TOO QUICK TO JUDGE

I was having a discussion with a friend the other day, about a simple enough topic: nursing homes.

Some shit came on the telly about the standards in nursing homes or something like that… I can’t be 100% sure, but my friend turned to me and declared: ‘I can’t understand why people put their family members into nursing homes.  It’s cruel.  Just because they can’t be bothered looking after them…’

‘That’s not always the case,’ I interjected calmly.  My friend was unwittingly pushing a very big button with me.

‘It is in most cases.’ She snapped.  ‘It’s too hard, or it interrupts their lives, so they shove their family members into dumpy homes and forget about them.  It’s terrible.’

‘Again, that’s not always the case.’

‘Rubbish.’ She said, shaking her head defiantly.

‘My friend,’ I said calmly.  ‘You are wrong.  You are generalising, and you’re not being fair.’

‘Pffft.  It’s true.’

‘No, it’s not.  For some families, the decision to put their loved ones into a home is a very difficult one.  It comes back to capabilities and the care needed, and some people just have to do it.’

‘Everyone can care for their family members at home.  It’s just that they don’t want to.’

It was at this point, that I had to check myself, because I seriously wanted to punch her in the head.  ‘Clearly, you have never been in a position where you’ve had to make that call… where you’ve had to rip someone out of their life, and send them away…’

‘No, and I never will.  I could never do that to someone I love.’

‘Well, I thought the same thing, and I tell you this; it ain’t as easy as you think.’ I said angrily.  ‘You have no fucken idea what you’re talking about.’ I said, waving my finger at her.  ‘You forget that my father passed on a few years ago.  Mercifully, because his future was not going to be a pleasant one, and God spared him, and us, the trauma of it all by taking him.’

‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ she asked, confused.

‘Everything.’ I replied, sitting back in my chair.  ‘You see; my mother was trying to care for Dad at home.  He was terminal, and we were simply trying to keep him at home as long as we possibly could; a place where he was most comfortable.

Many months before he passed, when he was still well, he, Mum and I had a good talk about the future, and what we would do if his health deteriorated to a point where Mum couldn’t care for him any more. 

I’m not afraid to say that I don’t believe I could have provided the care he needed.  Mum tried, and did a fabulous job, but in the end, it became too much for even her to handle.

We all decided that if professional care was needed for Dad, that I must be the one to make the decision.  You see, I had two people to think about here.  Not just Dad, but Mum as well. 

Caring for her beloved whilst watching him die was a terribly trying experience for her, and naturally, took its toll.  She was in her 70’s; it’s was such a physical and mental challenge, and she was struggling.

You see, there comes a point where you stand back and say: okay.  I have two parents here to think about.  Mum’s struggling, and Dad’s possibly not getting the best medical attention and care that he can, even though she’s doing a fabulous job.  He needs the best care possible at this stage of his life, and Mum needs a fucken break.   If she doesn’t get one, I’ll lose her too.’

My friend listened intently, and I could see by her face that she had regretted her harsh words. 

‘When I have a father on one side that needs 100% care, and a mother on the other side that’s not coping any more, the hardest decision a child has to make was made in a heart beat.’

‘I see.’

‘In our situation, it wasn’t like we didn’t try… it wasn’t like we wanted to dump him and forget him, like you’re suggesting.’

‘I didn’t mean you…’

‘No, it’s okay.  You were generalising, but you were also being unfair to everyone out there like me.  It becomes an issue of care quality.  His health deteriorated so much that he needed to be under constant medical supervision.  Mum watching him and nurses checking in a couple of times a day at home was not enough.  He needed much more, and palliative care was the only place he could get it.’

My friend just nodded and sipped her drink, lost for words.

‘I don’t doubt that there are people out there that just dump their relo’s because they don’t want to bother dealing with it.’ I continued.  ‘That’s their choice.  Maybe they know, deep down, that they can’t hack it; and that’s okay.  I don’t think I could have cared for Dad; I’m not made of tough enough stuff.  I’m not proud of that… but… it is what it is. 

However, I could sleep well at night knowing that Dad was under constant twenty-four hour care.  If something happened to him, he would be attended to immediately by people trained for whatever situation presented itself.  Surely that counts for something?’

‘It does.’ She smiled.  ‘I didn’t think of it like that…’

‘Well, like I said… you’ve not been in that position before.’

‘If it was your Mum that needed that care, would you make the same decision?’ She cunningly asked, knowing how close I am to Mum.

‘Yes… I think so.’ I smiled.  ‘Again, it’s a matter of providing the right kind of care for her.  I honestly hope that when her time comes, that she simply passes peacefully in her sleep, and she doesn’t have to deal with all of the bullshit that ill health brings along for the ride.’

‘Amen to that.’

‘But… that’s the only thing we don’t know for sure, is it?  When we’re actually going to die.  Or how.  What does the future holds for us, health wise?  Will we suffer?  Will it be tragic?  Will we pass peacefully and surrounded by those we love?’ I smiled.

‘Well… we won’t know until that time comes, will we?’

‘For sure.’ I agreed, topping up my glass with more chilled water.  ‘I just take comfort in knowing that the best decision I could have made for my parents, was made, and God saved me from having to live with that for too long.’

‘I’m sure you acted in the best interests of your father.  I have no doubt about it.’

‘Thank you.’ I smiled.  ‘It was hard, because you want your family member there, you know?  You don’t want to put them into a hospital or a home.  It’s not right…. It’s not fair… they should be at home and happy and healthy with us… but it just can’t be like that.  You have to push your own feelings aside, and think of their welfare.  That is absolutely paramount.  It’s about what’s best for them.’

‘True.’

‘Don’t be so quick to judge people that put their family members into homes.’ I said calmly.  ‘Behind every person is a story.  Behind every story is a family in pain.  It’s not as impersonal as you think.’

‘Well… I hope I never have to make that choice…’

‘I pray you don’t either, my friend… cos it’s a tough one to live with.  ‘

A 'TRADIE' IS THE NEW BLACK

OMG girls!

Forget everything your mama ever told you about marrying men.  Forget about doctors, lawyers and decent men that hold down a good office job.

A tradie is the new black.

The ‘must have’ accessory for the modern woman.

You see, studies have shown that a tradie now earns more than a white collar worker (office job, retail manager, etc).  A tradie now earns, on average, $1200 per week, where a white collar worker earns around $1000.

How the tables have turned!

Years ago, tradies were overlooked at ‘lower class’.  You didn’t snare yourself a tradie unless you were desperate, or felt sorry for them.  If you couldn’t land yourself a doctor or lawyer, you grabbed yourself the security of a business executive.

Now; forget all that!  Get your manicured hands on a tradie girls, cos they’re a catch!

And let’s be honest: when you think of a tradie, you think about a strapping young man, with bulging muscles and tattoos, all accented with beautiful, fluro yellow safety vests. 

If you have to call in a tradie to fix something, you pray it’s gonna be a hot day so he’ll be sadly forced to take off his shirt, revealing his ripped torso; sweat glistening in the sun.  This will unfortunately force you to call all of your girlfriends around for a cuppa at that very moment.

Gives me flashbacks to the diet coke ads of the 90’s.  Yeah…..

This, of course, presents another problem.  Now that tradies are at the popular end of the social ladder, what about all of us girls that hold down white collar jobs?  Suddenly… we’re not looking like such an attractive package anymore.

What if tradies don’t want to be associated with white collar girls?  What if they want the doctors, lawyers and high flighing executives?  What if they want the supermodels, ex-WAGS, and famous people, and we’re not good enough?

OMG…. I’m so lucky I snagged Charlie when I did.  To think that eleven years ago, when I met him, I was doing him a favour.  He was so lucky to have someone as awesome as me in the first place, let alone a successful white collar worker.  He was so lucky!  Or so I thought!

Imagine if he had discovered this social revolution a few years ago? I may not have me a tradie!  Oh no!  He may have dumped me for some retired AFL footballer’s skanky ex-wife that looks more like a $2 steak house hooker than a supermodel.

He would have thought she was better than me, because he’s a tradie. 

OMG! If I let him out of the house on his own now, he’ll have white collar worker women and supermodels throwing themselves at his rippling (old man) muscles all day!  OMG!

What am I to do?  I think that maybe I need to throw in my job, and go and get myself a trade, so I’m looking like the fashionable, attractive package that I use to be before this social upheaval occurred.

OMG! Kill me now!

Oh dear…. I think I’ll go into the kitchen and cook him up a massive feast for dinner tonight.  That way, if my pathetic, lower class career is not good enough for him, at last my cooking will impress him.

Peace out?

WON'T THE REAL DELTA PLEASE STAND UP?

I will warn you before you read any further: you may find some of what I’ve written in this blog offensive.  I will not apologise for that.  

I posted a quote the other week saying that ‘people who declare ‘their offended’ are just telling the world that they’re not capable of handling their emotions, and expect everyone else to do it for them’.

Don’t be offended; it is what it is; my honest opinion.

I once, quite controversially, declared that Delta has only achieved the fame she has, because she had cancer.

It’s a publicists dream when their ‘talent’ does one of three things.  One: has a ‘famous’ romance.  Two: gets into some kind of legal trouble (the worse the better).  Three: develops a serious illness.

It garners so much attention on the ‘talent’ that all the money in the world couldn’t by.  That’s what happened to Delta when she became sick, and that’s why there is a soft spot for her in our hearts.  She’s a battler, and every Aussie loves a battler.

Now, don’t get me wrong; I’m not making light of her being unwell. What happened to her was terrible; no question.  However, there are thousands of people out there that go through this battle every day, and unlike Delta, it generally hasn’t helped their careers.

I am particularly annoyed at Delta, because she was ill and having treatment at the same time I was, although she was at a different hospital.  The staff that treated me, like some nursing and specialists in various medical fields, worked between different hospitals, and had the pleasure of treating young Delta.

The stories they told me were not too nice.  The words ‘demanding’, ‘impatient’, ‘inconsiderate’, ‘spoilt’ and ‘rude’, peppered their conversations about her.  Young Delta was not leaving these hardworking ladies with a positive impression.

It also pissed me off because I would think about her behaviour toward the medical staff and other patients whilst I was getting a cup of tea for the old bloke in the wheelchair, strapped to an oxygen tank, and his wife, who was simply knackered from the massive effort involved in caring for her beloved.

I suppose it’s something that only a victim, for want of a better word, of cancer can understand.  There are no priorities; everyone waits their turn.  You conduct yourself in the best, most respectful manner you can, and treat the people looking after you with courtesy.  They’re human too.

Hearing the stories I did created a dislike for young Delta in my heart.

However, in saying that, I think she has the voice of an angel, and I could happily listen to her sing all day.  I have both of her albums, and respect her talent.

She just shits me.  The sugary sweet person we have all come to know and love is not the person she is in real life, and I find the hypocrisy hard to swallow.

I think it just pushes my personal buttons because of the experience we inadvertently shared.

So, when I watch The Voice, I have to smile to myself.  Watching Delta’s ‘performance’ is fascinating.

If you will allow me to digress for a moment.  Where the hell has this talent show been?  What a fucken rippa! 

You know, the likes of Australian Idol and X Factor unearth some great talent, but seem to pump out the same stereotypical crap that we’ve been seeing for years: people that fit the mould, and can be manufactured and churned out of the money-making machine as quickly as possible.  These ‘artists’ usually battle to survive, and often fade away into insignificance in the end.

However, shows like Australia’s Got Talent, and now The Voice, are giving people that don’t fit the mould the chance to shine, and it’s fucking amazing.

And I’ve got to wonder where all of these people have been?  Clearly, some narrow minded fat-cat in an office that towers over reality, overlooks these people because he can’t push them into that stereotypical mould.  They’re not attractive enough, marketable enough, catering to the right generation… so the list goes on.  Forget that they can sing; the fat-cats can’t do anything with them, and don’t want to.

Now these ‘rejects’ have a chance to really show us who they are, and that’s just the thing: we’re getting to see this amazing talent now!  We’re the one’s benefiting here!  It’s wonderful!

I don’t know what’s more fascinating, though: the talent or the judges?  For me, it’s like the talent is the side show, and the judges are the main attraction.  I just love it!

And that’s when I laugh at little Delta; how out of her league is she?  Let’s just have a look at what we’re dealing with here.

Seal.  I remember when he released Crazy back in the 1990’s (yep: that’s how old I am).  I flogged his album Seal like a dead horse, mate.  I loved it, and I still do.  Then, he just disappeared.  What I didn’t realise, that in the last twenty years, he’s released eleven albums, and one four Grammy’s!  WTF?  Where have I been?

I find him magnetic.  I fucken love Seal.  The dude is hot.  And when you talk about fitting the mould, Seal is the last person you would consider.  The dude is like a big, black giant with yellow fingernails and shoes, and is butt ugly.  Sorry, but the dude ain’t pretty. 

However, you can’t help but love him.  He just seems so…real.

Then there’s young Joel Madden.  How gorgeous is he?  And I don’t mean looks: he just seems like a lovely person.  He and his brother Benji have done it hard.  They’ve had a hard start to their lives, and worked hard to ‘make it’.  I have quite a few of their albums, and although they’re like ACDC (pump out the same sounding shit all the time, but you still love it), they’re clearly talented. 

Again, they don’t fit the mould.  They ain’t pretty, they’ve more tatts that a tattoo parlour and I get dizzy from Joel’s continual hair colour changes, but they have that special something that everyone loves, and Joel is absolutely shining in his role as mentor.  He’s absolutely embraced it.

Then there’s Mr Kidman… I mean, Keith Urban.  My friends will kill me for saying that, because they’ve been banging on about the beautiful Keith for years. 

Personally, I’ve never seen anything in him.  I don’t understand the fascination with him, but I’m not into country music either.  However, the other day, I found myself surfing channels on Foxtel, and I stumbled across the country music channel.  I thought I was going to kill myself for a moment, but then I realised that a Keith Urban film clip was on.  I can’t tell you the name of the song, but after watching it for just a couple of minutes, I was hooked.

I sat there thinking ‘okay.  I get it now.  I get it…’ and decided that when I have some spare cash, I would download his entire back catalogue.  I think he has something like eight albums and three Grammys to his name.   Best pull my head out of my arse, simply out of respect I think.

So, here we have three internationally famous artists with years and years of experience and commercial success.  These people, although unassuming, are serious players in the music industry.

Then there’s Delta.

Lovely, beautiful Delta, in flowing dresses and seemingly endless tresses of beautiful, shining blonde hair. 

Beautiful Delta, who in eight years, has produced two albums, and achieved fame… in Australia.  She’s been trying to crack the American market for like the last five years, and I think most of Britain hates her because they labelled her a home wrecker due of her relationship with Brian McFadden.

There is no doubt that she’s talented, but compared to the others… she just seems like the odd one out.

Why the fuck didn’t they get someone like Kylie Minogue in there?  She’s been banging around the traps for about a thousand years, had pumped out over ten albums, is huge in Europe and Asia, and has at least managed to crack the American market.

But no; they got Delta, and I have to laugh.  Her performances are perfect, if not…contrived.  She cries on cue, laughs on cue, bats her pretty lashes on cue, gives the doe eyed look on cue and knows her best angles.  She also seems to have one eye on the contestant and one on the camera.

This ‘mother earth’ demeanour that she’s projecting is laughable, because it all unravels when she has to make a decision, and aimlessly looks around at the other judges for their opinions before she dares project her own.

Pffff.  Fake fake fake.  I’ve discussed that very thing with my friends on Facebook.  What the fuck is she doing?  Fake fake fake.

I almost feel sorry for the people on her team.  Sure, if I want advice on false eyelashes, hair extensions, hair stylists, fashion stylists, beauticians, make up artists and my best angle, I think I will go to her. 

If I want someone to help me with my career; Keith, Joel and Seal are my men. 

At least her new single Sitting On Top Of The World (which I have downloaded, because I love), will get a good run, and her new album will give the charts a good showing.

Shame this show will possibly harm her career more than help it, because people are seeing right through the performance.  It’s like she has to project this image… this product… because some fat-cat somewhere is telling her that’s what we want.

I wonder if this is just a performance, or if this is the real Delta?

Won’t the real Delta please stand up?

Peace out.

WEEK 18 SYL CHALLENGE: TIME MANAGEMENT: PROCRASTINATION

Procrastination.

That terrible word that is a very real part of most everyone’s life. 

You may deny it, but on some level, we all procrastinate.  It can be a major issue, or a minor one, but it’s there.

I will be the first to admit that there are times where I procrastinate, particularly when I’m tired or bored.

Challenge this week: be aware when you start procrastinating.  Figure out the why and determine the best way for you to tackle it.  This will be different for each person, as there are so many variables involved.  For chronic issues, you may try different things through the week.  Like many of the challenges, this will not be a one-off, try it and find your perfect solution forever situation.  You will benefit from working on this long term so be kind to yourself this week.  Aim to stop some of your procrastinating, learn as you go, and realise it is a part of our lives and will come up continuously for most people

For a lot of people, procrastination centres on simply not wanting to start something.  Whether they do not have the tools for the job, the job seems too big and overwhelming, they’re not sure where to start, or they simply can’t be bothered dealing with it.  Its simple avoidance, and being told to harden up and just do it, doesn’t help.

For some people, it’s not about starting, but actually finishing.  Some people are comfortably in limbo, because finalisation means not only bringing ‘safe’ negotiations or dreams to an end, but commitment to the next phase.

Some of these issues are easily fixed, I think.  I know if I find myself delaying starting a project, I have to sit myself down and ask what the fuck I’m doing.

Do I not have the tools to do the job?  No?  well get them.  Stop mucking around.

Is the job too daunting?  Well, break it down into smaller jobs, and tackle one at a time.

My garden is a perfect example of that.  I’ve procrastinated on a lot of work in the garden because it’s simply so overwhelming. 

I have twenty-six garden beds at home.  Twenty-six spread across an acre.  When I look at that number, I shit myself.  Twenty-six.  It’s completely overwhelming to know that I have to manage all of that, and hold down a nearly full time job.  It’s a massive challenge.

So, instead of procrastinating and stressing myself out, because ignoring the garden just makes the job of maintaining it even harder, I broke the garden down into sections of priority.

Whatever needed the most urgent attention got it first.  Some gardens, like the veggie garden, need constant planning and attention.  Others like the rose and perennial gardens don’t, but they do need it at specific times of the year. 

It was simply a matter of mapping out a plan of management, and following it; one garden bed at a time.

The other thing that really helped in this situation was eliminating the pressure I put on myself.  Did it really matter if I didn’t do any gardening this weekend?  What’s the worst that could happen?  A plant may die?  As terrible as that is, shit happens.  Plants die, and you pull them out, replace them, and move on.  That’s the beauty of a garden: it’s constantly evolving.

If you’re not sure where to start a project, simply list down what you think needs to be done, and work out priorities.

If you can’t be bothered starting, then you have to ask yourself if the task is really that important at all?

As for procrastinating on finishing, well eventually thinks must transcend.  You need completion to move forward, and if you’re afraid to move forward, then you must ask yourself why.  It then becomes something more than just a matter of procrastination.

As I said before, I find myself procrastinating most when I’m tired or bored. 

I could have ticked all the boxes (have the tools, have the plan, know where to start), but am really tired and can’t focus.  I become easily distracted, and end up travelling down another tangent that has nothing to do with what I’m meant to be doing!

That where the lessons from a couple of challenges comes into play.  Is it really that important?  Can it wait? If it can’t, then I have to remove all distractions and commit myself to what I have to do, and just do it.

However, if it’s not important, then I just walk away.  If my life is not going to end, or the world is not going to be swallowed up into a big black hole, then I can give it a miss for now.

I think that’s what it all comes down to.  How important is the task that you want to do?  Is it even worth doing?  Does it fit in with the big ‘life’ picture for yourself, or is it just a meaningless task?

Is it something that someone else wants or needs us to do, and I use work as a perfect example.  Sometimes it can be hard to find the motivation to do the things I need to do at work, particularly if I’m bored or tired. 

I find with work though, that if there is a task that is stressful, or requires a considerable time commitment, that I clear the schedule and just get into it straight away.  Face the ‘fear’, and do it.  More often than not, after I have finished the task, my mind is at ease, and the stresses or concerns are gone.

There are, however, some big issues in my life that I know I am procrastinating on.  I won’t go into them here, but I know fear of change is what is making me hesitate, amongst many other things.

These are serious, life changing decisions… and perhaps procrastination is the wrong word.  I’ve made the decision I need to make; it’s now just a matter of timing.

Even though, fear still holds me back.

So, this week I have to recognise procrastination when it rears its head, ask myself what’s going on, and get my shit together.

Could be a confronting week.

Peace out.