What Did You #%&*@* Say?

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For about a millennium now it’s been said that kids say the darnedest things. I know this truth first-hand and I’ve kept a journal to capture a good number of eyebrow-raising, head-scratching and are-you-for-real statements that my son has spouted since he started spouting.

I’ve always encouraged free and open speech with him.  I adore hearing what comes out of that new and unfettered brain.  The only thing I have forbidden him to say is profanity. It’s not that I’ve pretended that swearing doesn’t happen; we’re all aware of its worldwide domination, thus he has in fact heard such a word or two in the homeland.  

He has attempted to copy those words, but only once, (that I know of), OK, technically twice, but the second time was just a noun change.  These happened when he was two and a half.  We were on holiday and his dad was desperately searching our vehicle for the camera before the beautiful tall ships we were watching passed by.  While he was frantically throwing items left and right, he yelped, “Where’s my f*#kin’ camera”?  On our way home a couple of hours later, I noticed my son looking left and right.  I asked him what was wrong and he asked, “Where’s my f*#kin’ camera”?  To be fair, his toy camera did, in fact, appear to be a casualty of his father’s earlier desperation.  

About two weeks later we were playing tea party and he came out of his room with most of his supplies except one.  With hand on hip and grave consternation, he spoke. “Where’s my f*#kin’ teapot”?  We had a little chat, and with a couple of follow-up check-ups, I have to say he’s been pretty good at finding alternative adverbs and adjectives ever since.

Actually, he became the Soup Nazi of swearing alternatives. This self-proclaimed lord of household language decency sometimes works his moral indignancy to a level that merits a good grounding.  He believes he should be the decider of whether or not I’ve been appropriate in my usage. He also thinks that I’m not aware of just how much he is collecting in his swear jar, (the wretched vessel of confiscated loonies for every swear word caught).  It has got to hold enough coin for the coveted MacBook by now.  You’d think he’d lay off for a day.

Yes, OK,  I can swear like a truck driver.  Actually, I feel that analogy is an insult; I’m certain my stupendous ability could teach a truck driver a thing or two.  I look at it like being an artist of abstract art who had to first prove that she can paint a real-life landscape before delving into free-flow style. My swearing is not a replacement for regular speaking skill, just occasional, as required, colorful enhancement.  Certainly some days may need more color than others. 

Also, as a public service announcement, I’m pretty sure I heard about a recent study that said four letter words help to alleviate pain. Think about that the next time you hammer your finger.  No really, look it up.

swearing hammer guy

OK, back to my son.  What I’ve always told him is that this is adult language; he is free to swear when he is 18 or paying the bills, whichever comes first.  No, I don’t really believe that he will never say a swear word again before he turns 18, but I’m pretty sure that he will have learned how to speak ‘real-life’ fluidly first.  After that, if he wants to add a little color now and then, fine, but more importantly, maybe then I can earn some #*@kin’ coins back.

RL

Can Somebody Else Take the Call?

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When charity hurts…

I’ve had to step back from all the social responsibility input I get from my social media lately. It is through these that I am most often reminded  that we don’t have any shortage of needs for all of our peoples.

I have clicked the ‘like’ button for several sites of social causes and in return I receive several messages a day on what needs attention, awareness, fixing, improvements, money, assistance, care, input, management, volunteers, and uprisings of various degrees – pretty much constant pleas for pretty much everything I have to give.

So many calls for my pennies, my dollar a day, my only $35 a month automatic debit, my Canadian Tire money, my empty cans and bottles, and used household items – pick-up included.

They use the most affecting photos and film clips to grab  my attention for their 2 minute plea, and hats off to their creators, they are very effective. (Must take notes for my  charities).

The posts fly by so often and in such variety that being overwhelmed with a complete sense of helplessness and guilt can happen quite suddenly and deeply. I want to help them all.  I wish I could help them all.  I throw my hands up in prayer for them all.

I tell myself that we can only do what we can do, but even so, I have to work to regain my social care equilibrium.   Take a break Mona. Whoa Nelly. Slow down Sally.  I find myself clinging to the Starfish Story.

We can’t help everything even if we want to.  We have to choose.  Making those choices is hell sometimes, but oddly this is where sanity starts to come back for me.  When I start to realize it doesn’t matter what I choose, it matters that I choose to help – period.  Breath in, slow and easy.

Not being able to answer every call for help is not the same as ignoring them.  That is someone else’s ringtone we’re hearing.  I do believe they’ll get it.  Exhale.  In the end, I think we tend to gravitate to causes that answer a call to healing within ourselves, and then we move on from there.

We better all brace ourselves though.  According to recent Costco displays, the really big season of giving is just around the corner.  Sigh.

RL

Starfish Story

The Starfish Story (an adaptation of part of an essay, The Star Thrower by Loren Eiseley)

Class, The ‘80s are Dead, & Now We’re All in the Service Industry

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What if your job was used as an example for what not to be when you grow up?  Imagine that – your job served up as a warning for what you will end up if you don’t do well in school.  This recently happened to a friend of mine. He didn’t hear this warning firsthand. The class that did was attended by his daughter.  Now, imagine that.

It’s probable her teacher had best of intentions to motivate the students, and even my friend acknowledged that. He also said, good thing his daughter has thick skin, but even so, she felt compelled to apologize for the ignorance of others.   As a parent, you would think about your child in that class at that moment, then you’d be taking measurement of your own skin depth.

People in – generally accepted as respectable- careers, might breathe a little sigh of relief at not having to deal with a situation like that.  I don’t even have to mention his job because many will have already assessed whether or not they have one of ‘those’ jobs. Probably something menial, or in the service industry, right?  I think on some level though, most would feel there is something not quite right about it all.  Do unto others, etc.

server 1 diffusedIt doesn’t matter what road we go down, ultimately whatever we work at is in service to someone else, and whether we are aware or not, we are also teaching. We will share our combined life experiences in some form or another, for better or worse.

One of the things I’ve been thinking about, after reflecting on my friend’s experience, is the idea of a simple shift in how we perceive and pursue success and the related esteems.  Success definitions aside, there’s nothing wrong with shooting for the top or making top dollar, just that there could be more emphasis placed on important pursuits leading to that.

For performing our services, most want to earn respect, appreciation, and even admiration with our money. It’s hard to honestly earn good money without applying these qualities anyway.  What if we started reaching for the stars from a place that sets aside aspects slavishly pursued in the 1980s like image, titles and the bottom line? What if we started our pursuit of work or career by thinking about those aspects that we care about as people regardless of role in our careers. Corporations spend billions on ways to humanize their images, to be relatable to people.   What irony.

Could we make more of an effort to shift, and teach to shift, the perspective from what can we get out of life to what can we give?  Could we consciously ask ourselves before we start our day, school, work or career directions by asking in what way(s) are we best suited to serve? What can I, what do I, give to the big picture? I wonder what kind of success levels as a society we would have then.  It might sound lofty, but it really isn’t.

This isn’t simple idealism; it’s still about earning a buck and a decent living. The Real Housewives TV franchises will live, just wouldn’t it be nice if we could make them even less real than they already aren’t?  We can still aspire to C.E.O lifestyles, but doing it with that simple shift in perspective changes the complexion of how we view status and value through titles and job types. It’s not what do we do, but how do we serve?

I think on some level we already know this as mostly true.  No matter what title we achieve, what everyone really wants to know is how well, and what, were we able to contribute. We really care about the type of person we are, and who we’re working with. It’s how we want to be described when we die.  If you need a touch of proof, watch an episode of Undercover Boss sometime.

Knowing even the little that I do about this, I’d still wager that the rewards for turning this table in society would be huge, including financially. It all begins with just a small change in thought. Imagine that.

At a minimum we could leave the examples of what not to be at drug dealers and crooks.  And tofu hot dog makers.  (Just kidding tofu people, some of my best friends are tofu hot dogs).

Click on picture to read note

Click on picture to read note

Oh, about that example of what not to be?  To start, he is an outstanding parent.  For pay he works with staff and children, in a host of ways, every day of the school year.  After that, his resume’ includes being an amazing photographer,  a writer of beautiful poetry and witticisms, and an extensive world traveler.

He must also be a pretty successful service provider because one day he received this note on his work cart. Seems like outstanding achievement to me.

RL

“We make a living by what we get, we make a life by what we give”                Sir Winston Churchill

What? Me Blog? Thanks WordPress, and Maybe Ellen

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Blogger Kendall F. Person isn’t kidding, in my opinion, when he says:  “Writing is a performance art and every post is a show”.  When the notion of blogging first came up via the semi-gentle prodding of blogger Lois, I thought, really?  Would my personal musings, normally put down on paper in a private journal, have a place in the public realm?  Not that the public realm is necessarily a bastion of expert, or even semi-good, public offerings. Was it possible I could land somewhere in the semi-middle?

I looked over some of my musings to see what might be interesting and I thought, n.o. w.a.y! Well, maybe?  I eventually settled into the idea that maybe there is someone out there that I’m meant to share some thoughts with.  I have to confess, I also wrestled with the idea that any non-fans might have a heyday with my inner vulnerabilities.

Eye of the TigerCue up ‘Eye of the Tiger’.  This is my tap dance; any naysayers would be braying whether I wrote or not.

So, I searched up how to start a blog and looked at a couple of websites that offered pre-set web pages.  Novice that I am, I wanted cool, but needed easy.  I chose the WordPress offerings and I was off to the keyboard – which actually, wasn’t that far off.

For my first publication, I settled on a note written for my son after I was hospitalized with a condition that made me wish I had already condensed all my learned life shortcuts for him.  It wasn’t Aurelius, but perhaps enough for a decent start.

I followed the directions to send this out to the cyber-world with the expectation that maybe ten of my closest friends and family would bother to have a look. I was content with that idea, and that my son might get a kick out of the latest item added to my first-time-to-do list.  I intended to share the post on Facebook with some of my friends, so I also anticipated a like or comment about it on my Facebook wall in the same way I get for status updates.

Despite my low-key expectations, I still held my breath a little when I clicked that ‘publish’ button.  Regardless of how well you think you know your audience, putting yourself out onto the ledge of public judgment gives you some degree of heart palpitations that feels a lot different from the quaint idea of butterflies.

Regardless, shortly after, my tried and true came through with their likes, comments, and support for the blog.  All was well; I could breathe easily within the cushioned approval of my pals.   I was also lucky enough to be unaware at that point, that our website host also supplies statistics on how many people read your posts and from which country they are reading them.

I discovered that statistic counter the next day.  I clicked on the link to my post from my Facebook wall.  I wanted to see what it looked like from that angle.  It brought up my blog website and unexpectedly I saw that it had a ‘Follow’ tab at the bottom.  I clicked on it and it said, “Join 235 other followers”.  Huh?  That was exactly my first thought.  Then I realized this was some kind of error, so I logged into my website and navigated around the site directions. This took me to that eye-popping statistical page.  It said 135 people read that first blog on that first night, followed by the rest the next day.   Now, maybe that’s not exactly The National Post’s readership numbers, but for this average mom in the sticks, it might as well have been The National Post and CNN!   Of course I was obligated to check this page every hour for the next few weeks.

I was astonished at the number of people who cared to have a look at my site, especially those who weren’t aware that I existed pre- blog.  It was also thrilling to see those geographical stats. First another country popped up, another, then another continent, and now only one more continent to go.  I couldn’t believe how fast and how far these words, my words, could travel – Belgium, Ethiopia, England, Qatar, Singapore, Australia and on and on and back to Canada.   It was a heady Sally Field moment for me, but you know, just not in front of millions.   Of course, that pride puffing up was deflated somewhat by a bit of a reality check.  Blog junk mail.  Who knew there was such a thing?   See blog no. 4 – “First Blog Results in 3 Unbelievable Opportunities”.

Despite blog no. 4, I showed my young son all of these details and he was as excited for me as if he was my agent about to get his 15% of… something.  He has big plans for me, as soon as he figures out what they are going to be, something about Ellen DeGeneres.

An unexpected bonus in all of this was that I landed in a new community of extremely interesting, uplifting, fantastically talented, writing thoughtfulness.  One as generous with information and tech support, as they are in raising spirits by being quick to like, share, and comment on your work!

I now find myself turning to our host reader page to view their posts as often as I do the newspaper.  I feel like I won the literary lottery and now have at hand the most engaging stories of every genre at the ready.  Who knew Lois’s kick in the pants would catapult me into writing and reading bliss?

Whatever the long-term purpose of this blog is to be, I am ever hopeful that it helps to serve as much as I get from it.  I might also hope that the next time I’m rear-ended by a foot, I may more quickly remember that, many times, if not most,  inspiration comes in the form of a good kick and some bruising.

And, I still have the excitement to come of that one last continent being added to my stats.

RL

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/08/02/daily-prompt-beginnings/

Daily Prompt: Origin Storyby michelle w. on August 2, 2013

Why did you start your blog? Is that still why you blog, or has your site gone in a different direction than you’d planned?Photographers, artists, poets: show us BEGINNINGS.

Yes, I am That Confident – Up Yours!

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Oh Snap 2“Well you can’t fix stupid either and you proved that”!!  That intended insult was lobbed at me in a Facebook note about a year and a half ago.  It was from someone who had at most a few superficial conversations with me and certainly no chat about the issue that was at hand at that time. Not that really knowing me, nor that person having full knowledge of the details then changes the bottom line.

I admit I was somewhat shocked at that charged-up energy coming at me. There are all kinds of ways to respond, but at the time I was more engrossed in the issue that precipitated the results of her research and it didn’t really register.

I re-read the post later and when I came across those words again, I actually ended up smiling. They reminded me of a personal motto that I used to say to people: “I hope I’m the dumbest one in the room”.  In return I usually got a look like maybe they had just found her.  What I really meant was that regardless of whatever activity or endeavor I was involved in, I wanted whomever else I was working with to be that much wiser, knowledgeable, and creative than me.  I was sure that would get me the opportunity to learn something great, and hopefully a lot of it.  Yes, I do know what that shot’s intention was, but I know myself well enough to be confident in what I may or may not be.

That exchange had interesting timing. Some friends and I had been having conversations about self- esteem, particularly in girls, and the often misinterpreted difference between assertiveness & confidence and self-centeredness & aggression. There are many examples of how these characteristics are practised, but in these chats we narrowed the issue down to the ability to stand up for oneself. It’s this point we felt that usually illustrates most of the differences between those two approaches.

We partially surmised that self-centredness starts with feeling some sense of entitlement or an innate belief that one can do no wrong. The world better be good to me first or the world is gonna hear about it. “Don’t confuse my personality and my attitude because my personality is ME and my attitude depends on YOU”.  No one better cross me or else! Ohhh snap! Or – Oh snap!, snap!, snap!- if they are particularly perturbed. This is more of a passive/aggressive or aggressive/aggressive defensiveness beyond my Psych 101 capabilities, or more to the point, patience levels.

On the other hand, real confidence says I will be good to you and if you are unkind in return, I can walk away with my self-respect fully intact without having to bring you down a peg to accomplish that. I would add that that also exhibits dignity, not an unworthy effort and something I wish I could have attached myself to much earlier in life.

Confidence asks how does whatever this is really matter to my life or me? Most of the time, whatever it is doesn’t make a bit of difference to anything.

Confidence also includes the element of humbleness. It says sometimes I may be wrong, but that does not diminish that I am a good and decent person and I will fix what I can fix about it.  By the way, the fixing action includes offering genuine apologies.  I’ve also noticed that people who cannot apologize are masters at becoming the victim in all their stories.

Self-centredness mistakes the element of humbleness in confidence as weakness. That mistake is the weakness that truly exposes lack of self-esteem.

In the interest of full disclosure:  some time after sending the note, my ‘insulter’s’ defense was that she responded to something that she interpreted as being negatively said about her.  I did my best to reassure that this was far from the case, noting that the discussion in play wasn’t even about her.  No matter, once her reaction was on the table for all to see, the never-intended reason became fact for her forever.  One less Facebook friend.  Too bad she didn’t take the minute to ask me about my intentions before she posted that over the top response.

Yes, it was interesting that that whole scenario played out right in the middle of those chats about confidence.  I guess you could say that a couple of us learned more than we were expecting at the time.  There is far more to the depth of these issues and their needs than I can, or care to, note here, but if you were to ask me what would I say in return to that hotly lobbed insult now?  In short, up your self- esteem!

Yours truly,
Hopefully the Dumbest One in the Room

RL