Mission: You've got to be kidding! (Revisited)

Next time you feel like beating yourself up about this or that, remember one thing.  There is always someone worse off than you.  Now, that works on many different levels, but for me the point was recently driven home.

Sometimes I get down on myself because I'm not as organized as I'd like to be.  Or at least I feel I'm not.  And I've spent enough time around judgemental people that I make a conscience effort to not judge others, having heard the sounds of bitter minds  and their tongues wagging with discontent.  But sometimes..

I was watching the tv show "Mission: Organization" the other day and the focus of the show was the kitchen.  MO is a HGTV show about getting organized around the house; tackling chaos and making sense out of disorder.  Getting organized and staying that way, which given the number of episodes I've seen, is a hot topic since there are a lot of people who need the services of a professional organizer, and a lot of people who saw organization as a profitable career path.

This show never fails to amaze me.  I've been in a few messy, unorganized kitchens in my life but the one featured was jaw dropping.  The wife is a SAHM who is a web consultant and states her kitchen is so unorganized it is the source of stress for her every morning.  And her kitchen is a disaster.  It wasn't really dirty, it was just crammed with everything under the sun as the homeowner also uses the dining room as her home office.  The counter was covered, every square inch had something on it, every cabinet was overflowing with stuff.  So the team of the husband, wife and organizer get to work clearing out the mess.  Things are going well, and then they reach the oven.  The organizer opens the door, at which point it becomes clear that the housewife doesn't cook (or bake at least), given the massive number of plastic items being stored inside the oven.  Momentarily shocked by the sight, the organizer bends over and pulls out a small object from inside the oven.  She then turns to the wife...

Organizer (holding a small piece of pink and white lacey fabric in her hand):  Can you tell me about this?

Wife (nervously tucking hair behind ear):  It came with a gift and it was so pretty I wanted to keep it but didn't know where to put it.

So, she put it in her oven.

Now...just think about that for a second.

Apparently I missed the lecture in my junior high school home economics class which discussed how the oven, when not in use, can be repurposed into a fabric storage container.

Clueless.  Completely and totally clueless.  They didn't show the husband's facial reaction to this, but it didn't sound like he was too affected by the discovery.

The thought that there are people like this, possibly living in my neighborhood, just gives me shivers.

Really puts a new twist on diversity.  One man's castle is another's fire hazard.

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Men are from Mars, women are from Venus (revisited)

Boy, my tandem writing assignments never turned out like this!  But if they had, oh what fun I could have had  :)  Hmmm, wonder if this University of Phoenix is the same one flooding the internet with their ads.

Here's a prime example of "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus" offered by an English professor from the University of Phoenix:

The professor told his class one day: "Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. As homework tonight, one of you will write the first paragraph of a short story. You will e-mail your partner that paragraph and send another copy to me. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story and send it back, also sending another copy to me. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back-and-forth.

Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely NO talking outside of the e-mails and anything you wish to say must be written in the e-mail. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached."

The following was actually turned in by two of his English students:

Rebecca and Gary.

THE STORY:

(first paragraph by Rebecca)

At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question.

(second paragraph by Gary)

Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17," he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off a bluish particle beam flashedout of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.

(Rebecca)

He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspaper to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully.

(Gary)

Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted, wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace disarmament Treaty through the Congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty, the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid Laurie.

(Rebecca)

This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semi-literate adolescent.

(Gary)

Yeah? Well, my writing partner is a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. "Oh, shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of TEA??? Oh no, what am I to do? I'm such an air-headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels!"

(Rebecca)

Idiot.

(Gary)

Brainless.

(Rebecca)

Drop dead - YOU NEANDERTHAL!

(Gary)

Go drink some tea - *beep*.

(TEACHER)

A+ -I really liked this one

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M. E. M. #2 (Mom's Eternal Memories)

#Bullying #Ifeelanotherstorycomingon

#MomsEternalMemories

"It's the people who always dish it out, that can never take it."

The memory of my mother's voice uttering those words is fresh in my mind. And now other words are boiling in my mind and I have to let them out.

But first, a disclaimer. The words I am about to write are directly related to the following: national events, world events, Facebook status updates, Tweets, and daily conversations. This status update is not directed at any one person. If, at any time you feel this about you, I suggest you seek professional help. Perhaps you have a guilty conscience. However, I will be giving credit to those who directly inspired me to write this entry.

Sad isn't it that I have to begin an entry with a disclaimer? The way things are today, someone will be offended by my words. Oh well...I am tired of being silent. My silence serves no purpose.

Recently, two things took place that caused a paradigm shift in my thinking. One was a comment made by a high school class mate, the other was made by my cousin. Upon reading about my childhood, the classmate strongly (and rightfully) applauded my decision to break my pattern of silence and speak up. Thank you. In a different update, my cousin recently observed that perhaps I missed my calling as a writer. On the contrary, I believe I am finally answering it.

I see by the clock on the wall my lunch hour is over. Stayed tuned...I will be back to pick up where I left off.

Okay, picking this up.

With bullies, there is no gray area. It's pretty black and white. Their end goal is to inflict pain. They enjoy it. It pleases them. So let's just call a spade, a spade tell it like it is. A bully is a terrorist. An emotional terrorist. They are cowards, no better or different than any radical terrorist group in the news.

Because that's what they are.

Personally I have a long history with bullies. As a child I had my share of their tactics. So did my younger sister. On a regular basis she came home from school in tears, the victim of yet another bully. Mom was working so it was I who stepped in to console and comfort her; wiping tears away while her sobs shook her little body in my arms. At night, I could hear her muffled sobs in her bedroom directly above mine. Instinctively, I got out of bed, walked up the stairs of the basement and went to her, fully understanding her pain. I just wanted to be a sponge and absorb it all away. Mom raised the roof at the school to no avail. This went on until the day my sister finally had enough, fought back and stood up to him. He never bothered her again. The same worked for me; the times I confronted a bully, she immediately backed down. It took her completely by surprise, and she was blissfully unaware of how she affected me. On one occasion I confronted a bully at work, and when the shock of being called out wore off, she switched to tears and laid a pile of excuses at my feet  for her behavior. I gave her a hug because I knew it was what she needed at that moment. But she never changed or stopped the bullying behavior. She just found another target and continued to spread her toxic waste into the environment.

Bullies are everywhere. We all know they exist in school. The internet is a breeding ground for bullies and trolls. No one is safe, not when the bully or troll can hide behind the anonymity of a computer screen or smart phone. Actress Ashley Judd recently wrote an article about bullies after she was attacked repeatedly on Twitter for making a comment about a college basketball game. The things men and women posted about her was dispictable and unexcusable. Petty and childish. A game the bully knows and plays well. No reasonable minded, healthy, mature person over the age of 21 behaves with that kind of malice.

That's the thing about bullies. Freedom of speech only applies to them. They can say what they want, and justify it as 'expressing their feelings.' Call them out or stand up to them, and the worst of the worse bully will flare their ire. How dare you question them!

Bullies in the work place are so common companies must address the problem through policies, actionable steps and training. A few years ago I read that supervisors spend at least 20 percent of their time dealing with the fallout from bullies (aka toxic people...let's face it, they are one and the same). That's 8 hours a week; one whole day, wasted. All because some unhappy person lacks impulse control. Or engages in gossip. The bigger the company, the more bullies are present. Bullies and their negative behavior directly affect a company's bottom line. They hamper productivity, cause high turnover rates, ruin company morale, and can ultimately destroy an organization's credibility. Their behavior costs employers money. If not appropriately addressed a company can find themselves at the wrong end of an expensive lawsuit. That's just within the private sector. Now let's consider all the branches of government: cities, counties, states, and federal. You got people dealing with bullies there as well.

Is it any wonder our country is in such a huge mess?

Where does it start? Where does it end? We all know how horrible the problem is in schools. This year alone I personally know of three people directly affected by a bully in school. And sadly, all three of the targets of the bullying suffered until they finally put an end to it by ending their life. Only then did the bullying stop.

Why did it have to come to that?

The thing about bullies is they often won't own up to their behavior; they refuse to be held responsible, blaming their actions on outside influences. They pass off their bad behavior with rhetoric and excuses, such as "I'm having a bad day," or "I'm stressed out because _____", or "I'm worried about ________." They are masters at deflecting the blame away from themselves.

So what can we do about it? Educate yourself. As with any social problem, ignorance is the enemy.

Know how to identify a bully or toxic personality. 1) They're controlling. 2) They gossip. 3) They lie. 4) They play the victim. 5) They always come first, and don't think about your feelings. 6) They're negative, critical, judgmental because they lack emotional intelligence. 7) They are arrogant, selfish and deny being a bully. 8) They are always right. 9) They violate your boundaries and they never respect 'no'. 10) It's always about them, and what they think, and want, and feel.

Arm yourself with reliable information. Practice emotional intelligence. There are many excellent resources available on-line.

7 Smart Ways To Deal With Toxic People  

12 Ways Successful People Handle Toxic People

Emotional Intelligence - Psychology Today

Emotional intelligence (EQ)

But most of all, speak up. Silence is not the solution to dealing with a bully. Whether at school, at work, or within a circle of family or friends. This is not a case where silence is golden. What you allow, will continue.



That's what a bully is counting on.

Thank you to Kathi and Kathy for sharing your stories about the two students who were bullied. I think about them and their families every day. It is my hope that these words help someone in need, and prevent another tragedy from happening.

And to the brave mothers I know who are building their child's coping skills tool box while they deal with a bully at school or in the neighborhood, I applaud and commend you. Father's too. You are doing the right thing, and practicing emotional intelligence.

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Sharing stories 7/6/2015

I have to share this entry, it really hit home today.

The Trail Less Traveled

L. I. L. (Lessons In Life) edited 7/12/2015

Welcome to the karma cafe. There is no menu. You are served what you deserve.

In my travels I've seen and heard a lot of things about karma. It's in songs, books, movies, memes and discussed in round about ways over dinner, drinks and debates. There are many ways to express it.

What goes around, comes around.

What you put out into the world, comes back to you ten fold.

Any way you put it, it still shakes out the same. Sooner or later, everything you do comes back to you in the form of a lesson. But it's only a lesson if you are paying attention. If you learn the lesson, you say to yourself, point taken, so noted, got it. Thank you and move on. If you don't learn and you aren't paying attention, the lesson is repeated over and over and over, like a never ending scene from Ground Hog Day. Stuck on repeat until something different happens.

And one thing I know is, wishing bad karma on someone is wishing bad karma on yourself. It was the quote at the beginning of this entry, that...the moment I read it I was immediately reminded of an encounter with karma that deeply hit home, like a fly ball sent deep into the stands of left field.

And then there is forgiveness.

Forgiveness is a powerful thing. It can cleanse every part of you, restore and rebalance your heart and lift your soul to the heights of joy; the kind of joy expressed by children at play. And that's the best thing. It sets you free...to live your life as it is intended.

Because the thing I've learned about forgiveness is that when you forgive someone, you are not releasing them from a past hurt, you are releasing yourself from the poison of anger.

If you knew that, why would you want to hold on to feelings like resentment and bitterness?

Some people can hold a grudge, and some hang on to resentment for a lifetime. My mother was like that, and on some measure we all have that capacity in us. For some resentment is fleeting, floating in the air like a soap bubble, clear and light, before it vanishes with a pop. And when it’s gone, it’s gone. Over and done with. Never to be brought up again. Then there are those who carry resentment like a hammer, wielding it whenever and wherever they can. And if the opportunity to express a lifetime of bitterness presents itself, they take it. Regardless of the circumstances.

Such was the case of a woman from my father’s past, that I knew of but never met. Until the day my father’s long battle with cancer put him in the hospital in preparation for the end of his journey.

It was on a quiet afternoon, sitting with my father in his room, that a valuable lesson in life revealed itself to me. Up until that day I'd never met anyone who didn't like my father; well, okay there was my mother. And they didn't exactly part on amiable terms. But that story is for another day.

On this day, dad was still lucid and we were watching the television show Law & Order, a favorite of his. It was just dad and I in the room. The door was slightly ajar and muffled sounds of distant medical staff engulfed in their daily routine occasionally filtered in. Dad and I were simply enjoying each others company. What lied ahead or behind us mattered not. It was all about the present.

I sensed her presence out in the hall before I saw her. When I took my eyes off the television, she stepped into the room, taking only two slow but determined steps before stopping, never taking her eyes off dad. I didn't recognize her. She was much older than my father and in her eyes I saw a look that was far from friendly. Her steely eyes were hard and harsh. Short gray hair, perfectly coiffed and curled, she could have been anybody's grandmother. Short in height and slight in figure, with an air of dignity about her.

Behind the frames of her glasses her eyes narrowed a bit just before she spoke. "Well, Donnie," she said with an upward thrust of her chin. "I see you finally got what you deserve." She lingered for a brief second, then turned abruptly and walked out of the room.

In that moment I knew exactly who she was. And what brought her to the hospital. In another room down the hall, was her husband.

And I should have said something. How dare she speak to my father, in his present condition, like that! But her words, so abrupt and delivered with an icy smack of seething bitterness, stunned me into silence.

With the weight of her words still heavy in the air, I got up from my chair and stepped to dad's side. In that awkward moment, I looked deep into his eyes and saw the hollow remnants of his pain in them. Taking his hand, feeling the shock of her vengeful words needling my guts, I smiled tenderly at him and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t care what anybody says,” I whispered. “I love you. You don’t deserve this.”

Dad smiled and patted my knee. “Don’t worry about it honey,” he said with a wave of his hand, as if to push her words and memory out of the air. “She believes she has a right to be angry. And she’s been angry at me for a very long time.”

I shook my head, completely aware of the history between these two. “You’d think she’d be over it by now,” I observed, glancing out towards the hall, half expecting her to return to the room to start round two.

“Not her,” dad expressed with a deep sigh. “She’ll hang on to it like a dog with a bone.” His bright blue eyes shifted from the television to my eyes. “Some folks just can’t let go. They don’t know how. Or they don‘t want to…”

I felt for him. I felt of him. A simple man, paying the price for something that happened when he was a teenager.

The room was quiet again. Distant voices in the hall broke the uncomfortable silence now between us.

And I wondered. How long had she waited to say those horrible words to my father? Upon hearing my father was dying in the hospital, did she plan to walk into his room with the main goal of making that remark? Or was it a spur of the moment decision?

I'll never know, but that doesn't matter. What matters for me, as long as I live, is I’ll never forget the feeling this brief encounter with this one woman put inside my heart. And I know I don't ever want to be a bitter, hateful woman, young or old. Not like that. Not like her.

Just days after dad's funeral I attended the funeral of her husband.

Odd isn't it? How that one quote about the karma cafe always makes me think about that moment with my dad. Leaving me to wonder if karma, like justice, is blind when holding the scale of life. When it comes to sorting through facts to find the weight of truth, I know it's not blind. But people often are.

It's been said time heals all wounds. Perhaps. But I do believe forgiveness is the key that starts the process of healing.

Lesson learned.

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