all well and the fence gives you a little bit (no pun intended) of a break. Good luck on your diet. I know how hard that can be...it is a minute by minute thing in my head. I'm not sure about you, but loss has a way of emptying my brain of all else. Stay warm, and dry, and safe...
Connie
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