Couth- And Why Do So Few People Have It? December 3, 2014

Hello, all!  It’s a cool, drizzly, rainy day outside my window.  The route I took to work this morning followed the route for our local Parade of Lights which was held last night, and in which I took part as a member of Ardmore Little Theatre.  ALT entered a float in the parade, and I was one of the three people walking in front of the tow-vehicle and carrying our banner.  It was a great time, and thankfully, I’m not as sore as I feared I would be from the unaccustomed and rather speedy walking I did last night.

*

It was a well- attended parade.  Particularly toward the beginning of the route, people were packed in shoulder to shoulder.  There were plenty of little ones in strollers and lawn chairs, wrapped in blankets, clearly having a great time.  So what does this have to do with the title of this post?  Well…. it’s not a pretty picture.  This morning as I drove that same route to get to my office building, I noticed the sides of the streets looked very littered.  Candy wrappers, coffee cups, soda cans, and water bottles, just left there on the sidewalks and curbs for… I don’t know, someone else to pick up?

*

Am I the only person bothered by this?  It sickens me.  It astounds me that people will go out to a public event, a thing that is free for them to attend, that hundreds of people have worked countless hours to plan, organize, and complete, and not even be thankful enough for others’ effort, not even be proud enough of a community that offers such pleasant holiday events, to pick up their trash?!  How is this so hard to do?  How is it hard to say “Hey, kids, look around and pick up your trash before we go.  This is our hometown.  Let’s take pride in it and take care of it.”  Am I just completely over-idealistic?  I mean, I don’t know about the rest of the world, but I was brought up on “Let’s leave it cleaner than we found it.”  Same applies for entertainment and sporting events.  It drives me bonkers to leave a movie or a football game and see trash left everywhere in all the seats, floors, and aisles.  BON… KERS!!!! How hard is it to carry it out with you and dispose of it properly?  For that matter, how hard is it to return shopping carts to the store or the cart rack?  I almost always bring in at least one or two carts left in the parking lot when I enter a store.  It’s really not that big a chore, folks.

*

When did people get so tacky?  I’m just asking.

*

Here’s another example.  So many people nowadays, “celebrities” and non-famous folks alike seem to think it’s great to show off their bodies to the general public, both on social media with their half-nude “selfies” and on the streets and sidewalks by the too-tight, too-short, show-and-tell, immodest clothing they wear.  And if it’s not clothing that shows off their own bodies, it carries pictures of others’ bodies, or signs or slogans that objectify, denigrate, and disrespect others’ bodies.  And if it’s not offensive content relating to bodies, then it’s just disrespect in general.  Questionable humor, distasteful words, slogans, language.  When did society decide it was ok to show off the content of our intellect by advertising it on our clothes?

*

I realize that overall, the subject of manners, common decency, politeness, and “couth” as I called it in my title, is a huge, deep, multifaceted conversation to have.  We could talk about causes, roots, contributing factors, and historical culture differences all day long.  I’m not really able to intelligently discuss how or why we got here.  I don’t know.  All I have is a call to action:  My fellow humans…please…Let’s try to have more consideration, more gentility, more refinement, more manners!  Or at the very least, bring a trash bag to the parade.  Let’s just start there.

*

Until next time,

D.

PS:

COUTH:  ko͞oTH

humorous

adjective

adjective: couth

1. 1.

   cultured, refined, and well mannered.

   “it is more couth to hold your shrimp by the tail”

noun

noun: couth; plural noun: couths

1. 1.

   good manners; refinement.

   “their hockey team had more talent but less couth”

Happy Domino Day! July 30, 2014

I picked these as representative of this post because they’re pretty and they have yellow dots.

Hello all.  So I have something to share and talk about that I haven’t mentioned too much lately in light of other obsessions, but I really need all the motivation I can get on this, so I’m going to talk openly and honestly about it, and just throw it all out there.  Regular readers know I started this blog right about the time I started attending Weight Watchers meetings, right? Well, I did.  My first post here was January 21, 2010, which was two days after my first WW meeting.  Since that time, I have attended meetings consistently until the last year, when I started missing almost as many meetings as I attended.

*

The weight swing was as follows:  from January 19, 2010 to June 10, 2012 I lost 129 lbs.  Yep, you read that right.  June 2012 was the once in a lifetime cruise I took my children on all by myself, and it was also my baby sister’s wedding, in which I was a bridesmaid, and it was ALSO the graduation of my one and only class of English students, whom I (only marginally successfully) taught when I was 129 pounds heavier and they were freshmen, and most of them hadn’t seen me since the end of that year.  So AFTER that…. I apparently just sort of mentally gave up.  Maybe not all at once.  Clearly not all at once.  I kept going to meetings, kept occasionally exercising, kept half-heartedly tracking my points.  But not at all with any kind of consistency, efficiency, or determination…

*

…which has brought me to where I am today.  I have gradually at first, and then more rapidly, gained weight back until I am now at a net loss since January 19, 2010, of only 56 lbs.  My gain of two pounds this week put me at my heaviest weight in four years.  Up until now I have just sort of smiled and nodded at this progression, just shrugged and let it slide and figured I’d get it together at some point.  Well, that point has arrived.  I am blogging about this because I want people to know I am serious.  I have probably posted a half-dozen “I’m starting over” posts in the last two years, but this one is officially IT.

*

I could probably go into a whole series of posts and thoughts about why we eat the way we do, why we eat for emotions’ sake, why we don’t exercise, why we make excuses when it comes to grocery shopping (that last is a real sore point with me.  It feels like an unavoidable fact that healthier food = a higher total at the cash register, which is so aggravating!) BUT for now I don’t think that falls within the scope of my purpose.  My point is at some moment you just have to choose to confront the issues and start fighting to fix them.

*

I posted a meme on Fb today that said “You cannot fix what you choose not to confront.”  Or something like that, but it really stepped on my toes.  When it comes to the topic of health and weight loss and fitness, I always just sigh and talk about Oh, yes, it’s such a battle, it’s so hard, it’s such a struggle, I’m so tired of fighting it, who cares, what does it really matter, I have people who love me as I am, etc.  But you know what??  Seriously.  Do you know what? Those are all truths.  It is true that it’s hard, that it’s a struggle and a battle and that I’m tired of fighting it and that I have people who love me exactly as I am no matter what.  BUT… it is a battle and a struggle that is worth continuing to fight, tired or not.  The only victories in life, and I mean the ONLY big victories that have ever been won in the world, have come when the person or persons fighting refused to give up.  Think about it.  Wars, battles, political issues, sports contests, personal victories over demons of all kinds…have only been won when the persons fighting them FLATLY REFUSED TO GIVE UP!  Yes, I know that’s a lot of caps.  Sorry.  Don’t mean to yell and rant and rave, but the thing is, nothing is ever gained by sitting down and refusing to keep trying.  That’s why the poem “Footprints in the sand” is famous, but nobody has ever shared a poem about “Butt prints in the sand,” right??

*

So today is the day.  I’m getting back on track, I’m going to start making healthy choices every day.  Domino effect.  Our WW leader used to do this “object lesson” in which she gave us all a domino and reminded us that all it takes to stop a falling train of dominoes is a little pressure in the opposite direction.  Just a little support behind one domino anywhere in the chain, to stop it from falling, and the cycle ends.  So that’s it.  It’s Domino Day.  I’m starting over for the last time.  And I’m never, ever, EVER giving up.

*

Until next time,

D.

The Day I Stand Up. The Day I Begin to Speak March 20, 2014

In Memoriam: Jarrae Estepp

Hello all.  My last post was about bullying and how we as humans need to stop hating people who are different from ourselves, and more than that we need to learn to love ourselves and reach out to people.  Today’s post seems like it is probably connected to that in some basic way.  I stumbled across this article in the L.A. Times that just broke my heart for a number of reasons.  One, the girl featured was only 21 years old, less than a year older than my daughters.  Two, she was from my home state.  And three… dear God, after a life of violence and prostitution, this beautiful girl was found naked and dead on a trash conveyor belt!  How could anything be more heartbreaking than that?

*

I don’t even have words.  Everything in me is screaming:  STOP hurting women!  STOP selling ourselves!  STOP!  Just STOP!!!  I started to post this on my Facebook, but I decided I wanted it here instead.  What was this poor girl’s early life, that she ended up this way?  What is the root of this, and how can we rip it out of wherever it grows and obliterate it forever?!   I don’t even know where we could begin.  More love, more life, more words, more beauty, more peace, more kindness, compassion, strength, tenderness, care… more SOMETHING.  Something that touches people’s souls and teaches them that life has value and inflicting pain is wrong and USING people is just WRONG.

*

The knowledge of this girl’s life and how it ended has touched me in this moment.  I can’t say “I’ll never be the same” because odds are, I’ll forget her name and face in a few days, and whenever something makes me remember the story, I’ll think, “Oh, yeah, that was really, really sad.”  But maybe her story should serve as a catalyst for action, a jolt out of an existence characterized by apathy, an inspiration to stand up and shout against something.  I have noticed an unsettling tendency in myself, and that is… I don’t stand up lately.  I don’t support causes, and I don’t oppose causes.  I don’t say what I believe very often.  I don’t agree and I don’t disagree.  I smile and nod, or frown and shake my head, but I don’t use my voice.  I don’t engage and I don’t confront.  I don’t fight.  I think it’s time I started working toward moving in the opposite direction from that.   Some things are worth fighting for, just as some things are worth fighting against.   I have feet, and I need to start standing.  I have a voice and I need to start using it.   It’s past time to choose a side and speak.

*

Jarrae Nykkole Estepp can’t use her voice anymore.  What would she say if she could?  What could we say FOR her, to help make sure nobody else ends up like her?  I urge everyone who reads this to use your voice.  Speak up for something, speak up against something.  Use your voice and your hands and your feet and begin to fight for your beliefs.

*

Until next time,

May We All Stand UP.

D.

 

EDITED TO ADD:  Here is a website that lists activist websites for women’s issues:

http://userpages.umbc.edu/~korenman/wmst/links_actv.html

An Open Letter to Bullies. Because We’ve Had It. March 18, 2014

Hello all!  You know, every so often I get inspired.  I usually don’t seem to be able to spout off these rants as well as some people I know, but today I had a brainwave when I read this article (I didn’t watch the video) about a boy getting bullied for carrying a My Little Pony backpack.  It just really got my attention when (as so often happens) the victim was the one told he needed to change, rather than the bully.  So when I shared the link on my Facebook page, I added this:

*

Dear Bullies of the World,

*
You chose to be mean, cruel, hateful, and disrespectful to someone because they are different from you- maybe they have a physical, emotional, or psychological trait that makes you nervous.  Maybe they have something you wish you had.  Maybe they have something you wish you didn’t, but unlike you, they’re okay with it.  Maybe they believe something you don’t, or don’t believe something you do.  Maybe they are happy, or would be if you’d leave them alone, but you won’t because you’re not.  We can see that.  Really.

*
You know what?  We get that you are insanely jealous of them because they are secure in who they are, and you’re not.  We understand that you desperately want to fit in and be cool and be liked and be like everyone else, but here’s the deal:  YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE!  You can choose to be who you are, just like the kid whose head you shoved into a locker (or adults:  the intern you yelled at in your office ) yesterday.  You can look at yourself and choose to believe that you are ok just the way you are, so that you don’t have to feel compelled to pound the snot out of everyone who already knows that about themselves.

*
You’re the one who needs to change your attitude!  Get it?!  You don’t have to change yourself, but you really ought to look into changing how you feel about yourself!  Because hurting others to try to make your own pain stop is NOT OK!  Ask for help.  We’re here.  We get it.  Love yourself and let others love you.  Things can be different.  Just make an effort to reach out to someone, and see if that doesn’t change your whole outlook on life!

*
Sincerely,

The Rest of Us

*

  So yeah.  As famous, fictional bullied character Forest Gump said, ‘That’s all I have to say about that.’

*

   Until next time,

   D.

   PS  Sorry it’s been a while.  Look for the next installment of the Family Traditions series coming soon!  Thanks for reading.

Making Friends Who Disagree With You (is the healthiest thing in the world) May 16, 2013

*

Hello all! I am sharing this because I think it is true and correct and extremely important in this world where suddenly disagreement = hate and dissention = judgment and the way people form their world views is limited to listening only to those who agree with them. This woman is so worth reading! I have a lot of other things on my mind, but for now, enjoy!
*

Until next time,
D.

Shaunanagins

I did not expect this to be the most life-changing part of my semester in Washington DC.

When I first left, I thought the biggest impact would be academic–the Smithsonian, Library of Congress, Museum volunteering.  Either that, or my health would improve with the balance and space.  Or maybe I would meet a tall, dark, handsome American man and run away to Hawaii with a green card.

Not quite.

There was an academic impact, of course. A huge one.  And, yes, my spiritual, emotional and physical health is in decent form.  I am also currently acquainted with many tall/dark/handsome American menfolk (‘sup, gents?), though I certainly won’t be marrying into a green card anytime soon.

But none of these things are at the top of my report back to Canada.  Instead, I have been pouring out stories and joy regarding one overwhelming, unexpected gift: While in DC, Ibecame close…

View original post 908 more words

What I Learned From WD40 March 4, 2013

Tensioner in place on a model year 1999 7.4L automotive engine, tensioning the serpentine belt. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Hello all.  Something happened the other day that got me thinking.  Now I realize that me thinking is more often than not a dangerous proposition, but just go with it.  So in an effort to be all independent and self-sufficient and grown up and stuff, I decided to fix a problem without asking for help from anybody.  I had a squeak in my car engine.  I had a squeaky belt.  I had a squeaky serpentine belt.  And what, boys and girls, do we do when something squeaks?  By golly, we squirt that sucker with WD40!  I had bought some not long ago for the purpose of de-squeaking the bedroom and bathroom doors, and the garage door, and…ok, don’t laugh, but some stupid thing I saw on Facebook said something about using it to keep the bathroom mirrors from fogging over.

 

 

*

 

 

So anyway.  I was getting ready to leave for work and I thought it would be an opportune moment to de-squeakify the belt on my car.  I sprayed the belt and all the various little pulleys until I didn’t hear anymore squeaks, and suddenly, there was a clank and a thunk and there was the belt, wound around the motor mount, having slipped right off its little wheel.  (Which is also my current mental state, in case you’re interested.)

 

 

*

 

 

I called my dad, who didn’t think he could do anything about it and called the shop for me.  I was pretty aggravated about the whole thing of course, because it seems like there is ALWAYS something going on with my car, and I’ve already put quite a bit of money into it, and I really didn’t want to have to throw away any more!  To that end, I talked to someone who volunteers at my church, a lovable old coot who thinks he can do anything.  He was convinced he could fix it and save me some money.  Well, long story short, it turned out he couldn’t.  I ended up taking it to the shop, and it’s still there.  They’re also installing the new headlights I bought on Amazon the other day.

 

 

*

 

 

But the whole thing got me thinking.  It all happened because I was trying to be grown up, self-sufficient, and independent.  Read:  I didn’t want to have to ask my dad what to do about a squeaky engine belt, and I figured WD40 is good for that.  But really, what’s wrong with getting help?  What’s wrong with asking for help?  Where did I get the idea that being a grown-up means you never need anybody?  Is it such a bad thing in today’s society to be dependent upon others?  So I thought about it, and I decided that maybe the idea came from how I felt through several years of receiving food stamps, state medical coverage for the kids, etc.   I always felt a sense of shame about it, always overhearing comments and perceiving peoples’ attitudes.  On a similar note, I also have a lot of conflicting emotions when I find myself wishing I had a man in my life and then feeling a vague, feminist guilt for not being completely thrilled and content being on my own.

 

 

*

 

 

But the thing is, I think sometimes people have the same conflict about God.  We need Him, but for some weird reason, we don’t want to.  We forget that it’s ok to need God.  That it’s not a bad thing to pray, to ask God for what we need, what we want… thanks to a little cultural indoctrination, we have internalized this idea that it’s a really bad thing to need help, that to be a woman, an adult, we have to do things on our own, to figure things out on our own.   But thanks to a little injudicious use of WD40 and a tendency toward stubbornness,  I was able to learn a little something.  Being an independent, self-sufficient adult does not mean we will never need help.  We will always need our parents and our friends and family, and there is nothing wrong with that.  And we will definitely always need God, and that is the way it’s supposed to be.

 

 

*

 

 

Until next time,

 

 

D.

 

 

A Postcard From the Edge February 28, 2013

English: warning about stupidity (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Hello all.  This is probably not the first blog post I’ve written while seething with rage, and it’s not likely to be the last, either, but allow me to just say that stupidity…is painful.  Especially when it’s your own stupidity and you should have known better, but you were just blind to everything except what you wanted, and for that you got, well, screwed.  Yeah.  I’m there.  Online purchase from a scam website.  Obviously fake, but never even slowed down to notice until it was too late.  Funds lost, but fortunately not huge funds.  Now, however, I will have to cancel my debit card, get a new one, and go back through a dozen legitimate online payments that have my card linked and cancel it.  I am just so MAD at myself.  I really, really hate it when I do something stupid, especially when I should have known better.  There have just been way too many of those events in my life.  It’s like, when will I ever learn?!

*

Ok, so I have to just go ahead and accept this.  Own it.  I did a stupid thing and it cost me, but thankfully it didn’t cost me much, at least thus far, except my pride and my view of myself as an intelligent human being.  That’s not a first, either.  My second marriage, and a couple of other emotional entanglements are on that list too.  But all the rage in the world, and all the kicking myself I could do will not undo the mistake or change the reality, so this will be the end of it.  Until I bring it up again the next time I get mad at myself for doing something else moronic.  Oh, and by the way, don’t order from websites selling box set DVDs of TV series.

*

Until next time,

D.