Psychology at Home and at Work-Need Your Help
Psychology is such an interesting subject, trying to figure out how to work best with your co-workers, family members, how to get ahead, stay out of trouble, have fun, and survive the day to day traumas of the "real world".
Well, yesterday I was trying to figure out how to deal with a co-worker who portrays themselves as a victim to get what they want. I started researching stuff about victims, but had a hard time finding out how to stop someone from playing that victim role with you to get sympathy. I finally found something that talked about these people, and that they are really covertly agressive (lots of jargon), and that they prey on the fact that most people don't want to be thought of as hard, unsympathetic, etc.
I guess my issue is why do we have to work so hard at this? Why can't people be straight up and say, "I want to do this my way", and then we could discuss what the other options could be. Why is there so little compromise with some people? Did some people get stuck in the me-centric phase and never get to the point that they can see things from someone else's perspective?
It's all very strange. It's like competition. In most cases, it's not about winning and losing, but some people make it that way, they want to win, at any cost. What about everybody winning.
When my kids were little I was always trying to get them to see the compromise position. Easier said than done. My ex-husband didn't believe in compromise-it was his way or no way. He even told me one time, "Why don't you just agree with me". I told him that if he wanted a "yes" wife he had definitely married the wrong person. (Guess that's why he is my Ex). The bottom line is that we are all in this together, moving towards a common goal of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. If we have to stand on someone's head and push them down into the mud to get there, is that happiness? If we can be happy and make others happy with us, doesn't that compound the happiness?
Well, if anyone has any ideas on how to stop somebody from using the victim role to get their way, I would greatly appreciate your suggestions.
Happy Friday
Friday, July 07, 2006
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Getting Traffic To Your Blog
I'm not sure why I want traffic to my blog--I guess, it would just be nice to see someone comment good or bad about my wanderings, so here are some words that supposedly help generate traffic. Sorry for any misguidance.
Adding these words may help attract some traffic: The One Percent Doctrine Ron Susk..., Martin Taylor, Clay Aiken, World Cup, Myspace, Tamara Hoover, Singapore, Supernova. Of course I don't know how to hotlink these things to my blog, but so it goes.
Of course I won't know whether you came or not, but if you do, at least say hello before you leave.
I'm not sure why I want traffic to my blog--I guess, it would just be nice to see someone comment good or bad about my wanderings, so here are some words that supposedly help generate traffic. Sorry for any misguidance.
Adding these words may help attract some traffic: The One Percent Doctrine Ron Susk..., Martin Taylor, Clay Aiken, World Cup, Myspace, Tamara Hoover, Singapore, Supernova. Of course I don't know how to hotlink these things to my blog, but so it goes.
Of course I won't know whether you came or not, but if you do, at least say hello before you leave.
The Mother of Inventions:
It always amazes me the things that happen that just make you want to say, why me? It's not big things or dangerous things, but just those kinds of things that make you crazy. One of those things happened to me this weekend. I went to spend part of the Fourth holiday with my Mom. (My Dad died in November, and my Mom has had to get used to being on her own after 60 years of marriage). We decided that since we wouldn't be at her house for the holiday (I had to come back to go to work), we decided to host the other families on the mountain for dinner. So, we got organized, started early while it was cool, and tried to get as much ready as possible. We were doing really well until my Mom decided to put the pans of rolls on the back of the stove to rise. Needless to say, you know what happened. One of the pans somehow, fell behind the stove. Now this is a stove that hasn't been moved in probably 20 years, so it would have taken a crow bar to get it moved forward to get that pan out, and we couldn't leave the pan and dough back there, (mouse problems). Access to the back of the stove was complicated by the fact that there was a cabinet above the stove. My first thought was to get a coat hanger (the answer to so many problems) and try to snag the pan with the dough still in it. Of course this wasn't working very well. Then I remembered that I had gotten my Dad a thing for picking things up off the floor or from high places (he had a hard time bending over). So, I was able to snag the pan (of course the dough fell out) and then snag the dough (luckily it held together in a big ball), and retrieve the item from behind the stove. Of course I have the black and blue marks on my arm from forcing it down in the space behind the stove. I couldn't convince my Mom to keep the dough (just kidding). So it goes, as Kurt Vonnegut would say, Here I am cleaning the ... off of everything.
It always amazes me the things that happen that just make you want to say, why me? It's not big things or dangerous things, but just those kinds of things that make you crazy. One of those things happened to me this weekend. I went to spend part of the Fourth holiday with my Mom. (My Dad died in November, and my Mom has had to get used to being on her own after 60 years of marriage). We decided that since we wouldn't be at her house for the holiday (I had to come back to go to work), we decided to host the other families on the mountain for dinner. So, we got organized, started early while it was cool, and tried to get as much ready as possible. We were doing really well until my Mom decided to put the pans of rolls on the back of the stove to rise. Needless to say, you know what happened. One of the pans somehow, fell behind the stove. Now this is a stove that hasn't been moved in probably 20 years, so it would have taken a crow bar to get it moved forward to get that pan out, and we couldn't leave the pan and dough back there, (mouse problems). Access to the back of the stove was complicated by the fact that there was a cabinet above the stove. My first thought was to get a coat hanger (the answer to so many problems) and try to snag the pan with the dough still in it. Of course this wasn't working very well. Then I remembered that I had gotten my Dad a thing for picking things up off the floor or from high places (he had a hard time bending over). So, I was able to snag the pan (of course the dough fell out) and then snag the dough (luckily it held together in a big ball), and retrieve the item from behind the stove. Of course I have the black and blue marks on my arm from forcing it down in the space behind the stove. I couldn't convince my Mom to keep the dough (just kidding). So it goes, as Kurt Vonnegut would say, Here I am cleaning the ... off of everything.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Fourth of July
As the Fourth approaches, it makes me think back to the many Fourth of July events, parties, gatherings, fireworks, etc, that I have participated in. It always seemed to include watermelon, home made ice cream, and usually nature's fireworks of a thunderstorm. Growing up in the south, there were always watermelon seed spitting contests, sunburns, over done hot dogs and underdone hamburgers. There was usually potato salad that set out on the table for hours(it's amazing we still survived), chips that got soggy with the humidity, and wilted pickles. Fire work displays were from the very simple (sparklers), to the very complex. I will never forget 1976 and the bicentennial celebrations (of course I watched them on TV), the tall ships, flipping channels to catch all of the different fire works shows across the country. One of my friends in New Mexico traded work on a hot tub for a ton of fireworks that they lit in their field, while they were half drunk (another survival story). But the Fourth I remember the most was the time we spent in Chaco Canyon, New Mexico. We were on vacation out west and were headed to Yellowstone and the Tetons. I had been reading a book written by archeologists about Chaco Canyon, and I was determined I wanted to go. My husband, who is an archeologist had been to Chaco many times, but I persuaded him to drive the 27 miles of washboard dirt road to take me to Chaco. We were one family of about 20 at the campground. It was so still, no fireworks, no parties, just experiencing the history and the lives of those that had gone before. I don't think I have ever seen so many stars. The only sound was the lone coyote, the breeze, and the whisperings of the families that had gone before. In our celebration of the freedom of this country, I hope that some of us remember the freedom that was taken from those that lived here first.
As the Fourth approaches, it makes me think back to the many Fourth of July events, parties, gatherings, fireworks, etc, that I have participated in. It always seemed to include watermelon, home made ice cream, and usually nature's fireworks of a thunderstorm. Growing up in the south, there were always watermelon seed spitting contests, sunburns, over done hot dogs and underdone hamburgers. There was usually potato salad that set out on the table for hours(it's amazing we still survived), chips that got soggy with the humidity, and wilted pickles. Fire work displays were from the very simple (sparklers), to the very complex. I will never forget 1976 and the bicentennial celebrations (of course I watched them on TV), the tall ships, flipping channels to catch all of the different fire works shows across the country. One of my friends in New Mexico traded work on a hot tub for a ton of fireworks that they lit in their field, while they were half drunk (another survival story). But the Fourth I remember the most was the time we spent in Chaco Canyon, New Mexico. We were on vacation out west and were headed to Yellowstone and the Tetons. I had been reading a book written by archeologists about Chaco Canyon, and I was determined I wanted to go. My husband, who is an archeologist had been to Chaco many times, but I persuaded him to drive the 27 miles of washboard dirt road to take me to Chaco. We were one family of about 20 at the campground. It was so still, no fireworks, no parties, just experiencing the history and the lives of those that had gone before. I don't think I have ever seen so many stars. The only sound was the lone coyote, the breeze, and the whisperings of the families that had gone before. In our celebration of the freedom of this country, I hope that some of us remember the freedom that was taken from those that lived here first.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Digital Cameras
So, I don't know how many of you have made the plunge and bought a digital camera, but my husband decided I was borrowing his too much, so I got one as a Christmas present a couple of years ago. The problem with digital cameras is that since you don't always pay to print the pictures, you keep taking the same picture over and over, trying to get it just right. This is probably my fourth rendition of this picture at the botanical gardens in Atlanta, and I still haven't gotten what I want from it. It gets a little frustrating. If you had to pay for the prints, you take it once, figure out you don't know what you are doing, and give up. This digital business means you try again, and again to try to get it just the way you want. The bottom line is you start thinking you are a "photographer" instead of a picture taker. I need to realize, I take pictures to capture a memory, not sell a picture. I need to learn to take what I get and be happy, it was the memory at the moment. And, unless you are Ansel Adams or some other famous photographer, who invests tons more time, effort, and equipment into the process-who would want it other than me anyway. So for those of us still trying to capture that one magic moment on film or digital, keep trying, the great thing is you can hit delete and try again, or until they close the gates and run you out.
So, I don't know how many of you have made the plunge and bought a digital camera, but my husband decided I was borrowing his too much, so I got one as a Christmas present a couple of years ago. The problem with digital cameras is that since you don't always pay to print the pictures, you keep taking the same picture over and over, trying to get it just right. This is probably my fourth rendition of this picture at the botanical gardens in Atlanta, and I still haven't gotten what I want from it. It gets a little frustrating. If you had to pay for the prints, you take it once, figure out you don't know what you are doing, and give up. This digital business means you try again, and again to try to get it just the way you want. The bottom line is you start thinking you are a "photographer" instead of a picture taker. I need to realize, I take pictures to capture a memory, not sell a picture. I need to learn to take what I get and be happy, it was the memory at the moment. And, unless you are Ansel Adams or some other famous photographer, who invests tons more time, effort, and equipment into the process-who would want it other than me anyway. So for those of us still trying to capture that one magic moment on film or digital, keep trying, the great thing is you can hit delete and try again, or until they close the gates and run you out.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Ghost stories:
Do you believe in ghosts? I have had several ghost encounters over my life, but the strangest of them all happened just recently in my house. We had always had that fleeting glimps of something just out of site that would move around in the living room, but had never really thought anything about it until my daughter came and told us of her encounter with a ghost cat. I had never heard of animal ghosts, but a little research showed that it is more common than one would imagine. Well, the gist of her story was that she was lying on the couch with her face to the back of the couch (she has migraines), when this ghost cat jumped up on the couch, she could feel it walking, and then heard a sick sounding purr close to her ear. She was so scared, she couldn't move anything. It then jumped up to the back of the couch, and disappeared. She was really freaked by it. I didn't think that much about it until one night I was babysitting for her and was lying on her bed when I felt something jump up on the bed, and I could hear a breathing sound. I had read that one thing you could do to get rid of ghost animals is to tell them to leave, so I told it in a loud whisper (didn't want to wake the kiddos) that it was not wanted at our house and that it should leave. As I told it to leave, the curtains moved, and we haven't seen it since. Strange stuff.
(if you are ever interested in hearing my other ghost stories, just let me know)
Cars
It's funny how cars work in my family. It seems like we trade them down through the family until finally somebody does it in. My parents gave me their 1968 volkswagon way back when, which I drove forever--not even sure what happened to that one. My parents gave me their old white ford aerostar-extended, which my husband drove to work until we gave it to my son, who took it and wrecked it. My oldest son got a car that he sold to my daughter who sold it to my youngest son for babysitting. I gave my son my suzuki sidekick, which he tore up and then finally sold, and now I'm giving him my suzuki esteem, but I'm already mourning it. It's been a great little car, and even though I wouldn't want to be in an accident with it, it has gotten me to and from work for the last 3 years. But, he needs a car, and I'd rather him not have to go into debt to buy a car, make payments, etc. Funny how we can get so attached to inanimate objects like cars. I never gave my car a name, but I've tried to keep it clean, and take relatively good care of it. The other part of giving away a car is trying to find one to replace it. Looking for good used cars is harder than finding a good man. Either way, they usually tell you lots of lies about how they run, and they try to cover up their imperfections. However, once you find a good used car, you can usually get a few good years out of them. That's not always the way with a man. (not me, I've got a good one and he's been running well for the past 12 years, but I hear stories. I lucked out when I met my present husband, I met all of his family, and when I saw how much they wanted to keep him for themselves, I figured he must be worth something. So Happy Sunday.
It's funny how cars work in my family. It seems like we trade them down through the family until finally somebody does it in. My parents gave me their 1968 volkswagon way back when, which I drove forever--not even sure what happened to that one. My parents gave me their old white ford aerostar-extended, which my husband drove to work until we gave it to my son, who took it and wrecked it. My oldest son got a car that he sold to my daughter who sold it to my youngest son for babysitting. I gave my son my suzuki sidekick, which he tore up and then finally sold, and now I'm giving him my suzuki esteem, but I'm already mourning it. It's been a great little car, and even though I wouldn't want to be in an accident with it, it has gotten me to and from work for the last 3 years. But, he needs a car, and I'd rather him not have to go into debt to buy a car, make payments, etc. Funny how we can get so attached to inanimate objects like cars. I never gave my car a name, but I've tried to keep it clean, and take relatively good care of it. The other part of giving away a car is trying to find one to replace it. Looking for good used cars is harder than finding a good man. Either way, they usually tell you lots of lies about how they run, and they try to cover up their imperfections. However, once you find a good used car, you can usually get a few good years out of them. That's not always the way with a man. (not me, I've got a good one and he's been running well for the past 12 years, but I hear stories. I lucked out when I met my present husband, I met all of his family, and when I saw how much they wanted to keep him for themselves, I figured he must be worth something. So Happy Sunday.
Saturday, June 24, 2006
TravelTravelling is one of those things that make getting through the weeks and weeks of work worthwile. It's just too bad I don't have a rich uncle to leave me some funds for only traveling, but so it goes. Our travel has been a little different than many because we both love being out in the middle of nowhere--no restaurants, no theater, just a place to bunk, a grill to cook on, a stream or river to fish in, etc. etc. We've had some great adventures, including Homer Alaska, Yellowstone, Glacier, Nova Scotia, the Olympic Peninsula in Washington and others.
Blogging for Fun
It seems like everyone else in my family has a blog, so I figured it was time to see what this new way of communicating was all about. I spend my day in front of a computer, answering email, so I'm not sure why I would want to do anything that was similar to what I already do. But, here it goes. People may wonder why I called my blog "Stranded in Atlanta". Well, until seven years ago, I lived in "heaven", Santa Fe, New Mexico. My work was 2 miles from my house and there was an award winning brew pub half way between the two. I loved the mountains, trails within three miles of my house, and more museums than you can shake a stick at. Then, for some crazy reason, I transferred to Atlanta, and looks like I'm here till retirement.
The funny thing is, I was born in Georgia, and lived here some as a kid, but as soon as I could escape Georgia and South Carolina, I was gone to California, Arizona, New Mexico, and Nevada. Did a stint on the Hopi Reservation, but that will be another story.
So for now, I will start by welcoming anyone who happens to drop by, to take your shoes off and set a spell, leave a message, and come on back again.
The funny thing is, I was born in Georgia, and lived here some as a kid, but as soon as I could escape Georgia and South Carolina, I was gone to California, Arizona, New Mexico, and Nevada. Did a stint on the Hopi Reservation, but that will be another story.
So for now, I will start by welcoming anyone who happens to drop by, to take your shoes off and set a spell, leave a message, and come on back again.
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