Compact

Compact: (n) something that is a small and conveniently shaped

“I had no business…”

I can recite a litany of mistakes I’ve made, all of which could begin with that phrase: “I had no business.”

In other words, if I sat and thought about it for five minutes, some conscious part of me would have raised a loud objection, or even screamed at me to avoid such a foolish path.

One of these occasions in my life–when “I had no business”–was when I bought a Ford Fiesta Ghia.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

It’s what they call “a compact car.”

It is adorable if you happen to be a small person, or I suppose even a normal sized person. Then the car would be applicable.

It is not luxurious. It is cheap. (And there might be some place inside where there’s a windup key, but I was never sure.)

I had no business, as a very, very large man, ever purchasing such a car.

But pridefully, because it was on sale and I could actually afford it, I squeezed myself into it at the dealership. The salesman lit up my ego by saying, “Oh, my goodness! You got in there pretty easily.”

That was all I needed.

Actually I did not get in there easily. It was almost like I had to ship my parts in one at a time, before I could finally allow my caboose to arrive in Penn Station.

The steering wheel was too close. I tried to push the seat further and further back, until one day it just broke. Either they didn’t have replacement seats or I was too embarrassed to admit I broke mine, but I decided to prop up the broken piece with chunks of wood. (For a very brief time, it worked–until the metal started chewing into the wood, making my back seat floor resemble the sawdust from a lumber yard.)

I had no business owning a compact car.

There. I said it.

Now I’ve reached an age when, if I was actually able to get into a compact car–if I could struggle to achieve it–I should do so with my last breath … and call it my coffin.

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Apprehension

dictionary with letter A

Ap·pre·hen·sion (n): 1. anxiety or fear that something bad or unpleasant will happen.

A pall in the room.

This is what I created the other night when I casually mentioned that I was diabetic.

Some faces reflected horror; others, pity. But the general disposition of those gathered was that they would have to sit back and listen to a litany of my sad tale or a description of my medications and treatment.

I surprised them because I just don’t do that.

But rather than appreciating the fact that I did not bore them with the elements of my constitution, they looked on me with a bit of dismay. I think they found be blithe.

Yes, if any word has been thrown my way as an insult, it would be blithe and all of its friendly synonyms.

  • “Silly.”
  • “Not careful enough.”
  • “Short-sighted.”
  • “Immature.”
  • “Naive.”
  • “Overly optimistic.”
  • Or even occasionally, “Ignorant.”

But I do not find blithe to be the absence of awareness, but rather, the negating of apprehension.

Case in point: when my doctor told me I had diabetes, I deadpanned in his direction: “Well, now I know what’s gonna kill me.”

He paused, looking into my eyes to see if I was serious, and when I twinkled his way, he laughed. He also spent the next two hours explaining the rigors of my situation and the care I needed to give myself.

I don’t mind giving myself attention–as long as it’s half of what I give to others.

Apprehension has never made my journey sweeter or improved my situation. Matter of fact, it tends to do the opposite.

So if I were to be accused of anything, and I certainly will be, “blithe” would be my preference.

Because the power of living a life which “takes no thought” for certain matters is the realization that my thinking does not always produce positive energy and often fails to even release the serotonin that could make my thinking better.

Do I have apprehensions? Yes.

But I would consider them to be pesky mice in my house … instead of pet hamsters in cages.

 

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Anyhow

dictionary with letter A

Anyhow: (adv) 1. another term for anyway 2. in a careless or haphazard way (e.g.: the suitcases were flung anyhow)

There are three particular approaches I would like to see done away with simply because they’re frustrating if you’re trying to get something accomplished.

  • The first is a phrase: “Is this good enough?”

If you have to ask, you already know it isn’t. You’re just begging to be released from the responsibility.

  • The second is a gesture: the shrug.

When people don’t want to commit, share or open up, they use this nasty little shoulder lift to express their boredom or disdain.

  • And the third is a word: “Whatever.”

It’s the definition of passive-aggressive. Whenever I hear it, I realize the speaker has a strong opinion against what I am doing, but apparently I am unworthy of discussion about the matter.

In fifty years this generation will be known as “the anyhow clump.”

Thinking that tape, band-aids and bubblegum are just as good building materials as nails, boards and screws, we have generated an atmosphere of potential mishap simply due to poor quality effort.

The reason we are afraid of terrorists is that we know how mediocre we are, and we figure that someone in the world is more efficient than us.

The comical thing is that the terrorists wake up every morning just as humanly lazy, and willing to keep their plans “in committee” as we are.

So what keeps us safe from the terrorists is the same thing that places us in danger from the terrorists.

It’s called “anyhow.”

We’re not concerned with excellence, but instead merely getting to the finish line, while not ruling out the option of cheating.

So if you’re around me, be careful of these three options. Because if you ask me if it’s “good enough,” I won’t even look. I’ll tell you no.

If you shrug your shoulders, I will turn on my heel, quietly walk out of the room and offer you my back side as an exit.

And if you are so presumptuous as to speak “whatever” in my presence, I will quickly cure you by providing a litany of reasons for “whatever.”

 

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