Ode to the days of moi:
I look at myself in the mirror and spy a stiff little alpha hair right at the edge of my hairline--it's gray and it's right on schedule; actually, it's running behind--I'm almost thirty-seven, even almost forty, if I want to permit myself to freak about something that's inevitable.
So I try not to freak and as I tear the vanity drawer apart in search of my trusty Tweezerman to rip out the cancer, a slew of rules assaults me and I realize why I cannot do it--then I'll damage the follicle, it won't grow back, I'll make a habit out of yanking the grays, and I'll eventually be bald instead of having a lush wiry jungle full of grays.
I opt to color it with a brown Sharpie instead . . .
June 17, 2012
February 24, 2012
Low Man?
" . . . when women are the advisers, the lords of creation don't take the advice till they have persuaded themselves that is is just what they intended to do; then they act upon it, and if it succeeds, they give the weaker vessel half the credit of it; if it fails, they generously give her the whole." ~ Louisa May Alcott
Maybe I am just venting here--well definitely I am venting! It is so frustrating to me that so often people seek advice that they don't really want to hear. I feel like I should have a pack of earplugs ready so the next time someone (usually a male, in my situation) asks for my opinion, I can hand him the plugs so he can stuff them in his ears before I open my mouth.
Don't get me wrong, I am good with words, both written and spoken, and don't usually aim to assault but at some point, I wonder if there really is a point! How many times can I say the same thing? How many times do I have to say the same thing . . . before a friend of his (or even a doctor) comes along to validate what I've been saying all along? Am I a know-it-all? Not really. I don't fancy myself to have all of the answers because really, there would be no point in furthering my existence. No. I just feel that I've paid my dues by listening, conversing, and trading information with people from many walks of life . . . enough to have picked up on some very important keys to life.
On top of just listening to others, it's amazing what knowledge can be found in books, yes you heard me (or that voice in your head that you think might sound like me), books. I've read a great deal too, and not just fiction, but everything from philisophy to psychology, science to biography, even have time invested in learning how to "Talk Like a Pirate" . . . Argh! Therein lies a bit of an issue; if someone is asking you for information, they presume you have knowledge but when you give it to them enough times, somehow you become a know-it-all! *zips lips*
So why then, do people ask for advice/opinion if they don't really want it? Simple. Because they already know what they want but they need someone to hold their hand, to validate them. My solution is this: If you're torn between two things and need help deciding what you want, flip a coin. If your coin requires a "best 2 out of 3" and then a "best 4 out of 5", you will realize that you know exactly what you want. It's my personal "Theory of Exclusion".
"Advice would be so much easier to listen to if it didn't always conflict with our plans."
So to all of my friends out there, my best advice to you (because you'll listen much better then the male species will) is that the next time that difficult man asks you for your opinion/advice, you take out those earplugs you've got and stuff them in your own ears before he opens his mouth! ♥
Maybe I am just venting here--well definitely I am venting! It is so frustrating to me that so often people seek advice that they don't really want to hear. I feel like I should have a pack of earplugs ready so the next time someone (usually a male, in my situation) asks for my opinion, I can hand him the plugs so he can stuff them in his ears before I open my mouth.
Don't get me wrong, I am good with words, both written and spoken, and don't usually aim to assault but at some point, I wonder if there really is a point! How many times can I say the same thing? How many times do I have to say the same thing . . . before a friend of his (or even a doctor) comes along to validate what I've been saying all along? Am I a know-it-all? Not really. I don't fancy myself to have all of the answers because really, there would be no point in furthering my existence. No. I just feel that I've paid my dues by listening, conversing, and trading information with people from many walks of life . . . enough to have picked up on some very important keys to life.
On top of just listening to others, it's amazing what knowledge can be found in books, yes you heard me (or that voice in your head that you think might sound like me), books. I've read a great deal too, and not just fiction, but everything from philisophy to psychology, science to biography, even have time invested in learning how to "Talk Like a Pirate" . . . Argh! Therein lies a bit of an issue; if someone is asking you for information, they presume you have knowledge but when you give it to them enough times, somehow you become a know-it-all! *zips lips*
So why then, do people ask for advice/opinion if they don't really want it? Simple. Because they already know what they want but they need someone to hold their hand, to validate them. My solution is this: If you're torn between two things and need help deciding what you want, flip a coin. If your coin requires a "best 2 out of 3" and then a "best 4 out of 5", you will realize that you know exactly what you want. It's my personal "Theory of Exclusion".
"Advice would be so much easier to listen to if it didn't always conflict with our plans."
So to all of my friends out there, my best advice to you (because you'll listen much better then the male species will) is that the next time that difficult man asks you for your opinion/advice, you take out those earplugs you've got and stuff them in your own ears before he opens his mouth! ♥
February 12, 2012
Dancing
"I wanna dance with somebody (who loves me)." ~ Whitney Houston
Sadly, the world lost one of its most amazing and powerful voices yesterday. I don't know if Whitney Houston wrote the words of her smash hit from 1987 (she didn't, George Merrill and Shannon Rubicam did) but for me, the song has always meant a little bit more about life than just a dance. I think about my life and how many places I've been in my own mind, think about how much better my dance has been having people around me who love me. I may not owe the progression of my life to Whitney, but it does seem feasible to say she planted a seed in me, and countless others along her tumultuous journey.
Whitney's music touched me in so many ways that thoughts of my childhood--definite offspring of the 80's--would not be complete without remembering dancing around to an upbeat Houston tune or even sitting wrapped in the cocoon of a sullen mood with an air-mic, pretending that amazing voice was actually coming from my lips instead of my bulky black boombox.
In 1998, my life had taken a great many twists and turns (appropriately like the Nile). I was the mother of a two year-old boy and I had come to know the Lord. The movie, Prince of Egypt was released, and though I enjoyed the flick, the most touching part of the movie for me was the credits . . . during which a version of "When You Believe", a duet by Whitney Houston and Mariah Carey, struck chords in my heart that I had never felt. I distinctly remember rewinding and playing, rewinding and playing, just so I could hear the magic (and watch the goosebumps light up the flesh on my arms). For me, though it wasn't a solo, this will always be the most memorable Whitney song. Listen to it here with lyrics. ♥
I wish I could say Houston's passing was unexpected and unpredictable but her obviously tortured soul had had its fill of life here on Earth. Having been through the loss of my mother at a very early age, I can only send my deepest condolences to Bobbie Kristina. There are very few words that will make you feel like anyone understands where you are in your own mind right now but the only thing I can leave you with is this: Remember who your mother was. Remember that she was real. Remember that you have a bridge that will reunite you with her. And remember that no matter what the enemy tells you, God's will is for you to have joy and peace, not pain and sorrow. Don't ever let this life separate you from a better one that awaits you when this is all said and done.
Peace and prayers be with you always.
Yes Whitney, perhaps now you are dancing in Heaven, with the One who loves you the most.
Sadly, the world lost one of its most amazing and powerful voices yesterday. I don't know if Whitney Houston wrote the words of her smash hit from 1987 (she didn't, George Merrill and Shannon Rubicam did) but for me, the song has always meant a little bit more about life than just a dance. I think about my life and how many places I've been in my own mind, think about how much better my dance has been having people around me who love me. I may not owe the progression of my life to Whitney, but it does seem feasible to say she planted a seed in me, and countless others along her tumultuous journey.
Whitney's music touched me in so many ways that thoughts of my childhood--definite offspring of the 80's--would not be complete without remembering dancing around to an upbeat Houston tune or even sitting wrapped in the cocoon of a sullen mood with an air-mic, pretending that amazing voice was actually coming from my lips instead of my bulky black boombox.
In 1998, my life had taken a great many twists and turns (appropriately like the Nile). I was the mother of a two year-old boy and I had come to know the Lord. The movie, Prince of Egypt was released, and though I enjoyed the flick, the most touching part of the movie for me was the credits . . . during which a version of "When You Believe", a duet by Whitney Houston and Mariah Carey, struck chords in my heart that I had never felt. I distinctly remember rewinding and playing, rewinding and playing, just so I could hear the magic (and watch the goosebumps light up the flesh on my arms). For me, though it wasn't a solo, this will always be the most memorable Whitney song. Listen to it here with lyrics. ♥
I wish I could say Houston's passing was unexpected and unpredictable but her obviously tortured soul had had its fill of life here on Earth. Having been through the loss of my mother at a very early age, I can only send my deepest condolences to Bobbie Kristina. There are very few words that will make you feel like anyone understands where you are in your own mind right now but the only thing I can leave you with is this: Remember who your mother was. Remember that she was real. Remember that you have a bridge that will reunite you with her. And remember that no matter what the enemy tells you, God's will is for you to have joy and peace, not pain and sorrow. Don't ever let this life separate you from a better one that awaits you when this is all said and done.
Peace and prayers be with you always.
Yes Whitney, perhaps now you are dancing in Heaven, with the One who loves you the most.
February 6, 2012
Sticky Sitch . . .
"Spit your gum where you are least likely to step in it." ~ Paige Leigh Smock
A long time ago, like literally two decades (forever, for the youngsters), I had a beautiful white Camaro Z-28. It had T-tops that were almost always stowed in the trunk because I couldn't get enough of the fresh crisp air. I put roughly 37,000 miles on that car in one year, really just driving around in circles. At the time, it was the only way to stop myself from tirelessly driving circles round my mind because I had just been through some pretty serious stuff.
I had a ritual; I would stop for gas on my way out of town and would stock myself up for the long drive to nowhere. There was a spot next to me in my cupholder for a Snapple Pink Lemonade (and a backup bottle) & also a fresh pack of Extra gum (bright pink strawberry flavor ~ discontinued now).
Why is this pertinent? Well, it's not so much the Snapple, as it is the gum. I was on the road for such long periods of time, mostly on freeways or highways, places that would allow me to just stay in motion, thus I didn't really stop. I was a chain-gum-chewer. When I had finally sucked the flavor life out of my gum, I would tip my head back and launch it right out of the open T-tops like its own ejection seat from my mouth (but duh, not if they were closed!).
I babied that car; sometimes twice per week, it would get a thorough detail. It was during my labor of love that I started noticing rainbow webs of gum spanning the back of the car, near the rear wheels--and sometimes along the sides as well. I was so vexed! People could be so careless! And I was the one who was paying the price for their laziness or lack of thought . . . until I realized that I was such a hypocrite! How many miles of rubber had I blobbed on the road for other people to drive through? How many sticky webs had I woven just so someone else could drive through them, then spend their Saturday scrubbing away at my Strawberry Extra-thoughtlessness?
I made a decision that day. I would still continue to chew my strawberry flavored rubberized confection, but I would always save the wrapper so I had somewhere to to stow the flavorless leftovers. And you know what? (Knock on wood.) I have not had gum on my car even once since I decided to be considerate of others.
Call it kharma if you will but I'm a true believer that most often you will get back what you give . . . even if it takes a while to figure out who you're giving it to . . . .
My deepest apologies for anyone who routinely drove the 5, 405, 101, 118, and 1 freeways and highways during 1994-1995. If you somehow ended up with a strip of bright pink gum along your car, most likely it was my fault. Email me for a free carwash*!
(* proof required for carwash)
A long time ago, like literally two decades (forever, for the youngsters), I had a beautiful white Camaro Z-28. It had T-tops that were almost always stowed in the trunk because I couldn't get enough of the fresh crisp air. I put roughly 37,000 miles on that car in one year, really just driving around in circles. At the time, it was the only way to stop myself from tirelessly driving circles round my mind because I had just been through some pretty serious stuff.
I had a ritual; I would stop for gas on my way out of town and would stock myself up for the long drive to nowhere. There was a spot next to me in my cupholder for a Snapple Pink Lemonade (and a backup bottle) & also a fresh pack of Extra gum (bright pink strawberry flavor ~ discontinued now).
Why is this pertinent? Well, it's not so much the Snapple, as it is the gum. I was on the road for such long periods of time, mostly on freeways or highways, places that would allow me to just stay in motion, thus I didn't really stop. I was a chain-gum-chewer. When I had finally sucked the flavor life out of my gum, I would tip my head back and launch it right out of the open T-tops like its own ejection seat from my mouth (but duh, not if they were closed!).
I babied that car; sometimes twice per week, it would get a thorough detail. It was during my labor of love that I started noticing rainbow webs of gum spanning the back of the car, near the rear wheels--and sometimes along the sides as well. I was so vexed! People could be so careless! And I was the one who was paying the price for their laziness or lack of thought . . . until I realized that I was such a hypocrite! How many miles of rubber had I blobbed on the road for other people to drive through? How many sticky webs had I woven just so someone else could drive through them, then spend their Saturday scrubbing away at my Strawberry Extra-thoughtlessness?
I made a decision that day. I would still continue to chew my strawberry flavored rubberized confection, but I would always save the wrapper so I had somewhere to to stow the flavorless leftovers. And you know what? (Knock on wood.) I have not had gum on my car even once since I decided to be considerate of others.
Call it kharma if you will but I'm a true believer that most often you will get back what you give . . . even if it takes a while to figure out who you're giving it to . . . .
My deepest apologies for anyone who routinely drove the 5, 405, 101, 118, and 1 freeways and highways during 1994-1995. If you somehow ended up with a strip of bright pink gum along your car, most likely it was my fault. Email me for a free carwash*!
(* proof required for carwash)
February 5, 2012
Worrywort!
"The best thing about the future is that it comes only one day at a time." ~ Abraham Lincoln
It's so easy to get pinned under the gigantic thumb of stress, especially when it's about something that hasn't even happened yet. For example, I'm in my mid-thirties. My life is normal from the outside and I've got everything a stay-home-slave could want: a lovely tile roof over my head (which I am responsible to clean everything under and around), a nice car that's paid for (that daily groans its complaints of new aches and pains), food on the table (which I am responsible for creating some type of edible concoction daily), and all of my other needs met (monetary ones of course).
But what happens next? That next bridge I need to cross could just show up on my map tomorrow and I feel so unequipped to make my way over it, especially when I don't know what type of bridge it is. An entire plethora of things could make up the composition of that gateway to my future and the truth . . . it scares my lunch outta me!
Then I see this quote, the one above, and I realize too many things in the space of an organic second. I could stress about yesterday (and how it's shaped my perception of life) but what's the point--what's done is done. I could worry about each second as I live it but then am I even really living my life. I could even fret about five minutes from now but I'd likely waste 4.5 of those trying to cope with how much I've got to accomplish and how little time.
The times of the above are all equivalent to a cat chasing its tail, trying to get it to just go away. Stupid cat! >.< Either it's for entertainment value because the cat is bored and no one is around to distract it, or the cat is completely paranoid--never mind that exhaustion is one of the only things that will stop the pointless chase.
My point in this is simply that no one truly has control over the future. True, we can make decisions that will impact and somewhat shape tomorrow (and maybe even next week) but the endless supply of Life's variables make it impossible to accurately stress about what's coming our way.
Why worry about tomorrow when Tomorrow's face changes daily? You might not even recognize it when it shows up.
See you tomorrow, unless I waste all of my time worrying about what to write about . . . = D
It's so easy to get pinned under the gigantic thumb of stress, especially when it's about something that hasn't even happened yet. For example, I'm in my mid-thirties. My life is normal from the outside and I've got everything a stay-home-slave could want: a lovely tile roof over my head (which I am responsible to clean everything under and around), a nice car that's paid for (that daily groans its complaints of new aches and pains), food on the table (which I am responsible for creating some type of edible concoction daily), and all of my other needs met (monetary ones of course).
But what happens next? That next bridge I need to cross could just show up on my map tomorrow and I feel so unequipped to make my way over it, especially when I don't know what type of bridge it is. An entire plethora of things could make up the composition of that gateway to my future and the truth . . . it scares my lunch outta me!
Then I see this quote, the one above, and I realize too many things in the space of an organic second. I could stress about yesterday (and how it's shaped my perception of life) but what's the point--what's done is done. I could worry about each second as I live it but then am I even really living my life. I could even fret about five minutes from now but I'd likely waste 4.5 of those trying to cope with how much I've got to accomplish and how little time.
The times of the above are all equivalent to a cat chasing its tail, trying to get it to just go away. Stupid cat! >.< Either it's for entertainment value because the cat is bored and no one is around to distract it, or the cat is completely paranoid--never mind that exhaustion is one of the only things that will stop the pointless chase.
My point in this is simply that no one truly has control over the future. True, we can make decisions that will impact and somewhat shape tomorrow (and maybe even next week) but the endless supply of Life's variables make it impossible to accurately stress about what's coming our way.
Why worry about tomorrow when Tomorrow's face changes daily? You might not even recognize it when it shows up.
See you tomorrow, unless I waste all of my time worrying about what to write about . . . = D
February 2, 2012
Recycle-a-Friend & Air Traffic Controllers
"Yes'm, old friends is always best . . . 'less you can catch a new one that's fit to make an old one out of." ~ Sarah Orne Jewett
I have no idea who originally spouted this quote (figured it out after the fact) but I find it to be quite ambiguous and really touching. Don't we all start out as new friends? And those who make the cut, over time, become the old friends (literally)?
This has only popped into my head recently, after about 15 years of being buried in my cerebral cortex. The reason? Let's just say I am no longer immune to drama, in fact, I seem to be a drama magnet--sadly, not the kind that is self-perpetuated . . . and well, being the selfless person that I am, I've decided to allow *wink* my old friends some peace. Instead of burdening them with all of my recent crapola, I've chosen to only call them on birthdays or on days when I have nothing negative to report. Call me a bad friend but it's really a matter of protecting those friendships to a certain degree. Don't get me wrong, I ♥ my older friends but this I do know, they've got enough on their plates with out my dumping a jar full of old and moldy cherries on top!
My new approach is to make new friends who don't have any memories of my old drama to base their perception of me on. This can be quite helpful on most days when I need to rant and tug my hair about something my old friends would roll their eyes about (because it's technically the same-s#i+-different-decade scenario). But really, what I'm saying is that it's just nice to have the fresh perspective of someone looking in, someone who sucks at the geography of me.
"You keep getting what you've been getting, when you keep doing what you've been doing." ~ Pastor Kenny Barnett.
Perhaps I've been missing something all these years? My problems seem to repeat themselves under one cloak or another but the difference this time is that with the help of my "new" friends, I am better able to see myself as the person I am today, not the person my old friends still think I am. Thus, I find it's easier to change my approach.
So, to my new friends, cheers! Without you and your little waving flashlights on the runway of life, I'd be headed for another bumpy landing!
And to my old friends, I'll see you out at the baggage claim--we can catch up while we watch our tattered bags go round. ♥
I have no idea who originally spouted this quote (figured it out after the fact) but I find it to be quite ambiguous and really touching. Don't we all start out as new friends? And those who make the cut, over time, become the old friends (literally)?
This has only popped into my head recently, after about 15 years of being buried in my cerebral cortex. The reason? Let's just say I am no longer immune to drama, in fact, I seem to be a drama magnet--sadly, not the kind that is self-perpetuated . . . and well, being the selfless person that I am, I've decided to allow *wink* my old friends some peace. Instead of burdening them with all of my recent crapola, I've chosen to only call them on birthdays or on days when I have nothing negative to report. Call me a bad friend but it's really a matter of protecting those friendships to a certain degree. Don't get me wrong, I ♥ my older friends but this I do know, they've got enough on their plates with out my dumping a jar full of old and moldy cherries on top!
My new approach is to make new friends who don't have any memories of my old drama to base their perception of me on. This can be quite helpful on most days when I need to rant and tug my hair about something my old friends would roll their eyes about (because it's technically the same-s#i+-different-decade scenario). But really, what I'm saying is that it's just nice to have the fresh perspective of someone looking in, someone who sucks at the geography of me.
"You keep getting what you've been getting, when you keep doing what you've been doing." ~ Pastor Kenny Barnett.
Perhaps I've been missing something all these years? My problems seem to repeat themselves under one cloak or another but the difference this time is that with the help of my "new" friends, I am better able to see myself as the person I am today, not the person my old friends still think I am. Thus, I find it's easier to change my approach.
So, to my new friends, cheers! Without you and your little waving flashlights on the runway of life, I'd be headed for another bumpy landing!
And to my old friends, I'll see you out at the baggage claim--we can catch up while we watch our tattered bags go round. ♥
January 31, 2012
The Name Says It All . . .
Or does it?
It may take a few posts for you to catch on to the fact that I have no inner filter, or the one I've been gifted with, malfunctions on a regular basis. Unfortunately, I pretty much say whatever comes to mind; ie, total randomness in the form of an official blog that makes absolutely not much sense at first glance but if you have a chance to reread something, you may just find it makes total and utter sense (as in cow utters or even maybe just bull$#i+).
Whatever the reason you're stopping by, I hope you leave with either a smile on your face, a few good chucks, or a question mark that follows you all day and inspires you to ponder life itself (the "bigger picture")--whatever it takes to get you to come back and dabble in my not so coherent thoughts.
Enjoy.
It may take a few posts for you to catch on to the fact that I have no inner filter, or the one I've been gifted with, malfunctions on a regular basis. Unfortunately, I pretty much say whatever comes to mind; ie, total randomness in the form of an official blog that makes absolutely not much sense at first glance but if you have a chance to reread something, you may just find it makes total and utter sense (as in cow utters or even maybe just bull$#i+).
Whatever the reason you're stopping by, I hope you leave with either a smile on your face, a few good chucks, or a question mark that follows you all day and inspires you to ponder life itself (the "bigger picture")--whatever it takes to get you to come back and dabble in my not so coherent thoughts.
Enjoy.
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