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Note: I wrote this yesterday evening. By the time it gets posted it will be Monday morning and I have slept and woke to another day and a much better mood. Spo.
I get rawther pensive on Sunday nights. About 8PM I get the sense of the weekend being over and the tasks accomplished. The bed has new linens on it. I have some tea candles burning and Enya ‘Watermark’ playing. It’s serene in that way I can never determine if it is a ‘good’ quiet or a sad one.
Sunday evening is when I am the most reflective who am I and where I have been and where I am going. There is often the sensation the answer is ‘not much’. Brother #3 was in town for a friend’s funeral; the man died at Christmas time from complications of alcoholism – such an ignominious end for someone in his 50s. I was supposed to die by my mid-thirties and here I am approaching my mid-sixties with developing bad knees and a vague terror of not feeling at all good about myself. I remember one of my professors suggestion whenever one is taking ourselves and Life too seriously, go watch a Marx Brothers movie, to remember Life is absurd and the best thing to do is recognize this and laugh at it.
Mind! I have nothing really to complain about; my blessing are legion. All the same on Sunday night facing another week of the same – which isn’t bad – there is a part of me that feels ‘why bother anymore’. Not to be worrying! This is a philosophical thought, not a sign of going off the deep end.
What I need to do is get some things on the 2026 calendar, things to look forward to- some trips to visit chums perhaps, or to a place unknown. Despite my body image and bad knees I persevere with stretching and exercise. After all, when one doesn’t know where one is going, the worst thing to do is to stop and not move until you have figured it out. Rather, you keep going; The Journey will reveal itself in time.
The blog anniversary of approaches. It is in early February and it celebrates twenty years of blogging, can you imagine? I ought to do something big for the day but what? The fact I have this milestone cheers me mightily. It strengthens me; it stiffens my resolve.
Note: this one was inspired by a day in which I got a negative online review, a shady comment on my blog, and a sneer from a young man at the gym over my looks and athletic abilities. Spo.
We strive to be our own, but we still care if others approve or disapprove of us. I’d by lying if I said the negative review didn’t upset me or I didn’t care what the young in-shape young man at the gym thought of my physique and efforts. Eons ago when our survival was dependent on each other, ostracism was certain death to be out on your own. Shame is a much older emotion than guilt; it keeps us ‘in tow’ into one coherent band for the sake of the tribe. You do something wrong and you blush to show the recognition of your error and you are contrite and please let me back in. Over time shame and ‘what others think of us’ allowed the development of society. Then a problem arose: there were enough people that a person could be more ‘individual’ and not just a member of a tribe. Since then being part and apart of a tribe is an ongoing conflict for most of us.
I see a lot of patients quite anxious about what others think of them, they are particularly sensitive to rejection. A slight sense of being disapproved of sends them into tail-spins of angst. Some patients are coming in with the self-diagnosis of ‘rejection sensitive dysphoria’, which is something I’ve never heard of, but upon examination it’s about Shame. Shame yanks our chains from the inner parts of our brain, the limbic system probably. The frontal cortex doesn’t give a tosh if some stranger looks upon us in disdain, but this isn’t always the winning vote as it were.
So what helps in those cases where shame is so prevalent? How to we assuage the power of shame?
The goal is not to never care what others think. For one thing, that’s not possible given our wiring, and you would be soon get into trouble. Thems who truly don’t care what others think of them and are without shame are sociopaths or head governments. And there are times when one ought to be ashamed. I remember in my childhood if someone was being rude or uncaring in public, my aunts had no qualms to tell the miscreant to stop that, that’s ugly, and you ought to be ashamed.
Here are a few things that help my patients; perhaps you too if you have Shame issues.
The number one thing is to remember people don’t care, This truth is both a blessing and a disappointment to realize. No one gives a tosh when you walk into a room. People think everyone is looking at them and judging them when in fact nobody is. This cognitive bias is called the ‘spotlight effect’. Even the ones who say nasty things don’t really care about you; they do so to get a rise out of you and they get off on this; it is not from any sense of caring.
I remember being at my piano teacher’s house for a recital. The adults were in the living room and her students were in the basement. We were called up one at a time and after our playing we were to walk through the applauding adults, open the door to basement, and return below stairs. I was quite anxious to play, which I did rather poorly I recall, given my performance anxiety. The adults all applauded but I ‘knew’ they were just being polite and were really jeering at me. I walked through them head down in order to avoid eye contact, I opened the door, and walked directly into the hall closet. I could hear behind the closed door their laughter. Part of me just wanted to stay right there but somehow I quickly knew what to do. Rather than coming out red in the face and running downstairs, I came out of the closet with a bang, waved my hand as if I had done a magic trick, and bowed and said something silly to make them laugh even more – but this time with me and not at my error. When you feel shame: own it; turn it into a joke. Laughter neutralizes shame when we share the human foible.
A colleague of mine suggests thems with shame sensitivity to think less judgmental about others, so you start thinking more in an observant mode. Example: someone cutting you off is traffic your thinking goes from ‘he’s a jerk’ to ‘he looks to be in a hurry”. I don’t find this one useful, but he does.
Shaming backfires when the one being shamed doesn’t give a damn if they are condemned or being ejected, but this is not easy.
After the sting of the online comments and the snickering of the young man in the gym, I laughed a little, knowing the online comment was rubbish and the young man will someday be in my place. And I still laugh out loud when caught with my pants down, as it were. As Lily Tomlin said, I realized at an early age people were laughing at me so I thought look I might as well try to be funny.
*Some societies are less open to individualism. Examples: individualism is frowned upon in North Korea and in many religious sects.
“The reward for lots of work seemed to be lots more. If you dug the biggest hole, they just gave you a bigger shovel.” Terry Prachtett.
I learned a new ‘law’ the other day. A podcast pundit talked about something called ‘The Jevons Paradox’. The Jevons Paradox states as technology makes a resource more efficient to use the overall consumption of that resource often increases not decreases, because the efficiency lowers the cost, in turn boosting demand and leading to more widespread application. This seemed related to a phenomena I have experience all the time: so-called labor saving devices do not create free time but more labor. I call it the “Lucy on the chocolate wrapping line phenomena.* I remember being more proficient than my colleagues when I worked at a state hospital. Discharging patients faster opened up beds and got me more admissions; I often worked far more than my colleagues who purposely held onto patients to avoid getting new ones.
Why humans reward each other for good efficiency with more work is a psychological mystery. Maybe it gets down to greed viz. bosses see their minions can do more/work faster and speed things up hoping for more product, more profit, more everything. Thanks to dictation services and computer cutting and pasting at work I write better and more detailed medical notes, but it seems more is now demanded in a note, everything from the time the session began to all sorts of CYA inserts. I see patients for med-checks at twenty minutes per appointment; I sense if there was a way to speed things up The Overlords would do it. Mercifully this hasn’t happened – yet.
Someone and I subscribe to meal kits. They are often pitched as ‘high protein’ or ‘high fiber’ but what is first and foremost now is ‘easy to make’ viz. done in twenty minutes or less. Make meals quick, gobble it down, and get on to more work. They say thems in Europe take time to prepare and better yet eat a meal. I wonder if this is true. If it is, I envy them.
There is a lot of talk about the value of time taking precedence over other things like money. I would edit this: it is more about how to spend the time you have. Resist the urge to hurry! I take comfort in the thought that when one goes to an area bereft of labor saving devices there is plenty of Time on one’s hands.
*For thems unfamiliar with what I am referencing: In an episode of “I love Lucy” Lucy and Ethel are hired to wrap chocolates on a moving conveyor belt. They do their best which isn’t good. When their supervisor admires their apparent industry she shouts to someone to speed up the conveyor belt.
Patience above, what a week. It seems the whole time online talking to a vague and mercurial IT person types, trying to get laptops and such to work. At-work shenanigans have kept me busy and little time for anything else, but there is light at the end of the tunnel. The borrowed laptop at MESA allowed me to do my work and by mid-week the official king-size titanic unsinkable-Molly-Brown Overlord-approved replacement arrived. Another vague and mercurial IT person got that up and running; there is hope I can use it at home/on weekends and not just in the office. It’s a work in progress which I hope settles down soon.
It’s been quite cold by Arizona standards. This weekend we may see frost warnings. When that happens people cover the tips of their cacti with white Styrofoam cups and lay winding sheets on the flowerbeds, making the place look as if they are locking up the summer cabin for the season. La Casa de Spo feels quite chilly especially in the morning. When I wake I turn on the space heater, which drives Someone to distraction via later-on doubts did I turn it off. I mostly do but one can never be sure.
Tomorrow’s depraved agenda is the taking down the Christmas tree. Alas, Babylon, it is still standing; there hasn’t been time to disassemble it. I’ve been hoping for a night when Someone is around and not too tired to help, but that never happens, so tomorrow whether he’s home or not I am determined to get rid of the thing. There are a lot tasks I’d like to do otherwise, but this is paramount.
Brother #4 needs $500 dollars for my share of the February bourbon adventure, which gets me six bottles of Spo-whisky no rubbish.* I promised one to Travel Penguin (the dear!) and another to a friend in Washington who would appreciate such. This leaves me with four which should last me a lifetime as it were.
That’s about all the news around these parts. I lead a dull life. Maybe by weekend something interesting will happen to me worthy to write upon, like the Christmas tree falls on me and I am trapped there until Someone comes home and rescues me. Oh the embarrassment.
*I need more bottles of booze like a hole in the head. The ones I purchased last February remain unopened. I am turning into one of those collector types who hoard cupboards full of delicious hooch but never consume them and what’s the point of that? I am doing the ‘dry January’ thing and really not much missing the stuff, other than this week when I came home from work frazzled and ready for a good snort and couldn’t have one, worse luck.
I started writing about tips about new year resolutions but The Board of Directors Here at Spo-reflections found pedantic and dull so it was chopped. After all, there are plenty of pundits and know-it-alls online telling you how to do so. Rather than repeating what is already out there, I’d write something personal. Spo
Every year I make a handful of new year resolutions and in my defense they are mostly made. The trick is to slowly work towards a goal, making no absolutes, and to monitor progress on the concrete ones like ‘daily’ stretching’ or ‘exercise more days than not’. What also helps is imagining myself as the type of person I am aiming for. Last year I thought to see myself as a ‘healthy person’. So whenever an option or opportunity arose I would say to myself ‘what would a healthy person do?” I would opt to go to the gym or take that walk or choose the salad over the fries with that sandwich.
Having a theme for the year is useful. Mine shall be:
2026: the year to get things done.
There are many things to address and repair at home. I will make a list of what needs doing and post it on the fridge perhaps where I will see it to remind me to get things done. First on the list is the paint job for the house.
There are a few thing from 2024 and 2025 I will continue, such as ‘resist the urge to hurry’ and ‘do some exercise more days than not’.
The one I left intentionally blank I think I will continue that one as well.
2026 resolutions are going to be a different sort. Here they are. I write them for all to see as data shows when others know our goals we are more likely to do them knowing people will ask how it is doing and we don’t want to feel ashamed by the lack of progress.
Interactions with strangers. Interacting with others does both parties a lot of good. This can be as simple as saying hello or good morning to someone passing by or chit-chatting with someone in line with you. Comments like ‘nice jacket’ or ‘your T-shirt made me smile’ work as well. Everybody is fearful to do this sort of intercourse yet the majority of recipients tell they enjoyed it. Sometimes a phatic expression may lead to conversation with the person sitting near you at the coffeehouse. When you think about it all your friendships and relationships (other than family) started this way.
A monthly contribution. I will investigate where is the nearest food bank and pet shelter and women’s shelter and find out what they need and make a contribution once a month. This will work better if I have it on the calendar, such as every 15th or the last weekend of the month.
The more self-centered ones:
Try new recipes. On the shelf with all the cook books stand an accordion file crammed with recipe clippings. The cookbooks are bedecked with ‘make this someday’ post-its. Some of the cookbooks have never been used! Patience above! When will I get to these? Answer: never – unless I make the effort. Let me start with one/week on Sunday (when I have more time to do things).
Meditate – at least a little. A few years ago I had the new year resolution to meditate. I started with five minutes and worked up to 15 minutes per day. This was difficult to do; I had to force myself to stop everything to do so and my hummingbird-brain pounded to get back to flitting about. I didn’t keep this going in 2025 and I think I was worse off for it. It’s back on the list, along with daily stretching, core exercises, and reading something before bedtime.
What’s top of my mind: The new year. Janus-like I look back on the old year and look forward to the new. 2025 had some lows and highs: it was a sad year for deaths and losses but a good for finances. I know many people who think 2025 was overall a stinker, what with national and world events, but they have hope 2026 will be better. Perhaps The Felon will finally take one outrageous and/or corrupt step too far and finally fall. Who can foresee these things really. I hope 2026 sees a lot of house projects and travels.
Where I’ve been: The gym. Now that I am over the flu and Christmas is passed, I am regularly back at the gym. I get a little peeved when I cannot work out – does this make me a bona fide gym rat I wonder? Thems who go regularly to the gym we chit-chat a bit between reps. We are in agreement the relatively empty building will see a full house come January. This happens every year as resolutions are made but by mid-February it has dissipated back to the regulars, again.
Where I’m going: Nowhere tonight that’s for sure. It is custom at year’s end for Urs Truly to go to Michigan (Land of Perpetual Snow and Ice)to housesit while Brother #3 and family can have a vacation. I spend my New Year’s Eves care-taking Father. He died in January, so for the first time in years I am at home. What does one do on New Year’s Eve I wonder? An ongoing survey of friends and peers all tell me they do nothing. Even SIL#2 whose birthday it is never goes out the feast day of her nativity, ‘not in all of that nonsense’, she states, and I don’t blame her. I guess I will watch the ball drop in Times Square, 10PM local time, and call it the new year, and go to bed – only to be rudely awaken at local midnight but fools shooting off their guns.
What are you doing this evening?
What I’m watching: Cooking tips and hacks on The Tube of Yous. There are no lack of chefs and know-it-alls online who will tell you the best way to cook an egg or make pasta or slice vegetables. What I like are the hacks and tips on kitchen skills. For example, some great expert suggested I take purchased herbs, wrap them in paper towel that is slightly dampened, and place them in a plastic ziplock bag before placing them in the fridge; this is on the grounds they will keep better. I’ve tried this and it seems better than just putting them in the vegetable drawer.
What I’m reading: ‘I am half-sick of shadows’ and my2025 Journal. I am not a great murder mystery fan, but a friend introduced me to the ‘Flavia de Luce series’ and I on the fourth book. She is a precocious little girl living in post WWII England with her reclusive father and two older sisters who make Cinderella’s stepsisters seem charming. Flavia solves murders and crimes using her keen sense of observation and knowledge of chemistry – particularly poisons. Jolly good fun!
I will also read my 2025 journal to remember what happened. What I remember most are the losses. This year I lost my father, a friend, my godfather, my dog, and soon my boss. I hope the journal reminds me there were good things too.
What I’m listening to: Several new podcasts. I don’t know what is worse: my accumulation of books to read or podcasts to hear. Both piles grow larger all the time and there are not enough hours in the day to do them all. May I suggest?…..
Doomsday: history’s most dangerous podcast. Clever man gives histories of forgotten disasters and how they came to happen and their aftermath. He adds advice on what you can do if you should be so unfortunate to be in one of them.
The infinite monkey cage. From the BBC, a science show where a scientist and a comedian invite professors to talk about a science matter. It’s a great way to learn about things as the science is mingled with British wit. Eric Idle sings the theme song.
Merriam-Webster’s word of the day. A must-hear every morning while driving to work to learn the origin of a word and how to use it.
Story time for grownups. Faith Moore does a great job reading novels chapter by chapter. The shows start with a summary of last episode’s chapter, then she reads and responds to listener emails on the what’s going on. She soon starts “David Copperfield” and Urs Truly is quite excited.
Do you have any podcasts to recommend?
What I’m eating: Black-eyed peas. Someone says black-eyed peas must be eaten on 1 January; do not dare to question this. This year he’s being clever by making a chili, substituting the kidney beans with black-eyed peas. We are more likely to eat the lot this way, rather than just the spoonful ‘no thank you’ helping with the rest going to waste.
Do you eat black-eyed peas on New Years Day?
Who needs a good slap: The cat outside the PHX office. The Yule Cat (as I have christened it) regularly comes by the PHX office and wants in, particularly to sit on my lap as I work. It’s a playful thing but it bit me rather badly the other day, not in anger but in play. All the same this drew blood and my hand is still painful.
On a scale of 1-5, I give Jólakötturinn one slap.
Who gets a fist-bump: Spo-fans. Whether you be near or far; man or woman, well over or under four feet: you are all dears for stopping by to read my scribbles. Every writer wants their scribbles read. It gives me a shot of oxytocin to read each comment. Thank you. Come with me into my twentieth year of blogging why dontcha.
What I’m planning: Resolutions. Every year Urs Truly makes a handful of resolutions and in his defense he makes most of them.* A podcast pundit suggests not making resolutions but giving the new year a ‘theme’, such as ‘this is the year to get things done’. It is not a bad approach. I think I do better with scheduled things and times to do them in. To be determined.
What’s making me smile: Lisa Czanko. In college my mother’s best friend was Judy, a sorority sister of hers. They kept in touch and their families would get together from time to time. Mr. and Mrs. Czanko had two children, Lou and Lisa. The Czankos had a Boston Terrier named Miggs. I had never seen this breed before and I thought the name Miggs hilarious. This was decades ago. Lisa Czanko recently found me via The Book of Faces to tell me her mother had died and she heard my mother had died as well. I told her to this day whenever I see a Boston Terrier I still call them “Miggs dogs”. She got a kick out of this; she still has Boston Terriers. We think our late mothers would be pleased as Punch to know we will keep in touch from now.
MIGGS Dog
*For thems interested in how I did, here’s the list:
Resist the urge to hurry. MET 😊
Do some sort of exercise more days than not. I did 2/3 days. MET 😊
This one is kept blank lest family is reading. MET 😊
Read thirty books. MET 😊
Regular stretching and core strengthening exercises. MET 😊
Stop shrugging my left shoulder. NOT MET 😦
No phone by the bed side. NOT EVEN CLOSE MET. 😦
I was well under four feet when I first read “The little match girl” by Hans C. Anderson. At this time of year I think about the story and I often reread it as part of the ritual of New Year’s Eve.
Spoilers ahead!
For thems unfamiliar with the tale, it is a story of a young girl who freezes to death on New Year’s Eve. I’ve had a lifetime of reflections on the tale and I’ve had various reactions to it. Sometimes I thought it beautiful and other times I find it appalling. After all, it is a story of child abuse: a young girl is forced by a physically abusive father go out in freezing weather to sell matches while the world celebrates the holiday. What on earth was Mr. Anderson thinking? What is the point? We’re supposed to feel good that she is taken up into Heaven ‘where there is no sorrow or hunger or cold’ but later on in life I smelled a rat. Wouldn’t it be better if somebody did something about the situation, a little girl walking barefoot in the snow, rather than concluding she is just better off dead? The explanation given to me by a grown up was ‘The little match girl” story reminds us to be grateful for what we have. This is along the line of seeing homeless folks and feeling good you aren’t one of them.*
I don’t think I will read ‘The little match girl” tomorrow evening or ever again. If the gist of Mr. A’s tale is to get the reader proactive at preventing such monstrosities, I get the point. I can do more in 2026 than reading feel-good stories or buying matches. They don’t really make a difference. I hope I don’t reread this entry next New Year’s Eve having realized no action had happened.
*In “Hogfather” Terry Pratchett’s parody of Santa Claus, Death, who is playing the Santa Claus figure (it makes sense in context), comes across the little match girl and reverses the sand in her hourglass giving her the greatest gift of all: a future. He hands the newly revived girl over to the authorities and tells them to give her something to eat and find her some warm clothes. Good for him!
❄️Merry Christmas 🎄🎅🏻⛄️I hope yours is a splendid one 😘
Note: this one is a bit sloppy as someone (not Someone) had a bit too much Christmas spirit in his breakfast Bloody Mary this morning.
Ho ho ho I hope everyone is having a happy Christmas. Last night Urs Truly overdosed on cookies while arguing via text with his various relations over the various versions of ‘A Christmas carol’ as to which one was best. Some were in the Alister Sims camp while others were George C. Scott devotees. Brother #4 thinks the Patrick Stewart version rules as he was the meanest. There is nothing like a good family row at Christmas over nothing important. I ended the night watching the end of “It’s a wonderful life” which got me blubbering. Oh the embarrassment.
This morning I made a very good breakfast casserole thank you very much which we ate with relish along with a couple of kringles Someone ordered from his home town in Wisconsin. Tonight we have a honey baked ham, Kung Pao Brussel Sprouts, and cheesy potatoes left over from last night’s meal. There is too much food for two. We are going to eat off of leftovers for a fortnight.
As for prizes exchanged under the tree, we mostly gave each other things we wanted for the house, like new bed sheets (flannels) and much needed/wanted kitchen gadgets. Someone gave me a box of FRANGO mints, which I haven’t had since I lived in Chicago. He is a dear, and not just for that. I gave him socks and he gave me two dress shirts, thus thwarting The Yule Cat for another year.
After we have a post-prandial go-back-to-bed midmorning nap, we may go see ‘Wicked 2’. Then perhaps we may not. Someone has worked nonstop since Thanksgiving and he could sleep the day away which is fine. I might indulge in FRANGOs and watch another version of A Christmas Carol and fire back at the relations. After all that is what the day is all about: sugar and booze and family fights.
Each December I write a letter to the jolly old elf at The North Pole. This is done mostly out of habit than results. St. Nick hasn’t been down my chimney in ages, worse luck. Maybe oone of these letters might evoke a surprise visit. No harm trying. Spo.
Dear Santa,
Once again I take mouse in hand to write to you. I hope your year has been a pleasant one. My year has been sad, what with the loss of my father, godfather, friend, and my dog. I am not writing this to evoke pity, it just to let you know my Christmas spirit isn’t so good this year and I hope you will help. Here is a hypothetical list of Christmas prizes you might provide. I give the same list to Someone but I will risk the situation of receiving two of the thing. Unlike yours, I can return his gifts to Amazon. By the way, are you feeling anxious and threatened by Mr. Bezos? He sort of acts like a Santa Claus viz. you ask him for things and he gets his elves to provide them. Unlike yourself, he puts out all year round and I don’t have wait for Christmas. But this is not a critique! You are my main merry man and will stay so ho ho ho.
I am always glad to receive imperial tidbits such as fancy olive oils and delectable nibbles and proper this that or the other. You could stuff my stocking with all sorts of tinned goodies and rare jars of foodstuffs. I try to avoid curried snacks and please don’t feed me buns and things thank you.
Spo-fans seem happy with their air-fryers; is it possible to get one? I remember Father suggested one Christmas Eve putting out beer and pretzels instead of the usual milk and cookies on the grounds you are a grown up and you would appreciate the change. It seemed to work as you gave us a really cool electronic popcorn machine, remember? If you bring an air-fryer I will leave out a really good bourbon no rubbish type. Just say the word; it will keep you warm and toasty as you fly about this Christmas Eve.
Upon your arrival I hope you won’t take offense of the Tomtes on the shelf, or of the Yule lads hanging from the kitchen chandelier. Not to be worrying! They are supplements, not substitutes, for your benevolence. You are much nicer than those guys who can be quite ugly if they don’t get things. Oh the horror. Worse you do is a lump of coal and with heating costs this isn’t too bad a consolation prize.
There is no need to bring my clothes thank you very much. Someone already took care of that, lest we are carried off by the Yule Cat.
What I really want for Christmas is new car, but I suppose that is asking too much. Rather, a new bread machine would be lovely. Mine is quite old and no longer doing a good job. Come to think of it, the crockpot from the 70s is on its last legs too. A new one and not avocado green either there’s a good fellow.
I hope your flight is a good one and I look forward on Christmas morning to see evidence you visited. Even if you don’t provide any prizes you are welcome to take the bottle. I have heaps.
Yesterday’s day off from work was quite productive; I got a lot accomplished. I went to the grocery store, Costco, the car wash, and the hardware store. I got to the gym and I did some in-store shopping. Best of all, I got up some of the Christmas trimmings and I put luminarias outside onto the sidewalk. It was hard work, and I often felt rawther exhausted, but by day’s end I had a quiet sense of accomplishment. It was quite satisfying.
Satisfaction is one of the key elements of Happiness. Proper satisfaction (no rubbish types) comes through effort and struggle; there is no real satisfaction without discomfort or pain. The classic example is somebody studying for an exam. He could cheat and easily get an A this way but there would be no satisfaction for it. Or he could study hard and spend lots of time doing so, giving up other past times, and get that A and he would feel a satisfaction.
We are wired to seek out quickly obtained payoffs. We are the only species (so far as I know) that will struggle and spend time learning how to play an instrument or training for a marathon or spending years to obtain a degree. Mr. Jaggar (who is well over four feet) sings “I can’t get no satisfaction’ but this is not accurate. From a neurological point of view it ought to be “I can’t keep no satisfaction”.* Our trouble is we chase after matters that give short-term satisfaction but not provide long-term Satisfaction. I am wholly satisfied in my career and with my hobbies, but that doesn’t mean life is knee-deep in buttercups and daisies. Quite the contrary. There are continual challenges and upsets. If I were to get through my workday today without any challenges that would be OK but it would feel dull. Give me a few cases where I have to think and actually do something and by day’s end I will be tired and ready to go home but there will be Satisfaction of having done a good job.
With quicker and easier payoffs these days to write papers or make a meal etc. I worry people will have less Satisfaction in their lives, despite their ease at accomplishments.
This weekend I plan to make gingerbread cookies. It will be a three day effort. Come Christmas Eve when I leave a few out for Santa (or someone like him) I will have the satisfaction of that.
*Prescriptive types argue this should be “I can’t get any satisfaction” but that’s another story.
Spo-Reflections 
