Where Has Education Gone?

"Education is no substitute for pure raw talent.  However,
it is a good foundation on which talent may build."  ~ David Allio

We all hear about education dollars being cut from states's budgets, schools laying off good educators because they can't afford them, programs being cut in our schools, etcetera...it's all disheartening.  So when one goes to a choir concert at an elementary school, there is hope that some school districts understand the need for the arts as well as education.

Fast forward to the end of an auditorium filled with joyful noise.  The choir director became rather vocal and told all that were gathered that, though she is happy to be kept on after this school year, her program is being cut from three one-hour sessions a week to one half-hour session a week.  Using my skills in Mathematics, rounding up, her program is being cut down by 83%.  Eighty-three percent!

Say you heard that your favorite TV program was just told that their budget was cut and instead of having forty-three minutes of programing to film, they had to fit all of it into seven minutes, 18 seconds.  Could they do that?  Would you still like the show?  Would you be satisfied with the content?

Try this?  You're used to getting a full business week to complete a presentation or a comprehensive report.  You now have six hours and 48 minutes.  Talk about cramming!  Good luck with that.

One more...You're used to making $32,000 a year, budget cuts means you have to take an 83% cut in pay.  Could you live off of $5440 a year?  No?  Scarily enough, some are trying.

Not so easy is it?  Hard to imagine, yet this is what is happening to children's education.

This is only the latest thing to really upset me over what is happening to our educational system.  Three short weeks ago, I was sitting with my niece and she was so proud as she showed me all her hard work.  She was excited for me to see just how well she's been doing in school.  I was looking over one of her rough drafts and noticed there were no marks on the paper except for a "100/100".  There were no notes for improvement in the margins, no kudos.  When I asked her why this was so, she told me that students were getting 100% for turning in their rough drafts.  Just for turning it in!

I, being the way that I am, looked over her draft and saw misspellings, flow issues, punctuation issues, and grammar errors.  I couldn't believe that nothing had been written on this paper by the teacher!  I wasn't at all pleased and decided to work with her on it.  We spent well over an hour discussing the paper and correcting some of the issues.  I made sure that she understood each step that we had gone over.  She ended up getting a good grade, but it made me angry that the teacher gave no direction.

"A proper education enables young people to put their lives in order,
which means knowing what things are more important than other things;
it means putting first things first.
~Wendell Berry

What has happened to our educational structure?

When I was little--in elementary/junior high school--I had art, choir, band and physical education. Art class was once a week with band and choir taking up the other four days of the school week.  Physical education was mandatory five days a week.  I was still taught for a full hour on each of the following subjects: Social Studies/History, Science, Language Arts/English, and Mathematics.

How in the world did this all break down to Physical Education twice a week and Arts programs that are virtually non-existent?  How did educators become so lax in being certain that their students understood the objective?  When did teaching become about only the positives in our nation's history?

When we were younger and fell down, didn't we learn how to get back up without being coddled?  When you got into trouble at school, you went to detention and were not allowed to take your music with you.  You did your school work or the teacher in charge of detention would make sure you had work to do.

I probably should have known this beforehand, but I decided to check and see just how many of our education dollars have been taken away from our kids (by "our kids," I mean family, friends, acquaintances and those I have yet to meet).  I did some research and what I found, shocked the hell heck out of me.

In my state alone, the education budget for fiscal year 2012 was cut by $488,989,600. If you think that's bad, since fiscal year 2009 the budget has been cut by $2,033,762,269.  This sum includes salaries and pensions, maintenance on sites and vehicles, building new schools, supplies, transportation, sports, arts programs, extra-curricular activities, and so much more.  All previously mentioned are necessary to ensure that the kids are being taken care of mind, body and culture.

So where has the money gone?

That's a good and fair question, don't you think?

I have seen that they've erected monuments at the capital, increased politician pay, spent more money to police the border between the United States and Mexico, spent money to entertain out-of-town politicians in a goodwill gesture, and paid--and continue to pay--consultants and accountants to figure out how to better plan our state's future by researching our previous laws and budgets.

How are we faring?

Obviously, not any better.

"A man's mind may be likened to a garden,
which may be intelligently cultivated or allowed to run wild;

but whether cultivated or neglected, it must, and will bring forth.

If no useful seeds are put into it,

then an abundance of useless weed-seeds will fall therein,

and will continue to produce their kind."

~James Allen

Must Give Parents Credit Where Credit is Due

I don't have kids of my own, not by choice, but I do have numerous nieces and nephews.  I know it's not the same, but it's what I have, and I am dealing with what I have been given.  I often envy mothers for the treasure they've been blessed with.  I know what some of you mothers are thinking, "She's off her rocker!" If I were in your shoes, I may be saying the same, but I'm not and probably won't be, so my vision is a bit skewed.  Indulge me, because I think you will appreciate what I have to say.

You know the quote, "The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry"?  That is what happened early this morning.  I had planned to do a few DIY projects at the house today, but I was in no hurry to get out of bed.  As a matter of fact, I was passed out and in a very dreamy state when my phone pulled me out.  Lately, I've been sleeping through the melody, but today I was easily yanked "off stage right" by it at 7am.

I was being asked to play mommy for the day.  My two littlest nieces were the only ones that were in good health in a house of six.  Their mother was too weak to care for them and the rest of the house was not fairing much better.  I, of course, agreed to the undertaking of such an awesome responsibility.  Why wouldn't I? They are my nieces, and I love them to pieces.

I knew I would not be able to get my projects done for the day, but I figured I could definitely get some chores done that I had planned to put off until tomorrow.  That should be the easiest thing, right? Uh, yeah... Not really.  It is definitely something you have to be used to.  I watch them often, but never really for more than four hours by myself.  Usually, I just leave a hole in my day, so that I can spend time playing games, having tea, building castles out of chairs and blankets or seeing what Mickey Mouse's latest escapade was that week.

I picked them up and brought them over to my home. After bringing their items in, I began to cook their breakfast while attempting to make myself a much needed cup of coffee.  I am no good in the mornings without my medium-dark roast.  I have a Keurig machine so it couldn't be easier, right?  I mean all you do is pop a K-cup in, turn it on, once the blue light flashes, close it up, press the appropriate size (LARGE today) and viola, a deliciously aromatic cup of joe.  For some reason, it wasn't so simple today.

I nearly burned the eggs, because I had lost focus and was staring down the toaster instead of the stove.  I finished making our breakfast and sat down with them to eat a slice of toast. I only realized I'd forgotten my coffee when I went to reach for the cup I thought I'd brought to the table with me.  I went to the kitchen and couldn't find my favorite insulated cup--that I wash daily just to use it--the blue lights are flashing, and I still have the apple juice container sitting on the counter.  I go to put it away, and find my cup, sitting where the apple juice bottle had been shelved earlier.

How do you mothers get through your mornings?!  Although, in my defense, I was awakened off schedule, I hope structure helps you all get through.

The day progressed pretty well.  After breakfast, and my second cup of coffee, I got the girls dressed (forcibly with the youngest), and went to our kid-friendly room in the house--the Disney room.  We played a little before I decided I needed to clean up breakfast and I thought, "why not?"  I may as well clean the entire kitchen.  Oh, if only.

Only thirty seconds in the kitchen and I hear the toddling little feet heading in my direction.  It started out innocently enough with a simple request to watch Snow White.  Then another request to sit for this one part I had to see--"Watch this, it's good. No not that part, it's coming. Sit here with me." She pats the couch and I obey like a good auntie.  About halfway through the movie, I tried to get up again, but it was drawing time!  Something to do while watching the movie.  I figured it was no big deal, because the busier they were, the busier I could get at cleaning the house.

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.

Lunch happened soon after that, and of course we couldn't agree on one meal, so I made three.  Last night's leftovers for me, PB&J with carrot sticks for the little and grilled cheese with carrot sticks and apple junks for the littlest little.  Then it was time for Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, because the little buggers remembered that I'd said they could watch it after lunch.  Since I hadn't been clear enough on the timing of said viewing, the loophole I'd left allowed a minor manipulation in the agreement.  These kids are good!  Little angels!

Someone needs to put a camera on a kid from the time of their birth and figure out when they begin to gain skills in manipulation and debate.

Of course, littlest little one decides I need to sit and promptly crawls onto my lap and cuddles against my chest.  She passes out within five minutes of doing so, and the other little is asking for a snack.  I told her that she could have one when littlest little woke from her nap.  I take the cuddler to the Disney room and lie her down, and yay for me, she didn't even stir!  Ten minutes later little miss "I have to have a snack now" conks out.

PEACE at last!

Now there came a debate between my head and my body.  Do I nap with them, knowing perfectly well that I may not be sleeping tonight, or do I get some work done around the house?  House won. Damnit!  Although, in hindsight, I suppose it didn't really matter much.  While I was able to get the dishwasher loaded and running, Littlest Little awoke ten minutes later and attempted to rouse her still sleeping older sister.  That was a battle.  I tried to get her to hang with me in the Disney room, but she really wanted her sister.

Before I knew it, the older little woke up, I gave them their snack and we Skyped with another aunt of their's.  All of a sudden I look at the clock and it is nearly 6pm and I hadn't even begun to cook dinner.  I rushed in, started dinner and found out that the dear, sweet man that I call my husband, was not going to be home for dinner.  LUCKY!

The older little came into the kitchen and told me that her tummy hurt. I asked if she felt like food was going to come out of her mouth or if she felt like the potty would help. She chose the latter and when she came back out, she seemed okay.  I was finishing up dinner when she came in and told me that she wasn't hungry, and she began to cry. HARD.  I texted her mother--because I didn't want to wake her--let her know what all was going on and asked her what she would like me to do.

Twenty minutes later, just as I'm getting the kids in their carseats, Mama and Daddy show up to take them home.  I had been with those two toddlers for less than ten hours.  I was exhausted and didn't realize that I had once again overstretched a muscle near my ribs, until I bent to pick up a cracker off the floor.

You stay-at-home mothers and fathers...I don't know whether to envy you or give you a medal for all that you go through on a daily basis.  You need a lot of patience, a phonetic toddler to adult glossary, be willing to give up control and give up sleep.

I won't call you saints, because no one wants to live up to that kind of ideal, but you are damn near.  I have never been so exhausted in my life, and I had painfully intense physical therapy not too long ago.  I applaud your every effort.  How you keep your sanity when there is so much chaos to be dealt with, I'll probably never know.  I don't believe anyone could truly fathom it.

I cleaned seven spills, wiped down the bathroom three times, kept a toddler from eating dog food and a dog treat, picked up the playroom twice, stood guard over Timeout Tower, etc...Long ass day.

A Love for One's Own Creativity

If you haven't been able to tell already, I love cooking almost as much as I love writing.  I can't express enough how much creating something with my own mind or hands thrills me.  What heightens the pleasure I get from it, is the pleasure that others gain from my creations.  If I can see smiles on faces, second helpings--or thirds--being taken from the serving dishes, or hear pleadings for a recipe, I know I've earned my praise.

When someone reads a story of mine, and then gets upset when it ends or is incomplete, I get a little pleasure from that because it means that I've done a good job...in most cases.  Sometimes I wonder if I hadn't written enough, but then I remember as a reader, I am not always satisfied when a story ends.  

A recipe of a good writer includes knowing how to leave some of the story to the imagination.  A reader can often create an image of a character in their mind, but it can differ from another reader's.  As a writer, you never want to write every detail of your character's image or life, right down to their death.  There's a reason fairy tales end with "...and they lived happily ever after."  They knew that the reader didn't want to hear about the pain of the female character's pregnancy or that the main characters struggled to hold their love life together while juggling purpose and occupation.  They knew we didn't want to know that the male character suffered a long painful death, while his wife cried daily by his bedside, watching him wither away.  Fiction is an escape from the very real situations in life, so most want the happy endings; sometimes in more ways than one.  

We all want our happy endings, but the truth is, they aren't always.  What if Snow White had eaten that poison apple while the dwarves were away and the prince had been slain by the Queen's dragon form?  What if true love's first kiss couldn't have saved Snow?

Courtesy mamuvies.blogspot.com

I know...

No one likes to think about it.  

They like the fairytale ending.

Happily ever after is more pleasing to the mind.

I, however, am one of those readers that doesn't at all mind reading the good with the bad, because frankly it makes me feel better reading about someone else having those same struggles.  It makes me feel as though I am not alone in how I feel.  I like feeling connected to the characters in that way.  That is what I try to incorporate into my writing.

When it comes to my cooking, I desperately want that happy ending.  I am constantly abusing using my husband in a "guinea pig" fashion.  He doesn't always mind, but I know when I've done something truly good because he has a tell.  He dances while chewing.  It's both the funniest and most adorable thing I've ever witnessed in my life.  It's when I know that I've had that happy ending in my recipe's story.

My husband did a little secret shopping last week.  He knew I'd been wanting to try buying fresh, locally grown products.  I'd told him that I wanted to see if there was a marked difference between buying these products and the products from the store chains.  I am already a mostly "from scratch" cook, so I wanted to take it another step further.  I can say with 100% certainty that there is indeed a difference.  Not just in helping my neighbors with their livelihood, but the taste of those products I used that were fresh.

Shipping is a terrible thing to do to vegetables.
They probably get jet-lagged, just like people.
~Elizabeth Berry

My wonderful, adoring, loving husband purchased green beans, carrots, asparagus, potatoes, onions, and garlic.  The difference was amazing! The colors were brighter and the taste seemed...cleaner?  I don't know quite how to describe it really.  What I can say is that I will be more than happy to purchase from my neighbors, weekly.  The reward was in the taste, and I won't soon forget it.

I know I had said at the top of the year that I wanted to experiment with food more this year.  So far I've made my own cranberry chutney/sauce, chicken soup, creamy cheese sauce, roasted picante salsa, and chicken stock.  All without the aid of a recipe and husband approved by chew-dancing.

When you finish a recipe and others take pleasure in it, you have to admit, you take pride in what you've done more than if you had stopped at the restaurant and picked up a pizza.  

Character Development

Which came first the author or the characters they've written about?

To be quite honest, I don't truly know.  I suppose it could be both ways.  Numerous authors have said that their stories came to them in a dream.  Is the dream technically supplying the characters or is it the author?  Since it's the author's mind, wouldn't it then be the author?

The mind boggles.

I was asked a question about my writing by one of my readers.  "Have your characters ever awaken you in the middle of the night and nagged at you?"

My answer?  Yes, yes they have.  Numerous times in fact.  It's funny actually.  I'll go to sleep thinking that I have ended my thoughts on a part of my story rather well, only to be awaken by a sort of rumbling in a dream.  Sometimes it's just an echo of a voice and other times, the persona I've imaged in my head, pops into my vision.  They can be such nags when they don't feel like they've been treated properly.  It can be so all-consuming that I have to get out of bed, grab my nearby notebook, and start jotting things down.  At times, it reverberates so violently through my mind that I end up writing chapters of rough information that I will undoubtedly tweak later in the day.

Now hold on! Don't go calling the guys in the white coats just yet.  I haven't gone mad.  I'm not insane, not that a little insanity isn't needed to be any good at telling a good story.  If you don't write, then you may know.

What you need to understand is that though people call writing a process, it's much, much more than that.  When you're writing, you have all these characters from your story, running around in your head.  Each one has their own personality.  Likes, dislikes.  They're constantly attempting to influence what you will write about them next.  No one wants to be put in a bad light, right?

You still think that sounds crazy?  Have you ever talked to yourself?  Chastised yourself for making a mistake...out loud?  Do you keep a journal where each entry begins with "Dear Diary" or some other greeting?

I'm no more crazy than you are.  A writer's characters are a way of getting their own thoughts, aggressions, aggravations, etcetera--I think you get the point--out.

In order to develop characters you need to know how people react in different situations.  Can you tell me that one author can fully know how to write about a killer and his feelings when he goes into a manic episode without truly thinking it through?  You have to imagine yourself in that situation.  Feel everything you can possibly feel without actually going through with the act yourself.  How is it that in another chapter, the writer goes through every feeling a clinically depressed girl has as she struggles with the decision of whether or not to commit suicide, while holding a knife to her wrist?  In still another chapter, that same author can write about the hope of true love, and how it begins as a small bud just stretching from the ground before blooming in the light of day.  Sure they can do research.  They can interview people that have actually experienced such things, but how do you get that exact emotion?  How do they make any reader feel every emotion from each and every one of those characters?

They've drawn you in, by telling you little details in passing.  Sure your experiencing what's happening with the characters in the moment, but you'll read a joke or someone will have a "remember when" moment.  You don't really see them, unless you pay very close attention.

My favorite books are the ones that make me feel what's happening.  I can conjure up an image of the character, feel what they're feeling, put myself in their place.  Those are the books I get involved in and hate when they end.

"Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader--not the fact that it is raining, 

but the feeling of being rained upon."
~E.L. Doctorow

You'd have to be slightly low on sanity in order to write about all the varying human emotions your characters are going to go through.  The good thing is, when writing about them it can keep you sane. I know...WEIRD!

Still don't understand how I'm sane?  Psychologists tell you to keep a journal so that you can analyze your thoughts when you are in a "normal state", or so that they can.  Can't storytelling be a confession of sorts?  A diary of a time in the past or how one wished how things had happened?  A good storyteller feels the emotion when they're writing it so that they can best express it to the reader.  If they're doing their job right, the reader can completely immerse themselves in the world presented.

I can admit that I don't mind the thought of being slightly insane.  If it makes me a better character developer, or writer/author, then I am all for it.  If I can draw my reader in and have them appreciate or love just one character, I'd be more than pleased.  I'd be ecstatic!

So...if I am insane, I don't want treatment.  My own personal character likes the thought of being able to "act out" through my writing.  If my sleep is interrupted by one of my characters/personas because they're angry with a decision I've made about their actions in a scene, I'm glad for it.

Hi, I'm insane.  I converse with myself and the people running around in my head.

Don't be scared; I don't bite.

Hard.


Where's my jacket?

When All Hope Seems Lost

I guess I am an odd duck.  The things I throw myself into at times could drive any other person mad.  Specifically my husband.

My genealogical research was stalled on a very important branch of the tree just two weeks ago.  The growth was stunted, because I was totally unable to find any information.  Instead of moving forward or staying in place, I decided to go back into the trunk and see if there was something I'd missed in the layers of bark.  Unfortunately, I only revealed to myself that I really had missed anything.  Every layer was in line and revealing every facet laid out in full perfect detail, save for one thing...I had chosen to ignore a tiny piece of information.

Why ignore it?

Because the email address for the data was over a decade old, and I honestly didn't believe that ANYONE would still have an AOL address.  I had seen this address numerous times in my research, and each time I noted the information that had been given in a forum and then moved past the contact without another thought.

I did this again just last week and decided to throw my hands up and resign myself to pray that someone would be able to find the information some day.  I moved away from the computer to break myself free for a few minutes before working on another branch.

I continued in my usually successful attempt to ignore this bit of information, only this time I felt like I was a mother with a child that desperately wanted my attention.  I was being poked, with my apron skirt being tugged on and a little voice kept asking me, "Why can't you talk to that one? Why? Why? Why?!  Come on, let's try it.  Please, can we? Huh? Please can't we just do it?!" Or like in Family Guy, Stewie nagging at Lois

You mothers, aunts, grandmothers, daycare givers and older sisters know exactly what I'm talking about--maybe even a few male counterparts.  There is always a little one doing just that to you for one reason or another.  And what do we do when this happens?  We give in and, just to shut them up, do as they ask.  So, I did just that.

I needed my brain to leave me alone about that contact.  I was 99.9% certain that there would be nothing coming from that contact.  Ever. Never going to happen.

Never. Say. "Never."

The very next morning there was a response to my email inquiry. I sent a timid and gentle reply back, thanking them for their time and that if they couldn't give me much more than what I already had, I would understand.

Two weeks later, that branches bark has strengthened.  Twigs have began to branch off to create even more beautiful branches have began to weave their way through and leaves have begun shine brightly.  The branch of that tree is once again blooming with information.

The smallest pebble on a mountain, may cause a landslide.
The gentlest of missteps can cause a small pile of snow to turn into an avalanche.
Never give up, never surrender.
When you believe things are hopeless, hang on to that sliver of hope that is teasingly dangling by a very thin and frayed piece of string.

All this and a small discussion on Facebook have increased my desire to write.  I have an idea, and it will require quite a bit of research, but I am ready for it.  I am welcoming the challenge that it may bring.  If I can succeed when all hope seemed lost, why couldn't I succeed when there is more than a glimmer of a chance at something?

Once you choose hope, anything is possible.

~Christopher Reeve

Friend or Foe?

There's an old saying which I believe came from Sun Tzu's "The Art of War":

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

This is so absolutely true, but what happens when you find out your friend was your enemy after all? 

This was a topic of conversation today.  A friend of mine found that one of her friends is a rather good actress when it comes to playing the friend part.  She'd thought this person to be her best friend.  Through the grapevine, she'd recently found that this was actually not the case.  The messenger relayed this sobering information to my friend by citing a particular instance between my friend and her supposed bestie.  She was devastated! I found myself not knowing what to say to her to help her feel better.  I couldn't even begin to guess what I would want anyone to say to me.  

After a few hours, a few more conversations, some relaxation and a shower, I finally realized some things. It's a shock to one's system, and they're not quite sure what to do with that information. They're hurt and may even be a bit on the defensive their first communiqué with that person.  With that first after-the-fact encounter, do they then discuss what has come to light or act like a duck and let it roll off their back?

This is why I don't have many friends. I have been burned by that very platitude more than once.  I've learned, as cynical as it may sound, that I can count on no one but myself.  If I am disappointed, I have myself to blame.  If I am saddened, I have no one to chastise except myself.  

There are those that say that no one can hurt you unless you allow them to.  I agree with this for the most part, but there are things beyond what little control we hold onto that can surprise the hell out of us.  We get broadsided by the shock of it.  The impact of it resonates through every bone of our body, shaking the very fiber of our being so much so that it cripples us for a time.

Why is it that what our best friends say to us wound us so deeply?  

When we say we have a best friend, we're saying that we have finally found that person--outside of our family--that we can trust with our inner most secrets.  We don't expect them to judge.  We fully expect that they will stand by our side, no matter the situation.  

Sadly, reality eventually hits for most of us, and we come to the realization that what we have is yet another hum-drum "friend"...not a best friend. 

People just have a lot of growing up to do.  I know this is true for me, but I have learned quite a bit from my harried past.  

For example, judging someone is not my job.  I may not appreciate things certain people do or the way they do them, but it isn't my place to tell them what they've done wrong.  I couldn't honestly say that in that moment I wouldn't have done the same.  Also, do I know for sure that the other way "I would have done things" would have been correct?

Opinions run amuck.  Everyone has an opinion.  It is our unfortunate job to listen to all of them.  We don't have to take them in, but if we don't allow them to be spoken, we are perceived as ignorant or uncooperative.  It just better to deal with it.

If, for whatever reason, someone steps in and tries to help you with your situation, however unwanted it may be, thank them.  You may still POLITELY turn them away, but thank them for their efforts nonetheless.

Don't sweat the small stuff.  They're never worth the amount of pain they cause when allowed to fester.

The Gift of Genealogy: Take Two

Recently, I was asked to help a relative locate someone whom they are a descendant of.  I love doing the research, so I was MORE than happy to oblige!  The moment I entered the name into Ancestry.com, the little leaves you always hear about in the commercials, began to spring.

It was mind-blowing!  All it took was a name and knowing two small facts about a set of parents and *POOF* everything began to appear.  It was great! I began finding more and more relatives as the night drew to a close. The relative left my home, and I continued to fill them in on my findings over the next few days.

Less than two weeks later, I found something that has kept me awake, mind wandering and pondering.  Never in my life would I have believed that I would find one of the most intriguing stories I'd ever set eyes on.  I can't stop researching the subject, because it makes me wonder what led to the events of the story and what happened to everyone involved.  I've been on this branch of the tree for nearly two weeks, and I know this relative is a bit overwhelmed with the amount of information I have been able to find.  I want to slow things down and not be so devastatingly forthcoming with the details.

The problem is once I get started, I just cannot stop. I'm like Walter Sherman (character on The Finder, a FOX TV Series starring Geoff Stults and Michael Clarke Duncan) in that way.  I feel like if I were to stop, it might physically hurt. I know I will lose sleep if I don't find everything there is to find about the subject.

Photo courtesy: Fox.com  -- Lettering added by "Writing Off into the Sunset" blog author.

"What happens when he can't find something? I will tell you. He will run himself ragged like a bloodhound." 

~The Finder: Episode 1: Pilot
Speaking Character: Isabel

That quote best describes how I am. I think that's why I like the show so much.  Walter Sherman, though fictional, makes me feel somewhat normal about my need to research a subject until I'm satisfied or can't find anything more.  I haven't found any ancestral link to why I am this way, I just am.

What researching these stories has done for me is a story in itself. I have learned valuable information on how to do even more research in other aspects of media to find ancestors and what stories may be connected to them.  In such a short time, they've become invaluable tidbits to help me with my own branch of the tree.

The sad part of this post is this: when people set on a journey into ancestral history, they don't expect to find anything truly scandalous in their family's past.  Unfortunately, it can happen. The important thing to remember is that it is in the past, not an actual part of the person one has become on their own.  What our ancestors may have done in the past can't inflict the pain on us now, that it may have inflicted on those immediately around them at the time. We can learn of these stories, take them in, and reconcile our feelings about them. If nothing else, we can learn from the mistakes they may have made.

The Kelly Clarkson/Jorgen Eloffson song "Stronger" is relevant to a point.

...What doesn't kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone
What doesn't kill you makes a fighter
Footsteps even lighter...

It's the same as any life lesson we have been made to deal with.

Accept what has happened. Learn from it. Move past it. Stand straighter with the knowledge you hold, because you are a better person for it. Go out there swinging with all your might, because the information can't hurt you. You are better for knowing, because you can choose your path.

Weight and the Act of Fluctuation

"With fame, you know, you can read about yourself, somebody else's ideas about you, but what's important is how you feel about yourself--for survival and living day to day with what comes up."

~Marlyn Monroe

I don't like talking about weight.  Why?  Because it's depressing.  It's not a real number. The reason I say that is because weight's only consistency is that it fluctuates.  Whether you're thin, overweight, or obese it's always changing.

I know I gained weight last year. It wasn't much (twelve pounds), but I was already overweight to begin with.  Okay, let's be honest.  According to the BMI (Body Mass Index), I am obese. I know what my "ideal" weight is, but if I am to have muscle tone and not look sick, I'd rather be about ten to fifteen pounds higher than that.

Fat DOES NOT weigh more than muscle.  When people exercise to lose weight and get used to seeing the number drop when they step on that scale, when the number goes up again, a part of them gets discouraged and they want to give up.

Without consciously thinking about it, I gave up on focusing on lowering the fat content in my cooking.  I also decided to stick with soy milk since I haven't had any stomach issues since switching away from milk. It's also a decent enough creamer substitute, should I run out of the non-dairy liquid creamer--I hate the powdered crap.

Small change like this, and I've already lost six pounds this year.  It's odd.  I stopped caring about it and I'm dropping. It may not seem like much considering how much I really need to lose, but it's a step in the right direction and that is truly what matters.  It's a positive and that's what I should focus on.  I know once I pick up the pace on the exercise front, it'll drop quicker. Anyway...

I know all these diet gurus tell you to use non-fat this and non-fat that, but why?  What are you really getting out of it? More preservatives? More chemical balancing? I have some older cookbooks from the forties and fifties and none of them call for fat free anything.

A majority of women from the twenties through the seventies weren't overweight.  They were curvy or voluptuous.  They were sexy.  Don't get me wrong some were overweight, you can't completely escape the fat cell, but curvy was sexy...not fat.

Example: Marilyn Monroe - Curvy,  "Stacked",  Beautiful

She didn't have her ribs showing or poking through her clothing.  She had meat on her legs and arms.  She had a gentle puff to her cheeks.  She often said that people called her "the lady with shape"--well duh!  Now, by media standards...she's considered overweight.

The media, however, loves thin women.  By "thin" I'm talking bone thin.

Example: Keira Knightley--thin, but considered sexy.

Don't get me wrong, I adore Keira Knightley, and this picture is of her at her thinnest.  Her body type has her consistently thin, but at times like this picture--in my humble opinion--I think she's just too thin.  If your ribs are showing, that's not a good thing.  You look malnourished, sick.  Sick is not sexy--no matter how much make-up you put on.

I'm not advocating that being overweight is a good thing, it really isn't.  It makes our heart work harder, we have a hard time breathing, and it can cause skeletal issues.  What I am a believer in, however, is being a healthier me.  

Me...me...me...me...me!  What will make me happy?  Finding a way, of my choosing, to be a healthier me. 

Scratch

"Non-cooks think it's silly to invest two hours' work in two minutes' enjoyment; but if cooking is evanescent, so is the ballet."  ~Julia Child

I talked before about how I am a "from scratch" girl when it comes to cooking.  I completely and totally enjoy the feeling of satisfaction I get from making something so well that people can't stop talking about it--no matter the effort.

It's why I do Thanksgiving at my house every single year.  People are always wanting to help and I just can't do it.  I have to do it. I finally have a system of doing things so that the day of the feast, I actually have time to relax and mingle while things cook.

I say all this to get to this point...

I bought a cookbook put out by Taste of Home and Reader's Digest.  I expected to find from scratch recipes, and a lot of it is.  However, upon further inspection there are recipes in there calling for refrigerated doughs of various breads and certain pre-mixed spices.  WHAT?!

Thinking about it, yes, I get that not everyone likes to do things from scratch. But why not put the recipe for the dough and spice mixes somewhere else in the book?  Would that really be all that difficult?

I'll keep the book because there are quite a few recipes in there that I know the husband will appreciate and they speak to me.  I can't help but feel disappointed in these companies' choice to omit the full from scratch recipes.

I know some of you out there are staring at the screen and have that blank look, and others of you are probably rolling your eyes because you can't fathom why on earth I wouldn't want to make things easier on myself.

Let's look at it from a couple of different angles...

Ladies... 

A majority of girls begin planning their weddings from the time they are able to understand what a wedding is. Once you're engaged, you go into overdrive with all the detailing. There's the photographer, videographer, disc jockey or band, officiant, ceremony site, reception site, seating...well you get the idea.

My point is that you do all this planning and the ceremony lasts fifteen to thirty minutes.  The reception lasts three to six hours on average.  You've had months if not years of planning for a few hours of celebration.  Why not just run to a chapel or Justice of the Peace and then hang out with friends?

Gentlemen...

Your favorite athletes practice plays numerous days a week during their sport's regular season.  They watch footage from other games to study their opponents.  They train for hours upon hours in the off-season. They get paid the big bucks because they are such good athletes.  

If they're so good, then why do they need the practice, training, and studying?  Can't they just go out and do their job without having to deal with all the mess and risk injury during practice?

Kids, Teens, Adolescents...

Going to school and doing homework...such a pain, right?  You do tons of homework, study, do presentations, and take tests.  You go through three to five stages of education.  What are you doing all that for?  Because good grades can get you scholarships or grants.  Most importantly, the jobs that pay well, hire people with degrees and social skills.  

The effort I put out is nothing compared to the reward I receive.  Pride and personal satisfaction.

Best Laid Plans

"You can always amend a big plan, but you can never expand a little one. I don't believe in little plans. I believe in plans big enough to meet a situation which we can't possibly foresee now."

--Harry S. Truman

My husband cracks me up...often.  Every time he makes big plans for us, something inevitably goes awry.  Every little trip, dinner plan, errand or menial outing...a wrench gets thrown into the cogwheels, cranking the gears of life.  

I've grown accustomed to change, and over the past ten years, have learned to welcome it. The husband...not so much.  He dreads it; it makes him anxious and he doesn't handle it well.  I guess that is why I've learned to adapt to whatever happens quickly.  I need to be the calming force--balance the scales to look as though the change is actually to our advantage.  It's not an easy task, but I like a good challenge.

Our ten-year anniversary is coming up, and I was thinking about what he has planned--at least as far as what I know our plans are.  There are some plans I don't and probably won't know about, and I will have to come up with a solution quickly to best squelch the anxiety that will already have taken root the moment we walk out our door to begin our adventure.

So, why am I thinking about this so much?

Courtesy: Disney Fairy Tale Weddings

During our honeymoon, we planned our ten-year anniversary.  Nothing is as we planned. Not a single thing.  Does it bother me?  Only slightly, but it was a lofty goal.  We're talking three-ring circus here, folks.  


As Truman said, (paraphrasing) plan big, things will change, be ready with another big plan.  

Last year, we conceded that our biggest plan, would not come to fruition.  He's pushed that plan to our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.  Big plan...be ready for change. **giggling at the thought**  

The husband has a new plan.  I know the location and length of time.  We've made a few plans within the major plan.  Something may go awry.  For the parts that I am aware of, I am prepared with plans B through Z--always have a backup for a backup.  

Sounds crazy, right?  Maybe so, but I am an analytical person--at times, overly so--but that personality trait has assisted me in other areas of life, and I cannot  will not denounce it.

The big plan is in three weeks...I'll try to revisit after the fact.

Realizing Mortality

“Somebody should tell us, right at the start of our lives, that we are dying. Then we might live life to the limit, every minute of every day. Do it! I say. Whatever you want to do, do it now! There are only so many tomorrows.” 

 ~Pope Paul VI (Italian Pope. 1897-1978)

One doesn't much think about their own mortality until someone else moves onto the next plane--or at least, I don't. I don't see the point in dwelling on how this life may or may not end. When it ends, it ends. I know wherever I go, I can begin life anew with loved ones that have gone before me.  Yes, I believe in an afterlife.

Why am I bringing this up?  Because my husband lost a friend today.  It's hard to hear of people your own age dying, and this is the second of his friends within a year.  He was deeply saddened, and I did what I could to comfort him, but I know my husband. He needed space so that he could grieve.  So I left the room and he came to me when he was ready.

I know a part of him is afraid of dying.  I've tried to walk him through the faith that I have for my own life, but he's a damaged man.  Completely redeemable, but damaged by a system of religion that discards you at the right price.  I still don't understand it, and neither does he.  I'll never give up on trying to show him though.

As for me, I finally realized a few years ago, that I don't have to be so worried about everything.  What symptom goes to what disease or where the most dangerous streets are in the state don't scare me so much. Why?  Because that's not living! If you're constantly stressing about "what could happen if..." then you are bringing your end date much closer to the present.  Stress is hard on your heart, which only causes more stress on the rest of your body. 

A few things I've learned and try to concentrate on daily:

Don't sweat the small stuff.  

Never cross your arms when you're angry.

Lose the hate.

Love until your heart stops.

Laugh, even when you want to cry.

"Kill" someone with kindness.

Pay it forward.

Smile when someone in front of you is angry.

Learn all that you can about something fun.

Play games.

Talk it out, listen carefully, and let the embers of regret turn to ash.

Guilt, regret, hatred, and anger have no place in my life. I cannot regret anything--so no guilt--because without   those things, I would not have learned anything.  Hatred doesn't hurt the other person, it only hurts me.  Anger...why?  Again, it only hurts me.

Disappointing Those You Love

There can be no deep disappointment where there is no deep love.

~Martin Luther King Jr.

We never plan to disappoint the ones we love, but it seems inevitable. You make plans and sometimes, things that are beyond your control, happen. I hate it when that happens, and it occurs more often than I care for it to.  So how do you make up for that disappointment?

You could buy that person a gift, but then isn't that an attempt at buying affection?

You could try it again, but what if it happens again?

You could ignore it and pray that you do something to redeem yourself... which is usually what I do. Does it work?  Probably not. I'd imagine there exists a niggling in the back of one's brain, reminding them of the wrong I have committed whether intentional or not.

It's a hard line to walk with a loved one, and I never really know what the right thing to do is. Anyone else out there have a clue?

Confessions of a Reader in Secret

Intrigued? Don't be.  It's nothing that is truly all that bad.

I am a fan-fiction reader. Yes.  I read fan-fiction. My little sister got me hooked on it, and at first, I will admit I did not see the draw. Then, I began to read some really good stories which had some pretty original ideas, and I began seeing some things that made me think, "Hey, I would actually buy this book if it were published."



There's been quite a bit of an uproar over the years because some authors were pulling their stories, changing the names of the characters (which were originally based off another author's work), and publishing under different titles.

At first, I was livid--especially when I was reading one and hadn't quite finished it when it was pulled--but, then I asked myself, was I into it for the story or because it was based on these characters that I knew from the original work by the original author. If the answer was the latter, then there was nothing to really get upset over. If it was the preceding, I did everything I could to find if it had been published. In all cases, it had not been published by a publishing house, but had been taken by other "writers" and represented as their own work.  Basically, it was stolen, misrepresented, and was taken down for "protection".

Recently, a book series--rumored to have been shopped by Hollywood--is taking quite a bit of flack because it had begun as a work of fan-fiction.  The author had pulled the stories, changed character names and played with the title.  The story was good and far apart from the original work's storyline, however fan-fiction readers are in hate mode.

Why?

Granted the story, originally, was written as a Twilight fan-fic (yes, I said Twilight. Get over it.), but there wasn't much if anything that resembled Twilight. Yes, it began in Washington, but not in the small town of Forks. The characters were adults and there was no "other-worldliness" to any of them.

I think the truer issue is that at one time the reading was free and now, if they want to read the story and some of the additional pieces that were added, they have to pay for it.

I said the story was good...it wasn't great, and I wouldn't pay for it, but other readers of actual published works have.  There were a few things that bothered me about the fan-fiction story (to the point where I stopped reading), but some people really loved it.  So, I guess I do feel a bit sorry for them, but in my own personal opinion....

...it should be the author's right to choose what they do with their story.  She had a good following for the series and if she chose to take it another route, then she had to know it could either ruin her or do something really great.  If she gets the Hollywood deal...I don't think she'll be too worried about what "the little people" think.

Even if they are the ones that gave her the stones enough to go after her dream.

"You got a dream, you gotta protect it. People can't do something themselves, they wanna tell you you can't do it.  If you want something, go get it. Period." - Pursuit of Happyness (Movie)

Vanity

I truly hate this subject, but I can't get it out of my head.  A conversation I had with a friend earlier is playing on a loop in my head like a song I can't forget but desperately want to. When I need to get a song out of my head, I play it, so by deductive reasoning, in order to get this out of my head, I need to "get it down on paper"--so to speak.

We were having a conversation about this person being in search of a relationship, and how some people had just been downright rude. This person is on a singles website--a social network for singles--and has been receiving and sending messages to people. Some have responded with a simple "thanks, but no thanks" which is fine; it basically means "not interested."

Sadly, some people have decided to take the "thanks, but no thanks" a bit too far. Saying things like "you're ugly" or "maybe you should give up." WOW! Where the hell do people get off labeling someone as ugly? This person isn't gorgeous, but they most certainly aren't lacking in the looks department.

Take a good long look in a mirror, and excuse the hell out of me, but who exactly is "ugly" here?  Ugly would be the attitude.  Just because someone doesn't live up to a standard you have placed so high up on a pedestal that few are bound to reach, doesn't give you the right to judge them.  If you're such a catch, then what is your happy ass butt doing on a singles' site looking for a relationship?  Check yourself, because you are a wreck!

I actually started to feel bad for my friend, but then they made matters worse, and I no longer felt sorry for them.  I pitied them.  Why?

Because not five minutes later, they're talking about someone that had messaged them, and how they couldn't respond because the person was so horrible looking that they could have a nightmare.

What the...?








I'm not one to sugarcoat or hide my feelings when I get peeved which is sometimes my downfall, so I told my friend that they were being an asshat jerk! It's called karma you dumbass freak!  You say things like that about others, and it's liable to come back to bite you in the arse!

They were a bit taken aback by my response, but after a lengthy discussion, then realized that they had offended with the exact action that they were accusing the other person of committing. 

WAKE UP CALL

**head meet desk**

"The surest cure for vanity is loneliness"
~Thomas Wolfe