I had a moment today - taken from several times spent wondering how things have come to be in my life. Today, it came together, following a deeply hard and heartfelt cry. I often get asked, "What brought you to your career?" And often, I don't have a clear cut response, other than, "My profession chose me, I didn't choose it." Truth is, there are many factors that led me to what I do, but it's a culmination of events throughout my young life specifically, that have brought me to my 'work'.
Michael Jackson's memorial took place today. I expected emotions, but nothing like what happened to me as I sat watching the televised coverage of this historical event. A few weeks ago when I discovered his death, via text no less, I was in a state of shock. This shock had persisted until today, when I was faced with his emotional memorial service. One filled with what I suspect Michael Jackson would have felt adequate and a true honor to his life. As it goes, most of my friends will tell you I never have had any qualms about expressing my love for MJ. In the midst of his hard times even, I stood tall and professed myself a fan. Without a doubt, Michael Jackson was a humanitarian and his music crossed racial barriers and connected to the hearts of millions of people all over the world. I can't recall anybody in my lifetime having an effect such as this. I'm skeptical another will.
Nevertheless, the remarkable memorial service evoked in me emotions I didn't even know were there. Shedding tears, I watched the remembrance of Michael Jackson's love, shared by people who respected and loved him as an artist, an entertainer, as a brother, friend, and as a son, but mostly as a human being who did for mankind with a sense of grace and dignity, not to be matched by many. As my emotions mounted, my recollections of my childhood came to the forefront. A vivid memory of me at five years old flashed before me as I watched USA (United Support of Artists) for Africa perform "We Are the World." The authentic and undeniable feeling at that time in my young life has never escaped me, one of being tied to this plight of service to the sick, hungry and impoverished children of Africa.
At eight years, this same little girl sat mesmerized by the "Man in the Mirror" video, a single, coincidentally released on my birthday, with footages of various news events such as the John F. Kennedy and the Robert Kennedy shootings, Live Aid - with unforgettable images of starving children in Africa -and notable people including Martin Luther King, Mother Teresa, John Lennon and Yoko Ono, Ronald Reagan, Mikhail Gorbechev, and Adolf Hitler. As the years progressed, I bought all of his albums and confirmed "Rock with You" to be my favorite tune of all time. Only later did I find out this was top of the Billboard charts the day and year of my birth. Perhaps just another coincidence. I'm convinced, however, I jived to these beats in my Ma's belly - and as they say, the rest is HIStory (1995).
No matter the case, I knew why I was crying with such great sensation, and with such sincere passion and affection - Michael Jackson, his music, the images of life (and strife) he provided the world, he handed directly to me, too. As a young impressionable girl, I received the gift and internalized it in a way that has helped me pave the path for my life. His inspiration has incredible meaning in my life, and it is in his death that I can safely say, his life gave meaning to mine. I'm not the only one, as millions upon millions will miss his presence, but thankfully he left behind a legacy - one that will indubitably stand the test of time. Love for humanity isn't a trend, and Michael certainly knew that. Although Michael Jackson was a true original, his life and impact were anything but.
"If you wanna make the world a better place take a look at yourself, and then make a change." I couldn't have said it better.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Old fashioned donut.
Upon meeting somebody for the first time, you never EVER get the real person. It's ALWAYS a display of what that person wants to reveal. And if somebody argues they're giving you otherwise, they're lying. They're either lying to you, or lying to themselves. Now I'm not saying people can't attempt at being fully authentic, but right from the start, all people have a defined exterior many continuously mold until they've almost mastered their outer shell. After some time has passed, various lengths for various folks, people typically begin to show the real them. I do believe this time of pretence is crucial, however. Perhaps many relationships wouldn't survive if the hormonal woman gave a dose of reality from day one. Scary shit, right boys?
But here's the real kicker, we're now living in a world where more and more people are living via computer screens. No longer are people lying at bars or somewhere else in public. The cleverly created 'about me' blurb and the magic of the delete bar makes way for a perfected displayed version of themselves most commoners manage to convey to a tee. Lamentably, the innocent exaggeration (aka deception) eventually comes to pass when the distorted blurb and photoshopped image - undeniably leading to false expectations - is sitting across from you at the safe-date coffee shop. Certainly in this day and age, many can relate to this aww-crap moment. Scary shit, right girls?
Boldly speaking, if you want to meet that person, it often takes figuring out who you are, genuinely displaying you as best as is humanly possible, and perhaps going about it the old fashioned way. Maybe try taking a stroll outside with a donut and cup o' joe in tow. I know, I know, how will veracity benefit our perfected artifice? Scary shit, right people?
But here's the real kicker, we're now living in a world where more and more people are living via computer screens. No longer are people lying at bars or somewhere else in public. The cleverly created 'about me' blurb and the magic of the delete bar makes way for a perfected displayed version of themselves most commoners manage to convey to a tee. Lamentably, the innocent exaggeration (aka deception) eventually comes to pass when the distorted blurb and photoshopped image - undeniably leading to false expectations - is sitting across from you at the safe-date coffee shop. Certainly in this day and age, many can relate to this aww-crap moment. Scary shit, right girls?
Boldly speaking, if you want to meet that person, it often takes figuring out who you are, genuinely displaying you as best as is humanly possible, and perhaps going about it the old fashioned way. Maybe try taking a stroll outside with a donut and cup o' joe in tow. I know, I know, how will veracity benefit our perfected artifice? Scary shit, right people?
Monday, June 15, 2009
Erasable Bic.
Marriage has nothing to do with tax breaks. Marriage isn't a contract either. Nor does it have anything to do with signing above the dotted line. The same can be done with a dissolution of marriage, making the so-called contract null and void. Precisely why I stray away from the idea of simplifying a marriage to a contractual agreement between two people. Two people can't possibly be bound to paper and ink. This concept is a recipe for failure - explaining the 50% American divorce rate amongst these short-term arrangements.
Marriage, unfortunately, has become a sad display of signature inkage and the gaining of tax credits, only to eventually succumb to more inkage (dissolving of union via irreconciable differences) and the splitting of assets. Despite the outcome, I'm all for uniting in love to dissipate in hate. Should not everyone be given the right to such choice? Absolutely. Civil unions are an absolute.
Marriage, a God centered commitment, however, is for those individuals who desire a lasting union, not the fickle one involving the erasable ink ballpoint pen. What's the point of signing with a Sharpie when the option to dissolute is available? Use the Bic if that's the objective and potential end-game plan.
Marriage in my googly eyes is meant to last, which in the religious context, is the meaning of the ceremony and of the everlasting union. It's a God centered promise. For this reason, it's meant to be kept within the confines of it's original notion - meant to be unchanged, and from a liberal standpoint and perspective, this is a rarity when I say, marriage is meant to be non-progressive. This definition of permanency is what makes marriage so special to so many people. Respecting the covenant, and respecting the religious beliefs of those individuals who base marriage on the primitive, authentic, if not, antecedent definition, is the state of marriage that should be maintained. If you fall within this credence, then marriage is for you. Otherwise, pray to your spouse that your undying love will last for all eternity or you can always get the prenuptial.
Marriage, unfortunately, has become a sad display of signature inkage and the gaining of tax credits, only to eventually succumb to more inkage (dissolving of union via irreconciable differences) and the splitting of assets. Despite the outcome, I'm all for uniting in love to dissipate in hate. Should not everyone be given the right to such choice? Absolutely. Civil unions are an absolute.
Marriage, a God centered commitment, however, is for those individuals who desire a lasting union, not the fickle one involving the erasable ink ballpoint pen. What's the point of signing with a Sharpie when the option to dissolute is available? Use the Bic if that's the objective and potential end-game plan.
Marriage in my googly eyes is meant to last, which in the religious context, is the meaning of the ceremony and of the everlasting union. It's a God centered promise. For this reason, it's meant to be kept within the confines of it's original notion - meant to be unchanged, and from a liberal standpoint and perspective, this is a rarity when I say, marriage is meant to be non-progressive. This definition of permanency is what makes marriage so special to so many people. Respecting the covenant, and respecting the religious beliefs of those individuals who base marriage on the primitive, authentic, if not, antecedent definition, is the state of marriage that should be maintained. If you fall within this credence, then marriage is for you. Otherwise, pray to your spouse that your undying love will last for all eternity or you can always get the prenuptial.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Superheroes never die.
I spoke with my eldest sister over the phone today (she's in California, I'm not) who informed me my dad hurt his ankle while playing tennis with my siblings this past weekend. My dad is 65 years old. (Roughly speaking.) Apparently, he called my sister this morning saying he needs a cane to help him heal his 'temporary' injury.
My dad needing a cane makes me feel at odds with the world somehow. Further in our conversation, my sister expressed her feelings to me in a fairly non-expressive manner. In other words, she didn't know how to express herself, but only said, "Dad's getting old." The sad undertone of her voice said it all, and I connected to it deeply - again, words not necessary. Little needed to be said, as I fully understood what she was not saying. Which got me thinking...
In many respects, no matter how screwed up your childhood, parents are invincible beings, almost superhero-like - the larger than life people in our lives. And as adults, we still view our parents as our go-to guides, particularly when we need advice or are in a bind only our folks know how to fix. Or at the very least, they know how to bring us the comfort we need when those times permit. In any event, when our view of our mom and/or dad is tested, via a sprained ankle, a serious illness, or other bodily/brain deterioration, the reality of our parent's vulnerability becomes, well, real. It goes without saying, we're then forced to face the fact that human nature does eventually takes its place. Even when it comes to our parents.
A sense of sorrow is really the only way I can articulate the feelings I have. I even called my dad today to see how he was feeling. Sadly enough, I don't ordinarily do this. Go figure, I generally chalk it up to an understanding my dad and I have; phone contact and verbal communication is not exactly a strong point of ours. But the reality is, my life often "gets in the way," not permitting the time to call, and quite honestly, I probably, and as a full fledged adult, still take my parents for granted. Perhaps this is the primary reason, albeit shameful, for the lack of ongoing contact between us.
At 29 years of age, it's time I grow up. My parents, just like your own, are getting older. The simple, simply put. This present sense of sorrow, followed by the short time we have on this earth-mentality, makes me want to reach out to the two superheroes that raised me. Because unlike our beloved comic characters, when they're gone, they're gone.
My dad needing a cane makes me feel at odds with the world somehow. Further in our conversation, my sister expressed her feelings to me in a fairly non-expressive manner. In other words, she didn't know how to express herself, but only said, "Dad's getting old." The sad undertone of her voice said it all, and I connected to it deeply - again, words not necessary. Little needed to be said, as I fully understood what she was not saying. Which got me thinking...
In many respects, no matter how screwed up your childhood, parents are invincible beings, almost superhero-like - the larger than life people in our lives. And as adults, we still view our parents as our go-to guides, particularly when we need advice or are in a bind only our folks know how to fix. Or at the very least, they know how to bring us the comfort we need when those times permit. In any event, when our view of our mom and/or dad is tested, via a sprained ankle, a serious illness, or other bodily/brain deterioration, the reality of our parent's vulnerability becomes, well, real. It goes without saying, we're then forced to face the fact that human nature does eventually takes its place. Even when it comes to our parents.
A sense of sorrow is really the only way I can articulate the feelings I have. I even called my dad today to see how he was feeling. Sadly enough, I don't ordinarily do this. Go figure, I generally chalk it up to an understanding my dad and I have; phone contact and verbal communication is not exactly a strong point of ours. But the reality is, my life often "gets in the way," not permitting the time to call, and quite honestly, I probably, and as a full fledged adult, still take my parents for granted. Perhaps this is the primary reason, albeit shameful, for the lack of ongoing contact between us.
At 29 years of age, it's time I grow up. My parents, just like your own, are getting older. The simple, simply put. This present sense of sorrow, followed by the short time we have on this earth-mentality, makes me want to reach out to the two superheroes that raised me. Because unlike our beloved comic characters, when they're gone, they're gone.
Monday, May 4, 2009
At last my love has come along.
Other than first hand experience, I know nothing. Never quote me on anything. It's as fact as your own personal judgement. In other words, it's lacking significant substance and not to be taken literally. In any event, reading past this point is probably pointless. And not recommended.
Now if you lack substance and good judgement altogether, you've continued beyond the previously pointless mention, and I applaud your stupidity. But more so, thank you for your diligence.
Today's topic: Couples. Do opposites really attract or does like attract like? Let's face it, there's no logic in love - people are, in fact, screwed up. (Fact upon fact.)
The following are typical hook-ups that work, and sometimes don't work (ignore the 'first hand experience' fact - this is more an indirect first hand experience - friends of friends of neighbors and distant cousins experience):
1) Carbon copy couples - These are your regular day narcissists. "We look alike. We're awesome, beautiful people. All others fail in comparison."
2) Carbon copy couples - These people rank in the lower scales on the spectrum of said, beautiful people. "We look alike. Love playing Jeff Wayne's War of the Worlds. Little Caesars Pizza is Star Trek, Vulcan style delish. Order in."
3) Older man/tanorexic (younger) woman - "Die asshole." Pretty self-explanatory.
4) Loud woman/quiet man - This is ball and chain defined. They each have a role. "Wait, what did you say?" (Pause. Whilst the evil eye further eradicates the already-too-frail ego.) "Exactly. That's what I thought dumb ass."
:Tail between legs:
5) Obnoxious man/meek woman - "Bitch. Sit down." Jesus loves this union...err, marriage. Right?
6) Cougar/child - Sex.Is.Good.
7) Arty/arty - This union leads a self-inflicted melancholy life and have a 'everyone else is clueless' mentality. Chances are, they would choose suicide rather than admit to being almost identical to couple #1. The small difference, however, they find beauty in their hair grease, and notice the significance of the red dot in the misunderstood painting.
8) Yuppy/yuppy - An unfortunate display of 'know how' and wasted space. These two run their circles with pristine accuracy. Put them in a circle outside of buffy status, and the information pouring out of their mouth will sound like their 18th Century old money ancestors. This couple behind closed doors (See #5.)
9) Trashy/trashy - These are your 'wow' couples, well deserving, and arguably, incapable-of-not worthy of a stare. But, and let it be known, they madly, deeply love each other and aren't afraid to lick the love (or stale beer) right off of each other. In your presence even.
Epiphany: There is logic in love after all. To each their own.
***End note, the above unions/common law/marriages (in some states) include: gay, lesbian, bi, hetero, transgender, hermaphrodite, and every race/culture of demented people under the sun. Which reminds me, I can't wait to run home to gaze into the eyes of my mirrored perfection!
Now if you lack substance and good judgement altogether, you've continued beyond the previously pointless mention, and I applaud your stupidity. But more so, thank you for your diligence.
Today's topic: Couples. Do opposites really attract or does like attract like? Let's face it, there's no logic in love - people are, in fact, screwed up. (Fact upon fact.)
The following are typical hook-ups that work, and sometimes don't work (ignore the 'first hand experience' fact - this is more an indirect first hand experience - friends of friends of neighbors and distant cousins experience):
1) Carbon copy couples - These are your regular day narcissists. "We look alike. We're awesome, beautiful people. All others fail in comparison."
2) Carbon copy couples - These people rank in the lower scales on the spectrum of said, beautiful people. "We look alike. Love playing Jeff Wayne's War of the Worlds. Little Caesars Pizza is Star Trek, Vulcan style delish. Order in."
3) Older man/tanorexic (younger) woman - "Die asshole." Pretty self-explanatory.
4) Loud woman/quiet man - This is ball and chain defined. They each have a role. "Wait, what did you say?" (Pause. Whilst the evil eye further eradicates the already-too-frail ego.) "Exactly. That's what I thought dumb ass."
:Tail between legs:
5) Obnoxious man/meek woman - "Bitch. Sit down." Jesus loves this union...err, marriage. Right?
6) Cougar/child - Sex.Is.Good.
7) Arty/arty - This union leads a self-inflicted melancholy life and have a 'everyone else is clueless' mentality. Chances are, they would choose suicide rather than admit to being almost identical to couple #1. The small difference, however, they find beauty in their hair grease, and notice the significance of the red dot in the misunderstood painting.
8) Yuppy/yuppy - An unfortunate display of 'know how' and wasted space. These two run their circles with pristine accuracy. Put them in a circle outside of buffy status, and the information pouring out of their mouth will sound like their 18th Century old money ancestors. This couple behind closed doors (See #5.)
9) Trashy/trashy - These are your 'wow' couples, well deserving, and arguably, incapable-of-not worthy of a stare. But, and let it be known, they madly, deeply love each other and aren't afraid to lick the love (or stale beer) right off of each other. In your presence even.
Epiphany: There is logic in love after all. To each their own.
***End note, the above unions/common law/marriages (in some states) include: gay, lesbian, bi, hetero, transgender, hermaphrodite, and every race/culture of demented people under the sun. Which reminds me, I can't wait to run home to gaze into the eyes of my mirrored perfection!
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Systemic failure.
How can we expect positive change if we continue to view problems as outside of our own? It's one thing to express compassion, feel sorry for those going through crisis, but unless it involves a loved one, or is directly connected to us, we seldom say more than, "Well, that's really too bad the people of Katrina are suffering?" Or, "The inner cities and the struggle those children face is really a sad thing." Why is it that we as Americans, often have a self v. others mentality? It's generally their problem, until Grandma Mary or Uncle Larry is suffering a similar Katrina fate. Or until a friend is jobless, homeless and in need of assistance. Only then, when it's connected to the self, does it become our problem.
The report from the Pew Center on the States found that one in 100 adult Americans are in prison, one in 9 of those are adult black men. How can we expect many in the black community to rise from historical systemic failures, if they're never given the proper education their counterpart privileged white kids receive? The numbers are staggering and tell a very real story; it goes without saying, school drop-out rates directly reflect the likelihood of prison time served.
When do we begin to say, this really is my problem? When do we say, all children deserve a good start to life? Better yet, when will we start believing it. Sadly, and a true reality, there are children who have yet to be born who will suffer a historical fate they never had any control over to begin with. Is this their problem too?
Tolerance of such discrimination, along with sheer ignorance, whilst sitting in our self-indulgent privileged world is no excuse for a poor "that's too bad" response. Save your breath, authentically connect and lend out your hand. They need us.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Outside noisy, inside empty.
Ponder this for a second...
Live, evolve, die.
People who stand for nothing, desperately attempt to grab hold of the tangible, only to fall short at death. It's hard to be heard, even standing on rooftops, with these claims of nothing. In my book, being mute is one and the same. But just for a second, let's take the time to hear the words of nothing. "Shh, listen." What do you hear? I don't know about you, but other than the fine mist of rain tapping on my window, still, nothing. "Wait, look closer." Darwin bumper sticker staring at your morning coffee on your car ride commute to work. "See it? Hear it?" Newsflash: you're seeing and hearing a whole lot of nothin'.
Evolution is arguably a natural part of our existence. But a cause? A foundation? A purpose? Hardly a principle worth a fight. To even rally for or against creation v. evolution is a losing battle, as they're far from opposites. Apart from something and nothing that is. One has a stance. One does not. But this doesn't stop the Nothing Crew from fighting for their purpose, their maker, their motivator. Oddly enough, we can all agree on this: Death is a part of life.
Maybe we can all agree on this too: Ironically, the Something Crew may have the clear advantageous trait when it comes to the final natural selection process. The nothing, well, perhaps they'll end up on a Dante version of the Galapagos Islands with thousands of like-minded peppered moth friends in their after life? Sounds like good times ahead...
“There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle.” (Some insignificant guy said this. Albert Einstein something or other.)
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
The future ain't what it used to be.
A path, a focus, a passion, a dream - for many people, having these things is par for the course, but needing a defined road to get there isn't necessarily necessary. Without argument, the future cannot be defined with any absolutes beforehand. Playing Russian Roulette and winning on occasion is not an argument I'm seeking here. For the sake of keeping it simple, what if you do end up someplace else? The unpredictable, blind faith approach to life is far more adventurous than a calculated, and arguably, self-manipulated, brain washing attempt at living your life to the fullest will ever be. Trust me, you'll fall short with the latter. Expectations are a sad set up for failure.
Live life now, and if anything, put trust in getting there. Wherever there is. Besides, it's not going anywhere, is it? Expect it to be there, just don't make yourself any false promises.
A wise man once said: "It's tough to make predictions, especially about the future." ~Yogi Berra
Play ball people!
Thursday, March 26, 2009
I do not like green eggs and ham I do not like them Sam I am.
What are people going to think?
Do we not all question this from time to time? We sure do.
No matter what, people will think. They'll think you're stupid, or uptight, or brilliant, or maybe they'll think you're slightly attractive. At times you'll be short, fat, too thin, obnoxiously loud, or you'll lack personality altogether. You might even be charismatic and funny to some, or inexplicably off-the-charts annoying to another. In any event, you can never please everyone. So why ever make the attempt to do/be so? Wasted precious efforts need not be wasted on lousy judgment calls.
Not to say we can avoid judgments. I too have opinions, of which I share and those of which I do not - despite our stance, we all judge. The key to keeping judgments in check, however, is never using them to place somebody in a position of inferiority. Nobody is less of a person than you or I. One can have less money, or less of anything to which you put great value, but when it's all said and done, we all breathe, eat, sleep, and excrement in a similar fashion - some once, others twice, and those odd ones, three times per day. No room for discussion here - case closed. We're human - this is what we do.
On that note, tattoo shop, here I come...
"Oh no!! What will people think?!!" -White trash or an artful display of my spiritual self-expression?- "In your eyes or mine?"
"Today you are you, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is youer than you." ~Dr. Seuss
Do we not all question this from time to time? We sure do.
No matter what, people will think. They'll think you're stupid, or uptight, or brilliant, or maybe they'll think you're slightly attractive. At times you'll be short, fat, too thin, obnoxiously loud, or you'll lack personality altogether. You might even be charismatic and funny to some, or inexplicably off-the-charts annoying to another. In any event, you can never please everyone. So why ever make the attempt to do/be so? Wasted precious efforts need not be wasted on lousy judgment calls.
Not to say we can avoid judgments. I too have opinions, of which I share and those of which I do not - despite our stance, we all judge. The key to keeping judgments in check, however, is never using them to place somebody in a position of inferiority. Nobody is less of a person than you or I. One can have less money, or less of anything to which you put great value, but when it's all said and done, we all breathe, eat, sleep, and excrement in a similar fashion - some once, others twice, and those odd ones, three times per day. No room for discussion here - case closed. We're human - this is what we do.
On that note, tattoo shop, here I come...
"Oh no!! What will people think?!!" -White trash or an artful display of my spiritual self-expression?- "In your eyes or mine?"
"Today you are you, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is youer than you." ~Dr. Seuss
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Footloose is encouraged, but not on your feet.
I was talking with a few friends last night, and unbenownst to me, the formerly topic of all topics in my life, came to the forefront of conversation.
Shoes. That's right, shoes. I have a thing for them, and believe footwear really do scream your personality type. Ladies, when you're scouting out a potential mate, I highly recommend you start from the bottom and work your way up. That's been my motto anyway. Some people, okay most, think I'm a little odd with my assessments, and others perhaps, think there's a level of shallowness to my critique/judgmental outlook of their poor choice in footwear. The truth of the matter is, there's no shallow element to it at all. Truthfully, I'm stretching the truth here. To a degree, I do judge. Here's some unsolicited insight into my quirky shoe ideology (of the male kind):
Running shoes: He either just came from a run/sport activity, or he just likes wearing anything smelly. He probably doesn't wear deodorant either.
Hiker's duds: Fashion is not his forté. He likes his mountain. He likes his green and his bicycle as a preferred mode of transportation. He recycles. He's an observant introvert, and he needs a woman who can keep up with his granola lifestyle. But don't expect conversation.
Boat shoes: He should be holding an apple martini 24/7. Your shoes imply gayville. And hell, maybe you are gay. Certainly explains it. That, or he works on boats for a living.
Work boots: Should not be worn after hours. Ever. But to those that do, expect no female attention. Ever.
Flip flops: There are variances to this footwear of choice, beginning with the Abercrombie douche and ending with the 'care free' dude that just can't be bothered to even get dressed in the morning. Especially evident when worn in the bitter cold of winter. You can spot either type quite easily, even when not looking.
Loafers (tassled): Pompous rejects with high importance on the job front positions sport these sad, should have been left in the 80's, tassled, must be eliminated, shoe - a real scourge of society - any way you look at them. They're such an eye sore, rather unfortunately, they can be spotted from several miles away. What a sad display of confidence.
Converse sneakers (Jack Purcell included): You are one classic cool dude. Effortless, with just the right amount of effort. Of course, this shoe can also swing in another direction - the greasy haired, melodramatic lifestyle kinda guy, is not the classic cool to which I'm referring. Go wash your hair immediately. And, if you have more than 3 holes in your pair, it's time for a new investment. Also, stick with the classic styles; frilly converse are meant for toddlers only. My affinity for this shoe is considerable, so my opinions on them are outside of the realm of possibility. Having said that, these shoes are cheap enough never to go generic. A wannabe converse is worse than anything tassle. Yep, that's correct. I did just go there.
Oxford: A good oxford, when worn effectively, can be a good fit on any guy. These boys, are a go to shoe. Just don't screw this one up. No hideous white gym socks allowed.
Shiny (anything): Rare, let me re-emphasize, rarely should these be worn. Unless you're in the military, and the high gloss must be worn with your snazzy military uniform, please abstain from owning a pair. And if you already do, burn them. Now.
The Jesus sandal (or any form of Birkenstock): Oh my gosh. Do not do it. The sock and Birk in the 90's was an afflicted, inadvisable, debacle of a time. For all repetitious sake: A deplorable, not to ever be repeated mistake. Same goes with mimicking Jesus. Do not confuse the WWJD walk with Jesus as a literal translation. Walking in His 100 BC shoes is taking it way back. There's no purpose here.
Sadly, I could continue, but tis all for this segment of "I know everything and you don't." Gotta cut loose and kick off my Sunday shoes...
Shoes. That's right, shoes. I have a thing for them, and believe footwear really do scream your personality type. Ladies, when you're scouting out a potential mate, I highly recommend you start from the bottom and work your way up. That's been my motto anyway. Some people, okay most, think I'm a little odd with my assessments, and others perhaps, think there's a level of shallowness to my critique/judgmental outlook of their poor choice in footwear. The truth of the matter is, there's no shallow element to it at all. Truthfully, I'm stretching the truth here. To a degree, I do judge. Here's some unsolicited insight into my quirky shoe ideology (of the male kind):
Running shoes: He either just came from a run/sport activity, or he just likes wearing anything smelly. He probably doesn't wear deodorant either.
Hiker's duds: Fashion is not his forté. He likes his mountain. He likes his green and his bicycle as a preferred mode of transportation. He recycles. He's an observant introvert, and he needs a woman who can keep up with his granola lifestyle. But don't expect conversation.
Boat shoes: He should be holding an apple martini 24/7. Your shoes imply gayville. And hell, maybe you are gay. Certainly explains it. That, or he works on boats for a living.
Work boots: Should not be worn after hours. Ever. But to those that do, expect no female attention. Ever.
Flip flops: There are variances to this footwear of choice, beginning with the Abercrombie douche and ending with the 'care free' dude that just can't be bothered to even get dressed in the morning. Especially evident when worn in the bitter cold of winter. You can spot either type quite easily, even when not looking.
Loafers (tassled): Pompous rejects with high importance on the job front positions sport these sad, should have been left in the 80's, tassled, must be eliminated, shoe - a real scourge of society - any way you look at them. They're such an eye sore, rather unfortunately, they can be spotted from several miles away. What a sad display of confidence.
Converse sneakers (Jack Purcell included): You are one classic cool dude. Effortless, with just the right amount of effort. Of course, this shoe can also swing in another direction - the greasy haired, melodramatic lifestyle kinda guy, is not the classic cool to which I'm referring. Go wash your hair immediately. And, if you have more than 3 holes in your pair, it's time for a new investment. Also, stick with the classic styles; frilly converse are meant for toddlers only. My affinity for this shoe is considerable, so my opinions on them are outside of the realm of possibility. Having said that, these shoes are cheap enough never to go generic. A wannabe converse is worse than anything tassle. Yep, that's correct. I did just go there.
Oxford: A good oxford, when worn effectively, can be a good fit on any guy. These boys, are a go to shoe. Just don't screw this one up. No hideous white gym socks allowed.
Shiny (anything): Rare, let me re-emphasize, rarely should these be worn. Unless you're in the military, and the high gloss must be worn with your snazzy military uniform, please abstain from owning a pair. And if you already do, burn them. Now.
The Jesus sandal (or any form of Birkenstock): Oh my gosh. Do not do it. The sock and Birk in the 90's was an afflicted, inadvisable, debacle of a time. For all repetitious sake: A deplorable, not to ever be repeated mistake. Same goes with mimicking Jesus. Do not confuse the WWJD walk with Jesus as a literal translation. Walking in His 100 BC shoes is taking it way back. There's no purpose here.
Sadly, I could continue, but tis all for this segment of "I know everything and you don't." Gotta cut loose and kick off my Sunday shoes...
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
There's no place like home. There's no place like home.
Does the past ever go away? Better yet, do the bad memories of the past ever go away? No, they do not. The simple answer, simply put.
Personally, I would rather history not repeat itself. If I can control my own memory to minimize an unfortunate occurrence from happening again, then I'll keep the bastard in a back burner room for future reference if need be. But like the memory of the excruciating childbirth fades, or so I've been told, so does the hurt and pain of past hardships. And similar to the sequence of birth, the aftermath of pain, comes a new birth, a new life, a new perspective - a new change. Pending outlook and hard work, this change is better than the previous experience and the previous life lived. No Einstein revelation here, but an all-the-time rosy existence, which doesn't exist in the first place, would not allow for a full appreciation of the rosiness, if in fact the moments of suffering and sadness in life were not fully conscious and not fully understood.
Even so, if women truly remembered the pain of giving birth, would she do it again and again? The blessing is well worth it, but I would venture to say, we'd have less babies in the world if the pain remained vividly in one's memory. All the same, a relationship comes to a sour end, it hurts, time surpasses, and love is then sought again. Why? Because the good outweighs the challenges. As such, both childbirth and love continue, whilst the past is still, ever-so present. The past, although now emotionally detached to the degree that it once was, will never be too far away. It goes without saying, every event is the totality of who you are. We learn how to walk to eventually run atop mountain peaks! We learn to talk to sing amongst the stars! We love with resilience, to not stop at any given point, but - to continuously seek to love better and to love bigger.
A painful experience can slow us down, but, should it stop us on our path altogether? I think not. This too shall pass - a favorite adage of mine. Things do pass, and we will continue to run and to sing and to love (and to have babies for that matter), and gratefully, these past memories will re-surface from time to time. Because not only do they offer a reminder of what was, but more so, are a great opportunity to recognize how everything makes you the better person you are today. Unless you're a prisoner of your past that is...If so, I say, get the hell out of there and move fast. Refrain from digression at all costs, and jump on the enlightened, progressive train with the cool folks. Dorothy had it right people, there's no place like the present.
Personally, I would rather history not repeat itself. If I can control my own memory to minimize an unfortunate occurrence from happening again, then I'll keep the bastard in a back burner room for future reference if need be. But like the memory of the excruciating childbirth fades, or so I've been told, so does the hurt and pain of past hardships. And similar to the sequence of birth, the aftermath of pain, comes a new birth, a new life, a new perspective - a new change. Pending outlook and hard work, this change is better than the previous experience and the previous life lived. No Einstein revelation here, but an all-the-time rosy existence, which doesn't exist in the first place, would not allow for a full appreciation of the rosiness, if in fact the moments of suffering and sadness in life were not fully conscious and not fully understood.
Even so, if women truly remembered the pain of giving birth, would she do it again and again? The blessing is well worth it, but I would venture to say, we'd have less babies in the world if the pain remained vividly in one's memory. All the same, a relationship comes to a sour end, it hurts, time surpasses, and love is then sought again. Why? Because the good outweighs the challenges. As such, both childbirth and love continue, whilst the past is still, ever-so present. The past, although now emotionally detached to the degree that it once was, will never be too far away. It goes without saying, every event is the totality of who you are. We learn how to walk to eventually run atop mountain peaks! We learn to talk to sing amongst the stars! We love with resilience, to not stop at any given point, but - to continuously seek to love better and to love bigger.
A painful experience can slow us down, but, should it stop us on our path altogether? I think not. This too shall pass - a favorite adage of mine. Things do pass, and we will continue to run and to sing and to love (and to have babies for that matter), and gratefully, these past memories will re-surface from time to time. Because not only do they offer a reminder of what was, but more so, are a great opportunity to recognize how everything makes you the better person you are today. Unless you're a prisoner of your past that is...If so, I say, get the hell out of there and move fast. Refrain from digression at all costs, and jump on the enlightened, progressive train with the cool folks. Dorothy had it right people, there's no place like the present.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Who do I think I am? I mean, really?
I've learned quite a few things in my short 29 years. Today, a new epiphany came to fruition. Note to self:
DO NOT blog when PMS'ing.
The following are more DO NOT's when PMS'ing:
DO NOT vent in writing, period. (Was this pun intended? Subconsciously, yes.)
DO NOT believe the irrational emotions that spew wildly through my pores.
DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT be a total ass-on-fire to those I love most.
There. And this completes and marks the end of this learning. Let's hope repetition and reminders of this learning are not needed time and time again.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Please all, and you will please none.
“A liar will not be believed, even when he speaks the truth.”
Aesop, 620 BC -560
Greek author and extraordinaire.
Aesop, 620 BC -560
Greek author and extraordinaire.
Lying comes in many forms. A definitive lie is easy to decipher; a truth is altered or eradicated altogether, and poof! when the fact surfaces, a lie is then made apparent.
What about when a person is inauthentic, however? Is that not an outright lie, not only to oneself, but also, to all others who cross the counterfeit path? I often find these words at the forefront of harder to detect lies:
"No problem." (said with a smile)
"It's okay." (")
"I understand." (")
"No worries." (")
"I'm sorry to hear it." (")
"That's too bad." (")
"Really, I totally understand, no worries - that's too bad and I'm so sorry to hear it, it's really okay and not a problem what-so-ever." (When in reality, they're pissed as all hell.)
*Note: I told you these lies are harder to pick up; some people who cite these word choices are credible and trustworthy individuals. We know those who aren't though. Coincidentally, they know who they are too.*
I'm finding as I get older, my tolerance level is dropping significantly. In fact, I have less and less respect for people who find the need to please, at the expense of telling the truth. Whether they're sparing another person's feelings, or feel the need to present a disingenuous niceness, either way, it's aggravating and grossly fraudulent. These same people make excuses to themselves that this is the proper and noble way to be, but it's in fact improper, and is terribly misleading. As this aforementioned tolerance level drops, I'm finding it more and more difficult to not say something in response to these liars. Such as, "You're a liar."
Truth be told, I would much rather have somebody give it to me straight, than lie straight to my face. Spare the dressed up lie with people - the naked truth is much more admirable. Besides, pleasing everyone is not a pleasant undertaking. In the end, you'll feel a whole lot better about yourself.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Big bark, no bite.
I had a dream last night that my boyfriend had a son. Evidently, The Bachelor made it to my subconscious on a farcical level. Consciously too, the BOOM! in the finale had my whirlwind of thoughts going "Boom boom boom, let me hear you say way-o. Way-o!" Very seriously, somebody at ABC deserves a major raise. Incontestably, reality television at it's finest. As it goes, I enjoyed the drama filled ending on many levels. I could relate to the gal's heartbreak(s), for one, and for two, it got me thinking this Jason Cat has some severe issues.
Jason Cat claims he would much rather live a life of "no regrets" rather than a life of "what ifs?" I don't buy this claim for one second; total and utter bullshnap. The truth of the matter is he doesn't even know how to live a life without the 'what ifs.' He's programmed his self-protective mechanism into the core of his being, continuing down this seemingly safe path. Arguably, providing only a temporary safety net - a destructive course manifesting over time, and over the long haul. My guess is that J. Cat invites these questions over and over again in his mind, with the likes of: What if my wife hadn't have left me for somebody else? (What if I had been a 'better' husband, perhaps?) What if DeAnna had chosen me instead of that reject Jesse? What if Melissa isn't the right girl for me after all? What if she breaks my heart like the other women in my life did before her? What if....
It seems to me he does a good job of pretending to live on the edge without the said regrets, only because he's afraid of having to be faced with the real fear of his heart, perchance, being ripped to shreds once again. Let's be honest, it can look a safer road to chase after a facade in the midst of a facade. Translation: J.C. chose to be with Melissa. When confronted with a real person (relationship), the reality of yet another break up was a massive roadblock on his safe path. Internal (hidden, due to self-induced denial) message, "Run from heartbreak." This is masked with a delusional, "What if" the 'other' girl was the right choice?" dialogue, as witnessed by the poor external "no regrets" talk - code for: I'm one weak MF and the idea of getting hurt again freaks the shit out of me. Hence, I'll jump around professing a no-regrets, risk-taker-kinda-guy, but I'm really a scared puppy (kinda-guy). (Shhh, don't tell.)
With this mentality, an asinine foolish existence is successfully achieved. (Not recommended, however.) A word of instruction for Jay C. - Stop chasing & start facing - The safe walk is in the illusion, the magic of the journey, in the detour. Take the leap. Of open faith.
P.s. I like ( ).
Jason Cat claims he would much rather live a life of "no regrets" rather than a life of "what ifs?" I don't buy this claim for one second; total and utter bullshnap. The truth of the matter is he doesn't even know how to live a life without the 'what ifs.' He's programmed his self-protective mechanism into the core of his being, continuing down this seemingly safe path. Arguably, providing only a temporary safety net - a destructive course manifesting over time, and over the long haul. My guess is that J. Cat invites these questions over and over again in his mind, with the likes of: What if my wife hadn't have left me for somebody else? (What if I had been a 'better' husband, perhaps?) What if DeAnna had chosen me instead of that reject Jesse? What if Melissa isn't the right girl for me after all? What if she breaks my heart like the other women in my life did before her? What if....
It seems to me he does a good job of pretending to live on the edge without the said regrets, only because he's afraid of having to be faced with the real fear of his heart, perchance, being ripped to shreds once again. Let's be honest, it can look a safer road to chase after a facade in the midst of a facade. Translation: J.C. chose to be with Melissa. When confronted with a real person (relationship), the reality of yet another break up was a massive roadblock on his safe path. Internal (hidden, due to self-induced denial) message, "Run from heartbreak." This is masked with a delusional, "What if" the 'other' girl was the right choice?" dialogue, as witnessed by the poor external "no regrets" talk - code for: I'm one weak MF and the idea of getting hurt again freaks the shit out of me. Hence, I'll jump around professing a no-regrets, risk-taker-kinda-guy, but I'm really a scared puppy (kinda-guy). (Shhh, don't tell.)
With this mentality, an asinine foolish existence is successfully achieved. (Not recommended, however.) A word of instruction for Jay C. - Stop chasing & start facing - The safe walk is in the illusion, the magic of the journey, in the detour. Take the leap. Of open faith.
P.s. I like ( ).
Friday, February 20, 2009
Maybe she's born with it.
A girl asks her significant other, "When you gonna get that haircut?" Significant other's response, "Yep, I do need a cut....When are you planning on cutting yours?"
Ladies, what is wrong with this reply? Everything. Am I right or am I right?
First of all, I don't care how much a girl yaps on and on about the emergent need to cut off those wretched split ends, or perhaps how she needs to lose those 'extra' 5 lbs, a man need (always) understand this:
Do not attempt to perfect a lady. A lady already knows her flaws - we're the consummate professional when it comes to detecting our imperfections. When she asks, "Do I look fat in this?," chances are, she knows, or at the very least, thinks she looks fat in it. She only wants confirmation that you appreciate the extended curvature regardless of her own skewed perception. Clearly, Heidi Klum is not staring back at her reflection, but it would be nice to know the guy in her life sees model material. Hips, thighs, ass and all. Same goes with Pantene Pro-V hair. Whether she has it or not, lie to your little princess.
Trust me, it not only saves you needless hardship, but also saves her from further insecurity. Leaving you both satisfied with the oh so unique gifts Mama gave her. And don't you fret Mr. Perfect, Mama gave you some unique gifts too. That receding hairline for one...
Ladies, what is wrong with this reply? Everything. Am I right or am I right?
First of all, I don't care how much a girl yaps on and on about the emergent need to cut off those wretched split ends, or perhaps how she needs to lose those 'extra' 5 lbs, a man need (always) understand this:
Do not attempt to perfect a lady. A lady already knows her flaws - we're the consummate professional when it comes to detecting our imperfections. When she asks, "Do I look fat in this?," chances are, she knows, or at the very least, thinks she looks fat in it. She only wants confirmation that you appreciate the extended curvature regardless of her own skewed perception. Clearly, Heidi Klum is not staring back at her reflection, but it would be nice to know the guy in her life sees model material. Hips, thighs, ass and all. Same goes with Pantene Pro-V hair. Whether she has it or not, lie to your little princess.
Trust me, it not only saves you needless hardship, but also saves her from further insecurity. Leaving you both satisfied with the oh so unique gifts Mama gave her. And don't you fret Mr. Perfect, Mama gave you some unique gifts too. That receding hairline for one...
Sunday, February 15, 2009
The blind man sees. Who knew?
The GOP are at it again. Senator Lindsey Graham, Republican from the great State of South Carolina told ABC's "This Week," "If this is going to be bipartisanship, the country's screwed. I know bipartisanship when I see it."
Do you dude? Chances are you're kinda rusty buddy. In the last 8 years you didn't get one glimpse of it. Nor did we - the average, unintelligible citizen. If I can step up on my soapbox for a small sec, here me when I say, "I cannot stand politicians - their scheming and maneuvering is shameful - at best." Am I the lone American with this sentiment? Let me venture to guess: Nope.
"Hey, Senator Graham, we don't need your words of wisdom to know what it feels like to be screwed, my friend. (Stolen from Mr. Wisdom himself, John McCain. Remember him?) Trust me friend, we felt the gas nozzle hit us harder than what's deemed comfortable, and it didn't feel exactly pleasant." Not to mention a laundry list of other fragmented matters....my friend.
This 'divided we stand' policy is old news, not dissimilar to the GOP partisan policies we've all come to know and widely not accept. The fact that Mr. Graham and his cohorts have nerve to bash on our President, not even a whole month into his term, is mind boggling. Does humility mean nothing to these rejects? You and your 'bi-partisan' approach was acutely unsuccessful. Wait, that was putting it mildly. Let me refresh - Shut your pie hole Mr. Graham! You all did a damn horrible job and you have absolutely no right to discredit an administration that has barely had the opportunity to move in the last box of kitchenware into the White House. 8 years people! You had 8 years. Enough is enough already.
I know I'm not the lone American when I affirm: Please humbly step back Mr. Graham and you too Mr. So-and-So (R-insert U.S. State). Let the new guy take his rightful place and give this country a real chance for Christ's sake.
~Disillusioned and disgusted in Seattle.
Do you dude? Chances are you're kinda rusty buddy. In the last 8 years you didn't get one glimpse of it. Nor did we - the average, unintelligible citizen. If I can step up on my soapbox for a small sec, here me when I say, "I cannot stand politicians - their scheming and maneuvering is shameful - at best." Am I the lone American with this sentiment? Let me venture to guess: Nope.
"Hey, Senator Graham, we don't need your words of wisdom to know what it feels like to be screwed, my friend. (Stolen from Mr. Wisdom himself, John McCain. Remember him?) Trust me friend, we felt the gas nozzle hit us harder than what's deemed comfortable, and it didn't feel exactly pleasant." Not to mention a laundry list of other fragmented matters....my friend.
This 'divided we stand' policy is old news, not dissimilar to the GOP partisan policies we've all come to know and widely not accept. The fact that Mr. Graham and his cohorts have nerve to bash on our President, not even a whole month into his term, is mind boggling. Does humility mean nothing to these rejects? You and your 'bi-partisan' approach was acutely unsuccessful. Wait, that was putting it mildly. Let me refresh - Shut your pie hole Mr. Graham! You all did a damn horrible job and you have absolutely no right to discredit an administration that has barely had the opportunity to move in the last box of kitchenware into the White House. 8 years people! You had 8 years. Enough is enough already.
I know I'm not the lone American when I affirm: Please humbly step back Mr. Graham and you too Mr. So-and-So (R-insert U.S. State
~Disillusioned and disgusted in Seattle.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Californians whining. (And we're not talking about the kids.)
Nadya Suleman: a Los Angeles, CA 33-year old, single Mom with 14 children - collects food stamps, capitalizes on Medi-Cal benefits (the State's Medicaid equivalency), and receives Social Security disability payments (in California: $793 per each disabled child) for 3 of her children (currently totaling $2,379.) The public aid will almost certainly be increased with the new additions to her family (the now notorious "Suleman octuplets.")
Just so you know, Californians are pissed about this latest 'news' story. I too don't see the stability in it, and can fully understand all the rage coming from Californians, where much of the money needed to raise these 14 children could fall on the shoulders of California's taxpayers, compounding the public furor in a State already billions of dollars in the red.
I am really troubled by the outcry I've heard from several friends who just cannot understand or comprehend how this woman could do such a thing, and how and why should their pocketbooks be responsible for her lunatic behavior. Frankly, here's what I say: suck it up and take this time to recognize the real problem in California (and in the US of A as a whole for that matter.)
The real outrage: How and why does this story make headlines? As absurd as it is, I'll give you the numbers that should make the TOP of the headlines:
-115,000 kids in the foster care system in California alone.
-500,000 in care nationwide; 800,000 "served" - in other words, kids are floating from their abusive homes, only to be placed back in their abusive homes -
Why? Not enough non-abusive homes willing to welcome these kids in. It's not my responsibility. You're right, it sure isn't, just like Nadya Suleman and her children are not your responsibility either. But guess what, news flash people!! Yes it is. It is our tax money that supports this system, including paying adults who, at times, are shamefully abusing the children in their care. Unfortunately, there is no perfect system. But gratefully, we have great people who open up their homes to these children, and my guess, it's not these people who are ranting on about Nadya Suleman. They understand there are bigger fish to fry....
Then again, the responsibility should lie with the biological parents, correct? If you're going to have children, raise your own children! I agree. In a perfect, Utopian society, absolutely, 110%, yes. The thing is, most people rave on about 'parental responsibility' when they don't want to hear about the shocking and very real "statistics." Sadly, these numbers are real displaced, and real abused children.
And to add more fuel to this fire, here's news flash #2: Most, if not all, of these kids come from low-income families who are already receiving public assistance. Surprised? I bet you're not. So now, and please ensure you're sitting down for this, we have families receiving the precious taxpayers dollars, and their children who are placed into care, are now, in addition to their parent(s), receiving the glorious taxpayers money too! "Tell them what they've won, Johnny!" This includes, but is not limited to: State Social Services funding, Private Agency funding, medical assistance, Social Security benefits, licensing fees to run the licensed foster homes, licensing fees to run the massively expensive group homes, and not to mention, the countless other mental health/wraparound services that are doing their best to help solve this 'little' problem. Quite pricey, eh?
Ask yourself, who should we be talking about: Nadya Suleman - a woman who is taking care of her own children (w/public assistance), albeit, in her own home, and as far as we know, in an abuse-free environment - OR, should the focus be on the shameful foster care system and on the thousands of abused children who would love to have their stories told? You tell me. Personally, I think it's fairly evident. And if you're sole worry is still your taxdollars, lay off of Nadya dummy, that's merely a drop in the bucket.
Just so you know, Californians are pissed about this latest 'news' story. I too don't see the stability in it, and can fully understand all the rage coming from Californians, where much of the money needed to raise these 14 children could fall on the shoulders of California's taxpayers, compounding the public furor in a State already billions of dollars in the red.
STOP! (Just for a second.)
I am really troubled by the outcry I've heard from several friends who just cannot understand or comprehend how this woman could do such a thing, and how and why should their pocketbooks be responsible for her lunatic behavior. Frankly, here's what I say: suck it up and take this time to recognize the real problem in California (and in the US of A as a whole for that matter.)
The real outrage: How and why does this story make headlines? As absurd as it is, I'll give you the numbers that should make the TOP of the headlines:
-115,000 kids in the foster care system in California alone.
-500,000 in care nationwide; 800,000 "served" - in other words, kids are floating from their abusive homes, only to be placed back in their abusive homes -
Why? Not enough non-abusive homes willing to welcome these kids in. It's not my responsibility. You're right, it sure isn't, just like Nadya Suleman and her children are not your responsibility either. But guess what, news flash people!! Yes it is. It is our tax money that supports this system, including paying adults who, at times, are shamefully abusing the children in their care. Unfortunately, there is no perfect system. But gratefully, we have great people who open up their homes to these children, and my guess, it's not these people who are ranting on about Nadya Suleman. They understand there are bigger fish to fry....
Then again, the responsibility should lie with the biological parents, correct? If you're going to have children, raise your own children! I agree. In a perfect, Utopian society, absolutely, 110%, yes. The thing is, most people rave on about 'parental responsibility' when they don't want to hear about the shocking and very real "statistics." Sadly, these numbers are real displaced, and real abused children.
And to add more fuel to this fire, here's news flash #2: Most, if not all, of these kids come from low-income families who are already receiving public assistance. Surprised? I bet you're not. So now, and please ensure you're sitting down for this, we have families receiving the precious taxpayers dollars, and their children who are placed into care, are now, in addition to their parent(s), receiving the glorious taxpayers money too! "Tell them what they've won, Johnny!" This includes, but is not limited to: State Social Services funding, Private Agency funding, medical assistance, Social Security benefits, licensing fees to run the licensed foster homes, licensing fees to run the massively expensive group homes, and not to mention, the countless other mental health/wraparound services that are doing their best to help solve this 'little' problem. Quite pricey, eh?
Ask yourself, who should we be talking about: Nadya Suleman - a woman who is taking care of her own children (w/public assistance), albeit, in her own home, and as far as we know, in an abuse-free environment - OR, should the focus be on the shameful foster care system and on the thousands of abused children who would love to have their stories told? You tell me. Personally, I think it's fairly evident. And if you're sole worry is still your taxdollars, lay off of Nadya dummy, that's merely a drop in the bucket.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
I don't believe in you. And me. But do in me.
I challenge you to take a look back at your fondest relationship. Or at the very least, the one you thought was so great at the time that it was supposedly so great. Still great? I highly doubt it. Friendships are similar to relationships, in that, most have a time and a place. But few stand the test of time.
I cringe at the thought of a previous fling I had not too long ago. What the hell was I thinking? Was I in a moment of sheer desperation? How embarrassing. Looking back at a more serious past relationship, however, although I can't argue neurosis, I can say that both time and memory have made it harder for me to quantify or recognize the level of greatness that once was. More importantly, and attempting to bring the memory to present day as best as possible, I ask myself, would that person play a role in my life had I met him today? I think he would. BUT, not in the same way he did 5 and 12 years ago (marking both the end and beginning of.)
My guess is he still has the same witty sense of humour and our compatibility and ability to communicate will still be there if our paths somehow crossed again. What comes to mind as I ponder is the movie, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. The theme I remember most from the film is 'would you do it all over again if you knew the final outcome; would it be worth the heartache in the end?' Perhaps this is the real reason why I argue the relationship 5 years ago wouldn't be the same now. I already know how it ends. This changes my perception of the relationship - completely altering the course from beginning to end. The person at those end moments reflects something that never revealed itself in the thickness of bliss. Sadly, it's generally these moments we're left to remember, and we often walk away from the relationship with these left open/open-ended questions to contemplate:
Is this the real person, of whom I never quite knew? Was I only fooling myself to think he/she was this amazing person, a seemingly perfect fit? Yes and no. Yes and no. The answers will never be concrete. Coincidentally, the questions aren't either. It's probably best to stop asking. Maybe it's more apt to ask these questions when we're in thick of it, not after it's said and done. In poor taste and proving ineffective time and again, we tend to glamorize people, particularly, our current fling; a guilty charge I'm willing to admit - which brings me back to my original point. This past fond relationship, minus the sour ending, had its moments of greatness, but if I'm entirely honest with myself, I can distinctly say, the relationship is meant to stay in that time, and in that very place. It was never meant to stand the test of time.
Convincingly, experience, growth, the human spirit, and even those embarrassing flings, teach people a thing or three - Namely, this is what works and this is what doesn't - the two lessons that conceivably matter most. Lesson number three: nostalgia lies a lot.
I cringe at the thought of a previous fling I had not too long ago. What the hell was I thinking? Was I in a moment of sheer desperation? How embarrassing. Looking back at a more serious past relationship, however, although I can't argue neurosis, I can say that both time and memory have made it harder for me to quantify or recognize the level of greatness that once was. More importantly, and attempting to bring the memory to present day as best as possible, I ask myself, would that person play a role in my life had I met him today? I think he would. BUT, not in the same way he did 5 and 12 years ago (marking both the end and beginning of.)
My guess is he still has the same witty sense of humour and our compatibility and ability to communicate will still be there if our paths somehow crossed again. What comes to mind as I ponder is the movie, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. The theme I remember most from the film is 'would you do it all over again if you knew the final outcome; would it be worth the heartache in the end?' Perhaps this is the real reason why I argue the relationship 5 years ago wouldn't be the same now. I already know how it ends. This changes my perception of the relationship - completely altering the course from beginning to end. The person at those end moments reflects something that never revealed itself in the thickness of bliss. Sadly, it's generally these moments we're left to remember, and we often walk away from the relationship with these left open/open-ended questions to contemplate:
Is this the real person, of whom I never quite knew? Was I only fooling myself to think he/she was this amazing person, a seemingly perfect fit? Yes and no. Yes and no. The answers will never be concrete. Coincidentally, the questions aren't either. It's probably best to stop asking. Maybe it's more apt to ask these questions when we're in thick of it, not after it's said and done. In poor taste and proving ineffective time and again, we tend to glamorize people, particularly, our current fling; a guilty charge I'm willing to admit - which brings me back to my original point. This past fond relationship, minus the sour ending, had its moments of greatness, but if I'm entirely honest with myself, I can distinctly say, the relationship is meant to stay in that time, and in that very place. It was never meant to stand the test of time.
Convincingly, experience, growth, the human spirit, and even those embarrassing flings, teach people a thing or three - Namely, this is what works and this is what doesn't - the two lessons that conceivably matter most. Lesson number three: nostalgia lies a lot.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Sunday, February 1, 2009
I am woman, hear me mother effing roar.
Being a woman is hard. To be a strong woman, even harder. And to be a strong woman with compassion, the ultimate challenge. The meek women often fail to understand, there is solid value in opinion. The aggressive often lack the tact necessary to be heard -- Loud, obnoxious rants get you nowhere, and a quiet, subdued existence is a boring waste of valuable space.
(Perhaps, the difficulty comes in finding balance between maniacal monster and muffled mutant?)
I believe the real misfortune lies in having to be a mindful female in the first place. Versus just being - is it not true? - genuine authenticity comes when you stop trying to be anything outside of you. Being authentic shouldn't take a great deal of thought or a great deal of work. Even balance would be cheating oneself. As balance is intended to normalize, to find an in-between. Maybe normal, or the in-between, doesn't fit for you. Or for me either. For her or for him, however, normal could be a perfectly normal fit.
(In my world, boxes confine people. Confinement suffocates. I fear enclosed spaces...)
And so it goes, I was talking to a friend who said he'd like to be 5 years old all over again when in this set time, authenticity is at its finest. In Kindergarten, kids fight over toys and crayons, yell at their peers when they feel justified to do so, and mutually, quickly move on without any malice or over analytical thought processing about why that kid took my crayon. And in Kindergarten it was okay to be a girl rough housing on the monkey bars, no real fear of the boys looking up her skirt, never once thinking she was any less of a girl for doing so; composure was not ever a forethought. Or an after thought for that matter. Likewise, boys and girls were both equally capable. Of friendship. Of sharing. Of disagreement. Of equal partnership; no real definitive lines drawn between the sexes. Aside from the occasional crush - both raw and honest - that really, only a 5 year old could naturally pull off.
Rather unfortunately, the adult male and the adult female have learned the trade, forgetting life when it was easy and when it was natural. When it just was. Expectations were few. Now, and amongst all of the skewing of lines, women genuinely have it hard. It's damn hard to be a woman! Not just any woman, but a real, respectable woman.
*BIG ass sigh*
In theory, the challenge for we women is quite simple:
Just be. A woman. A beautifully brilliant, wonderful woman. Find solace in the creation of you and take refuge in your natural state.
In practice, a challenging simplistic experiment:
Just be. An original you.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Be somebody or be somebody's fool.
For fear of offending, let me clarify my previous blog which helped me clarify my previous, previous blog. This is referring to the happy single life. When I say happy and single and put these two choice words together, it's not meant to be an oxymoron. The two together make a perfect fit.
How many people are the exact replica of you? Zero. For that reason, nobody knows you like you, and nobody can fulfill you but you. Now, if you don't enjoy yourself, then being single can be miserable. Chances are, and an afterthought solely, another person will not want or desire any part of your misery. Perhaps your Mom will put up with it and give you the comfort you need, but very few and far between will want to partake in your melancholy and in your sheer gloom.
In response to: "How many arrogant people do you know who are single, miserable and don't have any true close friends?" Here goes...
Being single and miserable are two separate things, entirely. Yes, I'm currently in a relationship, but before I was in this said 'relationship', I was...brace yourself for this...single. But not miserable. The two do not go hand in hand. They certainly can, pending how one views their single life, but the reality is that it's a beautiful time to just be. Maybe this sounds lame coming from someone who's 'attached' at the moment, but I'm not speaking from a state of euphoria. I'm happy I was single for such a long period of time. Really happy. Truth is, I couldn't be in a relationship without that crucial, distinctive time. It's enjoyable to figure out what works for a person on an individual level (albeit challenging at times), and let's face it, it's fun not having to answer to anyone.
Having said all of that, there are many single people who are single because of who they are. Arrogance can play a factor, as well as an inability to be one's true self in an intimate relationship - this can be in the form of sabotage, and for a number of other reasons; it can be attributed to how a person views themselves in a relationship, or views past relationships, or their readiness to be in a relationship, or the unwillingness to be open to one, etc, etc, etc. More often than not - my opinion solely - being single is a choice. Whether that's on a conscious or subconscious level.
Once a person consciously recognizes this choice, he or she can pinpoint the factors that determine this choice. And either,
A) be okay and content with it.
B) if not, build on what it takes to be open to possibilities, OR
C) continue to blame outside factors for your life decisions.
If C is a viable choice for you, "I pity the fool..."
How many people are the exact replica of you? Zero. For that reason, nobody knows you like you, and nobody can fulfill you but you. Now, if you don't enjoy yourself, then being single can be miserable. Chances are, and an afterthought solely, another person will not want or desire any part of your misery. Perhaps your Mom will put up with it and give you the comfort you need, but very few and far between will want to partake in your melancholy and in your sheer gloom.
In response to: "How many arrogant people do you know who are single, miserable and don't have any true close friends?" Here goes...
Being single and miserable are two separate things, entirely. Yes, I'm currently in a relationship, but before I was in this said 'relationship', I was...brace yourself for this...single. But not miserable. The two do not go hand in hand. They certainly can, pending how one views their single life, but the reality is that it's a beautiful time to just be. Maybe this sounds lame coming from someone who's 'attached' at the moment, but I'm not speaking from a state of euphoria. I'm happy I was single for such a long period of time. Really happy. Truth is, I couldn't be in a relationship without that crucial, distinctive time. It's enjoyable to figure out what works for a person on an individual level (albeit challenging at times), and let's face it, it's fun not having to answer to anyone.
Having said all of that, there are many single people who are single because of who they are. Arrogance can play a factor, as well as an inability to be one's true self in an intimate relationship - this can be in the form of sabotage, and for a number of other reasons; it can be attributed to how a person views themselves in a relationship, or views past relationships, or their readiness to be in a relationship, or the unwillingness to be open to one, etc, etc, etc. More often than not - my opinion solely - being single is a choice. Whether that's on a conscious or subconscious level.
Once a person consciously recognizes this choice, he or she can pinpoint the factors that determine this choice. And either,
A) be okay and content with it.
B) if not, build on what it takes to be open to possibilities, OR
C) continue to blame outside factors for your life decisions.
If C is a viable choice for you, "I pity the fool..."
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
What's a girl to do? But give love.
Please ignore my previous blog. Utterly ridiculous. Not the hope in our New Nation bit, but the other piece. A good friend of mine, in response to Hope is a four letter word., said this (and I quote verbatim):
"Often times, when you get frustrated with people that give off a vibe you don't like, just remind yourself of what a totally functional, nice and caring person you are and then think about all of the great things you have attracted into your life by being the way you are. (good friends, good family, awesome boyfriend, etc.) It really makes you realize how people are responsible for their own happiness and you begin to wonder what it is about the rude, arrogant people that they are lacking in their own lives that causes them to draw so much negativity....9 times out of 10 (*blogger note: not a definitive study, but seems reasonable to me!), they don't have any of the wonderful blessings that you do. (**blogger note: The Law of Attraction) How many arrogant people do you know who are single, miserable and don't have any true close friends? For now, just keep being who you are."
Amen. True dat sista. Much gratitude for the much needed insight (and thanks for putting the highly, off the chart, emotions in check. This is what girlfriends are for people!)
Truth be told, people who are insufficient in substance need sufficient love. Vomitville girl will only get love from me, even if she does attempt to spew it out Exorcist style. Reality check: a Catholic priest could very well be in order.
*Fact.
**Fact.
"Often times, when you get frustrated with people that give off a vibe you don't like, just remind yourself of what a totally functional, nice and caring person you are and then think about all of the great things you have attracted into your life by being the way you are. (good friends, good family, awesome boyfriend, etc.) It really makes you realize how people are responsible for their own happiness and you begin to wonder what it is about the rude, arrogant people that they are lacking in their own lives that causes them to draw so much negativity....9 times out of 10 (*blogger note: not a definitive study, but seems reasonable to me!), they don't have any of the wonderful blessings that you do. (**blogger note: The Law of Attraction) How many arrogant people do you know who are single, miserable and don't have any true close friends? For now, just keep being who you are."
Amen. True dat sista. Much gratitude for the much needed insight (and thanks for putting the highly, off the chart, emotions in check. This is what girlfriends are for people!)
Truth be told, people who are insufficient in substance need sufficient love. Vomitville girl will only get love from me, even if she does attempt to spew it out Exorcist style. Reality check: a Catholic priest could very well be in order.
*Fact.
**Fact.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Hope is a four letter word.
As I'm driving into work this morning, following a beautiful and encouraging inaugural speech, I began thinking about a person I've encountered a few times now. These thoughts have absolutely no relation to the speech, as this person has attributes that, very sincerely, make me want to vomit. Our new President, and post-Bush era we live in, however, is astounding and I'm thrilled to be living in this moment in Our history.
Even so, and regrettably, this vomit-inducing individual happened to take center stage for one brief moment in my day. I suppose all of the promise and love in my heart, also ignited the opposite effect in me. To be brief, this vomitville girl, is nauseatingly snooty, beyond pretentious, and has a level of arrogance not worthy of anyone I know. Quite frankly, nobody on this planet has worth exceeding such a repellent attitude. To be descriptive, she's small in stature, small in brain mass, and small in personality, yet, she drowns herself in massive haughtiness. I can't imagine how anybody would find her attractive in the least. The mention of her here serves a purpose for me, as I'm having trouble being in her presence when our paths cross on rare and unfortunate occasions. My fear is I'll tell her she's a pompous cow. I'd much rather vent my feelings on this note, rather than make her squirm into something smaller than what she already possesses.
If anything, I'm now convinced there are females with the Napoleon complex. For those who are unaware of Mr. Bonaparte's fate, he was imprisoned and exiled to one of the most isolated islands in the world and eventually died of a very advanced case of gastric cancer due to an ulcer-causing bacterial infection. Now I'm not saying I'm hoping the same fate for vomitville girl. I wouldn't wish that upon anybody. But part of me does hope that one day she is welcomed to a nice dose of reality.
I personally don't have the ceasing remedy for her behavior, but have been known to be rather forthright every now and again, and I'm not opposed to offering this 'French Empress' my personal opinion if the situation presents itself. If by chance, "pompous cow" is the avenue eventually chosen, so be it. I'll be sure to keep you posted. But until this time comes, I'll reflect with hope as our 44th President, Mr. Barack Hussein Obama, and this next administration take office, and will really hope vomitville folks begin to recognize that the world is a much larger place; their unduly small mindedness is not, nor is it ever, welcomed.
Even so, and regrettably, this vomit-inducing individual happened to take center stage for one brief moment in my day. I suppose all of the promise and love in my heart, also ignited the opposite effect in me. To be brief, this vomitville girl, is nauseatingly snooty, beyond pretentious, and has a level of arrogance not worthy of anyone I know. Quite frankly, nobody on this planet has worth exceeding such a repellent attitude. To be descriptive, she's small in stature, small in brain mass, and small in personality, yet, she drowns herself in massive haughtiness. I can't imagine how anybody would find her attractive in the least. The mention of her here serves a purpose for me, as I'm having trouble being in her presence when our paths cross on rare and unfortunate occasions. My fear is I'll tell her she's a pompous cow. I'd much rather vent my feelings on this note, rather than make her squirm into something smaller than what she already possesses.
If anything, I'm now convinced there are females with the Napoleon complex. For those who are unaware of Mr. Bonaparte's fate, he was imprisoned and exiled to one of the most isolated islands in the world and eventually died of a very advanced case of gastric cancer due to an ulcer-causing bacterial infection. Now I'm not saying I'm hoping the same fate for vomitville girl. I wouldn't wish that upon anybody. But part of me does hope that one day she is welcomed to a nice dose of reality.
I personally don't have the ceasing remedy for her behavior, but have been known to be rather forthright every now and again, and I'm not opposed to offering this 'French Empress' my personal opinion if the situation presents itself. If by chance, "pompous cow" is the avenue eventually chosen, so be it. I'll be sure to keep you posted. But until this time comes, I'll reflect with hope as our 44th President, Mr. Barack Hussein Obama, and this next administration take office, and will really hope vomitville folks begin to recognize that the world is a much larger place; their unduly small mindedness is not, nor is it ever, welcomed.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Inspirational overload.
"Don't be like those people who believe in “positive thinking” and tell themselves that they're loved and strong and capable. You don't need to do that, because you know it already. And when you doubt it – which happens, I think, quite often at this stage of evolution – do as I suggested. Instead of trying to prove that you're better than you think, just laugh. Laugh at your worries and insecurities. View your anxieties with humour. It will be difficult at first, but you'll gradually get used to it." (The Witch of Portobello, by Paulo Coelho, page 110.)
Paulo Coelho is my favorite author right now. This is a good read. I actually bought the book. (Check out #6 of particulars in Tell me what to do. Let's see where that gets you.) And you'll find that the book purchase is a pretty big deal in my small world! Be it as it may, perusing through this book has allowed me to put into words what I often have difficulty 'putting into words.' The aforementioned quote is one I strive to do, and feel I've been more capable than many people of doing it, and if I can toot my own horn for a second, I do it fairly well. There's always room for improvement - thankfully - half the battle is in the understanding.
I could go on quoting this book for days, and potentially will. I'll leave you with another short quote I have found relevant, especially in relation to the written word, and self-expression; when posting it for others to view, for others to critique perhaps, for others to laugh or to inspire, it all is a reflection of me. And so it goes...
"When sacred texts are written, they contain the soul of the man who served as an instrument to spread them throughout the world. And that doesn't apply to only sacred texts, but to every mark we place on paper. Because the hand that draws each line reflects the soul of the person making the line." (page 62-63.)
So there you have it - my soul on the line. With a chuckle, and the slight insecurity that one may not find enjoyment or satisfaction in my musings, I'll proceed with a smile, grateful for the Creat(or)ion of my funny bone.
Paulo Coelho is my favorite author right now. This is a good read. I actually bought the book. (Check out #6 of particulars in Tell me what to do. Let's see where that gets you.) And you'll find that the book purchase is a pretty big deal in my small world! Be it as it may, perusing through this book has allowed me to put into words what I often have difficulty 'putting into words.' The aforementioned quote is one I strive to do, and feel I've been more capable than many people of doing it, and if I can toot my own horn for a second, I do it fairly well. There's always room for improvement - thankfully - half the battle is in the understanding.
I could go on quoting this book for days, and potentially will. I'll leave you with another short quote I have found relevant, especially in relation to the written word, and self-expression; when posting it for others to view, for others to critique perhaps, for others to laugh or to inspire, it all is a reflection of me. And so it goes...
"When sacred texts are written, they contain the soul of the man who served as an instrument to spread them throughout the world. And that doesn't apply to only sacred texts, but to every mark we place on paper. Because the hand that draws each line reflects the soul of the person making the line." (page 62-63.)
So there you have it - my soul on the line. With a chuckle, and the slight insecurity that one may not find enjoyment or satisfaction in my musings, I'll proceed with a smile, grateful for the Creat(or)ion of my funny bone.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Evolutionary road.
How long does it take to really get to know someone?
My answer: A lifetime.
People grow, people change - we all have our highs and lows; people are, in a word, fickle.
Myself, included.
Watching 'The Bachelor' yesterday has stemmed these thoughts. Me and some gal pals were watching this quality television last night, and mind you, we were appalled by most of it, but more specifically, with how quickly these ladies were enamored by this one gentleman. Admittedly, it's a sad, degrading show, but on the positive, makes we girls feel a whole lot better about ourselves. Because let's face it, I will never be that girl, which essentially, makes me absolutely, and quite contently, normal. Thank goodness for crazy chicks.
These said 'locas' are already head-over-heals with Bachelor Boy, which spurred the conversation of how long it takes to date and get to know someone in a real and intimate way. One gal pal stated that a full year is necessary, as the initial intoxication eventually wears leaving room for a more authentic connection, whilst another stated that she knew within a few months that this guy was different from the rest. These arguments are not new sentiments, no epiphany there. All the same, and in my opinion, the views of both girls are right. I believe you can know somebody is worth your while on day one, and not surprisingly, know them that much more by year's end. And chances are, five years later, you'll know this person on yet another bona fide level.
This isn't exactly rocket engineering. If, however, evolutionary people go into relationships understanding that coupling is an evolutionary process, it's possible to know early on that you want to engage in this process with this person. The highs and lows of love, from euphoria and bliss and onward down Evolutionary Road, are all part of the experience of getting to know somebody through and through. And getting to know them profoundly and with deep passion, may also very well involve some bewilderment along the way, but taking the good with the bad is perchance, what separates the happy couples from the not so happy singles.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Recreational drollery.
Booger: "Why? Does she have a penis?"Me: "Nope, but she sure does have a booger!"
I went to the IHOP last night. Surprisingly, the place was not exactly full, but I was having a major craving for something sweet, and something simple - no fancy crêpe necessary. Thought an American pancake, Denny-style, would do the trick. And for the most part, the chocolate chip tasty flapjacks did exactly that. Satisfied the craving, making me all warm and terrifically fuzzy inside. Honestly peeps, it doesn't take too much. I wouldn't say the meal was super fantastic, but will venture to say, delightfully pleasure some.
Even so, what I didn't come to expect was a froggy-style booger flying out of the hostess' nostril upon entrance. Here she is beginning to welcome us in, and very likely, only the second customers of the day in this joint, when "it" literally, came down fashionably and was quickly snorted back up in a similar nonchalant fashion. I felt a shock of embarrassment for the girl, looked down expeditiously, pretending not to witness this unfortunate situation, which was very quickly followed by a nauseating appetite suppressing feeling. Lickety-split, just like that my need for something sweet seemed a distant memory. Once she sat us down, I couldn't help but think, "Don't touch me lady. And please keep that booger from falling into my beverage." A snobby, but true testament of my thought process. Until that is, the glorious menu was put in front of me, and pictured in all its eminence sat the chocolatey chippy perfection soon-to-be devoured without a booger of a thought crossing me or my booger-free meal. All in all, mission accomplished if you ask me.
Chances are though, the fancy French crêperie probably comes with a booger-free hostess. Maybe a consideration for the next sweet craving adventure.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Tell me what to do. Let's see where that gets you.
I was told by my favorite person that I'm "particular." Naturally, when your favorite anything (ie. Ghirardelli milk chocolate) provides feedback, (ie. cont., deep salivating satisfaction) it's important to digest it in a way that encourages an unmitigated understanding of the self.
Self-understanding: I like chocolate. But do I like being perceived as a particular person? Whether I like it or not, is irrelevant I think. Because I can certainly tell myself, "Deb, you don't like chocolate," and that would certainly be a downright lie. As it goes, lying is a pet peeve of mine, so I'll refrain from doing it to myself. The self-reflection that follows:
1) Every day, at around 11 o' clock a.m., I always order a double shot Americano in a grande to-go cup, light room; 4 packs of Splenda (yes, you read that right.) and a splash of cream. Never fails.
2) Earrings are a must. Preferably pearls.
3) I like 75 degrees indoors at winter, but prefer 65 degree days in general. But not 75 degrees indoors on a 65 degree day.
4) I wear sunblock like it's going out of style. And am convinced that my skin is alabaster and not a nauseating pale white as a result.
5) I enjoy sitting at Barnes & Nobles 3+ days a week flipping through shitty trash mags (Angelina is pregnant with quadruplets, by the way.) and also pick up the occasional newest read. I have been known to read a whole book in the store a time or two (or ten+++) and place it back on the shelf upon finish.
6) I refuse to buy a book unless it's deemed superb by my standards.
7) I very rarely sit through an entire movie. Engaging me for 2 straight hours takes work.
8) I have a male list, and I've always stuck to it. So far, this list has been a helpful tool and proven effective.
9) I love Honey Nut Cheerios, and quite possibly eat it daily. Straight from the box. No milk.
10) I'm naked without perfume. And always go back to Allure every other year.
11) I cannot stand having hair on my arms, and thus get rid of the peach fuzz that I've been blessed with.
12) I brush my teeth right after I drink coffee. Right after. Every. Single. Time.
13) I carry a toothbrush in my purse. Along with deodorant, lotion, body splash, gum, dental floss, lip gloss (4 tubes), & Clinique face powder.
14) I do not tolerate disrespect. Period. Especially when in defense of my family and friends. I WILL feel it a duty to alleviate an arising situation. Verbal bluntness generally does the trick.
15) I feel it necessary to speak my mind. I cannot not.
16) I like pretzel sticks. The generic brand is often better than Rold Gold. PARTICULARLY, Safeway's brand.
17) I prefer Diet Caffeine Free Pepsi. Any chance to avoid yet another pee break is encouraged. (FYI, caffeine is a diuretic, thus pee-age, a byproduct.)
18) I'm highly sensitive. Including my epidermis. Touch is a good thing.
19) Tardiness is rude. I'm a 10-minute early girl.
20) I'm selective with the friends in my life. And don't feel it necessary to please or be-friend people for anything outside of enjoying one's company.
21) I view phony folks as fraudulent. I've been known to call out the fake from the funk a lot in my day. (refer to 15.)
22) Music is meant to be heard. I listen to my music loud.
23) A morning coffee with CNN is a ritual.
24) I have faith. And I ally politically to one side. But never feel confined to set norms.
25) I don't like senseless rules. And don't like being told what to do. *The title of this entry says it best.*
26) My moral code keeps me in line however.
27) I like striped socks.
28) A man that smells nice is a major turn on.
29) I smell my food before I eat it. Literally sniff it like a dog.
30) AND finally, I need alone time each day. NEED. An absolute must have...
There you have it, the short list. Further particulars need not be mentioned. I will go on to say though, I'm glad to know I'm me, and I acknowledge me for me. I accept my flaws, and even try to work on them from time to time. Quite honestly, my particularity, flaws included, keep me feeling stable and somewhat connected to the universe at large. Because, and the truth of the matter, the bigger part of me is nowhere near particular; I'm a gypsy at heart and can very easily fly off the deep end if not held by my self-containing mechanisms. Perhaps I need these stable rituals to keep me from sheer neurosis. Or perhaps even, these rituals and fixed views define my neurotics. Oh well, whatever the case may be, feel free to call me crazy.
Self-understanding: I like chocolate. But do I like being perceived as a particular person? Whether I like it or not, is irrelevant I think. Because I can certainly tell myself, "Deb, you don't like chocolate," and that would certainly be a downright lie. As it goes, lying is a pet peeve of mine, so I'll refrain from doing it to myself. The self-reflection that follows:
What makes me particular?
1) Every day, at around 11 o' clock a.m., I always order a double shot Americano in a grande to-go cup, light room; 4 packs of Splenda (yes, you read that right.) and a splash of cream. Never fails.
2) Earrings are a must. Preferably pearls.
3) I like 75 degrees indoors at winter, but prefer 65 degree days in general. But not 75 degrees indoors on a 65 degree day.
4) I wear sunblock like it's going out of style. And am convinced that my skin is alabaster and not a nauseating pale white as a result.
5) I enjoy sitting at Barnes & Nobles 3+ days a week flipping through shitty trash mags (Angelina is pregnant with quadruplets, by the way.) and also pick up the occasional newest read. I have been known to read a whole book in the store a time or two (or ten+++) and place it back on the shelf upon finish.
6) I refuse to buy a book unless it's deemed superb by my standards.
7) I very rarely sit through an entire movie. Engaging me for 2 straight hours takes work.
8) I have a male list, and I've always stuck to it. So far, this list has been a helpful tool and proven effective.
9) I love Honey Nut Cheerios, and quite possibly eat it daily. Straight from the box. No milk.
10) I'm naked without perfume. And always go back to Allure every other year.
11) I cannot stand having hair on my arms, and thus get rid of the peach fuzz that I've been blessed with.
12) I brush my teeth right after I drink coffee. Right after. Every. Single. Time.
13) I carry a toothbrush in my purse. Along with deodorant, lotion, body splash, gum, dental floss, lip gloss (4 tubes), & Clinique face powder.
14) I do not tolerate disrespect. Period. Especially when in defense of my family and friends. I WILL feel it a duty to alleviate an arising situation. Verbal bluntness generally does the trick.
15) I feel it necessary to speak my mind. I cannot not.
16) I like pretzel sticks. The generic brand is often better than Rold Gold. PARTICULARLY, Safeway's brand.
17) I prefer Diet Caffeine Free Pepsi. Any chance to avoid yet another pee break is encouraged. (FYI, caffeine is a diuretic, thus pee-age, a byproduct.)
18) I'm highly sensitive. Including my epidermis. Touch is a good thing.
19) Tardiness is rude. I'm a 10-minute early girl.
20) I'm selective with the friends in my life. And don't feel it necessary to please or be-friend people for anything outside of enjoying one's company.
21) I view phony folks as fraudulent. I've been known to call out the fake from the funk a lot in my day. (refer to 15.)
22) Music is meant to be heard. I listen to my music loud.
23) A morning coffee with CNN is a ritual.
24) I have faith. And I ally politically to one side. But never feel confined to set norms.
25) I don't like senseless rules. And don't like being told what to do. *The title of this entry says it best.*
26) My moral code keeps me in line however.
27) I like striped socks.
28) A man that smells nice is a major turn on.
29) I smell my food before I eat it. Literally sniff it like a dog.
30) AND finally, I need alone time each day. NEED. An absolute must have...
There you have it, the short list. Further particulars need not be mentioned. I will go on to say though, I'm glad to know I'm me, and I acknowledge me for me. I accept my flaws, and even try to work on them from time to time. Quite honestly, my particularity, flaws included, keep me feeling stable and somewhat connected to the universe at large. Because, and the truth of the matter, the bigger part of me is nowhere near particular; I'm a gypsy at heart and can very easily fly off the deep end if not held by my self-containing mechanisms. Perhaps I need these stable rituals to keep me from sheer neurosis. Or perhaps even, these rituals and fixed views define my neurotics. Oh well, whatever the case may be, feel free to call me crazy.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh nine.
What happened to 1998? Or 2008 for that matter. Man oh man, time certainly flies.
But life, on the other hand, doesn't fly. (The fly life can be lived, however. Another argument altogether...) Nevertheless, we live and then we die. Sure, life is on a continuum with time, but it doesn't change the fact that we're living at 18 years old, as we are at 28. Experience, gray hair, a few wrinkles, excess weight - these are in fact signs of time altering the state of life - both physically and emotionally. The thing is, we can't ask time to stop moving along, but we can choose how we live our life, within the time frame we're given. So if at 28, I want to jump out of an airplane, or venture over to the Great Wall, or where that tight, skimpy mini, or tell my sister's/family/friends I love them one more time, then that's what I'm going to do. I won't allow the age of my life determine where I go or what I do or how I think even. Perhaps, it's not that "life is too short," but rather, the time we choose to live our life is consumed by wasted moments and unnecessary hang-ups.
Life really is a now moment. With this in mind, stop sweating the small stuff, stop pursuing materialistic gain, and stop pretending you're somebody you're not. Because seriously, you're only kidding yourself with the façade you front. Enjoy this life and do what you love. Be who you are. And as you so please, resolve to live the fly life in 2009.
But life, on the other hand, doesn't fly. (The fly life can be lived, however. Another argument altogether...) Nevertheless, we live and then we die. Sure, life is on a continuum with time, but it doesn't change the fact that we're living at 18 years old, as we are at 28. Experience, gray hair, a few wrinkles, excess weight - these are in fact signs of time altering the state of life - both physically and emotionally. The thing is, we can't ask time to stop moving along, but we can choose how we live our life, within the time frame we're given. So if at 28, I want to jump out of an airplane, or venture over to the Great Wall, or where that tight, skimpy mini, or tell my sister's/family/friends I love them one more time, then that's what I'm going to do. I won't allow the age of my life determine where I go or what I do or how I think even. Perhaps, it's not that "life is too short," but rather, the time we choose to live our life is consumed by wasted moments and unnecessary hang-ups.
Life really is a now moment. With this in mind, stop sweating the small stuff, stop pursuing materialistic gain, and stop pretending you're somebody you're not. Because seriously, you're only kidding yourself with the façade you front. Enjoy this life and do what you love. Be who you are. And as you so please, resolve to live the fly life in 2009.
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