Regular Old Quotes

CS LEWISI see a lot of inspiring quotes in my social media news feed. Quotes from famous people who have gone on to do amazing things. I am motivated to do more, try harder, forgive faster, love stronger.

But some of the most profound statements I’ve ever heard have come from normal, regular people that do extraordinary things every day by just being.

Famous people are inspiring. They represent the real possibility that dreams do come true. But the real people in my life are the real deal. They are juggling children and careers, living through heartache and disappointment, battling isolation and reaching out for the warmth of friendship.

I find everyone inspiring. People I’ve known forever, people I’ve just meet. Almost everyone has something to say at some point during a deep conversation that is worthy of a meme, t-shirt, or coffee mug.

What’s the one thing you would tell the world? I’d really like to know.

Because the world I interact with is far more inspiring than the words of a great person far removed.

Send me your own words of wisdom – there’s a good chance I’ll want to share it.

Not Everyone Lies On Facebook

Sigh. Where to begin?

I’ve been reading MANY posts lately about the lies people tell on social media, how we scrub our lives and portray only our most beautiful moments. It’s a social media backlash that I honestly take a little personally.Lies Kids

I post pictures of my kids doing adorable things. I only post pictures of myself when they look good. I share anecdotes of my small children saying amazing, profound things. And I am not ashamed of my life shared on social media.

Here’s how you can interpret my social media activity:

  • I post cute kid stuff maybe 3-5 times a week. Other than those moments you can assume they have been in timeout for knocking each other around like barbarians.
  • You will find pictures of me, usually with my husband, about once a month because doing my hair and makeup for anything other than work (and usually not even on those days) only happens that often.
  • I share articles and stories that inspire, inform, or make me laugh so hard I snort coffee. Since this is most of my posting, you can infer that I read a lot and care about politics, world events, the great irony of reaching middle age, and art. To name just a few.
  • I “Like” a lot of my friends’ posts because I like my friends and their kids – both human and animal. I genuinely like seeing their fondest memories, reading lists, and musings about life.

You see, I don’t lie on Facebook. In fact, it’s a pretty accurate highlight reel of what my life is like. Would it make my friends happy to see 4 pictures a day of my children crying, whining, or giving me the evil eye? Would they rather see pictures of me the moment I wake up with puffy eyes, standing over a toaster making waffles willing the coffeemaker to brew faster?

Life will always be a series of highs and lows. I have faith in my social media friends that they can read between the lines of my “perfectly Instagrammed” life and know that I am well-rounded, equally disturbed, and a majority of the time completely unraveled. I know that I believe the same about them.

If you love social media and want to continue the fun, please feel free to share this rant. Who knows, maybe it will start a counter-revolution.

At The End Of the Day…

End of the Day Blurb

Life imitating art… if NPR is considered art (which I think it is)

I came across an interesting piece today. Actually, it was completely uninteresting to me since it is merely a reflection of my daily life.

 

Apparently NPR has apologized to this 4-yr-old little girl for covering the presidential election so much that it made her cry. Sweet. It was nice of them to make nice with a viral video sensation. But honestly, 4-yr-old’s cry about E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G.

They are the mini embodiment’s of Goldilocks. Everything is too hot, too cold. Too loud, too soft. Too much attention, not enough attention.  If I apologized every time my 4-yr-old was unhappy with the world around her, the only words I would ever get a chance to say would be “I’m sorry.”

So I read the apology that NPR issues. It’s basically an apology for being who they are.

On behalf of NPR and all other news outlets, we apologize to Abigael and all the many others who probably feel like her. We must confess, the campaign’s gone on long enough for us, too. Let’s just keep telling ourselves: “Only a few more days, only a few more days, only a few more days.”

Really, NPR? Doesn’t anyone in your office have a 4-yr-old?

I look at NPR as the parent of the reporting world, offering content that is thought provoking, and at times moving, with a dose of kind admonishment of our sometimes misguided ways. All things considered, your apology was not only unnecessary, but a little annoying to this mom of a 4-yr-old. The presidential election is the talk of the nation, and I want to hear your reporting on it.  In fact, I want you to tell me more. In fact, I find your programming a breath of fresh air from the constant complaining in my car otherwise.

Kindergartners would save the world, if we let them.

English: Beef

English: Beef (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

There are thousands of books on parenting and discipline, with techniques and tricks that range from time-outs to logical conversation. The ultimate goal remains the same. To teach our toddling dictators that the world is not theirs to plummet, toys are not rights but privileges, and we don’t bite our friends.  We spend a lot of time training toddlers that by the time they reach kindergarten they have the social and emotional skills required to function in school society.

I’m not sure what happens in the next 18 or so years, but apparently it isn’t good.

I listened to a report on NPR today that reported the solution to global warming is as simple as eating less meat. Apparently Americans consume an average of 200lbs of meat every year and that every aspect of meat production is an environmental disaster.  It made me wonder what it would take to get people to eat less meat. I quickly came to realization that there is not much we can do.  I picture a big man at a grill decrying the plea to eat less meat because, well, he likes it and he’s going to eat it. A lot of it.

If I tell a kindergartner that the meat in his lunch box is hurting the plants and the trees, he’ll most likely put it down.  If I tell him that meat is killing our world, he will probably cry and never eat meat again. He has been taught not to hurt his friends and, in his beautiful mind, the plants and trees are friends.  He has learned his lessons well and most assuredly ready to graduate to first grade.  Sadly, this young boy will probably grow up to be a grilling man, just like his dad. And eat meat. Lots of it.

What will it take to get people to eat less meat? A government nanny?

Maybe just a kindergartner in office.

Because we are all just children.

via German Federal Archive

In grade school, I had a teacher that would start to whisper if the class got too loud. A simple, yet effective tactic, since we all quieted down to figure out what the crazy lady was saying. And she was a little crazy, she was a nun.

I was reminded of this experience while checking Facebook and saw another impassioned, yet reckless, post about a polarizing political issue, demanding allegiance or face a de-friending.  Whether or not I agreed is beside the point, it hit me like a battle cry. Take up arms with me, or be my enemy!

When did we all get so worked up about everything, particularly political agendas? We have become a world of squeaky wheels, to the point that all we can hear is the roar of opinion. This land needs some oil – STAT.

I’m fine if you have an opinion that differs from mine. I will feel superior to you, but you feel the same about me, so it’s a wash. But what I am not going to do is run around screaming at the top of my lungs, “You are either WITH me or AGAINST me! Your choice!” Really, is that a choice? I DISAGREE with you, but I am not going to shoot you.

Stop taking aim people, it’s counterproductive. Quiet down for a minute, use your inside voice, and just tell me what you want and why. If you whine and scream at me, I’m just going to put you in time-out until you can calm yourself. Or hide you on my news stream on Facebook. If you want to talk about it, I will listen, but I will make up my own mind at the end of the day.

I’m switching to my whisper voice now.

Please stop acting like little children, and let’s have an adult conversation.

Thanks.

 

Time to burn the house down

I spent the morning watching my new little buddy wander aimlessly across my ceiling, circling and stopping at what I can only assume is a spidey stop sign.  Apparently he had a busy Monday morning, lots to get done.

He wasn’t my last visitor today, because when I stumbled groggily into my kitchen to open the blind, alas, another one of the eight-legged brotherhood had set up camp in the folds.  The window is going to stay closed for a bit.

You see, I don’t kill spiders, and apparently the word is out.  They are everywhere, my constant companions.  I leave them be, and in return they avoid me.  The only exception to this policy was the black widow that dropped off the ceiling directly into my wash machine full of clothes.  I considered that an act of war, so she was immediately heavy washed in hot water with an extra rinse cycle.  She forgot rule #1: Leave me alone.  She paid the ultimate price.

I don’t spare spiders out of any karmic duty or Buddhist belief.  Actually, the Buddhist belief that all life is sacred is pretty appealing to me, except for one small exception.  I get a twisted satisfaction watching ants feast on Terro, like a little flock of Kool-Aid drinkers and I am Jim Jones reincarnate. Creeps me out how much I hate the little guys, but again, they declared war first. At this point you may feel compelled to remind me that we encroach on animals natural habitats, then blame them for trouble. Don’t. Save that argument for more worthy animals, like ANY other animal besides ants.

I read somewhere once, that spiders were good for the environment, and that has stuck with me.  I think they eat other pest insects, which I find  appealing since I grew up where mosquitoes are the size of condors.  I also like spiders because no one else does. I am a sucker for the underdog, the down-and-out, the lepers of the world.

Until today, I have been OK with my decision to not kill spiders, but things are starting to get a little out of control at my house. It’s like projectX was posted on BugBook and my life is never going to be the same.  Spiders, ants, mice, you name it, they got the event invitation. You can read about my mouse party here

I think it’s time to burn the house down.

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