Showing posts with label Mad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mad. Show all posts

Friday, January 24, 2014

Goldfish: Past and Present

I had goldfish as a little girl.  I remember when my Dad took me to Kmart and bought me a 10-gallon aquarium. He let me pick which rocks I wanted (azure blue) and which statue I wanted (a magenta and purple grotto) and finally which fish.  Out of the tank of 89-centers I picked my fave.  And named him Goldy.
When Goldy died, I got Goldy 2.
Followed by Goldy 3.
And then Goldy 4.
And the suffixed numbers in their name were pronounced.  If someone asked my fish's name I would tell them, "Goldy Three." 
After Goldy 4 my next fish was Neptune.  He was also a goldfish.  Maybe it was a break of the Goldy Curse but I had Neptune so long and he go so big I called and donated him to the Pittsburgh Zoo.  He needed a bigger habitat than I could provide.  As an adult, this story seems far-fetched.  I was 10.  I had a goldfish I thought was outgrowing it's aquarium so I called the zoo.  And with my altruistic heart, donated my .89 cent fish to the zoo.  What a philanthropist!

When we moved back to Idaho Falls, this past Thanksgiving, I took the boys over to see my neighbor Lee.  He and his wife are also from da Burgh and live right behind us.  In his basement he had 3 huge 'UGE aquariums.  The big 55 gallon monsters.  The boys were mezza-merized.   The next day Lee called and said he was gonna give the boys one of his aquariums for Christmas if I was okay with it.  Psht.  Hell Yeah!  Lee kept his fish and we got one gorgeous tank.  In time (after the proper bacteria had accumulated) we got three little fish of our own.  I named mine Ari Gold, Ken named him Gilligan, and Kole was at a loss on what to name his.  I started naming some names he liked; "Gordon," "Thomas," "Scotty," "Koley," "Charlie," "Tony,"
At which point Kole yelled, "Yeah!  PONY!"
So Tony became Pony and we had our fish named.
Now little Pony had some birth defects.  He looked like a hunchback goldfish.  His poor fin was stunted and he looked like he'd been picked on a lot.  I felt bad for Pony.  There goes that over-sized heart again.  I did my best to treat Pony well...nay.  I did my best to treat Pony way better than the other fish.
Which, I mean, is hard to do with fish.
But I'd put in extra food in where he was swimming and... well... that's it.
Come on.  What other ways are there?
I did always tell Kole and Joey to be nice to him and not talk about his funny fin.
He was our fish. And we were happy to have him. And we loved him no matter what.
I really felt good to have Pony safe in our tank.
Where no other fish could pick on him.
Or call him mean Fish Names behind his dorsal.  Or post rumors on their Fish Facebook pages.  Or unkindly mimic his crooked swimming.
He was safe from all the bullying in my tank.  Under my aquatic maternal wing.
Things were calm under the water.
But then one day, at dinner time, I noticed Pony chasing Ari and Gil away from the food.  He'd just swim real fast by them and kinda surprise them so they'd swim away.
I was shocked!
"Pony!  Be nice to them!"
Which probably sounded like "OOOnnnnnnN!  Ooouu gauoouuu mmmm!"
You know.  *clears throat* Under water sounds weird.
I tapped on the glass by him as a warning.  You know.  I'm in charge, Pony.  You listen up!
Needless to say my disciplining had no effect WHATsoever!
Pony just kept pestering the other fish. And not just at breakfast and dinner.  He was bullying them for pleasure.
 The drilling is Ken working on our shelving- but it kinda fits the scene.  Does it not?
When I discussed the issue with Ken- he was completely flippant.
"They're fish, babe."
"Yes.  They are.  And one fish is mistreating the other fish."
He didn't seem all too bothered by it.  Where's your heart, man!

I stayed up thinking about Pony:
He was probably bullied at some point in his life.
He looks weird.  He swims funny.  I bet he's been made fun of.
He's probably had a hard time making friends.  He's just passing it on.  He doesn't know any better.  This is how bullies are.
Maybe he comes from a single-parent home.  Maybe he's missed out on loving relationships.
Maybe he's suffering from depression or anxiety.  Maybe he misses the big tank at the pet store.
Maybe he views himself negatively and just needs steady positive reinforcement.

At this point I started dreaming up my business cards:
Patty Poulsen, PhD
Fish Psychologist


For 3 days I watched Pony bully my other two fish.
I watched Ari and Gilligan try to make themselves shrink and swim in smaller and smaller circles.
No amount of glass tapping and above-to-underwater scolding was reaching this dang fish!
One morning.  I woke up.  And Gil and Ari were hiding in the plant while Pony swam circles around them occasionally nosediving at them.
That was it!  I could justify his behavior...NO MORE!
I got a Mason jar.  Filled it up.  And scooped Pony into it.
"You're in Solitary Confinement today, Mister!  That's right The SHU!  Get used to it, Meanie!"


My next step was obvious.
Call the pet store.
They told me their policy for aquatic animals was 14 days for full refund.
So, after the kids went to bed, and after a full day in The Box for Pony I toted him back to Petco.
Their first question after realizing he wasn't dead was "Is he sick?"
I explained he was perfectly healthy and that he was just mean.
The two men just stared at me.
"What?," I said.
"You are returning him... because... he's mean?"
"Yeah." (I was not getting their surprise.)  "He's a bully.  And he's terrorizing my other fish and I don't want him in my aquarium.  He's too mean."
They just kept staring at me.  Mouths a-dropped.
So I continued, "Your return policy stipulates 14 days.  I'm under that mark.  I no longer want this aggressive fish.  I am returning him.  I have my receipt."
At which time I handed over Pony.  In the jar.  With my receipt.
And you bet your butt I got my dollar sixty-five back. Psht.  I also told the pet store people they should let prospective buyers know about Pony's past.  But I think they quit listening after they handed me my change and dumped Pony back in the tank with 35 other one-inch goldfish.

A few days later, after Ari and Gil felt comfortable swimming in the open water again we got 3 more fish to complete our aquarium.

And, thank heaven, they all seem to be getting along swimmingly.



Harvey

Gilligan (Gil)

CiCi

Shelby
Ari Gold

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Girl. You Better Work.



I had multiple fights/arguments/tiffs with each of my teachers last semester.  They all taught a section on classical conditioning which included a lesson teaching that, "Pretty people get what they want."  The teachers (and literature) explained that people who were pretty had more success in life, they got higher raises more often, they landed the job interviews, they got special treatment at restaurants and doctor's offices.  Pretty people are assumed to be trustworthy, friendly, and helpful.  Pretty people are likable.  This subject is driven home by research studies, psychological journals, statistics, and hours of lecture.

And it just gets under my skin.
I refuse to believe that pretty people get what they want based solely on their looks.

Then this happened:

My mom has a picture of my sisters and I on her desk.  A colleague stopped in, saw the picture, and asked about us.  My mom listed our recent accomplishments:

This one just won a Photoshop Guru Award.


This one ran a marathon this year and is editor of TABLE magazine.


This one has practically started a DIY enterprise with her blog


This one is single-handedly raising her 3 kids and really focuses on meditation and inner peace.


This one is at The University of Utah and just made the Dean's List and she's my favorite.
(That last part was about me and I elaborated on it a little.  Wert.)


She ended with something like, "They are all very successful women."
To which the other teacher responded:
"Well.  That's because they're pretty."

Stop.
Right.
There.

"They're pretty?"  Really?  "They're pretty."  And THAT'S why they're successful?


Pretty's got nothing to do with it.

You want a job?
You kick ASS on your resume.
You prep for your interview.
And you dress the part.

You want a raise?
You put in the hours.
You work harder.
You don't mess up.  Ever.
You be polite.
You don't procrastinate.
You earn it.

You want the big house?  The picket fence?  The pool?
You save your money.

You want a date with someone?
You ask them.

You want people to like you?
Be yourself.
Help out.
Tell the truth.

The way I've built my life was on purpose. 
I chose the man I married.
I asked him out.
I'm at the school I want to attend.
Getting the degree I want.
Getting the grades I want.
I ask questions.
I pick up new hobbies.
I sweat it out.
I push and I push and I push.
Kindly.
But I push.

I have dug in my heels over and over again.
I.  Don't.  Give. Up.

I work for it.

If that's a GPA, a job, or belting out some Cher on karaoke night.
I know I have what it takes.

You have what it takes too.
So, quit selling yourself short.

Quit saying, "They get their way because they're pretty."
That's insulting.
To me.

Because I have substance.

If you put this much more work into it.
If you tried.
You'd be amazed.

There's nothing more annoying than hearing, "I could never do that" and "I don't have the time."
Because 1.  Yes you can.  If someone can, you can.  If no one ever has... you still can.
And 2.  Everyone has the same amount of time. 24 hours.  You have the time.  Quit being lazy.

So the next time you call me pretty... and I say "Thanks"... know it's because I assume you also know that I am wickedly smart.  I am talented.  I've got a lot more to offer than just my billion dollar smile.


 

On a test last semester the following question was posted:

You are in charge of planning the debate for your political party's campaign this Saturday afternoon.  The topics are heavy and not very interesting.  Based on what you've learned about Classical Conditioning who would you pick to be your speaker?

A.  A non-attractive person who is funny but does not know the material very well.
B.  An non-attractive person who does not know the material very well.
C.  An attractive person who may or may not know the material.
D.  A person who knows the material very very well.

The correct answer was "C."  I put "D."  And wrote under it, "You'd be stupid not to."


Friday, April 5, 2013

E is for Every Time

Today.  Well recently.  The last 2 years and 9 months it has seemed like every time I have something planned or something I need to do... the kids interfere or find a way to meddle.  Every thing.  Every time.

Say we have to get to church at 9:00 AM.  I purposely set the clock for a half hour before they get up so I can shower and start getting ready before they are up and at 'em.  But, wouldn't you know it, they both wake up early that day.  So it's all the regular frenetics just an extra half hour of it.
Say one of them has a doctor appointment.  We're all set to leave on time, everyone is strapped into their car seat, and.... hmm.  Suddenly it's very smelly.  And Kole is smiling.  I change him in the trunk so we don't have to go back inside and as soon as he's strapped in again- Joey is giggling.  And smelly.  Every time.
Say I get a Redbox and plan for an evening in with a special snack and a horrible romantic comedy (because really the worse those are... the better they seem).  I get dinner and baths done a little early, put them into bed, take a long shower, slip into my Soma jammas, set up the movie, turn off the lights... and as soon as the previews are over... Kole is knocking on his door needing something.  Anything!  Anything he can think of.  Fresh water, another train engine in bed, different pajamas.  After settling him (and myself) down I head back to the movie.  Push play and....Joey is crying.  Every time.
Say I have plans to meet a friend... one of them will be sick.  Every time.
Say I finished cleaning the kitchen... there will be an unexpected spill/sticky mess/mud exhibit.  Every time.
Say I am making an important phone call... someone will get hurt and scream.  Every time.
Say I get dressed and do my hair and get everyone's shoes on to go to the store... Joey will puke on me.  Right on my head.  Gross and smelly and warm in my hair.  Every time.
Say I want to go to the bathroom... there will be little attendees in there with questions and questions and questions.  Every time.
Say I buy a Coke... it gets spilled... or shaken.  And then spilled.   Every time. 
Say I want to _________.  The kids will  interfere, spoil, or wreck.

I know they're cute.
But you can save all your "You're gonna miss this" and "they are blessings" and "have patience" comments today.  I'm mopey and frustrated and deprived of personal time.  I'd rather just have a commiseration party. 

Last year's A to Z: E is for Everything As It Should Be.  I was apparently also in a grouchy mood this day one year ago.  Yoiks.