Yesterday I was sitting by the computer, reading its serial number over and over, and I realized something was wrong in the environment. There was something wrong. I looked out, and saw my children were circling me like a pinned down Wagon in the West, roaring their throats out. There were trucks and action figures taking headers off the Sky, off the Dresser, and everyone was bumping into everyonelse. Kitchen, computer, hallway, kitchen computer, hallway; -over and over. I didn't know how long this had been going on. A long while, maybe hours. But it was harmful. These kids were 'playing', but they were eroding a trail on the tile if nothing else, and my brain certainly.
"You guys, go outside."
They looked at me in shock.
"No, really, go outside, it aint natural what you've been doing. No one should spend this much time a couple yards from me all day long."
They didn't budge, but at least the truck noises stopped. It wasn't as if the North Wind was howling outside. The Sun was out. It was shining, birds were winging, it was Life out there.
I bundled them up and got them out. It was hard. They live in a wilderness paradise, but what they want to do is stay close, stay inside. They'll follow me to the bathroom. They like it. It's exciting, intrinsically interesting, you know? Whatever Dad does. Don't want to miss it.
Today I got Trav building. He's making a fort over there, about 15 yards from me. I came over to see what was going on. There were Candy Corns, (Korns?) on the floor. When he tackled the building blocks a small package of Candy Korns poured out. He was stepping on them.
"Wait, wait; look at these Candy Korns, some of them are still good."
They'd been in the box, and now on the carpet, but I didn't care, I was going to save them. The five second rule didn't count in this circumstance. Candy Korns are tough. They slough off germs. I ate several, just as long as the tops weren't bitten off I knew they were still good and hadn't been slobbered. I kinda like Candy Korns, just a little. Every Halloween we got a bunch. But these kids, they don't like Candy Korns. I don't think one in three likes them. And this isn't isolated; I've heard this from other kids, other places; Candy Korns aren't much good.
I remember when a sugar packet was acceptable if you couldn't find any thing else. It melts on your tongue. It's not a candy bar, but it's OK.
Anyway, if anyone wonders what it's like to work in Mental Health, work on a Psych Unit, this is it. When the kids run around screaming it's exactly like the Schizophrenics off their meds. The noise is about the same. Only you don't get the nicotine stains over everything, and there's not a cloud of smoke in the rec room. That's changing, I know. Our society is protecting psychotics by removing the cigarettes from their fingers as they pace holes in the carpet in front of the TV.
When you're on the floor of a Psych Unit, everyone's always asking you for something- just like with kids. Phone call, there's been a wreck on the highway, business call, word from the President; it doesn't matter. You have to wait your turn. And they are always asking; Doctors, patients, nurses, visitors, anyone. All the time. When you've had enough of this, when you find something is wrong and you can't think anymore, it's time for lunch break. You do that as long as you can. If you do it long enough, then just like a man who has been in the Mojave too long, you'll get a look to your eyes, and they'll call you a "Bug Houser".
One of the hardest jobs I ever had was working retail in the Gun Store. It was harder than talking to Schizophrenics. Schizophrenics are easy. Customers, Engineers with micrometers in their hands; that's hard.
But anyway, Candy Korns are going out. I don't know what it means, whether it's in Revelations or not, if the Four Horsemen are due, but I know we've left the Age where hardened Corn Syrup in a small triangle you can hold in your palm is a desirable thing.
munk
"You guys, go outside."
They looked at me in shock.
"No, really, go outside, it aint natural what you've been doing. No one should spend this much time a couple yards from me all day long."
They didn't budge, but at least the truck noises stopped. It wasn't as if the North Wind was howling outside. The Sun was out. It was shining, birds were winging, it was Life out there.
I bundled them up and got them out. It was hard. They live in a wilderness paradise, but what they want to do is stay close, stay inside. They'll follow me to the bathroom. They like it. It's exciting, intrinsically interesting, you know? Whatever Dad does. Don't want to miss it.
Today I got Trav building. He's making a fort over there, about 15 yards from me. I came over to see what was going on. There were Candy Corns, (Korns?) on the floor. When he tackled the building blocks a small package of Candy Korns poured out. He was stepping on them.
"Wait, wait; look at these Candy Korns, some of them are still good."
They'd been in the box, and now on the carpet, but I didn't care, I was going to save them. The five second rule didn't count in this circumstance. Candy Korns are tough. They slough off germs. I ate several, just as long as the tops weren't bitten off I knew they were still good and hadn't been slobbered. I kinda like Candy Korns, just a little. Every Halloween we got a bunch. But these kids, they don't like Candy Korns. I don't think one in three likes them. And this isn't isolated; I've heard this from other kids, other places; Candy Korns aren't much good.
I remember when a sugar packet was acceptable if you couldn't find any thing else. It melts on your tongue. It's not a candy bar, but it's OK.
Anyway, if anyone wonders what it's like to work in Mental Health, work on a Psych Unit, this is it. When the kids run around screaming it's exactly like the Schizophrenics off their meds. The noise is about the same. Only you don't get the nicotine stains over everything, and there's not a cloud of smoke in the rec room. That's changing, I know. Our society is protecting psychotics by removing the cigarettes from their fingers as they pace holes in the carpet in front of the TV.
When you're on the floor of a Psych Unit, everyone's always asking you for something- just like with kids. Phone call, there's been a wreck on the highway, business call, word from the President; it doesn't matter. You have to wait your turn. And they are always asking; Doctors, patients, nurses, visitors, anyone. All the time. When you've had enough of this, when you find something is wrong and you can't think anymore, it's time for lunch break. You do that as long as you can. If you do it long enough, then just like a man who has been in the Mojave too long, you'll get a look to your eyes, and they'll call you a "Bug Houser".
One of the hardest jobs I ever had was working retail in the Gun Store. It was harder than talking to Schizophrenics. Schizophrenics are easy. Customers, Engineers with micrometers in their hands; that's hard.
But anyway, Candy Korns are going out. I don't know what it means, whether it's in Revelations or not, if the Four Horsemen are due, but I know we've left the Age where hardened Corn Syrup in a small triangle you can hold in your palm is a desirable thing.
munk
Yeah, but its a beauty!! and its easy to floss