Communication

Looking at my computer screen today, it seems that much of American communication is one person trying to get another person to “buy” something. Sometimes they want you to “buy into” something – be it an idea or an activity.

Then we have story tellers and sometimes out and out liars.

I seem to be a list maker and wonder if others are too? I make the usual grocery list, and to do list, but I also find myself outlining how I’m going to do certain things. I have lists of pills I’ve taken that day.

I do a lot of the writing that I do to “get things out of my head”. My house my be cluttered, but I can’t stand for my mind to be that way. If I have all these “to do’s” and “how tos” and “already done” things in my head, I cannot think of all the wonderful new ideas that pop into my mind when my mind isn’t cluttered.

Sometimes I’ll come across written lists from years past and marvel at what was important back then, or how much things cost.

I like to think. I do not like to remember things I can put on paper and then forget until I need to look at that piece of paper.

I make many lists on my computer. I make my grocery lists on the computer. It’s easy to just add something as it pops into my head, easier to read and easier to organize items into where they are in the store so I can get everything without having to double back. I’ve had store employees comment on my typed grocery list, but it is easier for me and the list can span over a week’s time as I run out of things and don’t want to forget to get it when I go to the store.

What do you think about? How our minds work has always fascinated me.

I know when I argue with someone about something that has upset me, memories of previous arguments with the person pop into my head and sometimes come out of my mouth.

I know any time I see a pin striped red and white anything, I think of my grandmother, for she wore a dress made of material that had red and white pin stripes on one of the happiest days of my life.

Smells, as well as sights trigger memories in our heads. I smell coffee and think of my mother with her coffee that tasted so horrible to me as a child (when she let me have a sip to prove to me that I didn’t want any) , but I think of her as I drink my own morning coffee now.

Sounds as well . . . church bells . . . did someone just get married?

Taste? Did I really want that medicine badly enough to tolerate the taste? Sometimes the medicine tastes good and according to a line from The Sound of Music, “Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down” . . .

I’ve been told I’m difficult to converse with. My mind jumps from topic to topic like a grasshopper. I quickly grow bored of most subjects and go to the next one on my mind. It’s probably why I enjoyed working with Kindergarteners and First Graders. We have about the same attention span. I cannot focus, if I’m bored.

So all this popped into my head as I noticed so many emails and so many ads on the internet for things to buy! I guess it is the season.

Gotta get a tree! I took down my Halloween porch decorations yesterday. I’d like to have my Christmas ones up the weekend after Thanksgiving.

Did I mention I’m disabled now? That’s another wonder of the LISTS. Aha, a tall son dropped by . . . here, hang this where I can’t reach without a ladder. Decorating for Christmas, while imagined over the weekend after Thanksgiving will probably take two weeks.

When my sons come by, I ask “Would you like something to eat?” I can cook. We can talk. Put on your helmet because I have many things to talk about and don’t know how many we can cover before you leave. Ready, set, GO!

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s