Tag Archives: dramas

Decompress

Decompress: (v) to relax; unwind

When I was nine years old, a friend of mine jammed his finger.

It hurt.

No doubt about that.

But over the next week, through the urging of his mother, the jammed finger went from being a painful incident to a potentially lethal trauma.

Every day when I saw him, he had a new angle on how a jammed finger could lead to some sort of bizarre complication, culminating in a contorted death.

Honestly, I started avoiding him, waiting for his finger to heal, so that he could become normal again.

That has been my inclination with the human race.

Since most people think they have a jammed finger, they are prepared to exaggerate their wounds to make themselves feel more endangered.

Therefore I hate the word “decompress.”

I hear it all the time: “I am under so much pressure that I must get someplace and decompress.”

Really?

I guess I have a different definition for “pressure.”

To me, pressure is when you realize you’re going to die.

And even then, it’s a good idea to get a second opinion.

Everything short of death is problematic—and by problematic, I mean solvable.

I am just completely flummoxed as to why we think our lives are more intriguing when we express levels of breathless desperation.

Why is it more enticing to say, “I don’t think I’m going to make it,” than “I’ve had a bad week.”

Why must we think the world is going to end simply because we can’t find our favorite jar of pickles?

How in the hell important do we think we are?

For the record:

I do not need to decompress.

I do not require escaping somewhere to spend even more time musing over my plight.

I need to expand.

I must be around people who also have problems, and together, we can develop the good cheer of realizing that there doesn’t seem to be anything life has come up with that can destroy us.

If we reach that point, we gain a certain lightness of spirit—an irrepressible joy that makes us love ourselves and valuable to those around us.

Don’t decompress.

Just don’t get yourself in a position where you take things too seriously.

In life there are no dramas—there are just comedies, and sometimes we don’t get the joke.

 

Alda, Alan

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Alda,  Alan (1936 – ): U.S. actor, director and writer, he won five Emmys for his role as Hawkeye Pierce on the television series M.A.S.H. (1972-83). His movies include Same Time Next Year, California Suite, The Seduction of Joe Tynan and Everyone Says I Love You.

I tried last week.

I attempted to watch an episode of M.A.S.H., which had its heyday in the 1970’s.

It was entertaining. But with the presence of never-ending one-liners, plays-on-words and physical comedy culminating in someone falling into mud, I was quickly aware that the gods of comedy had departed from this Olympus to different mountaintops of humor.

It was weird. I used to love the show. I especially enjoyed Alan Alda as Hawkeye. But now it seems kind of old–almost like Catskills comedy translated to a war zone with occasional serious overtones.

There are exceptions. Certainly the final episode, when the cast members go their separate ways, is a classic for all time; or the entrance of Radar into the operating room to announce the death of the commanding officer. Stunning.

And I’m sure if you talked to Mr. Alda, he would agree that although he is still quite proud of the work, he is not afraid to move on to other possibilities and new horizons.

Matter of fact, of late I have seen him in more dramas than comedies. Maybe a wise choice, Alan: because the kind of comedy that is prevalent today demands more ridicule, embarrassment and mocking than setting up a punch line.


Aladdin’s Lamp

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Aladdin’s lamp: (n) a talisman enabling its holder to gratify any wish

I guess I’ve thought about this. Who hasn’t?

What would I do with three wishes?

It’s been the plotline of dramas and comedies throughout the history of entertainment. And indirectly, both religion and politics have alluded to such an unlikely possibility.

I guess, for me, it’s easy. Before pursuing three wishes, I would have to deal with my own needs. Maybe I should use a wish for it: “I wish I understood my own heart better.”

What is my heart?

  • It’s the emotional part of me which controls who I am, which I publicly deny as having any authority over my being.
  • It is how I carefully learn to maneuver my selfishness into a practical application which still includes room for others.
  • It’s where I learn to budget sufficiency until it becomes wealth.
  • My heart is a place where I am no longer afraid to express my feelings for fear of transparency
  • It is a journey into a cave with the hope of finding light at the end of the tunnel.
  • It is admitting that I have love for myself which I should translate equally to others.
  • It is taking my position as the “light of the world” and the “salt of the earth” without it ending up being a pompous boast.
  • It is stopping to think that if I am thirsty, someone else might need a cup of cold water.
  • It is clearing out my inner being without being afraid of discovering too many rats and spiders.

Yes, before I could rub Aladdin’s lamp and promote my three wishes, I would have to understand what I really desire and why it is of value to me.

After all, what is of more consequence?

The idea? Or the person who thinks?

The prayer? Or the faithful soul?

The well-sung hymn? Or the passionate singer?

Sometimes we forget: wishing for things means they have to be used by people.

In order for that to be effective, we should wish for understanding.

Acme

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Acme: (n.) the point at which something or someone is best, perfect or most successful: e.g., physics is the acme of scientific knowledge.

NOW it’s even funnier.

As I reflect back on the Road Runner and Coyote cartoon, understanding the definition of “acme,” the little dramas portrayed onscreen between these two adversaries gain a new hilarity.

If you remember, the coyote was continually ordering some product to destroy the road runner and it  always arrived from the Acme Company. NOW I realize that Acme means the best. Top of the game. Highest quality.

Of course, the irony here is that these contraptions which the coyote used inevitably failed, backfired, and usually ended up squashing HIM into the ground.

Nevertheless, they were often quite intricate and cleverly devised, which is a lifelong warning to all of us–that putting ingenious products into the hands of imbeciles not only makes us question whether the invention was quite as clever as we thought, but also opens the door to these innovations striking back to bite us in the ass.

So it gave me pause for thought. Maybe my computer is REALLY perfect–just being operated by a hairless monkey.