Someone recently commented on my inclusion of pictures in my blog. I ignored my knee jerk reaction to fire back a terse comment because I hate it when anyone questions my writing or me. Instead I thought about the inquiry. Am I crossing the line? Am I violating people’s privacy? Are the pictures wrong?
When I started this blog I did not intend to poke fun at my neighbors or include pictures. However, the more I witnessed the characters in my community the fodder they provided could not be ignored. In the following weeks various people requested I include pictures and video of these people about whom I was writing.
I did not rashly decide to post photos. First I made certain I was not violating any laws. In the California, a person does not have a right to expect privacy in a public area including photos, video and voice recordings.
Many of my neighbors know that I blog of the crazy goings on in our friendly confines; in fact, we have agreements about who and what can be documented in this blog. In reality, --out of loyalty and integrity--many blog worthy incidents go undocumented.
While I am not violating any law or relationship, a question still lingers in my brain? Are the pictures wrong? I started this blog as a self-expression and images have grown to be a large part of my voice. Moreover, private individuals are becoming public people. Is it okay to document the bad behavior of Charlie Sheen but not the jackass by the pool? With Facebook, Twitter, Cell Phone Cameras and everything else it happens.
So all of this has been a pre-amble to my rant. If you do not want to be known for bad behavior do not partake of it in public. If you do not want the world to know you a drug dealer—or any sort of criminal—it would be best not to brag about it. If you do not want your sex tape on the Internet don’t hit record. In my past I have done cringe-worthy things; which I stopped when I asked myself would I be embarrassed if my parents, boss or co-workers knew about this. Our economy is in shambles due to the fact that we tolerate shit. How many times do you say, or hear someone say, “Hey, pay your mortgage.” Hey, don’t spend more than you make.”? Rarely. So as far as I am concerned all unscrupulous acts—including mine—are fair game. Is it nice? No. Is it needed? Maybe. Is niceness what got us into the societal and economic problems we are facing? Yes. Is it time to try something new? Yes.
Don’t be an idiot in public and stop making bullshit ok.
Let me know your thoughts.
Thanks @ Zen, for the thought provoking post and the subsequent rant. I love you and who you are.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Meet "Rage Monster"
This weekend I attended a course called UNDERSTANDING WOMAN—UNLOCKING THE MYSTERY. One might wonder why I took a course to learn how to understand myself. I even questioned it. Thankfully, I ignored my arrogant ego telling me I know my gender and myself. In April, I wrote a blog called “I am not the Better Man….Now What?” This weekend I answered that question. To quote Alison Armstrong, who led the course and created PAX Programs, “You’re not crazy; you’re a woman.”
I have always exhibited impulsive behavior; which in moments of clarity seem insane even to me. Upon being hurt I would lash out and attempt to destroy the person or people who hurt me—sometimes anyone who was in my path. I would say and do things that seemed irrational at best. My mom called this being a “needling Bitch.” Yep, life is going along then someone—a parent, my sister, my friends, my boyfriends and even my bosses—would say or do something that hurt me and I would start to exhibit unstable behavior such as telling my mom that “I never felt loved” and all the evidence I had since I was born. Instead of charming, adorable Alyssa a demon took over my body. I could not stop.
The aftermath of this detrimental behavior was distance in my relationships and immense shame. Committing to never have it happen again, I would go to work on myself and could go weeks or months until it happened again. I thought there was something very wrong with me.
This weekend Alison introduced me to “Rage Monster.” And every woman has one.
Something happens. Something is said or not said. Something is done or not done. Women figure out what it means from their feminine perspective that is really to say, “what would it mean if it did this?” The answer always results in hurt feelings. Emotional hurting, for a woman, is a physical experience: effecting breathing, posture and ability to make eye contact. We curl up in a ball or lay straight in our bed and “Rage Monster” takes over. The first thing that occurs after the possession is it access the “past offence file.” Thoughts become dominated by “On June 25th when I was wearing the Red Dress you (assaulting party) did ___________.” “Oh, and five years ago on September 1, at that Labor Day party _____________ happened.”
The “past offence file” exists of things which, when sane, didn’t upset us at the time but get automatically saved so “Rage Monster” has ammunition. When they happened we were not upset.
“Rage Monster” exists for a sole purpose—total destruction of the person who hurt me. A dialogue plays in our heads and it takes the raw material and edits for the most injurious attack.” Like it says, “Pause. No we can do better. Take the Labor Day Party and lead with that followed by….”
You might feel compelled to fight with the “Rage Monster.” Not a good idea. At all. At. All. It thrives on the opponent’s energy. You engaging in an argument excites it. Saying things like, “I didn’t hurt your feelings I just___________” is fuel.
“Rage Monster” possesses our bodies and we have very little control. The real authentic us is in a very tiny place in the back of our brain but unable to intervene in the situation. Yet, a small part of us knows, as we say what we say, how idiotic the content is.
Given the laughter of recognition from the men and women in the course; the rage monster is not unique to only me. After about 30 years to know this is common to many women is liberating. I am not crazy and I am not the only one allowing the shame and fear melted away. Now, I have the opportunity to understand, apologize for, and combat “Rage Monster.”
Ladies and Gentleman, I am interested in finding out about your experiences of “Rage Monster.” Also, if you are interested in finding out how to effectively combat it please visit www.understandmen.com and sign up for the course, as it will change your life.
I have always exhibited impulsive behavior; which in moments of clarity seem insane even to me. Upon being hurt I would lash out and attempt to destroy the person or people who hurt me—sometimes anyone who was in my path. I would say and do things that seemed irrational at best. My mom called this being a “needling Bitch.” Yep, life is going along then someone—a parent, my sister, my friends, my boyfriends and even my bosses—would say or do something that hurt me and I would start to exhibit unstable behavior such as telling my mom that “I never felt loved” and all the evidence I had since I was born. Instead of charming, adorable Alyssa a demon took over my body. I could not stop.
The aftermath of this detrimental behavior was distance in my relationships and immense shame. Committing to never have it happen again, I would go to work on myself and could go weeks or months until it happened again. I thought there was something very wrong with me.
This weekend Alison introduced me to “Rage Monster.” And every woman has one.
Something happens. Something is said or not said. Something is done or not done. Women figure out what it means from their feminine perspective that is really to say, “what would it mean if it did this?” The answer always results in hurt feelings. Emotional hurting, for a woman, is a physical experience: effecting breathing, posture and ability to make eye contact. We curl up in a ball or lay straight in our bed and “Rage Monster” takes over. The first thing that occurs after the possession is it access the “past offence file.” Thoughts become dominated by “On June 25th when I was wearing the Red Dress you (assaulting party) did ___________.” “Oh, and five years ago on September 1, at that Labor Day party _____________ happened.”
The “past offence file” exists of things which, when sane, didn’t upset us at the time but get automatically saved so “Rage Monster” has ammunition. When they happened we were not upset.
“Rage Monster” exists for a sole purpose—total destruction of the person who hurt me. A dialogue plays in our heads and it takes the raw material and edits for the most injurious attack.” Like it says, “Pause. No we can do better. Take the Labor Day Party and lead with that followed by….”
You might feel compelled to fight with the “Rage Monster.” Not a good idea. At all. At. All. It thrives on the opponent’s energy. You engaging in an argument excites it. Saying things like, “I didn’t hurt your feelings I just___________” is fuel.
“Rage Monster” possesses our bodies and we have very little control. The real authentic us is in a very tiny place in the back of our brain but unable to intervene in the situation. Yet, a small part of us knows, as we say what we say, how idiotic the content is.
Given the laughter of recognition from the men and women in the course; the rage monster is not unique to only me. After about 30 years to know this is common to many women is liberating. I am not crazy and I am not the only one allowing the shame and fear melted away. Now, I have the opportunity to understand, apologize for, and combat “Rage Monster.”
Ladies and Gentleman, I am interested in finding out about your experiences of “Rage Monster.” Also, if you are interested in finding out how to effectively combat it please visit www.understandmen.com and sign up for the course, as it will change your life.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Meet Baby Huey
We have a new resident at Newport Village Apartments and all I can tell you is just when things couldn’t get any odder this freak show moved in. I have met him on three separate occasions the second of which he was in the Jacuzzi flashing his Moobs in full glory and evidently needs to do laundry so—instead of swim trunks—was donning his underwear. They may have been boxer briefs at one point in time. He exited the pool area carrying his clothes with his fat rolls hanging over his black elastic band. An hour later Jay—that is his name—returned wearing a Wrigley Field T-Shirt.
“Have you been inside the friendly confines?”
“Huh?”
“Your shirt?”
“Oh, uh, this was a gift.”
“It’s one of the best tourist attractions to party at.”
“Wait, it’s a baseball field right”
Warned about Baby Huey living in the complex, no one accurately described him. His source of income is to drive his Prius to various bars in Newport Beach and Irvine and offer drunken people a ride for a small fee. He prides himself on being cheaper than a Cab. The only problem, he doesn’t have a license and apparently some bouncers are “out to get him” despite the community service he provides. You may wanna re-read that sentence. Don’t worry he is going to set a trap for them and videotape it.
Oh, but it pays better than a day job.
I won’t begin to explore the sanity of a his “fares.”
He recently tried Heroin, as Pot no longer “does anything for him.” Again, you may need to re-read that sentence so that it can sink in. In my opinion, anyone who tries Heroin expecting to be that one person who doesn’t get hooked is a moron.
The first time I encountered him he kept talking about his Daddy (who bought him the Prius) taking care of this and getting him that. I looked to my neighbor for permission. Then stated, “It must be hard being a spoiled rich kid.” He retorted, “I am not a kid. I am 22 and I am not spoiled.” Really? Then start paying your own way in life and pick up the phone and call TicketMaster yourself.
Last weekend his tires were slashed; which is a first for Newport Village. Quick to rush to judgment, Jay pointed the finger at some other residents. I am willing to guess that people are lining up to get even with him.
That’s my report of oddballs for the week.
>
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Topless in Costa Mesa
The other day, I concluded I was bored with the pool. First of all, it has been too hot to really enjoy any time in the sun. Second of all, the crowd has been disappointedly lame. However, I have been tending to my neighbor’s girls and they have not grown discontent from the pool. So today I begrudgingly escorted them for their daily swim. Upon entering I witnessed a woman whom heretofore occurred as a benevolent. I took my usual seat while the girls frolicked about the water. Eventually, the previously tame woman was talking to Aubrey and Liana. Keeping my eye on them it becomes evident that this lady, in addition to chatting with the kids, is engaging in a full conversation with herself. Finally, I send Liana to my apartment to get my raft and play in the deep end—far away from recently erratic woman.
Upon my relegating them to the deep end, she attempted to start a conversation with me. Asking me to come over to talk to her and other things she declares, loud enough that the kids hear, “My boobs are bigger than yours will ever be.” This statement offers so many problems. Obviously, there is no certainty in the statement, as medical advancement being what it is, I can always buy bigger breasts should I desire. Also, just because they are big doesn’t equate to them being admired or coveted.
Apparently, she wanted to prove her statement because the next time I looked over she was unholstered with her left tit and nipple resting in her armpit. Ok, now I alerted the management office where they were already aware of the incident but uncertain how to proceed plus concerned that she was passed out. A few minutes later the Manager came out and, assumedly, told her to pull up her bathing suit and go home. She sat for a good 10 minutes with her one piece around her waist cupping her breasts. The Manager spoke to her again and another 10 minutes later she pulled her top to cover herself and promptly passed out in her lawn chair.
Forty minutes later a member of the Costa Mesa Police Department arrived to wake her up and escort her home.
“Ma'am, pull you swim suit up.” “Can you please tie your swim suit?”
He then requested the Manager to assist him in walking her home as well as getting her dressed. The woman struggled to tie her black and white suit till someone came to her aid.
Eventually she managed to pull herself together to be escorted back to her second floor apartment.
This all happened before 4:00.
To quote 10-year old Liana, “That was better than a movie.”
I have been drunk, I have even passed out in a lawn chair; yet, the police have never escorted me home from the pool in my apartment complex. Has anyone ever witnessed anything like this?
Given my proclivity to document things on my cell camera, I was able to provide a brief photo essay of the whole event. Enjoy!
Also, this whole day made me appreciate Moobs
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Musings on Moobs
Recently I visited with a friend of mine who has been involved in a rigorous weight loss and workout regime resulting in well-defined pectoral muscles. I made the mistake of referring to them as man boobs (moobs); which, resulted in him taking offence followed by schooling me on the difference between pecks and moobs.
The first way to tell the difference is paying attention to shape. Moobs are round while pecks are square. Think of the Golden Fat Buddha versus Arnold Schwarzenegger.
Secondly, pay attention to form. Moobs, being comprised of fat, jiggle like Jello whereas as well formed peck, consisting of muscle, rest firmly on a man’s chest like implants of on a stripper. Again think about Fat Buddha versus our esteemed California Governor.
Given my recent obsession with Moobs, I find this to be useful information and armed with the distinction between the two I still see way too many Moobs. People seem to enjoy my observations about Moobs and I would like to hear from you. Moreover, I am creating a contest. Anyone who visits my Facebook page knows I have been snapping pictures of men’s chests on my cell phone all over Southern California. The contest is to take a picture of the man boobs without out the subject knowing and post them on my Facebook fan page. Then vote of your favorite. The winner will be the subject of this blog and receive a lifetime of my adoration.
AD/OC….The Real Alyssa of Orange County.
http://www.facebook.com/?ref=logo#!/pages/ADOCThe-Real-Alyssa-of-Orange-County/112972295384970?ref=ts
Sunday, August 15, 2010
On Plastic Surgery....
I have been remiss in addressing a hot topic in Orange County—Plastic Surgery. Many times I have sat at the computer wanting to write about it; yet, everything I had to say was cliché and malicious.
When I first moved to OC, I joked with the guy I was seeing about getting some “work” done—boob job, butt implants, tummy tuck—his response was to not mess with perfection.
Later, I found out you can finance anything that is not covered by insurance. During my first trip to my Primary Care Physician, I discovered that in addition to the ordinary Internist things she also offered reconstructive procedures. Following that I went to my OB/GYN who offers Laser Body Sculpting. I was left with the question, “Is there any doctor who just practices what they went to medical school to do?” In fact, one day while sitting in the waiting room I overheard the nurse say, “Maybe he can throw in a tummy tuck during your C-Section.” I guess it makes sense, with a pregnancy wrecked body you might turn to the person who delivered your baby to restore your physique.
This weekend as I participated in a course called Celebrating Men and Sex, it struck me how much unnecessary and uniformed effort women put into their appearance. Many topics were addressed including what men find attractive about women, one of which is curves. Men like that we have curves.
Ironically, I spent most of my life avoiding having or covering up my curves. My late teens and early twenties were spent trying to be as thin as possible; which is the anti-thesis of curves. My friends and I went to great lengths to avoid hips or butt including, for some, eating disorders. Looking back years later, our vanity drove us to look like boys with bumps on our chests. Additionally I wore baggy clothes covering up any possible shape I had while accentuating my best asset—my legs.
Even recently, I gained five pounds and was lamenting my hips and butt getting bigger. For whatever reason, my ideal body is straight rather than round: flat not curvy. Hence the thought of ass implants seems incomprehensible to me.
As for my breast, they are small but perky. Also, most men I speak with dislike fake boobs; hence, I have never had a desire or need to augment them.
Today, a panel of men came in to the course to answer various questions. One question addressed “What do you love most about a women’s body?” The answer surprised me. They said things about vibrant smiles, caring eyes and posture. Each man claiming he was not an ass, leg or boob man till finally one said—and all others agreed—“I am a leg man because that is the one body part you cannot get plastic surgery on.”
They just want the natural us. Consider you are not getting “work” done for men but for other woman. Men do not care that much. They love us the way we are. For men it is not the breasts, ass and the like which attracts men. They crave our curves and our confidence.
On a personal note, I think plastic surgery looks silly. Tits too large for your frame look stupid. Nose jobs coupled with collagen in your lips makes you look like an alien. I am not opposed to reconstructive surgery or, maybe, a little botox; however, there is such a thing as too much work. Just know that men will love and desire you are you are: curves and all. Confidence goes a long way.
http://www.understandmen.com/
When I first moved to OC, I joked with the guy I was seeing about getting some “work” done—boob job, butt implants, tummy tuck—his response was to not mess with perfection.
Later, I found out you can finance anything that is not covered by insurance. During my first trip to my Primary Care Physician, I discovered that in addition to the ordinary Internist things she also offered reconstructive procedures. Following that I went to my OB/GYN who offers Laser Body Sculpting. I was left with the question, “Is there any doctor who just practices what they went to medical school to do?” In fact, one day while sitting in the waiting room I overheard the nurse say, “Maybe he can throw in a tummy tuck during your C-Section.” I guess it makes sense, with a pregnancy wrecked body you might turn to the person who delivered your baby to restore your physique.
This weekend as I participated in a course called Celebrating Men and Sex, it struck me how much unnecessary and uniformed effort women put into their appearance. Many topics were addressed including what men find attractive about women, one of which is curves. Men like that we have curves.
Ironically, I spent most of my life avoiding having or covering up my curves. My late teens and early twenties were spent trying to be as thin as possible; which is the anti-thesis of curves. My friends and I went to great lengths to avoid hips or butt including, for some, eating disorders. Looking back years later, our vanity drove us to look like boys with bumps on our chests. Additionally I wore baggy clothes covering up any possible shape I had while accentuating my best asset—my legs.
Even recently, I gained five pounds and was lamenting my hips and butt getting bigger. For whatever reason, my ideal body is straight rather than round: flat not curvy. Hence the thought of ass implants seems incomprehensible to me.
As for my breast, they are small but perky. Also, most men I speak with dislike fake boobs; hence, I have never had a desire or need to augment them.
Today, a panel of men came in to the course to answer various questions. One question addressed “What do you love most about a women’s body?” The answer surprised me. They said things about vibrant smiles, caring eyes and posture. Each man claiming he was not an ass, leg or boob man till finally one said—and all others agreed—“I am a leg man because that is the one body part you cannot get plastic surgery on.”
They just want the natural us. Consider you are not getting “work” done for men but for other woman. Men do not care that much. They love us the way we are. For men it is not the breasts, ass and the like which attracts men. They crave our curves and our confidence.
On a personal note, I think plastic surgery looks silly. Tits too large for your frame look stupid. Nose jobs coupled with collagen in your lips makes you look like an alien. I am not opposed to reconstructive surgery or, maybe, a little botox; however, there is such a thing as too much work. Just know that men will love and desire you are you are: curves and all. Confidence goes a long way.
http://www.understandmen.com/
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Be a Man: Part Two
The other day, I was sitting at the pool talking with a friend of mine. She had recently received full physical custody of her 5 year old; also, the judge ordered that the father of said child spend more time with his daughter as he rarely called or initiated visitation. Sunday, three hours prior to the court arranged pick up, he texted to inform his ex he wouldn’t be able to take care of their daughter this week. A Man is takes care of his children. Said another way, Men father their children.
In my blog BE A MAN: PART ONE I wrote, “Men--real, healthy men--want to provide for and protect woman. Not just their wives, girlfriends, sister or daughters but all women. I heard a man say today, ‘A real man will drop everything and be there for you. Please give me space to be what I instinctively want to be.”
The way a Penis Person fathers speaks volumes in communicating if he is a Man or a “Not Man.” Men father while “Not Men” donate sperm and—perhaps--have play dates with their offspring.
Examples of “Not Men” donating sperm run rampant in both divorced and married families. The guy who puts his new girlfriend or wife before the welfare of his child is a “Not Man.” The guy who does not step and provide is a “Not Man.” The guy who does not spend quality time with their children is a “Not Man.” Yet, all of this is ignored, if not accepted, by society. We, men and women alike, must stop tolerating this from anyone. True, calling someone on their bad behavior can be uncomfortable; however, as cliché as it sounds, children are the future.
I ran into a boy who had just been grounded for three months. THREE MONTHS. Curious, I inquired as to what he did to be grounded the better part of summer. Drinking? Pot? Curfew violation? No, he gave his mom his dad’s cell phone number. What the hell is wrong with people?
Guys, once you make a baby you will—NO MATTER WHAT—be intertwined with the mother of said child. If, for whatever reason, you part ways you still need to interact. Resisting it or being shitty about it only makes your child suffer. So be a man and protect and provide for your child including making nice with their mother.
Ladies, if you are involved with a man who has a child partner with them to make sure they are a good father. Would you want him to treat your child that way? If the answer is no then the next question should be, “Why are you with him?” Their child should be their number one priority.
I have dated men with children in the past. Their dedication to their children is part of the attraction. It proves to me that they are men. Take a moment and acknowledge the great fathers in the world.
In my blog BE A MAN: PART ONE I wrote, “Men--real, healthy men--want to provide for and protect woman. Not just their wives, girlfriends, sister or daughters but all women. I heard a man say today, ‘A real man will drop everything and be there for you. Please give me space to be what I instinctively want to be.”
The way a Penis Person fathers speaks volumes in communicating if he is a Man or a “Not Man.” Men father while “Not Men” donate sperm and—perhaps--have play dates with their offspring.
Examples of “Not Men” donating sperm run rampant in both divorced and married families. The guy who puts his new girlfriend or wife before the welfare of his child is a “Not Man.” The guy who does not step and provide is a “Not Man.” The guy who does not spend quality time with their children is a “Not Man.” Yet, all of this is ignored, if not accepted, by society. We, men and women alike, must stop tolerating this from anyone. True, calling someone on their bad behavior can be uncomfortable; however, as cliché as it sounds, children are the future.
I ran into a boy who had just been grounded for three months. THREE MONTHS. Curious, I inquired as to what he did to be grounded the better part of summer. Drinking? Pot? Curfew violation? No, he gave his mom his dad’s cell phone number. What the hell is wrong with people?
Guys, once you make a baby you will—NO MATTER WHAT—be intertwined with the mother of said child. If, for whatever reason, you part ways you still need to interact. Resisting it or being shitty about it only makes your child suffer. So be a man and protect and provide for your child including making nice with their mother.
Ladies, if you are involved with a man who has a child partner with them to make sure they are a good father. Would you want him to treat your child that way? If the answer is no then the next question should be, “Why are you with him?” Their child should be their number one priority.
I have dated men with children in the past. Their dedication to their children is part of the attraction. It proves to me that they are men. Take a moment and acknowledge the great fathers in the world.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
A Complaint about Complaining
I have a complaint about people complaining. I fully understand and appreciate the irony of that statement; yet, will proceed with my train of thought regardless.
In general I surround myself with people who are skillful at keeping present for themselves an empowering context; thus, I have limited exposure to people who constantly complain. However, last weekend I encountered people who find fault about the most mundane things such as traffic, parking, and lines at the coffee shop. At the end of the day their gripping exhausted me. Therefore I spent the week observing complaints. The result, some people will nitpick about anything robbing themselves and all those around them of vitality.
The things about which some people will grumble amaze me.
In life there are problems, inconveniences and breakdowns. That is what is so. Traffic, flat tires, parking meters, disagreements, weather, and the like exist and resisting or complaining about them is futile.
In the mid 1990’s my mom was diagnosed with Breast Cancer. I am—to this day—inspired by how she handled the situation from beginning to end. Through a partial radical Mastectomy, chemotherapy and a year of medication she never once complained about the disease or the effects of the treatment; in fact, to this day she dislikes the Y-Me complain because it turns cancers patients into victims—and besides Y Not Me? No one deserves cancer.
In a recent trip to Chicago, a friend and I returned to her house to discover her car had been stolen. After taking the necessary steps—reporting the vehicle missing—we went out for a few pints. Later when the car was located stripped and burned she was able to find the humor in the incident.
Also, I am reminded of ever inspiring Anne Marie Schlekeway as she battles with ALS. When asked if people’s petty protests perturb her given her condition she simply states, “I wish they would get a bigger problem.”
This week my beloved pool was closed due to much needed repairs. Initially I was at a loss as to what to do with myself; alas, I utilized as an opportunity to catch up on those “rainy day activities” as well as get out an enjoy the beach.
I am not advocating complacency. If something is unworkable or a crisis do something about it—stop complaining and communicate in a way that can make a difference. But bitching for the sake of bitching is unnecessary.
If you are addicted to complaining, take a moment and ask yourself, “Is this a problem worthy of my time and energy?” If the answer is no then it might be best to keep your mouth shut.
As stated earlier, I understand the irony of the blog. I am interested in your input.
In general I surround myself with people who are skillful at keeping present for themselves an empowering context; thus, I have limited exposure to people who constantly complain. However, last weekend I encountered people who find fault about the most mundane things such as traffic, parking, and lines at the coffee shop. At the end of the day their gripping exhausted me. Therefore I spent the week observing complaints. The result, some people will nitpick about anything robbing themselves and all those around them of vitality.
The things about which some people will grumble amaze me.
In life there are problems, inconveniences and breakdowns. That is what is so. Traffic, flat tires, parking meters, disagreements, weather, and the like exist and resisting or complaining about them is futile.
In the mid 1990’s my mom was diagnosed with Breast Cancer. I am—to this day—inspired by how she handled the situation from beginning to end. Through a partial radical Mastectomy, chemotherapy and a year of medication she never once complained about the disease or the effects of the treatment; in fact, to this day she dislikes the Y-Me complain because it turns cancers patients into victims—and besides Y Not Me? No one deserves cancer.
In a recent trip to Chicago, a friend and I returned to her house to discover her car had been stolen. After taking the necessary steps—reporting the vehicle missing—we went out for a few pints. Later when the car was located stripped and burned she was able to find the humor in the incident.
Also, I am reminded of ever inspiring Anne Marie Schlekeway as she battles with ALS. When asked if people’s petty protests perturb her given her condition she simply states, “I wish they would get a bigger problem.”
This week my beloved pool was closed due to much needed repairs. Initially I was at a loss as to what to do with myself; alas, I utilized as an opportunity to catch up on those “rainy day activities” as well as get out an enjoy the beach.
I am not advocating complacency. If something is unworkable or a crisis do something about it—stop complaining and communicate in a way that can make a difference. But bitching for the sake of bitching is unnecessary.
If you are addicted to complaining, take a moment and ask yourself, “Is this a problem worthy of my time and energy?” If the answer is no then it might be best to keep your mouth shut.
As stated earlier, I understand the irony of the blog. I am interested in your input.
A Complaint about Complaining
I have a complaint about people complaining. I fully understand and appreciate the irony of that statement; yet, will proceed with my train of thought regardless.
In general I surround myself with people who are skillful at keeping present for themselves an empowering context; thus, I have limited exposure to people who constantly complain. However, last weekend I encountered people who find fault about the most mundane things such as traffic, parking, and lines at the coffee shop. At the end of the day their gripping exhausted me. Therefore I spent the week observing complaints. The result, some people will nitpick about anything robbing themselves and all those around them of vitality.
The things about which some people will grumble amaze me.
In life there are problems, inconveniences and breakdowns. That is what is so. Traffic, flat tires, parking meters, disagreements, weather, and the like exist and resisting or complaining about them is futile.
In the mid 1990’s my mom was diagnosed with Breast Cancer. I am—to this day—inspired by how she handled the situation from beginning to end. Through a partial radical Mastectomy, chemotherapy and a year of medication she never once complained about the disease or the effects of the treatment; in fact, to this day she dislikes the Y-Me complain because it turns cancers patients into victims—and besides Y Not Me? No one deserves cancer.
In a recent trip to Chicago, a friend and I returned to her house to discover her car had been stolen. After taking the necessary steps—reporting the vehicle missing—we went out for a few pints. Later when the car was located stripped and burned she was able to find the humor in the incident.
Also, I am reminded of ever inspiring Anne Marie Schlekeway as she battles with ALS. When asked if people’s petty protests perturb her given her condition she simply states, “I wish they would get a bigger problem.”
This week my beloved pool was closed due to much needed repairs. Initially I was at a loss as to what to do with myself; alas, I utilized as an opportunity to catch up on those “rainy day activities” as well as get out an enjoy the beach.
I am not advocating complacency. If something is unworkable or a crisis do something about it—stop complaining and communicate in a way that can make a difference. But bitching for the sake of bitching is unnecessary.
If you are addicted to complaining, take a moment and ask yourself, “Is this a problem worthy of my time and energy?” If the answer is no then it might be best to keep your mouth shut.
As stated earlier, I understand the irony of the blog. I am interested in your input.
In general I surround myself with people who are skillful at keeping present for themselves an empowering context; thus, I have limited exposure to people who constantly complain. However, last weekend I encountered people who find fault about the most mundane things such as traffic, parking, and lines at the coffee shop. At the end of the day their gripping exhausted me. Therefore I spent the week observing complaints. The result, some people will nitpick about anything robbing themselves and all those around them of vitality.
The things about which some people will grumble amaze me.
In life there are problems, inconveniences and breakdowns. That is what is so. Traffic, flat tires, parking meters, disagreements, weather, and the like exist and resisting or complaining about them is futile.
In the mid 1990’s my mom was diagnosed with Breast Cancer. I am—to this day—inspired by how she handled the situation from beginning to end. Through a partial radical Mastectomy, chemotherapy and a year of medication she never once complained about the disease or the effects of the treatment; in fact, to this day she dislikes the Y-Me complain because it turns cancers patients into victims—and besides Y Not Me? No one deserves cancer.
In a recent trip to Chicago, a friend and I returned to her house to discover her car had been stolen. After taking the necessary steps—reporting the vehicle missing—we went out for a few pints. Later when the car was located stripped and burned she was able to find the humor in the incident.
Also, I am reminded of ever inspiring Anne Marie Schlekeway as she battles with ALS. When asked if people’s petty protests perturb her given her condition she simply states, “I wish they would get a bigger problem.”
This week my beloved pool was closed due to much needed repairs. Initially I was at a loss as to what to do with myself; alas, I utilized as an opportunity to catch up on those “rainy day activities” as well as get out an enjoy the beach.
I am not advocating complacency. If something is unworkable or a crisis do something about it—stop complaining and communicate in a way that can make a difference. But bitching for the sake of bitching is unnecessary.
If you are addicted to complaining, take a moment and ask yourself, “Is this a problem worthy of my time and energy?” If the answer is no then it might be best to keep your mouth shut.
As stated earlier, I understand the irony of the blog. I am interested in your input.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Be a Man: Part One
This weekend I fell in love…
…with men.
As opposed to boys, or what I refer to as “Not Men”
I participated in a Workshop called “Celebrating Men and Marriage” and was, once again, reminded about the magic and marvel of the male gender.
As I write this I am indulging in my favorite dirty secret, LIFETIME, finding myself disgusted by the depiction of men in our society. They are not these cheating, greedy, egocentric people but rather extraordinary individuals.
I know many of you are thinking, “Yeah, but what about the guy who….” The problem is those are NOT MEN they are boys. Alas, age is irrelevant when it comes to a man becoming and being a man.
Men--real, healthy men--want to provide for and protect woman. Not just their wives, girlfriends, sister or daughters but all women. I heard a man say today, “A real man will drop everything and be there for you. Please give me space to be what I instinctively want to be.”
A MAN cares about offering safety and security for women which could look like walking you home late a night, checking to make sure your locksmith is good, making sure you did not spend too much on a gift.
Any Penis Person who does not do so is not a MAN; he might have a male body; yet is, indeed, a boy. I have seen 40-year-old who are great examples of 18-year-old boys and 18-year-olds who are great example of 40-year-old men. Ladies, you know the difference and stop waiting for them to grow up.
A number of years ago I dated a man who in many ways was a boy. He had money and all the appearances of an adult; however, he was 40 and hosted keggers that lasted till dawn and often broken up by the police. A cross between the Great Gatsby and Peter Pan, he was a boy in a large man’s body. I waited and waited for him to man up; alas, he never did. I do not regret the time invested or the experience because without it I would not be in the relationship I am in today. Yet, my message is don’t waste time and don’t reward bad behavior. Men acting like boys have little to offer society or you.
And guys, if you are a boy in a man’s body please grow up, be a man and be a provider for the women of the world. I promise you--life will alter.
http://www.understandmen.com/
…with men.
As opposed to boys, or what I refer to as “Not Men”
I participated in a Workshop called “Celebrating Men and Marriage” and was, once again, reminded about the magic and marvel of the male gender.
As I write this I am indulging in my favorite dirty secret, LIFETIME, finding myself disgusted by the depiction of men in our society. They are not these cheating, greedy, egocentric people but rather extraordinary individuals.
I know many of you are thinking, “Yeah, but what about the guy who….” The problem is those are NOT MEN they are boys. Alas, age is irrelevant when it comes to a man becoming and being a man.
Men--real, healthy men--want to provide for and protect woman. Not just their wives, girlfriends, sister or daughters but all women. I heard a man say today, “A real man will drop everything and be there for you. Please give me space to be what I instinctively want to be.”
A MAN cares about offering safety and security for women which could look like walking you home late a night, checking to make sure your locksmith is good, making sure you did not spend too much on a gift.
Any Penis Person who does not do so is not a MAN; he might have a male body; yet is, indeed, a boy. I have seen 40-year-old who are great examples of 18-year-old boys and 18-year-olds who are great example of 40-year-old men. Ladies, you know the difference and stop waiting for them to grow up.
A number of years ago I dated a man who in many ways was a boy. He had money and all the appearances of an adult; however, he was 40 and hosted keggers that lasted till dawn and often broken up by the police. A cross between the Great Gatsby and Peter Pan, he was a boy in a large man’s body. I waited and waited for him to man up; alas, he never did. I do not regret the time invested or the experience because without it I would not be in the relationship I am in today. Yet, my message is don’t waste time and don’t reward bad behavior. Men acting like boys have little to offer society or you.
And guys, if you are a boy in a man’s body please grow up, be a man and be a provider for the women of the world. I promise you--life will alter.
http://www.understandmen.com/
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