You Can Have It All! But Do You Want To?

•May 15, 2013 • 43 Comments
Is it just me, or do you feel a little trippity doo da by some of the things you see?

Is it just me, or do you feel a little trippity doo da by some of the things you see?

You know me. I’m not a ranter, right?

I’m the anti-ranter.

Even when I feel passionate about a topic, I usually keep my opinions to myself because:

1. I have this uncanny ability to shoot down my own arguments before they even come out of my mouth (blame it on my sociology training or middle child status)

2. I have this compelling desire to make everyone happy (definitely a middle child thing)

3. I have this general opinion that there is enough ranting in the world and I was put here (on earth and in the blog-o-sphere) to be a rant-free oasis (blame this on medication-induced delusions or chronic dizziness, I don’t know which)

I really gotta get me a pair of those wings...

I really gotta get me a pair of those wings…

But (and you had to know a “but” was coming) I saw something in our Sunday (Mother’s Day) paper that stunned me. Maybe this ad ran for a while (I hope not) or maybe it was a one-time Mother’s Day blitz (I really hope not). The ad bothers me; the timing bothers me more.

Identifying names and places redacted to protect the scoundrels.

Identifying names and places redacted to protect the scoundrels.

The message is not new: Hey, you disgusting excuses for women! Here’s your chance to change just about every aspect of your physical appearance (which needs changing, Honey, don’t fool yourself) so that you can catch a man or keep the one you’ve got. You know that’s the only way you’ll be happy, right? Don’t worry about the money, the physical pain, or any so-called “side-effects.” Focus on looking like this obviously sexually satisfied woman and deluding yourself into thinking that you can look like her if you get just a few, well, a lot of “procedures” done.

What procedures are they offering? I’ll list some of them in case you can’t read the ad:

**Breast Augmentation and Lifts, because bigger is always better and gravity is such a bummer.

**FREE Botox and Latisse, because paralyzing toxins injected into your head is a good idea.

**Mommy Makeovers and Tummy Tucks plus new Lipoperfection Liposuction, which should erase any evidence of your children (although I wonder what they do with them?)

**Face, Neck, Eyelid Lifts; Nose, Lip, and ear Reshaping, because maybe you want to enter the Witness Protection Program.

**Leg Spider Vein Laser Treatment, because spiders tend to scare people.

**Feminine Intimate Surgery (Labiaplasy), because one of the most common complaints of men these days is, “Honey, I’d love to be more intimate with you, but that labia of yours is a real turn-off.”

Witness the end of the Baby Boom. It wasn't birth control; it was all those labias in need of prettying up.

Witness the end of the Baby Boom. It wasn’t birth control; it was all those labias in need of prettying up.

**New Ulthreapy, because every woman wants her face to look as if she just experienced re-entry into the earth’s atmosphere but  her skin hasn’t caught up to her bones.

**Laser Body and Facial Hair Removal, because hair is is simply not natural on a woman.

*****

I don’t know about you, but I found this ad insulting. Especially because it ran on Mother’s Day. We love our mothers but don’t accept women in all their natural beauty and variety. No wonder we are a confused bunch of people.

I wonder if, on Father’s Day, this same Plastic Surgery outfit will run an ad with a sexy guy and offer men ways to become more attractive and “have it all?”

Men, you can identify with this guy, right? You're pants are always falling down, too.

Men, you can identify with this guy, right? You’re pants are always falling down, too.

It might read something like this:

Enhance Your Muscles, Package, and Overall Sex Appeal–You can have it all!

Your procedure is done at our office for your Safety, Privacy, Comfort, and Convenience.

**Hair Implants–you choose the look you want: Elvis, Clooney (George or Rosemary), or Fabio

**FREE Steroid injections to get a jump-start on pumping up those muscles

**Daddy Makeovers and Belly Removals (Warning: this is a major medical procedure, but you can take it–you’re a man)

**Buttock Enhancement to convert Flat Butt Syndrome to the Shapely Butt Syndrome women admire so much (materials from your Belly Removal procedure are used in this procedure)

**Male Intimate Surgery to reverse the effects of gravity on “the boys”

**Nose, Lip, and Ear reshaping or replacement, as if you haven’t already had this done by non-professionals…

**New Snorectomy to, once and for, all eliminate snoring (Warning: may also eliminate breathing, but it is a risk your sleep-deprived significant other is willing to take)

*****

This type of ad would be just as outlandish and just as inappropriate as the real ad run in my newspaper.

I don’t think the remedy for equal treatment of the sexes is to send the message to men (like we have to women and girls) that they are not good enough as they are. I believe that all of us are better off when we lift everyone up, treating each other as we wish to be treated.

I wish to be treated as a person with both elements of beauty and flaws. Both make me interesting; both make me human.

Changing my exterior does nothing to change the really important stuff anyway, does it? At the end of the day, when the lights are out and all is dark, what is left is the me on the inside.  If I’m okay with that, the rest of it only matters to the extent that my body is healthy enough to let me be and do what I need to be and do.

Okay, I think I've said enough.

Okay, I think I’ve said enough.

Posted in Humor, Culture, Observations
Tags: , , , ,

On this day, and every day, use your brain for good…not tomfoolery

•May 12, 2013 • 19 Comments

Philip and I have been enjoying watching a series of T.E.D. Talks on Netflix.

For those of you who don’t know about T.E.D., click here. You’ll learn all about the initiative to bring the latest innovations of Technology, Education, and Design (hence, T.E.D.) into public awareness and discourse.

Before you get the wrong idea, this is NOT Philip and me AND this is NOT the Ted to which I am referring!

Before you get the wrong idea, this is NOT Philip and me AND this is NOT the Ted to which I am referring!

This nonprofit group invites the greatest minds from around the world together for two conferences a year. They video the talks, then share them with us. I’m not smart enough to know how it all works. If I were, maybe I would be invited to one of these TED conferences.

If this sounds too erudite or stuffy, it’s not. Most of these talks are fascinating and even funny. And they only last about 20 minutes each, so the real science geeks don’t have a chance to flood my brain cells with too much technical information. Just enough to get and keep me thinking.

Netflix, in their infinite goodness, has compiled a series of these talks thematically. We’re in the middle of watching the one called “Head Games.” These TED presenters explain elements within the complex world of behavior, from psychological disorders to self-awareness and the everyday smile.

Why am I posting this on Mother’s Day? Am I playing a “Head Game” with you? No! I don’t roll that way and you know it!

This is the only Head Game I play. I call it "talking to myself so no one else can hear what I'm saying so they don't think I'm crazy." I'm not sure it works.

This is the only Head Game I play. I call it “talking to myself so no one else can hear what I’m saying so they don’t think I’m crazy.” I’m not sure it’s working. I hear myself, but people look at me like I’m twitbag, which I think is the name of the devise on my head.

We watched a talk about our brains’ propensity to seek out patterns in experience and make assumptions based on those experiences, and often those assumptions are incorrect. Basically he explaining why people believe weird things. Things like urban legends or why buying your mother/grandmother/wife something and treating her special one day a year is good enough to make her feel special the rest of the 364 days. Outlandish! (Michael Shermer, the scientist doing the talk, didn’t use this example, I am).

So I’m telling you about this because:

1. I care about keeping you informed.

2. I care about keeping you entertained.

3. He played a hilarious video at the end of his presentation to illustrate the suggestability of the human brain.

4. I have a compelling need to share this video with you because laughter is one of the best gifts you can give anyone on any day.

If you don’t have Netflix (these talks are instant streamed, so you don’t need to buy the upgrade for DVDs), the TED web site has tons of videos and audios of their talks. You can search by topic. It really is a wonderful resource if you are the curious type.

Now here is the video. Warning: do not drink or eat anything while watching this.


Hope you enjoyed this!

And to all of you who are mothers and have mothers,

Happy Mother’s Day!

Posted in Culture, Holidays, Humor
Tags: , , , , , , ,

My Best

•May 10, 2013 • 35 Comments
Just don't tell Scrappy about this post, okay?

Just don’t tell Scrappy about this post, okay?

Alex was born 27 years ago.

Over those years, I’ve called him many things: Alex, Alexander (when he was in trouble), Zander (which he thought was his first middle name for a very long time since I only said it rarely, as in Alex Zander [real middle name] [real last name], get over here right now!), Lex, Lexter, and, my favorite, “My Best.”

I only called him “My Best” in private. It was something as unusual as it was precious; it was something that only he and I understood.

Alex was and is the best I have to offer this world. For two reasons.

I Did My Best Raising Him as a Mother Deprived of Traditional Maternal Instincts

Most of you know I consider myself maternally challenged. His father had plenty of great traditional parenting instincts, though, so Alex survived. I read books, asked for help, and cried a lot with Alex, modeling empathy.

I did my best. And that’s what matters.

So what if I almost jettisoned out of my arms while in a movie theater when he was only one month old? He was sleeping and we went to watch Crocodile Dundee. When that big old crocodile came out of the water, ala Jaws style, I was so startled that I jumped and nearly flung my infant three rows back. His dad held him for the rest of the movie.

Hey, don't judge me, Missy. You're the one bending over in a crocodile-infested river. And if you think that thong is going to save you...well, you're right.

Hey, don’t judge me, Missy, for launching my baby. You’re the one bending over in a crocodile-infested river. And if you think that thong is going to save you…well, you’re right.

So what if, while shopping in the grocery store in Washington, D.C., both his dad and I left our sleeping 5-month old in his stroller in the dairy section while we each went off in different directions to hunt and gather items on the shopping list. Each of us was sure we told the other to stay with Alex. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. We met somewhere in the middle of the store with the shopping cart, but not the stroller and panicked. This time we abandoned the shopping cart and went running around looking for the stroller. We found Alex right where his dad left him (it couldn’t have been me, right?)–near the cheese. I may have grabbed some Muenster cheese just to make it look like I hadn’t just forgotten my son in the dairy section.

The World Needs More Fine Men Like Alex, So He is My Best Contribution to this World

I’m sure most mothers believe her offspring are wonderful people–gifts to humanity in some way. I guess I have at least that much maternal juice in me, because I believe that, too.

Alex was and is always polite, respectful of adults, has a positive attitude (once he’s over his morning grumpiness), never got into any serious trouble (no drugs, cigarettes, alcohol, indiscriminate youthful shenanigans of the juvenile delinquency variety), and has a sensitive side he was never ashamed to express in front of his friends. He loves nature and animals and has a deep sense of social justice. Did I mention he’s plain old smart, too?

Most remarkable, I feel, is Alex’s willingness to speak up and stand up for what he believes is right and moral. He was never afraid to walk his own path–to not go along with the crowd. I admire that about him, especially because I still am one who has a hard time speaking up for fear that I might upset someone. Alex has no such misgivings. But he is aware enough of other people’s feelings to temper his words with good humor and he knows when to change the subject. He reads others well and his intention is never to cause harm.

While this quality may come across as youthful arrogance sometimes, it will only serve him and the world around him well as he matures.

Does Alex walk on water? No! He sinks just like the rest of us. I did say sinks, not stinks. He’s human and has his faults. But he will always be my miracle child, the one special soul who made it through me–the woman who had at least 7 miscarriages. He will always be my best.

I discovered this song a long time ago and the lyrics remind me so much of Alex, the boy (now man) who could only ever travel his own path in his own way. I’m just glad he chose me to travel it with him.

 Happy Birthday, Alex!

 

Me and My Best. Again, please don't tell Scrappy!

Me and My Best. Again, please don’t tell Scrappy!

For more of my fond memories of being a bungling mother, read the Alex Chronicles, Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3. Think of them as my tip of my hat to Mother’s Day…

 

 

Posted in A Day In My Life, Observations, Sharing the Love
Tags: , , , , , ,

Living in the House of Drugs

•May 8, 2013 • 17 Comments
Oh no you don't! We'll have none of that in my house. Scrappy is very impressionable...and willing to try anything.

Oh no you don’t! We’ll have none of that in my house. Scrappy is very impressionable…and willing to try anything.

No, not me, Silly! Although, I do take a number of medications to keep my dizziness under control…

But I don’t live in any house of drugs! Although I do live very near a drug store…

They only sell generic drugs and their hours are kind of hinky, but they are conveniently located.

They only sell generic drugs and their hours are kind of hinky, but they are conveniently located.

Anyway, you ( and by “you,” I really mean “I or me or who ever is writing this blog post”) are totally missing the point.

I just read this awesome-pants new book by a fellow WP blogger. Actually, she’s not a “fellow” at all, she’s Christine Keleny and her book is called Living in the House of Drugs.

Here is my review of her book.

Striking cover, huh? Well, what's inside is just as compelling.

Striking cover, huh? Well, what’s inside is just as compelling.

*****

I have read many memoirs and this one is, by far, the most…well…memorable. Willie wants the world to know his story, maybe so he can clear his conscience or maybe so he can help others avoid the mistakes he made. But Willie has a big problem. He can barely tell his story in proper English, let alone write it down.

Enter Christine Keleny, author and compassionate soul. She spends countless hours with Willie to decipher his attempts at his own notes and listens to his stories. The result is this incredible book, which is a true collaboration between a lost soul trying to find his way and an insightful, skilled writer able to present Willie’s life to us in his unique “Willie” voice. She does the work of organizing his story, narrating parts of it while translating others, asking questions I wanted answered, and sharing her reflections about her journey with this man so different from her.

Through Keleny’s gift of knowing when to let Willie do the talking and when to let her own voice shine through, I came to understand the roller coaster life of a drug addict and a convict. I found him both admirable and despicable, endearing and aggravating; in other words, Keleny made him human.

This was not an easy book to read, but it was an important book to read.

Willie’s story is one that we rarely hear told so honestly. Poverty, violence, misguided searches for love and acceptance, drugs, crime, recovery, broken support systems, falling back into destructive patterns, finding hope in the smallest of places…these are the pieces of Willie’s life you will read about.

But there is another reason to read this book. It illustrates the best in humanity–the kindness that one person can offer to another by giving the gift of time and talent to make an unlikely dream come true. Because of Keleny’s willingness to do the hard work of collaborating with a man who didn’t make it easy, that man’s dream of having his story told to the world was realized.

I truly hope the world gets to hear his story.

Posted in Book Reviews, Sharing the Love, Writing
Tags: , ,

News Flash: Scientists Discover Reason Why I Hate to Be Tickled, Part 3

•May 6, 2013 • 18 Comments
I'm feeling like this bench. Are you?

I’m feeling like this bench. Are you?

Are you overwhelmed by all this information about highly sensitive people? I am.

Well, at least I’m tired of writing about it. I can’t begin to imagine how Elaine  Aron feels. I wrote two blog posts–this one and that one–and I’ve had it.

Well, I’ve almost had it. I still have a few more things to say. Observations and story or two. Then I’ll be done. For at least a while.

Observations from an HSP about HSPs

1. With the caveat that there are exceptions, we are the best bunch of people to have if you want to get something done. We follow the rules that you give us and we work hard to please you. Of course, we may start to cry or get edgy if you put a lot of pressure on us (like time us or yell at us), but you can rest assured that we will do the very best we can before we drop from the emotional and physical duress.

I'm finally done. I hope you like...

I’m finally done. I hope you like…

2. You can’t hide much from us. If we ask you, “How are you doing?” and you say “Fine,” but you’re not, we’ll know it. The extroverts might pump you for details. The rest of us will just worry ourselves sick over you and hope you’ll share your pain with us.

3. Most of us suffer from low self-esteem. This comes from being told all of our lives that something is terribly wrong with us. “You’re too shy/sensitive/soft/emotional.” “If you don’t toughen up, you’ll never make it in this world.” “It’s not normal/natural to want to be by yourself so much.”

We’re a minority. We’re different. And “different” is often defined as “wrong.”

I have blue eyes, and blue eyes are very rare in the natural world (among animals). They are becoming increasingly rare in humans, especially in America. Only about 1 in 5 Caucasian Americans have blue eyes. So my high sensitivity AND my eye color make me different, but do they make me “wrong” or in need of repair? Now, my dizzy blondeness, that’s another story…

Rare, different. Not wrong.

Rare, different. Not wrong.

The other reason HSPs have low self-esteem is that once HSPs learn that they are HSPs, other people make fun of the whole HSP concept. You know those people teasing us as not HSPs. I supposed these teasers don’t believe that being highly sensitive is a real condition–that we are just making something up, like post traumatic stress syndrome, or something. That’s why Elaine emphasized the scientific studies. In our Western culture, if science says it’s real, it’s real.

Oh, well if he says it's a fact, it must be true.

Oh, well if he says it’s a fact, it must be true.

I find that annoying, but I’m highly sensitive, so what do you expect?

4. I found many of my HSP compatriots to be quite funny. We have learned to use humor to quell stress and deflect rising tensions in social situations.

Speaking of Humor…

I rarely drive farther than the grocery story by myself. Remember, my name means “lost,” and I was aptly named.

Armed with printed driving directions (that I tried to memorize) and my GPS, I headed for the Kripalu Center, some 200+ miles away. I also had fully-charged Lornoid (my super smart droid phone). Oh, and, yes, my usual overnight stuff. I figured I was set. The New and Improved, Published Author, Independent Lorna could do anything…

…except get to Kripalu without incident.

I got lost.

How? Good question!

1. For some reason, Lornoid decided not to talk to my Prius, something she always does around town due to the magic of Bluetooth. So when various people (my sister who I was meeting there and Phil who worries about me because, well, he just does) tried to call, I couldn’t easily push a button on my steering wheel and say a chipper “Hi!” and chat. No, I panicked trying to find the phone in my stupid, behemoth body bag  handbag. Since it’s illegal to hold a cell phone and talk while driving in NY, I figured it was also illegal to wrestle with my handbag to find my phone or try to dial it while it was on the floor (also while driving). This got me a bit flustered  majorly kerdoozled.

2. Anything I had previously memorized–including my name and the fact I had printed directions–vanished.

3. I had to rely on my GPS, who (which?) decided to take me a different way than I thought I remembered I should go. But maybe I wasn’t remembering things correctly, what with Lornoid not speaking to me, and all.

4. Just after I made a turn that seemed really (and by “really,” I mean “REALLY”) wrong, the GPS flashed an error message: “Sorry, temporarily lost signal, please wait.” I thought, “Such a calm message, why didn’t I feel calm?” I kept driving and waiting. I waved the GSP around the car windshield and ceiling. The car swerved. I could tell each time I hit those rumble-strips on the shoulder of the road. Still no signal. I saw a sign that looked familiar, so I took the exit.

5. I was headed back west instead of east.  I was headed back home. It’s an easy mistake to make when you’re flailing around a GPS and crying on your way to a relaxing retreat.

6. I generally drive just under the speed limit to maximize my fuel consumption, but I had that Prius going almost 80 MPH just to make for lost time and trying to find the first exit that would turn me back around.

Maybe next time I go on a solo road trip, I'll get some of these tires for my Prius. My gas mileage may suffer, but if I have to go off road, I will.

Maybe next time I go on a solo road trip, I’ll get some of these tires for my Prius. My gas mileage may suffer, but I’ll get there.

7. Once I finally found the proper direction and exit, regained my composure and memory, I felt sure I could read my printed directions and drive to the center. No such luck. Road construction.

8. Regretfully, mournfully, I plugged in the GPS. True to form, she took me on another wild adventure. This time, I went on a gravel road (not under construction)–I think it was called Creepy Pants Road or some “C” name– and a twisty mountain road that I believe only goats and hikers use.

9. By chance, I saw a large complex way down the side of the mountain I was on. I figured it must be Kripalu. Or a mirage. Either way, I was headed for it.

10. I saw a sharp, but narrow road to my right and took it. Then I followed what looked like a hiking path that lead me to an actual paved driveway. I was there. 40 minutes late and 100 stress levels over where wanted to be.

The utility road I took to get to the Kripalu campus.

The utility road I took to get to the Kripalu campus. That’s my niece. Thank goodness she wasn’t on the path when I was driving down it. There was no room for my car and any other form of life.

Everything was great during the weekend, although my niece and I got lost on our way back from the lake right near the complex.

Other than a fight nearly breaking out between an extroverted and an introverted HSP during the last morning of the retreat, all went well.

Then I had to go home. Guess what? I asked for directions. They gave them to me. Simple. Take three rights and I’ll be on the interstate. Wrong. Someone forgot that there was a left in there somewhere.

After I drove past a cemetery and really wanted just to park there and stay, I took a deep breath, plugged the GPS in and took my chances. I made it home. Obviously. That cemetery had no WiFi connection at all.

Had it been this cemetery, I might still be there...

Had it been this cemetery, I might still be there…

Posted in A Day In My Life, Highly Sensitive People, Observations, Sharing the Love
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

« Previous Entries
 
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 508 other followers

%d bloggers like this: