"Be Thankful for What You Have".
How many times have we heard this? Maybe you heard it as a child while you were throwing the mother of all fits for the newest toy in the store. Maybe you heard it as a teenager while complaining about having to drive the family car instead of some hot ride of your own. Or maybe you heard it some other time in your life when you were being less than grateful for what you'd been given.
As we get older, we realize the grass is seldom greener on the other side, so to speak. We also learn that we run up on people who want to "make us over" so they'll be happier with us, we should kick them to the curb with no shame whatsoever. It's this last lesson I'd like to address tonight (today, whatever - insert proper time zone here).
What is WITH people who have decided, through some all-knowing power they've acquired at some point in life, that we NEED them to help us be more beautiful/skinnier/more outgoing/more thoughtful/more tolerant of the color combination of purple and green? Have you ever noticed that people who try and tell you how to make your life better often have some GLARING problem with their own? Maybe it's just the recent glut of those 'makeover' reality shows (which anyone who knows me, knows exactly how I feel about). I guess that's what makes some people think they should 'makeover' others so they'll be more attractive.
Well, I have news for those people: I'm just fine like I am, and you can go butt a stump.
Okay, maybe that's a little harsh, so let me pause for a moment and reconsider...
Um, nope. That's exactly the way I feel.
It happened to me recently. Someone I know mentioned they were starting a diet so they could get a little more in shape and related to me that they wanted me to as well. Did I disagree with them on the point that I could stand to re-acquaint myself with a Stairmaster? No. Do I think I don't need for the Levi's to fit a little looser? Certainly not. Do I need someone else to tell me what I need to do? ABSOLUTELY NOT. Especially if that person has just finished off a bag of pork rinds and is sporting some extra poundage of their own.
Contrary to popular belief, no, you are not doing someone a favor by pointing out the obvious. Here's a hint for the tactically challenged that might be reading this: We already KNOW we need to lose weight. But anyone who steps on the thin ice that is telling someone they'd like them more if there was a little less of them, the only weight that's going to be lost in the relationship is you when they drop you like a hot rock.
I know - these people are probably just trying to help. Let me fill you in: you're not.
Here's what you ARE doing: Making the person you're 'helping' wonder just what ELSE you find wrong with them. That leads to bad feelings and, more often than not, their inability to stifle pointing out all the things they think are wrong with YOU. (And believe me, they have a list.)
I would like to also say that I don't come to you today (tonight, etc.) from the pulpit of my soapbox without blame. Just two days ago, I pointed out (helpfully) to a dear friend that they really needed to get out more, make more friends, and in general, change their personality. Gee, wasn't that helpful??
No, not really. See, there's nothing wrong with this person. Just like there's nothing wrong with me. They don't need to change themselves - it's worked for over 30 years just fine - and I don't need to change, either. Lose weight? Sure. Gain strength? Definitely. Both are things I want to do and plan to. But do it because someone else wants me to?
Never.
(All rights reserved - Copyright 2004)
Sunday, December 19, 2004
Thursday, November 11, 2004
It's me again, Margaret.
Tonight, I'd like to address a relationship in my life that certainly seen its share of ups and downs recently. Hot one minute, cold the next. On again, off again.
No, I'm not talking about guys (although there are some we could ALL put in this category)...I'm talking about my tumultuous affair with my satellite radio.
I have leaped headlong into the whirlwind of technology with the equivalent of an umbrella in a hurricane as far as knowledge is concerned. See, I'm one of those people who views owner's manuals as something akin to a suggestion, to be used only after one has exhausted the full line of "I'm sure THIS is the way it's supposed to go" excuses. I have my new radio, which I love dearly, but since I skipped the step in the handbook on getting the best satellite signal, I am, with great regularity, adjusting the antenna to get better reception.
And before you say it, yes, I do know that correctly mounting the antenna would fix the problem. I'm not stupid, just stubborn.
It's like any relationship where there are problems - you have just enough of the good to gloss right on over the less-than-pleasant. (There the damn thing goes again. And I was really enjoying that Earth, Wind and Fire song...) And it's not like I'm not getting anything positive out of it - I love that I can hear any kind of music any time of the day, with minimal interruptions and no commercials. I LOVE THAT! I love the little features the radio has, and the fact that I can take it from home to car just by plugging it in another docking station.
I'm not alone, either. Just today, at lunch, I was talking to a friend who became a satellite radio convert over a year ago, and wouldn't think of going back. Heck, I like it so much, I've bought two more sets to give as holiday gifts. The things are coming standard in certain vehicles now. (Can you say 'I know what my next car will be'?)
But just as I'm grooving to Sting, or getting my Cash on, there's that deafening silence and the little box on the screen that tells me it's acquiring a signal. (Alas, I WAS enjoying Labelle's 'Lady Marmalade', until I lost it again. 'Vous le vous something something avec moi' is really French for 'How do you install this damn thing?', I swear...)
But for all its foibles, I do love it. Couldn't do without it. It's lure is the promise of nothing but the format I want to hear, without the garbage. Be it country, love songs, CNN, or All Slim Shady All the Time, I can have it anytime.
There it is again. All is forgiven. Siriusly.
Tonight, I'd like to address a relationship in my life that certainly seen its share of ups and downs recently. Hot one minute, cold the next. On again, off again.
No, I'm not talking about guys (although there are some we could ALL put in this category)...I'm talking about my tumultuous affair with my satellite radio.
I have leaped headlong into the whirlwind of technology with the equivalent of an umbrella in a hurricane as far as knowledge is concerned. See, I'm one of those people who views owner's manuals as something akin to a suggestion, to be used only after one has exhausted the full line of "I'm sure THIS is the way it's supposed to go" excuses. I have my new radio, which I love dearly, but since I skipped the step in the handbook on getting the best satellite signal, I am, with great regularity, adjusting the antenna to get better reception.
And before you say it, yes, I do know that correctly mounting the antenna would fix the problem. I'm not stupid, just stubborn.
It's like any relationship where there are problems - you have just enough of the good to gloss right on over the less-than-pleasant. (There the damn thing goes again. And I was really enjoying that Earth, Wind and Fire song...) And it's not like I'm not getting anything positive out of it - I love that I can hear any kind of music any time of the day, with minimal interruptions and no commercials. I LOVE THAT! I love the little features the radio has, and the fact that I can take it from home to car just by plugging it in another docking station.
I'm not alone, either. Just today, at lunch, I was talking to a friend who became a satellite radio convert over a year ago, and wouldn't think of going back. Heck, I like it so much, I've bought two more sets to give as holiday gifts. The things are coming standard in certain vehicles now. (Can you say 'I know what my next car will be'?)
But just as I'm grooving to Sting, or getting my Cash on, there's that deafening silence and the little box on the screen that tells me it's acquiring a signal. (Alas, I WAS enjoying Labelle's 'Lady Marmalade', until I lost it again. 'Vous le vous something something avec moi' is really French for 'How do you install this damn thing?', I swear...)
But for all its foibles, I do love it. Couldn't do without it. It's lure is the promise of nothing but the format I want to hear, without the garbage. Be it country, love songs, CNN, or All Slim Shady All the Time, I can have it anytime.
There it is again. All is forgiven. Siriusly.
(All rights reserved - Copyright 2004)
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
I'm trying really hard to make this an upbeat blog, but it's proving to be quite the challenge. It's been one of those days where you have just enough good news sprinkled in with the unpleasant to make things tolerable. One of those days where you don't have to wonder where certain people's loyalties lie - unfortunately, you know. One of those days in which your relationship is tested with one person, but fulfilled tenfold with another. You've had them, I know.
(The only problem I have with a blog is the time I spend sitting in front of my computer, hands on keyboard, wondering just how much information to put in it. I always err on the side of "less is more", as some are wont to say, so suffice it to say that no matter what I write, there's always more that isn't being told. Preservation, I guess. Of my privacy and the unspoken person's feelings.)
Back to what's eating me...Doesn't it just suck when people let you down? I think it does. And I'm not talking about mere mortals going about their lives who inadvertently do something to piss you off because you're already in one of 'those moods' and they don't realize it. I'm talking about the people that, when push comes to shove, they're the ones who are 'shove'ing you under the bus. By the way, I'm taking this argument up not just for me, but for the rest of my friends who have been, in one way or another, shoved under the bus recently. (Think of my tirade as a public service for those who have been victims as well as me.)
Just today, I got wind of a scenario which entailed someone who pulled a Peter on me. (Reference to the Bible, where Peter denies he knew Jesus...not that I'm comparing myself to Jesus, mind you. Keep the emails - I'm in no way being blasphemous.) Then, in the same short period of time, I got confirmation that one of my articles will be published in a magazine. See? Two sides of the same coin, I guess.
I did learn two things from the day, though. One is that when push does come to shove, your real friends are the ones who will move heaven and earth to keep you from seeing the underside of the Greyhound. The other is that the ones who will let you take the fall if things get hairy, don't even deserve to get the time of day from you.
I could give you the platitudes you've probably heard 10,000 times before:
"You're better off without them"
"It's better that you know for sure what they're really all about"
"Want me to run them over with the car?" (Wait, no...that's something different altogether.)
It boils down to this: it's disappointing to learn people can suck, but it's much better to know who really cares about you.
And life's very good when you have people that call just to remind you if you strap a piece of buttered toast to a cat's back, it will levitate forever.
:-)
(The only problem I have with a blog is the time I spend sitting in front of my computer, hands on keyboard, wondering just how much information to put in it. I always err on the side of "less is more", as some are wont to say, so suffice it to say that no matter what I write, there's always more that isn't being told. Preservation, I guess. Of my privacy and the unspoken person's feelings.)
Back to what's eating me...Doesn't it just suck when people let you down? I think it does. And I'm not talking about mere mortals going about their lives who inadvertently do something to piss you off because you're already in one of 'those moods' and they don't realize it. I'm talking about the people that, when push comes to shove, they're the ones who are 'shove'ing you under the bus. By the way, I'm taking this argument up not just for me, but for the rest of my friends who have been, in one way or another, shoved under the bus recently. (Think of my tirade as a public service for those who have been victims as well as me.)
Just today, I got wind of a scenario which entailed someone who pulled a Peter on me. (Reference to the Bible, where Peter denies he knew Jesus...not that I'm comparing myself to Jesus, mind you. Keep the emails - I'm in no way being blasphemous.) Then, in the same short period of time, I got confirmation that one of my articles will be published in a magazine. See? Two sides of the same coin, I guess.
I did learn two things from the day, though. One is that when push does come to shove, your real friends are the ones who will move heaven and earth to keep you from seeing the underside of the Greyhound. The other is that the ones who will let you take the fall if things get hairy, don't even deserve to get the time of day from you.
I could give you the platitudes you've probably heard 10,000 times before:
"You're better off without them"
"It's better that you know for sure what they're really all about"
"Want me to run them over with the car?" (Wait, no...that's something different altogether.)
It boils down to this: it's disappointing to learn people can suck, but it's much better to know who really cares about you.
And life's very good when you have people that call just to remind you if you strap a piece of buttered toast to a cat's back, it will levitate forever.
:-)
(All rights reserved - Copyright 2004)
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Back by demand by no one in particular, it's another entry.
Yes, I know it's a shock, but I figure one a year is real progress. :-) Okay, not really. So much has gone on in the last year since my first post, so I won't even try for an update. It would just take too long anyway, and let's face it, no one would really take the time to read what would be the equivalent of those showy Christmas letters that accompany holiday cards. You know what I'm talking about - those letters that are designed to make everyone envious of the enormously productive year the sender has had, while you're reading it thinking about all the marathons you didn't run, houses you didn't close on, anniversaries you didn't celebrate with a trip to Paris, foreign languages you didn't master (hola!), Great American novels you didn't write, wonderful spouses you don't have, or kids you didn't give birth to.
I don't care how accomplished you are, there's always one of those letters that makes its way to us, and only serves to depress us. Nevermind the fact that maybe you spent your year showing up for work so you could eke out a living and pay the rent, keeping a roof over you or your family's heads. Or something equally thrilling, like being there for your friends when they need you. To me, these are huge accomplishments and should be celebrated with all the pomp and circumstance as those big 'look-how-great-we-were-this-year' letters, complete with the color picture of the whole perfect lot of them posing in Santa hats while ladling soup at the mission. Unfortunately, 'I didn't get fired, evicted, or mugged in the parking lot downtown' just doesn't look as sexy in a letter. Those foreign-language, traveling types will win that contest every time.
I really don't mean to sound bitter about the progress of others. I think it's fine, providing they were, at some previous point in their lives, jobless slackers who couldn't find two shoes that matched or manage anything more for supper than a microwave chicken pot pie.
My point is simply this: life should be celebrated, no matter how plain, boring, or mundane you think yours is. I did an interview today with Alexandra Stoddard, author of the book "Things I Want My Daughters to Know", and received not only a great interview, but a new outlook. This is a woman who's made her life both living beautifully and teaching others to do so. For the unfamiliar, she's an interior designer and author who has literally made her living and career teaching others how to put themselves in beautiful surroundings.
I know what you're thinking: well, if I could afford my own designer for that home in the Hamptons I have, I could live beautifully, too.
Yeah, okay - I've already booked her for when I have my Sullivan's Island, SC home purchased with my soon-to-win-any-day-now lottery funds. But her advice on living beautifully is more about a state of mind than a pretty living room.
My favorite chapter in this book is "Travel Heavy". In a nutshell, Alexandra encourages us to have a pet, have dinner parties, have children, collect objects because you love them, and above all, surround yourself with things that make you happy. She believes life is too short to resist mere things just because you may feel tied down to them, or because they require too much responsibility.
After reading this chapter, I realized for as much STUFF as I have, I wasn't enjoying it. I have lots of things, but have been afraid to use them and let them become a part of my everyday life. Picture frames still in boxes, candles never lit, bottles of wine never opened and shared with friends, chocolate never tasted...okay, anyone who knows me can tell that last one's a lie. But my point is: live your life. Don't be concerned with the overachievers and their advertisements of their great lives taken out in the guise of a holiday card. Do your thing - whatever that is - and travel heavy while you're doing it. Light your candles, invite your friends over for dinner, stop spending your time on unproductive things (be it relationships or routines), and LIVE.
Yes, I know it's a shock, but I figure one a year is real progress. :-) Okay, not really. So much has gone on in the last year since my first post, so I won't even try for an update. It would just take too long anyway, and let's face it, no one would really take the time to read what would be the equivalent of those showy Christmas letters that accompany holiday cards. You know what I'm talking about - those letters that are designed to make everyone envious of the enormously productive year the sender has had, while you're reading it thinking about all the marathons you didn't run, houses you didn't close on, anniversaries you didn't celebrate with a trip to Paris, foreign languages you didn't master (hola!), Great American novels you didn't write, wonderful spouses you don't have, or kids you didn't give birth to.
I don't care how accomplished you are, there's always one of those letters that makes its way to us, and only serves to depress us. Nevermind the fact that maybe you spent your year showing up for work so you could eke out a living and pay the rent, keeping a roof over you or your family's heads. Or something equally thrilling, like being there for your friends when they need you. To me, these are huge accomplishments and should be celebrated with all the pomp and circumstance as those big 'look-how-great-we-were-this-year' letters, complete with the color picture of the whole perfect lot of them posing in Santa hats while ladling soup at the mission. Unfortunately, 'I didn't get fired, evicted, or mugged in the parking lot downtown' just doesn't look as sexy in a letter. Those foreign-language, traveling types will win that contest every time.
I really don't mean to sound bitter about the progress of others. I think it's fine, providing they were, at some previous point in their lives, jobless slackers who couldn't find two shoes that matched or manage anything more for supper than a microwave chicken pot pie.
My point is simply this: life should be celebrated, no matter how plain, boring, or mundane you think yours is. I did an interview today with Alexandra Stoddard, author of the book "Things I Want My Daughters to Know", and received not only a great interview, but a new outlook. This is a woman who's made her life both living beautifully and teaching others to do so. For the unfamiliar, she's an interior designer and author who has literally made her living and career teaching others how to put themselves in beautiful surroundings.
I know what you're thinking: well, if I could afford my own designer for that home in the Hamptons I have, I could live beautifully, too.
Yeah, okay - I've already booked her for when I have my Sullivan's Island, SC home purchased with my soon-to-win-any-day-now lottery funds. But her advice on living beautifully is more about a state of mind than a pretty living room.
My favorite chapter in this book is "Travel Heavy". In a nutshell, Alexandra encourages us to have a pet, have dinner parties, have children, collect objects because you love them, and above all, surround yourself with things that make you happy. She believes life is too short to resist mere things just because you may feel tied down to them, or because they require too much responsibility.
After reading this chapter, I realized for as much STUFF as I have, I wasn't enjoying it. I have lots of things, but have been afraid to use them and let them become a part of my everyday life. Picture frames still in boxes, candles never lit, bottles of wine never opened and shared with friends, chocolate never tasted...okay, anyone who knows me can tell that last one's a lie. But my point is: live your life. Don't be concerned with the overachievers and their advertisements of their great lives taken out in the guise of a holiday card. Do your thing - whatever that is - and travel heavy while you're doing it. Light your candles, invite your friends over for dinner, stop spending your time on unproductive things (be it relationships or routines), and LIVE.
(All rights reserved - Copyright 2004)
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