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!

Cache Me If You Can!

Somehow, it is Thanksgiving time again. I feel like I have barely had time to digest last year's bird and here we are again, ready to fill our gullets with more delicious food with those we love. Not such a bad gig, I guess.

I try desperately to block out the sensationalized holiday hubbub and maintain my focus on the true importance of what surrounds me but it's difficult when you are being cocooned in garland and left bleeding myrrh upon entering every store. I just came for bagels.

In the whirlwind of preparing to cook Thanksgiving dinner for 13 members of my highly diverse family tree, I decided to tap into my own bag of innards and consult with my heart. The irony is almost too poetic. While there are many aspects of my life that I lead with my heart, there are twice as many occasions when I keep it tightly bound like a bag of giblets, protecting it from harm. It's my precious little secret, hidden from the world of carnivores.

The moral of this story? Don't forget to remove the bag of giblets before you cook your turkey. Or...for you sentimentalists...remember that a heart unused is nothing more than a flavorless stew. ;-) 

Beware of the Dream Snatchers!

As many of you know, my first children's book was released a couple of weeks ago. I can still distinctly remember telling teachers in 1st grade that I wanted to be a writer and getting "the look" that I would see many times in years to come. A look that said, "Oh, that's cute...completely unrealistic, but cute!" It seemed the children that wanted to be Astronauts, Ballerinas and International Spies were treated with more clout than the silly Italian girl who wanted to write.

So, I conformed. Externally, anyway. For a bunch of years I said I wanted to be an Environmentalist. Teachers were impressed. I wrote articles to the editor about ways to be environmentally conscious. And folks, this was long before Being Green was popular. I was praised for writing about such a "creative" topic. Secretly, all I really cared about was the fact that I was WRITING.

As I entered high school, I changed my occupation choice to a Social Worker. I wanted to help kids who have endured many of the trials that I have. Sadly, through my research, I realized that I wasn't built to separate problems revealed to me at work without taking their pain home with me. So, I wrote an article about it in Journalism class. :-) (I'm a sneaky one...maybe I should have tried the whole Spy idea.)

Forbes posted an article specifically about this topic and I find it shameful the approach that was taken by the author, David M. Ewalt.

http://www.forbes.com/2009/02/26/starting-second-career-leadership-careers_dream_jobs.html

I'm a writer and fully believe in free speech and understand the point that the author tries to make when he states that children have unrealistic expectations of what particular jobs pay. But sir, they are kids!! They aren't supposed to have an adult grasp on reality. Is financial sustainability important? Absolutely!! Should the amount of money you earn at your dream job be a legit excuse to throw it all away? Absolutely NOT!!

To also squash a profession because it is difficult to obtain, is absurd. Ewalt states, "...most kids are in for repeated heartbreak when they get older, like when they realize how hard it is to snag a job as a ballerina."

Last I checked, Olympians didn't win medals because it was easy. Doctors don't get degrees because they hand them out to everyone. And writers certainly don't publish books overnight. I don't think telling our kids to pursue things that are easy is the right message. Our country was founded on hard work and dedication.

So, for all of those I tried to appease over the years...I never wanted to be an Environmentalist and I never intended to be a Social Worker. All I wanted to do was write. Through years of naysayers, scepticism and my own determination, I am now doing just that. I wouldn't recommend trying to stop me. The pen is mightier than the sword!


**You can purchase a copy of my book, "The Adventures of Isaiah James: Beach Boy" at http://www.shop.perfectedpenpublishing.com/The-Adventures-of-Isaiah-James-Beach-Boy-BK-AOIJ1.htm .