Tag Archives: funny

Don’t Work Too Hard

My brain gets stuck on things sometimes. Some of those things don’t make any sense at all to be obsessing over. But I do it anyway. And in a week where nothing came to me for my blog, I’ll write about what’s been stuck in my brain. I have nothing profound to offer in this, but at the very least, this will be a glimpse into what goes on in my head occasionally. So, if you see me deep in thought and I look like I’m pondering some important life-changing knowledge, I might only be contemplating some trivial nonsense that popped into my thoughts and is driving me nuts. Like this….

I’ve always wondered about the phrase “Don’t work too hard.” What does it mean? Be lazy? Slack off? Don’t give your full effort? I’ve always answered that statement by responding with, “Too late.” In school, our teachers always encouraged us to study hard. In sports, our coaches implored us to play or run hard. When mowing the grass as a teenager, my dad would tell me to do a good job, or I’d have to do it again. So, why then, when we get to adulthood do we tell each other “Don’t work too hard”? Isn’t that a contradiction of everything we were taught growing up?

But I’ve been thinking about this lately because someone at work recently told me “Don’t work too hard” as they were leaving for the day. And it’s been stuck in my head ever since. I know this topic for my blog might be a little different or weird compared to most of my other posts, but that’s how my brain works. Or, in some cases, doesn’t work. It’s just a corny, cliché phrase, something to say that might be funny in an ironic way. But for some reason, my brain is fixated on it.

I have worked hard in my life at every job I’ve ever had, at least in my adult life. I pride myself on being a hard worker. I also pride myself on being a smart worker, efficient and productive. Work smart, not hard, right? Either way, I earn my pay, that’s for sure. But then I think about some of my Army Reserve weekends and wonder if I do always earn my pay. There have been a few times that I was amazed we even got paid for some of the unproductive weekends I’ve been part of at various units. In fairness, some of the boring weekends are a result of budget cuts after the wars “ended” and the Reserves was again put at the end of the money train.

And then I thought, I shouldn’t feel bad about getting paid for not doing much once in a while on my Army Reserve weekends. I’ve been on two deployments, one to Iraq and one to Afghanistan, where I earned my pay ten times over. No overtime, no bonuses. Just work, every day. Long days. Hard days. Every day. I’m not complaining. I did sign up for that, and I wanted to be there. I volunteered for both of my deployments and I would go back right now and do it all again, the same hours for the same pay. This is simply a comment on how things balance out sometimes. And I don’t in the least feel bad about it.

I’ve worked with people that have taken “Don’t work too hard” seriously. It’s bothersome to me. And I’ve seen road crews where one guy is working and four others are standing around not working too hard. I’ve been in the Veterans Affairs system where it seems like only a few of the people I’ve dealt with even work at all, and even fewer work hard. Maybe this is the part where it’s balancing out for them. Maybe they already met their quota for hard work. I guess I can relate to that on some level, considering some of my Army Reserve weekends.

So, if you can get away with it once in a while, “Don’t work too hard.” But I don’t recommend that being your lifestyle or motto to live by. And I’m not sure what I accomplished with hashing this out here as opposed to in my head, aside from trying to stay disciplined to post every week. In any event, thanks for reading. I’ll do better next week. Good day, God bless.

Dave

PTSD Moments

For those of us that live with PTSD, depression, anxiety, or any other ‘invisible’ ailment that’s hard to describe or see, we have ‘moments.’ For me, I call them “PTSD moments.” All of us that are effected deal with them, sometimes it’s overwhelming, sometimes it’s not too bad. Most of my PTSD moments have to do with trouble falling asleep, weird or bad dreams, traffic, unexpected noises. Very minor stuff in the grand scheme of life. Since starting medication a couple years ago, and going through counseling, I have learned to deal with most of these things better than I used to. I have calmed down considerably compared to the time leading up to my failed suicide attempt and the few months that followed. But I do still have an overwhelming PTSD moment occasionally. This week, I had two of those moments, almost back to back.

The first of my two PTSD moments was at the restaurant I work at in the airport. I was changing out an empty keg in a walk-in cooler that has more stuff crammed into it than it should. It’s a confined space in the corner where the kegs are kept, and very difficult to change some of them. I got the empty keg pulled out with little problem, but when I was putting the new keg in its place, it slipped and slammed to the floor. The other kegs that were stacked on each other wobbled. The combination of the loud noise with the fear of being crushed by the kegs turned into a PTSD moment for me. I instantly got a headache. My vision blurred, I lost all focus, and just wanted to go home. I couldn’t even clearly vocalize my thoughts for a few minutes after that incident. It was a similar feeling to when I got rear-ended by a vehicle doing 40 mph while I was sitting still, but without as much of the physical pain.

My second PTSD moment was only ten hours after the first one, at 1:30 in the morning. My headache had finally subsided. I had gone to bed early and I was very much asleep. And sleeping well, I might add. I was awakened by a thud, loud voices, and the sound of a waterfall. I jumped out of bed, heart racing, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. I was ready to throw punches, but I had no idea at whom. To make a long story short, the upstairs neighbors had a plumbing problem that caused gallons of water to make its way from the bathroom in their unit to the bathroom in my unit until they could turn off the water behind their commode. Until then, it was flowing through the vent in the bathroom ceiling all over the place.

I went upstairs and knocked on the neighbor’s door. Partly to make sure everything was OK, and partly to make sure they knew that their water was showering down into my bathroom. One of them explained, “The porcelain broke while we were going to the bathroom.” What entered my mind was “While WE”? But I didn’t say anything, just wondered why were “WE” going to the bathroom? I don’t know about you, but the porcelain in my bathroom is single serve. Perhaps they exceeded the weight limit on their porcelain by trying “WE”. Yes, even though what happened next is not funny, I still try to find the humor in most everything, even with the upstairs neighbors raining toilet water into my bathroom. On a side note, that was the first time I met my upstairs neighbors.

After the commotion, I went back to bed. But I could not fall asleep. It was after 3am, probably closer to 4am when I finally dozed off again. And when I did, I had horrible, dark dreams. Very demented stuff going on in my subconscious while I tried to slumber. I won’t go into detail about what I dreamt about after waking up in full adrenaline and defense modes, but it was very disturbing to me. It was the kind of stuff my previous therapist would spend a whole session on. My dreams that morning had lots of death in them after I finally fell asleep after the waterfall incident and I’m still bothered by what my mind had going on inside it. I know I can’t really control what I dream about, but it is still unsettling.

Life went back to ‘normal’ after the two PTSD moments, whatever ‘normal’ is. But while dealing with those moments, it was tough. And not just the specific moments, but the aftermath of each moment was somewhat overwhelming. Debilitating headache, horrible dreams, brief loss of mental functions. It’s what I live with. All the progress I’ve made in the last year and a half doesn’t matter sometimes. I know I’m still, and forever will be, on a recovery road with PTSD and my PTSD moments. It’s uncommon for me lately to have a PTSD moment as severe as the two I’ve written about here. But they will still happen to me none the less. And I have little, if any, control of how I or my body and mind react to them when the moments seem severe. I think that bothers me just as much as the moments themselves, not being able to control it.

But I’m always making progress, even if I take one step back to my two steps forward. Thanks for reading this week. Good day, God bless.

Dave

Other posts related to this:

Memories and Afghanistan

Recovery, It’s Not That Easy.

PTSD is Contagious!

 

This Page Intentionally Left Blank

In trying to figure out what to post this week, I asked my boys if they had any ideas. They were less than helpful, but entertaining none-the-less with their suggestions. I thought I’d do something a little entertaining myself here this week.

We’ve all seen the signs. Funny signs. Signs that don’t make sense or just lead to more questions. Very much like the “This Page Intentionally Left Blank” page seen in most Army manuals. I have no idea what they are trying to accomplish with that. But I do have quite a few pictures of silly signs. I will share some of them here. Most of these came from my last deployment during visits to various bases in Afghanistan (unless otherwise noted).

Above, we have a sign that says it’s no longer a door.  But is has a door knob, door frame, and hinges. It is a door!  Next to it a sign I found at Fort Bragg where a door in the brick wall simply doesn’t even exist.  I wonder if it ever did. And I wonder why they had to put a sign there to tell us it doesn’t exist.

There’s even humor in the restrooms.  Not even going to ask what happened to prompt these signs being posted.  I don’t think I want to know. I’m sure I don’t want to know.

On the left, we have an informative sign about what not to do while in Kandahar.  Seriously, we were at war, not at the mall.  On the right, a sign so secret that you aren’t allowed to know what it says, and that’s an order.

Of course I’m going to give way to aircraft.  Duh!  And of course I’m going to take a picture of the sign that says, “No Photos.”  The irony of that makes me smile. I’m such a rebel.

First of all, that is a trash can.  I’m sure of it.  It also doubles as an alarm clock in Basic Training.  And your peanut butter may contain peanut products?  Who would have thought?

On the left, it says no more ID checks at this door, to proceed into the building.  Um, did the cutbacks effect security that much? And shouldn’t there be some kind of note on it that says if you’re one of the bad guys, DON’T proceed into the building?  On the right, I made the van stop here while at Fort Hood so I could have my picture made with that sign.

On the left… ok, can I really cut my way out of a C-17 with that little hand axe?  Shouldn’t they have just put a door there? Unless it’s no longer a door or a door that doesn’t exist.  And on the right, I’m pretty sure we already know that that’s a confined space. There were a number of those signs on the base I lived at. Not sure what their purpose was.

DSCN5735

And last, but not least, you gotta love the Brits.  This was an actual sign you must read when signing in for lodging at one of the bases we stayed at in Afghanistan.  When I asked them if I could take it outside to photograph it (no pictures allowed inside that building), they offered to let me keep it.  So kind, those Brits.  But I figured a picture was enough.

I hope you enjoyed this week’s post.  I enjoyed the memories of going through some of the pictures I took while deployed. I could write a complete story for most of these pictures, but captions will have to do this time.  Good day, God bless.

Dave

 

That Was Funny

For those of you that know me personally, you know I like to laugh and find the humor in things. Whether it’s making fun of myself or laughing at you, if it’s funny, I’m going to enjoy it and point out the humor. Sometimes things are funny, even if they are unflattering or embarrassing to the person who is the object of the humor. We’ve all been there. We’ve all laughed at someone that has fallen down and we’ve been laughed at for doing the same.

This was a topic of discussion recently on a morning radio talk show that I like to listen to, The Rick and Bubba Show. Apparently, a picture of a woman that fell out of her scooter at a Wal-Mart was seen all over the internet. I’m not sure if it’s one I’ve seen or not, but I’ve seen plenty of “People of Wal-Mart” memes on social media. And to be honest, some of them are pretty damn funny. What seemed to be different about this one, according to Rick and Bubba, was that the woman, whose face was not visible in the photo, was distraught and embarrassed by the photo. The only reason anyone knows who that woman was in the photo, was because she came out publicly to whine about it and say that it’s made her life miserable.  (You can check out Rick and Bubba at http://www.rickandbubba.com).

How many actors or comedians have made a living off the kind of physical humor like falling down, tripping, bumping his head? A lot of them. When Chevy Chase opens the attic stairs in “Christmas Vacation” and they crash into his face and he falls to the floor, that’s funny. It’s supposed to be funny. So, why is something in real life that is the same thing not funny to some people? Of course, provided no one is seriously injured. The woman that fell out of her scooter was not injured, except for her pride. So, maybe it was funny. It probably was.

During some training at Fort McCoy, Wisconsin, about 6 years ago, one of the soldiers in my tent fell out of his top bunk after he had fallen asleep. I could see his silhouette in the darkness as he stood straight up after hitting the ground. I asked, “Did you roll out of your bunk asleep or did you fall trying to get down?” He responded in a groggy, confused voice as he tried to piece it all together, “I’m not sure.” Ladies and gentlemen, that was funny. I still laugh at that today. Because it was funny.

Picture this: We’re in Iraq, 2009, our last day, getting ready to load up and head south to start our trip home. To say we were all excited is understatement. One fellow soldier was a little too excited and while doing something with his weapon, smacked himself in the face with the stock of his M-4. It was bad enough that he was bleeding all over the place. Our “Doc” fixed him up and made sure he didn’t need stitches. But to add insult to injury, Doc put a Smurf Band-Aid over the cut when he was done tending the wound. That’s freaking hilarious. A combat veteran wearing a child’s Band-Aid on his face. I took video of the job Doc did on fixing him up, narrating the whole time and asking the guy if he was going to put in for the Purple Heart. He was a good sport. He was laughing and making fun of himself as well. Which was good, because all the rest of us gave him hell. Because it was funny.

What’s the difference between the examples above? What causes us to react to embarrassment in different ways? Here’s a couple of times I fell down and looked like an idiot. In Iraq, I was coming down the steps at the chapel, moving swiftly. I was in full gear. I lost my footing and took a nose-dive. I managed to fall gracefully by rolling and coming right back up to my feet still in stride. As I passed a soldier sitting outside the chapel I quipped, “that’s was pretty good, huh?” I was smiling and chuckling at myself. In my mind I did perfect combat roll, but I’m sure in reality I looked like a clumsy fool. But I laughed. Because it was funny.

In contrasts, not long after I got back from Afghanistan, I was walking through my front door and our dog at the time charged at me and laid me flat out on the ground, escaping the house. The dog then jumped the fence and ran loose in the neighborhood. I was fuming. I was beyond mad and could have strangled that dog had I got my hands on it. Just to be honest, if I had watch that happen to you I would be laughing my butt off. Because it would have been funny.

Here’s the difference. It was my mindset. It was not that I had fallen. I don’t mind being embarrassed by my clumsiness, especially if it’s funny. I make plenty fun of myself when I can. And I will laugh at you from time to time as well. But I had fallen in life. My mind was not right. My confidence and self-esteem were at all-time lows. The reality I was projecting for myself was a façade because I didn’t want anyone to know what was going on in my head. It was my view of my life and the strange things happening in my mind that I hated, and that bled over into how I reacted to things.

It was still funny that the dog bowled me over, just not to me that day. I try to see the humor in things and make the best of most situations, even if I’m the butt of the joke. I invite you to laugh at me if you see me fall off a ladder, stub my toe, or walk into a closed door. And I promise I will laugh at you as well. But if you fall down in life, I will do my best to encourage and lift you back up. I hope you will do the same for me. Thanks for reading this week. Good day, God bless.

Dave