Dec. 13, 2011

Prompt: I’ve come to like aggravation.

* * *

Aggravation is my way of life. How else would I get anything done? I am just like an oyster with a little grain of sand stuck in my shell that keeps irritating me. I try to expel it but it grows and grows until it becomes a pearl. Flaubert would say he is not just the little piece of sand but also the oyster, the sea, the universe. It makes me tired.
--Joanne Sinsheimer, RBWG member

* * *

I saw him again this Thanksgiving. Each of us came alone and so we sat together and the happy feelings came flooding back.

All night I stayed by his side like some lost little puppy dog till finally I said we should try again. I figured he'd treated it all as a joke till he called about a week later.

So excited I broke off with the man I'd been dating for the past 4 months broke it all off even before date one with Michael.

We have still not made it to date one. But exactly one week from that first phone call I realize why we never made the distance.

I've come to dislike aggravation.
--Oreet Zohar, RBWG member

* * *

I’ve come to like aggravation, or at least to see it as life-affirming and productive. I'm not the first to get to this spot of acceptance. Leon Festinger made a career out of the words "cognitive dissonancy," which means is his shorthand for the phenomenon involved when some inconsistency (or "aggravation") causes one almost involuntarily to engage in active thinking. I tend to be a phlegmatic beast when left to myself. Without aggravation, I suspect my life would have been much less eventful.
--Tom Hoyer, RBWG member

* * *

I'd lived with the lost socks for so long that it didn't seem possible other people had pairs, pairs that matched, that had the little horses embroidered on the outside left of the ankle. That is how you are supposed to wear socks if you are a man. I didn't know that, and wasn't certain that women’s hose had right and left feet. These were the early discussions, “why can't you ever figure out..." which led to arguments, "if you would turn on the damned dryer, we'd have socks, and clean towels." We spent the first month not changing the bed linens. I couldn't be that type of woman; I was too modern, too hip, too right, which was important. He was a pain in my side. Leaving his things in my space. Not that the sex wasn't good, it just couldn't compete with the mounds of mess we made as a couple.
I didn't tell him that I rented a different apartment, nor that I was leaving at the end of the week. By Sunday, on the other side of town, I sat in my neat studio apartment, the unpacked boxes stacked as I liked them, in alphabetical order, with the designated room initialed after the contents. I liked my things organized. The evening light shone into my as yet curtainless, but smudge free windows. There was no smell of hamburger grease, or his snorting at my folded edges of the bath towels. I looked to pick a problem, but I was perfect. Alone, and perfectly in order, and I waited until I drank my first glass of wine to admit I missed him, and I'd come to need his aggravation.
--Mary Pauer, RBWG member

* * *

Losing a job is no laughing matter. Not only do the bills pile up without payments in sight, but the antacids don't even begin to cut into the sour stomach feeling. Then there is the loss of self esteem and the influx of feeling like a failure to those around you.

Now, while the job search can be humiliating and daunting, to say the least, the unemployment checks do make for a highlight in the day. Being rejected by companies for someone younger, with less experience, who they can pay, less remains bewildering and saddens the heart.

But I tell you, when that new opportunity to work again comes along, no matter what the position is, the heart sores again! A paycheck, use of the alarm again, the need to restart to shower every day, all resurface. And, you find yourself smiling when you realize that sitting in the rush hour traffic, listening to gossip by the water cooler, and yes, I've come to like aggravation for deadlines, all of these are actually worth it...when you consider the alternative!
--Nancy Janssen--RBWG member

* * *




Dec. 13, 2011 Prompt: I’ve come to like aggravation. * * * Aggravation is my way of life. How else would I get anything done? I am just like an oyster with a little grain of sand stuck in my shell that keeps irritating me. I try to expel it but it grows and grows until it becomes a pearl. Flaubert would say he is not just the little piece of sand but also the oyster, the sea, the universe. It makes me tired. --Joanne Sinsheimer, RBWG member * * * I saw him again this Thanksgiving. Each of us came alone and so we sat together and the happy feelings came flooding back. All night I stayed by his side like some lost little puppy dog till finally I said we should try again. I figured he'd treated it all as a joke till he called about a week later. So excited I broke off with the man I'd been dating for the past 4 months broke it all off even before date one with Michael. We have still not made it to date one. But exactly one week from that first phone call I realize why we never made the distance. I've come to dislike aggravation. --Oreet Zohar, RBWG member * * * I’ve come to like aggravation, or at least to see it as life-affirming and productive. I'm not the first to get to this spot of acceptance. Leon Festinger made a career out of the words "cognitive dissonancy," which means is his shorthand for the phenomenon involved when some inconsistency (or "aggravation") causes one almost involuntarily to engage in active thinking. I tend to be a phlegmatic beast when left to myself. Without aggravation, I suspect my life would have been much less eventful. --Tom Hoyer, RBWG member * * * I'd lived with the lost socks for so long that it didn't seem possible other people had pairs, pairs that matched, that had the little horses embroidered on the outside left of the ankle. That is how you are supposed to wear socks if you are a man. I didn't know that, and wasn't certain that women’s hose had right and left feet. These were the early discussions, “why can't you ever figure out..." which led to arguments, "if you would turn on the damned dryer, we'd have socks, and clean towels." We spent the first month not changing the bed linens. I couldn't be that type of woman; I was too modern, too hip, too right, which was important. He was a pain in my side. Leaving his things in my space. Not that the sex wasn't good, it just couldn't compete with the mounds of mess we made as a couple. I didn't tell him that I rented a different apartment, nor that I was leaving at the end of the week. By Sunday, on the other side of town, I sat in my neat studio apartment, the unpacked boxes stacked as I liked them, in alphabetical order, with the designated room initialed after the contents. I liked my things organized. The evening light shone into my as yet curtainless, but smudge free windows. There was no smell of hamburger grease, or his snorting at my folded edges of the bath towels. I looked to pick a problem, but I was perfect. Alone, and perfectly in order, and I waited until I drank my first glass of wine to admit I missed him, and I'd come to need his aggravation. --Mary Pauer, RBWG member * * * Losing a job is no laughing matter. Not only do the bills pile up without payments in sight, but the antacids don't even begin to cut into the sour stomach feeling. Then there is the loss of self esteem and the influx of feeling like a failure to those around you. Now, while the job search can be humiliating and daunting, to say the least, the unemployment checks do make for a highlight in the day. Being rejected by companies for someone younger, with less experience, who they can pay, less remains bewildering and saddens the heart. But I tell you, when that new opportunity to work again comes along, no matter what the position is, the heart sores again! A paycheck, use of the alarm again, the need to restart to shower every day, all resurface. And, you find yourself smiling when you realize that sitting in the rush hour traffic, listening to gossip by the water cooler, and yes, I've come to like aggravation for deadlines, all of these are actually worth it...when you consider the alternative! --Nancy Janssen--RBWG member * * *
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