50 Shades of Ok

This one time....at Band Camp...

Just kidding, I was never in band camp. However, I did play the flute horribly for a couple of years. And, I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express one night. So, there's that.

In school performances, I actually only pretended to play the flute. I've never admitted that before. I figured I'd spare the ears of adoring parents and at-wit's-end teachers and instead focus on the artistry of being the very first, world-renowned mime flutist. I imagined audiences going wild, flowers being thrown onto the stage, my face on the cover of magazines...it would be epic. 

But, I soon got bored dominating the mime flute world, and quit. Not because I was bad at it, of course! I just moved on to the choir. I was placed as an alto. That offended me. Back then, I believed the prestige came from being a soprano. You know how they say practice makes perfect? Well, that's what I did. For something crazy like, 8 years!! And you know what the amazing thing is? 

It's a lie. 

Practice doesn't make perfect. It makes a bad "singer" just an older bad "singer". So, I quit. But this time, I was about 16. And I quit for different reasons. I quit because I knew I stunk. I knew I couldn't hold a note. I embarrassed myself. 

That was a pivotal point for me. It was then that I learned to be critical of myself. When you're young, you're carefree. You don't care if you make a fool of yourself. In fact, that often makes everything more fun. You've got these awesome rose-colored glasses you tote around with you everyday.

Then at some point, everything turns grey. 

You're never good enough, tall enough, smart enough, hot enough, brave enough and any chance of becoming that very first, world-renowned mime flutist, is nothing more than a pipe dream. 

I've struggled with shades of grey for decades. (Not the Fifty Shades version, folks! Get your mind out of the gutter lol.)

Silver, when you lose a contract to a competitor. (You're not good enough.)

Gris, when you go to Mexico and vow to only speak Spanish but you still sound silly. (You're not fluent enough.)

Ash, when your house burns down along with all your writing; your prized possession. (You're not resilient enough.)

Battleship, when you're told you may never have children. (You're not fertile enough.)

Gunmetal, when family members will choose just about anyone or anything over you. (You're not lovable enough.)

But, you know what? Grey sucks! And if you ever see my face on the cover of Fortune as the very first, world-renowned mime flutist, I am most definitely going to say, "I told you so." 

Don't let the world jade you! You have the right to be proud of your accomplishments, your dreams, your life path, your appearance, your abilities! Paint your days in jewel-tones! You are enough! I'm still working on taking my own advice and establishing a canvas that's completely grey-free and carefree. 

And, nowadays, I personally think altos rock! 

The "Quasi-Anti-Politically-Correct-Sorry-I'm-Not-Sorry-Post"

 

We live in a society where everyone is trying to find their place. Whether it be within the business world, gender identity, race equality or religious freedom and personally, I think it's a beautiful thing. Each of us should have the right to be whatever sort of crazy vessel that makes our pretty little heads euphoric (within legal limits here, people).
 

But, you know what really grinds my gears? (If you've seen that Family Guy episode, you'll giggle at that reference) At some point, by the time we got to my generation, men stopped being men. They became these lazy, entitled, unchivalrous, Diary of a Wimpy Kid creatures. Lackluster in morale and genetically drained of any sort of respect for those around them. The sort of chutzpah that makes you want to frame your restraining order. 

 

I know not all woman want some of the long-lost, old-fashioned values and I respect that. And, trust me I write this as a generality and know there are many good men out there. But, if I can push past having to write that last PC clause (because that's what we have to do when we have an opinion these days, right?), I find it all rather irritating.

Granted, I know I have an old soul. I envision myself gliding through my days in a black and white TV set, carefree, with a strong, hardworking man doting over my kids and I, kindness in his heart, helping an old lady cross the road, and, oh no, if something ever happens to break, what's this?? He can actually FIX it. 

Yet many of the men in my generation expect everything to be handed to them. And, I don't mean a hammer, because let's face it, would you even know how to use it? 

They expect instant gratification and feel they can treat others in whatever horrific fashion they choose. They can trample on families and choose laziness as their major. What has higher education come to?

There's absolutely nothing that I can't do for myself and my children. Nothing I'm not willing to learn, fix, improve, and bust my butt doing to get things done and provide a good life for 2 boys who are already proving to be greater gentlemen than their generational predecessors. 

The needle in a haystack reference has never been more relevant than today. You really have to dig to find the goods. And, if you find that gem of a human being, hold on tight like the rodeo depends on it. 

There's a reason I like to buy myself flowers. To plant my own seeds. Harvest my own sustenance. I know what I'm ingesting that way. We worry about GMOs in our food, but what about the GMOs within our people? 

I'll let that marinate. 

Chumming with the Sharks

 

A saleswoman, I am not. I've been told hundreds of times over the years that in order to succeed in business, you've got to be good at sales. It's just not true.

 

"No, I didn't want to Supersize my meal but now that you mention it, I DO need 4lbs. of fries and a gallon of Coke for lunch." It's like they're intuitive.

 

Don't get me wrong, I get the point. But, I think the main reason I've had any professional success as an entrepreneur is because of the relationships I build. I'm always myself, not a fluffed-up, used-car salesman-type, "What's it gonna take to get youuuuu into this car that's $30k over your budget?"

 

I'm professional but I let my sweet and quasi-goofy personality shine through. I genuinely care about the best interest of my clients, even if that means it leads to me not getting the contract. But, the benefit of that, is that I sleep well at night with a clear conscience. Because above all else, I'd much rather be a good person with a big heart, than a bad shark with a big bank account. (Cue the sappy orchestra music!)

 

I'm a little fish in a big pond and I'm quite cozy here with the tadpoles and lily pads. Out in the vast ocean, we become merely shark bait getting tangled in the seaweed and choking on algae.

 

Who needs that kind of slime anyway?

 

"Good morning, Sunshine!"

It's like the first squeeze of toothpaste before anyone has a chance to mangle the tube and create a mess that, well let's face it, YOU will have to clean up.

And, very similar to the feeling you get when bacon is cooking and the smell wakes you from a peaceful slumber because YOU didn't have to make it, thus avoiding those unpredictable splatters that always seem to hit sensitive places. (The sensitive places thank you!)

Comparable to the first time the sun hits your skin after days and days of rain. The rays penetrating far past the epidermis and somehow bringing true warmth into your soul.

I'm referring to those little things called Happiness Triggers.

One of those Happiness Triggers for me is the simple yet swooning phrase of, "Good morning, Sunshine!" There's always been something about those words that speaks to my mind, body and soul. I get chills just writing this. It is this insanely warm and fuzzy phrase and its intent is never anything but to bring happiness to its recipient. Perfection!

Sometimes these Happiness Triggers come in the form of a smell that can bring you instantly back to such a specific moment in time. Or a location that holds so many memories for you, regardless of how many years go by. But, for me, it's simply...

"Good morning, Sunshine!"

Gets me every time!

What are your partner's Happiness Triggers? Yeah, yeah, we know the bedroom can bring them out easily but that's a blog post for another time. :-) I'm talking about true Happiness. Deep down, stirring their core, Happiness. How often do we forget to tap into that? How often do we just stop trying?

I know, I'm lacking some of my usual snarkiness! But, I'm nothing, if not diverse. And, don't fret! I'm sure it will return in the next post. My sarcasm only gets a one-hour lunch break a day, afterall.

So, in honor of all the tatas that are free of bacon splatter (see, it didn't go far), fresh tubes of toothpaste and bountiful sunshine rays, I encourage you to stop chasing those ridiculous Pokémon Go thing-a-ma-jigs, and go seek out the Happiness Triggers of your loved ones! Obviously. I mean now....go. Go on! Git...

Baggage Fees in My Bedroom

Baggage has been the demise of some of my most successful, and let's face it, most dysfunctional, relationships. Not the plain-Jane black suitcase kind of baggage you try to find on the conveyor belt that resembles 50 other people's luggage, or the sassy leopard print bag that belongs to the over-age sex kitten, but that clingy Baggage that we carry around with us every single day. Stuck to us like cellulite to thighs. 

We tuck it away in a back bedroom closet, hoping the old adage "out of sight, out of mind" kicks in. We bury it in the backyard next to Fido's remains and plant flowers in hopes it is never discovered. We may even decide to boldly display it smack dab in front of the big screen in our living room, because, well, no one ever discusses a big elephant in the room. 

Regardless of how we try to handle our own Baggage, the truth is, we often never actually DEAL with it. It's scary, hairy, funky and grimy. It smells of regret, wreaks of disdain and we fear there is not enough forgiveness in it to overcome the stench. 

I decided recently to open up my own Baggage. I'm not talking about taking a lil' peek with one eye closed and one foot ready to bolt out of the nearest door (or window, if things went really bad). I opened that bad boy up like the mighty Hulk (after unlocking all the pass codes, pin #s and security questions I'd previously used to keep up my walls)!

I hoped to find some cute shoes or a sexy lil' black dress in there but instead I was greeted by memories. Dozens and dozens of memories. Racing my heart like Daytona cars, causing tears to take a stroll down my cheeks and land on my modest chest, making me laugh until I snorted (luckily I don't drink milk) and I was the most free that I had ever felt.  

It was all on the table, metaphorically and literally. And, as I brought out each item and addressed the heavy weight it has been in my life, it faded away like Bill Cosby's morals. (too soon??) The lighter my Baggage became, the more enlightened I became, as well. It took a strong moment of character and bravery, hoping that not only would I be ready for this Baggage revelation, but that my loved ones would be ready to accept it, also.

I pack lighter these days. I still occasionally put my foot in my mouth but I'm learning to become more graceful. And, most importantly, I'm finding financial freedom now that there are no more Baggage fees in my bedroom!

Sabrina K. Carpenter

Merry Season of Cooler Weather, Scrooge!

Freedom of speech is a glorious thing, isn't it? We are a nation founded on speaking from orifices other than our mouths, often with self-serving motives. It is no wonder that others less fortunate strive to maintain residency within our borders. We are living the dream!

With all sarcasm aside (merely for a moment, no worries), being able to voice your opinion is genuinely something to be grateful for. I only wish it was used in more of a positive aspect at times. The holidays are here and this year more than any before, I keep encountering people with massive amounts of negativity about how people express their well wishes. If I had a dime for every time I heard someone say, "Ugh, I hate when people say Happy Holidays! It should be Merry Christmas!", all of my Christmas shopping would be paid for...and then some!

Have we gotten so jaded and self-righteous that we think everyone else should believe what we believe and celebrate the way we celebrate? It's gotten to be such a touchy issue that many people trip over their own tongues when trying to figure out the acceptable way to wish you a "Merry Season of Cooler Weather".

When someone says good morning, do you instinctively look at your watch, notice it's 12:01pm and shout, "How dare you! It's actually afternoon, you moron!" I sure hope not. So why, when someone is just trying to send you happy thoughts during the holidays, does it become this eggnog pissing match?

Perhaps we can change our way of thinking to realize that they are saying something nice, regardless if it specifically fits our religious or lifestyle traditions. Personally, I celebrate Christmas. But, I welcome the world to wish me a happy Hanukkah, Diwali, Christmas, Wigilia or Kwanzaa. Please know that I will graciously accept your kind spirit and wish you the same.

This is both my free speech and my two-cents. Enjoy!

I'm the Imperfect Worm...Just Without All Those Pesky Flaws!

Self-exploration is a life-long process with what seems to be an awful lot of WORK. Evaluating decisions, making amends, adjusting reactions and categorizing relationships. To quote the famous philosopher, Pooh Bear, "Oh, bother!"

I'm the first person to admit to my imperfections and strategically learn how to right wrongs and consistently grow as a human being. Yet, I somehow don't allow myself the option to make mistakes. What a quandary!

You see, I think often times we continue to unknowingly punish ourselves long after those we hurt have forgiven us. It is this deep-seeded guilt and sense of inadequacy that often interferes with integral parts of our lives without us even realizing it.

I have a minor obsession with human psychology and a double major in critical thinking and behavioral science so trust me when I tell you that I am qualified to analyze absolutely no one. But, isn't it intriguing that you're sitting here reading this post thinking, "Man, she nailed it on the head!" Please, hold your applause for the end of the post.

Once you tap into your unconscious and catch these mental self-mutilations, it opens up this whole can of worms. Some will be these big, slimy ones that you can barely even stand to look at and others will be harmless little buggers that you encourage to be on their way. But, a worm's a worm, people. They're gross and unsightly but when dealt with in the proper way, they are no longer a nuisance to you.

So, maybe just for today we can cut ourselves a break. Make a couple of mistakes, learn from them and let's not beat ourselves up with years of internal punishment. Be as forgiving to yourself as you are to others. The applause may commence. ;-)