Thursday, November 3, 2011

Occupy Wall Street...Thoughts from Main Street

I normally don't mix politics and Facebook.  I like to keep social networking limited to friendly exchanges of photos and musings on life.  But I have been overwhelmed by the sheer volume of photos of people hiding behind statements regarding whether they choose to be or choose not to be part of the now legendary 99%.  This all hits very close to me now that I have a child.  I want him to inherit a world that encourages his success and a system that acts like soil to the seeds we are planting, not some desert wasteland of joblessness, homelessness and war.  He will have to work for everything he has, which I wouldn't have any other way, but there has to be a point at which his hard work is rewarded- not with handouts, but with increased opportunities. 

To everyone who keeps posting the picture that started it all below, please read something I read recently from an investment banker in response to Dave Ramsay's article about the OWS (Occupy Wall Street) movement and their lack of focus.  I disagree with Ramsay.  I believe the core members of this movement have a very clear focus.  Pile on several thousand more people and the message inevitably gets diluted.  But I do believe the OWS movement needs its Martin Luther King.  They need a clear voice in the crowd to eloquently and succinctly state their grievances- because guess what- they're not all hippie socialists. I don't have the facts or sources for his information, but I'm sure if you dig you can find it if you want to.

The income disparity in this country has only gotten worse. Income for the top has increased by over 200% while the rest of the country's income grew at a fraction of that over the past 30 years. Trickle down economics never happened. It collected at the top and stayed there for many reasons; the tax code being just one of them. Great income disparity is a great danger to any country.  By this measure, our country looks more like a developing country than the largest economy in the world. 

Kids from poor families are largely staying poor. The economic opportunity that this country offered for all has greatly diminished.

Wall Street and other profiteers drove a huge bubble in real estate. When it popped they kept their huge salaries and bonuses, while millions were economically devastated. Very little accountability for this great harm done to our country has occurred. It is past time to work to prevent this from happening again. Wall Street today makes their money on volatility not creating value.

I would agree that protests are not the way to solve these issues, but they are the way to shed light on them and put them in the public conversation.

My family is not asking for a handout, we pay our mortgage, we pay our bills on time, but responsible people like us have been caught in a mire of bureaucracy and red tape even trying to re-finance our mortgage.  For 5 years I have not missed a single payment, my credit is impeccable and in July, I began the process of re-financing, I am still waiting while my bank drags its feet.  It has cost me over $500 in appraisals and fees.  My bank has charged me twice now to pay for documents that come from within its own institution (I bank and have my mortgage through Bank X and yet I have to pay Bank X to retrieve account statements from Bank X).  Where are all of these fees going?  Why are responsible people being squeezed for every dime?  How can anyone expect hard-working middle class people to ever get ahead?  Side note- We are moving everything we possibly can to a credit union as soon as this debacle is over. 

People like me aren't angry and disheartened because there are rich people and poor people, they are angry and disheartened because of the way in which many people connected to the financial institutions in this country have gotten rich while getting away with staggeringly unethical behavior in the name of capitalism (but I'll get to our government and their role later).  If you're reading this and own a home, chances are its worth far less than what you owe on it.  You are underwater and probably don't even realize it.  Are we all supposed to just sit back and say, well, that's capitalism?  That's how things work in America?  Predatory lenders and corrupt banks who preyed upon people's dreams are allowed to get a huge bailout while families are being forcibly removed from their homes?  And please don't talk about personal responsibility.  You and I both know that uneducated, unaware people were sought out by predatory lenders.  TV ads and mailers made it all seem so easy, so attainable. People were sold a bill of goods about how easy it is to own a home.  And when the bubble burst, responsible people like us saw the value of their home plummet while the banks got huge bailouts and the executives got huge bonuses.  Do you begin to see why the 99% movement has emerged?  It's emerged from the kind of horrifying double standards that allow this to happen in the "greatest country on earth".  For me, it's not an attack on capitalism, it's an attack on dirty, thieving, conniving, greedy monsters who pretend that everything they're doing is somehow allowed in a free market because individuals need to take responsibility for their actions.

Unlike this person hiding behind their diatribe, I am not content to give my son an inheritance of this version of the "American Dream" in which his goals are dependent on a government intent on minimizing regulations that tie directly to his ability to create a life for himself.  Where are the bailouts without conditions for the families who have been kicked out of their homes?  Not everyone who has debt is a loser who buys IPads and brand new cars when they can't afford it.  Jobs are lost every day and not always as a result of that employee's bad decisions.  The next time you walk through the doors of your place of work, get down on your knees and thank God that you did because we have gotten to a place where simply having a job that pays you and insures you, puts you in an elite group of people.  Having a job you love?  That probably puts you in a different 1%.

Government is no longer for the people by the people and of the people.  It's not that there is a 1%, it's that we're ruled by them.  They do not represent my family any more than they represent that mystery person hiding behind the poster.  Overall, about 200 members of Congress are millionaires. This doesn't include the value of their homes, their world class health care and five times the vacation time that most of us have.  There are even a handful of lawmakers who are worth tens or hundreds of millions of dollars.  Congress is getting wealthier at a rate nearly twice that of the general population.  "Of the people"?  Unlikely.  But to whom do I assign the blame?  How about the citizens who keep putting these thugs back into office time and time again.  Want a very current, classic example of people we hired playing chicken with our lives and the economy?  Read this: http://abcnews.go.com/blogs/politics/2011/11/two-senate-jobs-bills-headed-for-failure-today/

I stand in support of the OWS movement because it is creating a much needed dialogue in this country.  Whether you stand in support or opposition of this movement is not as important to me as the fact that you are talking about it.


News flash: Congress doesn't care about you and these accomplishments. In fact, they're probably thrilled that you're so content to live a menial life while they create even cushier standards for those who make 100 times your annual salary.

Friday, September 16, 2011

The Top 10 Things I Never Want to Read About on Facebook

At any given time, someone, somewhere on the internet is annoying the hell out of you.  It might be me with this list.  But here are the things I never want to read about on Facebook...

1) How badly you need to:
  • Bathe
  • Clean your house
  • Walk the dog
  • Eat
  • Go to sleep
I have found that trolling on Facebook is not very conducive to getting those things accomplished.  To all of these statuses, I want to reply, "So, umm, go do it."

2) Vague open ended statements about:
  • How depressed you are ("Sadness envelopes me like a sweater knit with orphan tears")  Cries for help are just sad on Facebook.  It's hard to feel bad for you when I have a banner ad asking me to "like" Cheetos.  Mmmm...Cheetos...oh, wait, what's this about orphans?
  • Passive aggressive digs at people who you know are reading your status ("Well, at least I know how you feel now....")  You know what you've just told the world?  Someone is mad at you and finally called you out on your BS.  To that mystery person I give 10,000 kudos!  
  • How someone did you wrong ("I have NEVER been so pissed!")  What happened?  Why so pissed?  Who are you pissed at?  And does anyone ever get answers to these questions?  Nope!  So why make it a public proclamation?  If you're going to talk about how pissed you are, then please, by all means, give us the juicy details, otherwise these statuses are the siren song of the emotionally needy.
  • What you did last night complete with 12 tags of everyone who was there & some obscure inside joke ("SO much fun last night hanging out with Blah and Blah-Blah and Blahbity-Blah-Blah. Next time friends, I'll leave the Arby's sauce at home!! LOLOLOLOL!!)  I like friends, I love my friends, but there's something extremely annoying about not being in on the joke.  If you have 800 friends and your status applies to 4 of them, just post something on their walls, or better yet, send a message and keep us out of your Arby's sauce fiasco.
  • Something good that happened to you with no explanation ("OMG, OMG, SUCH a great day, SUCH exciting news!  Ahhhhhhhh!!!!)  This is always inevitably followed by a dozen or so comments asking what the hell it is you're so excited about.  And despite your rush to proclaim your joy to the world, you are conspicuously offline when people actually want to know what's going on.
 3)  Here's a memes that needs to go away quickly-
 "Dear (Inanimate Object), (insert complaint/comment/feedback, at said object), (insert suggestion for improvement), (insert timeframe by which improvement should be enacted), Sincerely/warmly/kind regards/respectfully/ yours truly/ or worst of all- your friend/ (insert name here)

Example

Dear Michigan, I know I've lived here all my life and should be used to the cold weather, but seriously, stop being so cold.  I would really like for you to be 10 degrees warmer by Saturday.  Kind regards, Nancy

This format stopped being clever at the exact moment when 1,000,000 people all thought they were the first and most creative at using it.

4) Any status that ends with "just sayin'".  This has become the cyber version of "no offense",. as in "Ugh, this lady at my work is so fat and yet she feels the need to eat pizza for lunch!  Just sayin'"  Ohhhh, you're just "sayin"?  Ok, cause I thought you were just being a mean horrible person for a second, but if all you're doing is "sayin'" then, alright, carry on.  

Also, "epic" is a strongly overused word.  Tolkien wrote epic novels.  The US Hockey team's win at the 1980 Olympics was epic.  Getting a bonus onion ring in your order of fries from Burger King does not an epic win make.

5) Any status that ends with "fml" UNLESS:  you're a victim of a hurricane, you have lost your home in a fire, your car got jacked, your identity was stolen, you lost your wallet in a cab, or your name is David Hasselhoff.  If these don't apply then please visit www.whitewhine.com for some commiseration.  

6)  Statuses that go on and on and on and on about how sick you are.  Letting us know you're sick is fine.  Saying it 20 times in the span of 1 afternoon complete with a play by play of what's coming out of your nose and what your current temperature is, is not fine.  When I'm sick I'm usually in bed, you know, trying to get better.  If you want to be sick and spend all day on Facebook instead of going to work, that's cool with me, but posting 800 You Tube videos is not a form of penicillin.  Your coworkers who you gave your cold to all showed up to work and are annoyed that you're too sick to be there as their feed blows up with your constant stream of links and likes. 

7) Cnstntly mispeling words bc you ar typing on your phone.  And for the love, please just turn off auto correct.  Has auto correct EVER been correct?  Hey Auto Correct!  Who's the President of the United States?  Oh, Broccoli Omaha? Yeah, that's what I thought!

8) Another cyber version of "no offense":  adding a little heart symbol or LOL at the end of a nasty comment doesn't make it all better.  "No offense, but..."  BAM!  Instantly offended no matter what comes next.  "Anyone who still watches Big Brother is a lonely shut in with no life, no friends and no hope for the future. LOL."  Yes, I am totally laughing out loud as I sit here watching Big Brother crying into my lonely single serve Hot Pocket

9) Laundry lists of your daily activities.  I believe Jersey Shore set the precedent that these lists can contain no more than 3 items- gym, tan, laundry.  You don't get life points for how much crap you can cram into one day or bonus points for listing it all out.  "Breakfast, gym, work, home, school, dinner, movie, sleep."  Whoa, whoa, whoa--dinner AND a movie??  Now THAT is an amazing day!

and finally

10) Spoilers for TV shows!!!!  Some of us have DVRs so we can watch these shows without commercial interruption.  But there is a statute of limitations in play.  I once read a friend's status about the finale of a show that had been off the air for a year.  Another friend was all "Some of us haven't watched it yet, thanks a lot!!"  Well guess what?  Soylent Green is people, Bruce Willis was dead the whole time and Darth Vader is Luke's father...oops...sorry I should have said spoiler alert!

Don't worry if you have said these things, if you run a hypocrite check on my past status updates I'm sure I'm guilty too.  But if we all work together, we can make the internet a much less annoying place!  What are your Facebook pet peeves?

Saturday, September 10, 2011

A 9/11 Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, there lived a young woman with a warm smile and a sad heart.  She had grown up before her time and when the full weight of her past became too heavy to bear, she gave up her dreams to lighten her load. 

One night, alone in her home she set sail into the vast expanses of the world wide web on the great search for her future.  Click, click, click went the mouse.  Tap, tap, tap went the keys as she searched into the night.  Suddenly, she found it.  A posting for an opportunity that she knew was meant for her.  So she summoned up all of her courage and attempted to summarize her humble set of experiences into a neat and colorful document and tucked it away into an envelope that lay on her desk until...  
Monday 

Monday came and she clutched the envelope, made a wish and sent it on its way all the way to New York City where she hoped it would fall into the hands of someone who was as curious to meet her as she was desperate to leave.
And then...
The phone call came.

Lisa was her name.  Mike was his name.  We found you, they said, and just in time.  Words tumbled out as the young woman listened with the most authentic excitement she had ever felt.  We found you.  We just lost someone.  We need one more.  May we speak to you again?  Interviews were arranged.  Sitting on her mother's bed, she poured her heart out to these strangers.  She made them laugh, she made her case.  With every word was an invisible plea- choose me!  I am meant for this!  I am who you have been looking for.  In the end came the promise to call again the following day.  Good bye.  Click.  Waiting.

Before the young woman could let her doubt enshroud her, the ringing came.  The phone called out, it's time!  It's time!  We talked it over, we think you're the one.  Can you make the journey to New York City at the end of the month?

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, 1,000 times yes.

Two weeks to find her way there.  Two short weeks standing between her and her future.  Phone calls were made, emails were sent.  Is there someone, anyone who can lend me their home for just a little while?  When it seemed all but lost, the offer came.

There was a young man whose mother was a friend to the young woman's mother.  This particular young man was in the City pursuing his own dreams which, as it turned out, were taking him away from home for just a few months.  And, as it turned out, they were the same months that the young woman was desperate for a home.

A flurry of activity.  Classes to postpone to spring, friends to notify, family to celebrate with.  Just a few more days until the day that the young woman and her mother were to set out in a little truck packed with all the young woman's treasures to drive to the city.

September 10th.  How lucky that the young woman's mother was set to attend a conference in New York City on September 11th.  How fortunate that she could drive her daughter to the City the day before and fly back home with her coworkers.  How did God create so  many miracles leading up to this day?  How was He able to pluck this young woman out and look so favorably on her?

September 10th, 2001 was a glorious day.  Blue and green and warm and lovely.  The young man with whom the young woman had spent too many of her precious years with was kissed goodbye with all the assurances that they would meet again soon.  Somewhere in the deepest corner of her heart she knew that this was not to be.

The young woman and her mother journeyed all day and into the night.  And then they saw the lights.  Look, look, her mother exclaimed!  There they are!  As they rounded the bend in a hilly stretch of highway they came face to face with two gleaming, glowing towers.  Twin towers.  There they stood welcoming them into the City.  Beckoning to them to keep going, don't stop now.  The women drew closer and closer into the city, over the bridge and nearing the tunnel that would take them home.  The young woman rolled down her window and looked up.  The wind from this new place whipped her hair around as she said hello to the Twin Towers.  I'm here!  I'm home!  How could she have know that this hello was also her goodbye?

September 11th came like any other day.  The sun came up and the birds gathered in the tree outside of the young woman's new home.  The alarm went off and went ignored.  The weary travelers rested and dreamed, unaware of the nightmare that was unfolding just north of them.  When they gathered the strength to rise and depart, a cab was hailed and a request was made.  Take us to Manhattan please.  No.  Not possible.  A plane has hit the towers.  Bridges have been closed.

A plane has hit the towers.  How peculiar thought the young woman.  And then the phone calls came in.  Are you safe?  Where are you?  What's happening?  The young woman and her mother looked at each other, puzzled and scared.  When they turned on the television to see what was happening to their beloved City, the images were too incredible to believe.  The two happy gatekeepers who had greeted the travelers less than 12 hours ago were on fire.  Smoke was billowing from their highest heights.  The young woman could not contain her grief.  She felt herself bobbing in an ocean of sadness.  My City, she cried.  My City!  How could someone do this to my City?  And then, blackness.  The television went black.  The young woman and her mother turned to the radio in time to hear the mayor of the City rushing down the street narrating what he was seeing.  Bodies were falling from the towers.  The screams of the people nearby were vivid and horrifying.  The blue clear sky outside created a stunning and awful contradiction to the nightmare that was unfolding beneath it.

And then, they were gone.  Vanished into the dust.  Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, cousins, children, friends, neighbors, dead.  In the face of this realization, the young woman and her mother went outside to walk and attempt to process the events of the day.  Looking up in the sky, debris and dust billowed above swirling around in the glorious late summer sky.  A cruel paradox.

The young woman and her mother stumbled into a restaurant.  George's.  The silence was deafening.  All eyes were focused on televisions filled with people trying somehow to make sense of the nonsensical, to find logic in the illogical, to find hope in the hopeless.  She was forced to make a choice.  No one would blame her for returning home.  Such a tragedy, so much sadness and uncertainty.  No one would blame her at all for leaving.

Days passed and they explored this new neighborhood together.  The young woman felt no fear.  An evening spent sitting on the front stoop revealed her mother's long ago dream of living in such a place.  Now they shared this moment together.  Little phoenixes determined to rise from the ashes of this fire.  On the morning of her mother's departure, the sky had opened up and the rain came.  A more appropriate atmosphere for the day's events than days before.  They hugged and kissed and cried as the young woman bid her mother farewell and safe travels she made the long journey home alone.

And the young woman stayed in the City and she loved the City.  She saw the aftermath of that day everywhere she went.  Posters hung bearing smiling faces with the words, Have you seen me? and Missing since 9/11.  She saw the City band together and dig each other out.  And every day that her train crossed the bridge she looked out the window at the hole left by mad men.  It was a daily reminder of how fragile life is; how fragile we all are.

And she made some changes in her life to honor all the people whose lives ended that day.  She said good bye to the young man.  She picked her dreams back up and laid down her fear.  She vowed to return home a changed woman who would honor her City and the people lost through her new life.  And that is exactly what she did.

Ten years passed and the young woman was older now.  She never made it back to the City to live.  She made her home in the same place she was so desperate to leave.  But she was healthier now, more alive.  And in that city she found love, she found friendship, she found new dreams.  She married her soulmate and had a son; a bright, beautiful symbol of new hope and new chances.  

But there was one thing she didn't find in this city.  She didn't find herself.  For she had found herself long ago in the wake of an unthinkable tragedy.  She made her life a fairy tale written by God's own hand.  And someday, her baby will hear the story of September 11th and how that young woman became his mother.  It will not be a paragraph in his history book, it will be part of the fabric of his family history; part of his reason for being.  For on that day so many years ago, his mother stopped existing and started living.

~The End~










Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Be in a Love Period Right Now


Another old blog from MySpace.  Written for a bosom friend, but hopefully it will speak to someone out there who needs to hear it now...

Recently, someone near and dear to me had a douchbag break up with her, telling her that he was in his "selfish period" and maybe in a few years, he'd be in his "relationship period'.

Like this guy's Picasso or something with all of these "periods" of life.

I digress

Years ago ago I attended a benefit dinner for Gilda's Club of West Michigan.  They had cancer survivors and family members present talking about how Gilda's Club provided them with a safe haven during their battles with cancer.  I will never forget one speaker in particular.  She was probably in her 60's.  She had beaten cancer--in her second remission.  She was a frequent visitor to the Gilda's Club along with her husband Art.  Art sat onstage beside his wife, wearing a red button up shirt, in a proud display of Gilda's signature color.  In a soft but cracking voice he explained how the classes he attended at the Club helped him be a better husband to his wife.  While he might never know what it was like to battle cancer, he did everything in his power to be by her side and give her the kind of support and love that helped get her through.  He sat up onstage beaming looking at his wife.

So listen up all my single friends out there...

Never settle for less than Art.  He exists.  She exists in female form.  Art's are all over the place, but most of the time we're too proud to give them our attention.  We're too oblivious to their shy smiles and their soft but cracking voices.  Like moths attracted to an out of control forest fire, we suffer for love, we fly into the fire because love is supposed to hurt right?  It's supposed to be some crazy roller coaster right?  Surely love can't be this old man sitting up on that stage in his best red shirt.  And why do we dismiss the Arts of the world?  Because it just seems too easy.  Love that comes that easy just doesn't make sense to our jaded hearts.com.  We have to work and sweat and toil for love right?  How wrong we are to think that.  How wrong I was to think that for so long.

Do you really want to create children with someone who could ever utter the words, "I'm in a selfish period right now".  I sure fucking don't.

Do yourselves and your future offspring a favor.  The next time you want to pick up the phone and call that ex-asshole whoever he/she is--think about your future children or your future spouse or your future lovers (the good ones) or your future goldfish and don't pick up the phone.  Vow to them that you won't waste a second more in your pursuit to find out who they are by wasting time on the past.

And always remember Art.  Don't be too quick to think that love = work.  Love = maintenance and care to be sure, but it's not work for me.  Coming home to my husbandand having him kiss the top of my head and ask how my day was isn't work.  Will I feel this way when I'm 60?  I sure hope so.  I found my "Art".  Reformed drama queens of the world unite!  
Cheers and best wishes as you find yours!

Halfway between 15 and 45


One day you wake up and you're 30 and reality comes flooding in from nowhere.

And I mean--nowhere.


You have mortgage payments and insurance bills and a 401K with a company match.  Will your tires make it through the winter?  You work in a cubicle; you have a corporate American Express card with no limit. You have a Masters degree which means that people expect you to be a Master of something.  Are you getting enough calcium?  What is enough calcium exactly?  In 5 years and 4 months you will be 35.  The age when childbearing becomes riskier.  In 15 years and 4 months you will be 45.  15 years ago you were 15 and the thing that concerned you more than anything was whether or not the boy who sits next to you in math class had any interest in you beyond your understanding of the term "as the crow flies" as it relates to elementary geometry.  You wonder what happened to him.  He used to wear a red Champion sweatshirt and a tiny diamond stud earring in whichever ear meant you weren't gay.  You are halfway between 15 and 45.  Halfway between "will these awkward years never end" and "holy shit, where did all of these fine lines around my eyes come from?"
Halfway in between 15 and 45 is a strange place to be.  In the airport of your life you stopped walking on the solid marble tile and hopped onto the moving sidewalks.  Why is everything going so fast?


So you put in REM Automatic for the People which you owned on tape when you were 15.  You listen to the words for the hundredth time but also the first time.  You remember sitting by the window of your house on Mayapple Lane in the beginning of October when you first heard it all the way through.  Those dinky little poplar trees were sprouting orange leaves in the same way you, at 30, are now noticing those sneaky little lines around your eyes when you're tired.  You skip through track 4, "Everybody Hurts".  When you're halfway between 15 and 45, life has taught you plenty that everybody hurts sometimes and you don't need Michael Stipe to remind you anymore.  Eventually you land on track 11, "Nightswimming" which was always your favorite. 
The photograph on the dashboard, taken years ago, turned around backwards so the windshield shows, every street light reveals the picture in reverse, still it's so much clearer...
When you were 15 you liked that lyric because you always said when you have a car someday, you'll put pictures on your dashboard.  When you're halfway between 15 and 45 the lyric means something so much more.  You begin to picture memories as that car driving under a million streetlights reflecting what once was.  But everything is in reverse, you're looking backwards.  At 30, the world is pushing and pulling you forward, always forward.  All of those questions that came flooding earlier are keeping you from remembering what was important~poplar trees and dual cassette decks and early autumn.  At 15, it was fine that winter was on the way, you didn't have tires to worry about surviving on the icy streets of Ivywood Estates.
The last song on the CD is "Find the River", which was one you always skipped...
Me, my thoughts are flower strewn, ocean storm, bayberry moon.  I have got to leave to find my way, watch the road and memorize this life that pass before my eyes...
Halfway between 15 and 45, life does seem to pass before your eyes.  It's never that way when you’re 15, life crawls at a snail's pace.  How things have changed.
There’s no one left to take the lead, but I tell you and you can see, we’re closer now than light years to go.  Pick up here and chase the ride, the river empties to the tide...
And when Michael Stipe sings those words you believe it and you know it's true.  At 30, there's no one left to take the lead, it's up to you little fish.  So stay in the pond or ride the river to the tide. 
As the last track comes to an end, your brain tries to wrap itself around all the memories and questions that it’s been attempting to process this evening, so you decide to throw it out to the universe for awhile.
Sometimes it’s not about staying in the pond or riding the river.  Sometimes it’s just about floating for awhile to enjoy the moon.

I'm "in" it

I have been going through my old MySpace blogs and found some that I really liked.  Sort of like my mid-twenties diary.  Here's one I wrote shortly after Trevor and I started dating.  I remember very vividly writing it...


I got an call from an old boyfriend the other day and he asked me if I was "in" a relationship right now and if I was "in" love. Don't you think it's kind of funny that we use the term "in" when talking about love? For any of us to be "in" something implies that it's bigger than ourselves--unless we're in a Lycra bodysuit, I suppose love can be that constricting sometimes. We even say that we have fallen "out" of love with people when it's over. So I started thinking of things you can be "in":
You can be in…
Despair
Denial
Charge
Awe
Trouble
Agreement
Need
Control
Pain
Love
Are all of these things as big as love when we're "in" them? And do we "fall" into these things like we "fall" in or out of love? To me, in order to say that I am "in" something, I need to come to the hard realization that it is bigger than myself and that as in charge as I want to be, there is usually little to no control. The fact is, we can't control our feelings, only our actions, but the tricky part is that our feelings usually dictate our actions.
So am I "in" something right now-yes. What I'm in feels like your favorite sweater that you take out of the closet around the end of October. It's the right combination of roomy and snug. You feel that you have some breathing room, but in just the right places you feel warm and tucked in. If the sweater is too big you just don't feel the same kind of warmth and if it's too snug you become like that kid on a Christmas Story who can't move his arms. Yes, roomy and snug are things I like to be in. So to answer his question--yes and yes. Funny, it's getting to be around the end of October now...sweater season.

Busby Berkeley & the Art of Living


Wanna hear something comforting?  Life is just like a Busby Berkeley dance routine.  If you are at all familiar with his work, he choreographed elaborate dance numbers that from the ground look incredibly chaotic and frenzied.  It was only when the camera shot from a bird's eye view that we saw that the entire dance was perfect and that each person was moving in harmony with the next.  Life is like that sometimes.  Down here on the ground we can't always see the big picture, but suddenly when we step out of the mess and get a different perspective, it all becomes beautiful.  Thank my mom for this one, that's why she's my hero...