• Clash of Concepts

    November 26 – Communicate

    How often do we communicate what we need? Our true feelings? Our desires and passions? What are we communicating if we aren’t showing our true selves to those we love? Are we being fair in what we do communicate? While I strive to be a positive, upbeat person, I must admit, I frequently communicate negative thoughts, words and emotions, especially in the past year, and especially against myself. I am often hardest on me—and by default—the other half of me—my husband. I am unfair. I am angry. I am unyielding. But I’m willing to change. I want to start communicating what I need without the expectation that anyone needs to…

  • Clash of Concepts

    November 25 – Nondescript

    Is it true that older generations were content with living nondescript lives? Did a lack of chaos or drama equate to a good life? Were people who found nondescript jobs they kept until retirement living the dream? Even with the Great Depression, economic conditions seemed to have more stability. People put the vibrancy of their lives into families and homes, not in the jobs they pursued. Or, at least, that’s the perception. What does it mean to have a nondescript life? Is that good or bad? What about being a nondescript person? Take me, for example. I prefer to stay in the background, but I don’t desire to be a…

  • Clash of Concepts

    November 24 – Squeal

    Many different squeals elicit joy in those graced by the sound. The squeal of a child’s delight. The squeal of a newly engaged couple. The squeal of a fan seeing their favorite musician. And there are squeals that bring sorrow. The squeal of a pig before it becomes dinner. The squeal of a person hearing of a loved one’s death. I know this doesn’t compare to those squeals, but there’s a particular squeal that evokes dread, disappointment, anxiety and frustration each time I hear it: the squeal of brakes. I’m not talking about the squeal of tires on pavement when the brakes are engaged suddenly. No, I mean the brake-pads-wore-down-and-are-rubbing-metal-to-metal-and-I-have-to-tell-my-dad…