Sometimes comparing one thing to another is beneficial. Like when you shop for the best price on a camera, search for the best vacation resort for Spring Break, or try on pair of jeans after pair of jeans to find the pair that makes your backside look bodacious. Several websites are devoted to comparing fares, reviews, destinations, schedules and services and, thanks to my incessant need to make the very best decision in every instance, I rarely make a purchase without consulting a few of my favorites. I'm a fan of 99% of comparisons made in the world. Unless it's a case of me comparing myself to someone else. Then we have a problem.
My wise-beyond-her-years friend Mary, who is so timely with her thought-provoking Facebook statuses as of late, posted a quote today that I can't get out of my head. It said, "Comparison is the thief of joy." Wow. If only I had this in my pocket for a recent dinner with friends when I allowed my joy to be stolen.
When the conversation turned to new adventures and accomplishments everyone had coming in the next few months, rather than share in their excitement, I immediately wallowed in the fact that I had nothing of interest to contribute. No babies being born, no degree programs finished, no new places to live. As I sat there and compared myself to these amazing women, I couldn't find any joy. Not in myself. Not in their excitement. Instead I found more things about which to compare myself. She's skinnier than I am. She's more educated than I am. She's more ambitious. She's more daring. She's more loved.
My ego reared her ugly mug pulling me into the depths of self-loathing and the more I compared myself to my companions, the more ridiculous the comparisons became until I left dinner feeling like a useless piece of you-know-what.
If only I had my trusty new mantra in my pocket. "Comparison is the thief of joy." Right on. So I told my ego to stuff it because while I may not have a shiny new engagement ring or an awesome new job, I have a lot to offer this world!
December 9, 2010
February 9, 2010
Happy Birthday Volleyball
I wonder if Karch Kiraly, Misty May and Kerri Walsh all get together and throw a birthday party on February 9th every year. Well they should, because if it wasn't for the birth of volleyball on February 9th, 1895, they'd be quite out of luck. Volleyball is said to have been born on this day by William Morgan, a YMCA physical education director in Holyoke, MA. Wow. I didn't know they had YMCAs in 1895! Could you get yourself clean? Could you have a good meal? Could you do whatever you feel?
Morgan invented a game called Mintonette, played indoors with any number of players, that was intended to be similar to basketball, but less rough. Apparently for the, uh, less-than-spring-chickens who regularly hung out at the YMCA. The game was a little different back then. There were nine innings and teams did not have a limit as to the number of times they hit the ball before sending it back over the net. That seems odd... I'm seeing a whole lot of people standing around doing nothing until someone decides to give up the ball so the other team can play.
The first country to adopt volleyball outside of the U.S. - Canada. Makes sense. They needed some indoor sports too for the people who didn't like snow sports. (There are others like me - I know it)
Not sure when and where beach volleyball got its start...more on that later. In the meantime, I'm thinking up ways to celebrate the birth of my favorite sport to play. A volleyball shaped cake? Garland made of netting? Candles shaped like knee pads? Wilson party favors? I can't believe the party stores haven't caught on to this. Someone should alert them. Mark your calendars for next year!
Morgan invented a game called Mintonette, played indoors with any number of players, that was intended to be similar to basketball, but less rough. Apparently for the, uh, less-than-spring-chickens who regularly hung out at the YMCA. The game was a little different back then. There were nine innings and teams did not have a limit as to the number of times they hit the ball before sending it back over the net. That seems odd... I'm seeing a whole lot of people standing around doing nothing until someone decides to give up the ball so the other team can play.
The first country to adopt volleyball outside of the U.S. - Canada. Makes sense. They needed some indoor sports too for the people who didn't like snow sports. (There are others like me - I know it)
Not sure when and where beach volleyball got its start...more on that later. In the meantime, I'm thinking up ways to celebrate the birth of my favorite sport to play. A volleyball shaped cake? Garland made of netting? Candles shaped like knee pads? Wilson party favors? I can't believe the party stores haven't caught on to this. Someone should alert them. Mark your calendars for next year!
GaGa for GooGoo
I have an unhealthy internet relationship. I didn't mean for it to happen, it just did. I find myself going back, several times per day, for my fix. I'm a googlaholic. And I don't wanna be cured!
Did you see google's Parisian Love commercial during this year's super bowl? An entire room of rowdy women drinking beer stopped and grew quiet with every google entry that followed the story of an American falling in love with a Parisian while studying abroad. The search covers long distance relationships, flights to Paris, jobs in Paris, churches and wedding invitations until the final entry "how to assemble a crib." And we all melted. Corny? Yes. But we melted just the same.
The irony of it all is that this 50-second ad could be my life! No, I'm not planning to run off to Paris, but I google pretty darn near everything. You know this about me. I just googled "google super bowl ad" to find out the name of the ad and how long the spot is. Google is an invaluable resource and I sincerely don't know how I existed without it before.
Did you see google's Parisian Love commercial during this year's super bowl? An entire room of rowdy women drinking beer stopped and grew quiet with every google entry that followed the story of an American falling in love with a Parisian while studying abroad. The search covers long distance relationships, flights to Paris, jobs in Paris, churches and wedding invitations until the final entry "how to assemble a crib." And we all melted. Corny? Yes. But we melted just the same.
The irony of it all is that this 50-second ad could be my life! No, I'm not planning to run off to Paris, but I google pretty darn near everything. You know this about me. I just googled "google super bowl ad" to find out the name of the ad and how long the spot is. Google is an invaluable resource and I sincerely don't know how I existed without it before.
January 1, 2010
September 21, 2009
Get Out the Wool!
I'm not an easy person to surprise. While I do have a tendency to be gullible, my sense that "something" is going on makes it difficult to surprise me with anything. I'm not saying I have a sixth sense, but I figure things out. It's my personality to always want to know what's going on (we can analyze that later) and that, coupled with being incredibly observant and slightly intuitive, the wool is not easily pulled over my eyes. (wool is so scratchy, who would want that over their eyes anyway?)
But today, I stand corrected, because yesterday I got what is perhaps the surprise of my life, and an amazing and timely surprise it was!
It was like any other Sunday since Nicole and I moved down here... we got up, had breakfast and Nicole went to the school to study for a few hours (she had a study group from 10 to noon...or so I thought!) while I went outside to play in the dirt and dig up rocks (a rather involved project that will undoubtedly show up in this blog, oy) and I had a date to skype with Angie at 11:30. Dusting off my dirty shorts, I head inside around 11:25 to set up the computer and I hear the door downstairs. Thinking "Nicole's home early, that's strange," I walk to the upstairs landing to greet her as she's coming up the stairs when I notice that she's not alone. My first instinct is to back away - I'm not dressed for company! Dirty and sweaty wearing boardshorts. a t-shirt, and a bucket hat, I'm slightly annoyed that she brought someone home unannounced!
Then it was as if my eyes were looking through a camera, zooming in and out, trying to adjust to see if what I was seeing was actually the case - holy guacamole, that's Angie walking up my stairs!!!! Nicole and Angie both walk up the stairs with sh*t eating grins on their face, like they just got away with something huge and in my surprise, I just laugh as the tears well up in my eyes. It was just two days prior that I asked Nicole what she thought about me flying Angie down here for a visit because it would do us both a world of good. At the time Nicole calmly said she had something planned for us the weekend I wanted to fly Angie out, but she could see if she could move it around and that she'd let me know on Sunday. Determined to get out of her what she was planning for the random October weekend, I fired questions at her from every angle, but she wouldn't budge. "Sunday," she said. "I'll let you know on Sunday."
Never in a million years did I think that was why I would find out on Sunday!
It was exactly what I needed and the best surprise I could have ever imagined. And I gotta say, I'm impressed, ladies. Well done. :-) I love you both!
But today, I stand corrected, because yesterday I got what is perhaps the surprise of my life, and an amazing and timely surprise it was!
It was like any other Sunday since Nicole and I moved down here... we got up, had breakfast and Nicole went to the school to study for a few hours (she had a study group from 10 to noon...or so I thought!) while I went outside to play in the dirt and dig up rocks (a rather involved project that will undoubtedly show up in this blog, oy) and I had a date to skype with Angie at 11:30. Dusting off my dirty shorts, I head inside around 11:25 to set up the computer and I hear the door downstairs. Thinking "Nicole's home early, that's strange," I walk to the upstairs landing to greet her as she's coming up the stairs when I notice that she's not alone. My first instinct is to back away - I'm not dressed for company! Dirty and sweaty wearing boardshorts. a t-shirt, and a bucket hat, I'm slightly annoyed that she brought someone home unannounced!
Then it was as if my eyes were looking through a camera, zooming in and out, trying to adjust to see if what I was seeing was actually the case - holy guacamole, that's Angie walking up my stairs!!!! Nicole and Angie both walk up the stairs with sh*t eating grins on their face, like they just got away with something huge and in my surprise, I just laugh as the tears well up in my eyes. It was just two days prior that I asked Nicole what she thought about me flying Angie down here for a visit because it would do us both a world of good. At the time Nicole calmly said she had something planned for us the weekend I wanted to fly Angie out, but she could see if she could move it around and that she'd let me know on Sunday. Determined to get out of her what she was planning for the random October weekend, I fired questions at her from every angle, but she wouldn't budge. "Sunday," she said. "I'll let you know on Sunday."
Never in a million years did I think that was why I would find out on Sunday!
It was exactly what I needed and the best surprise I could have ever imagined. And I gotta say, I'm impressed, ladies. Well done. :-) I love you both!
September 19, 2009
ARRRRRRR
September 19th is national talk like a pirate day. Huh?
Apparently two guys from Oregon were bored back in the 90s and thought it would be grand to have a day where everyone spoke pirate so they shared their holiday with humor columnist Dave Barry, he promoted it, and here we are, more than a decade later, calling each other "matey" and telling everyone to walk the plank.
What? You didn't know it was talk like a pirate day? Get with the times, man. Urban Dictionary's word of the day is "pirate bath." (Where, in lieu of a shower, you take the washcloth and some soap and stand at the sink to wash the, uh, necessary parts.) Even Facebook is in on it, offering users the option to switch to the language "English (pirate)" on their profiles for the day. You can even visit www.talklikeapirate.com to brush up on your pirate vocab and hear a raucous rendition of the official talk like a pirate day song that boasts:
So hoist up the mainsails and shut down your brain cells,
They only would get in the way,
Avast there, me hearty, we're havin' a party,
It's "Talk Like A Pirate" Day!
But why September 19th? They selected September 19, simply because one the guys had recently divorced and it was his ex-wife's birthday. He said "the date was stuck in my head, and I wasn't going to do anything with it anymore."
And that children, is how a holiday is made.
Apparently two guys from Oregon were bored back in the 90s and thought it would be grand to have a day where everyone spoke pirate so they shared their holiday with humor columnist Dave Barry, he promoted it, and here we are, more than a decade later, calling each other "matey" and telling everyone to walk the plank.
What? You didn't know it was talk like a pirate day? Get with the times, man. Urban Dictionary's word of the day is "pirate bath." (Where, in lieu of a shower, you take the washcloth and some soap and stand at the sink to wash the, uh, necessary parts.) Even Facebook is in on it, offering users the option to switch to the language "English (pirate)" on their profiles for the day. You can even visit www.talklikeapirate.com to brush up on your pirate vocab and hear a raucous rendition of the official talk like a pirate day song that boasts:
So hoist up the mainsails and shut down your brain cells,
They only would get in the way,
Avast there, me hearty, we're havin' a party,
It's "Talk Like A Pirate" Day!
But why September 19th? They selected September 19, simply because one the guys had recently divorced and it was his ex-wife's birthday. He said "the date was stuck in my head, and I wasn't going to do anything with it anymore."
And that children, is how a holiday is made.
September 17, 2009
Change Order
The I Ching says "When the way comes to an end, then change. Having changed, you pass through."
I'm not afraid of change. I mean, look at my life - clearly I'm no stranger to it. I think change is exciting. Change makes us grow. Change leads to opportunities and challenges and living. Yet, there are times, like now, during which I want nothing more to than to go back to the familiar.
I think my "way" is coming to an end and I'm facing changes that I thought I was prepared and ready for, but am finding out rapidly that I am not. I have everything I've ever wanted - a great job, a house with a huge yard, a loving partner, a few close friends I would walk to the ends of the earth for, two cats, a bike and the ability to ride it, and family that I adore. Yet, I have days where I feel as if I'm so profoundly alone and have no bearing on this world and those are the days during which I know that I am in the midst of a change...waiting to pass through...
But if you know me at all, you know that I'm not a patient person. Sure, I may seem patient at times, but I'm mostly just being polite. I like efficiency and I like instant gratification. This is where I get into trouble when it comes to the subject of change. Yes, change! I'm all for it! As long as it's NOW. I'm at the drive through window for change. Have a seat and order change? No, that won't do.
And so it is that I'm having a hard time being patient about the changes currently taking place (or not yet taking place, ugh!) in my life. I'm not sure what I thought it would be like. I guess I thought I would hit the ground running. New instant life, coming right up! WITH a side of social life and a tall glass of possibility. Instead I'm stuck waiting for a booth while the servers are on a smoke break. Sure, I try getting their attention. I even sit down at a couple of tables hoping to get served, but it is no use. I'm not yet meant to dine...
I'm not afraid of change. I mean, look at my life - clearly I'm no stranger to it. I think change is exciting. Change makes us grow. Change leads to opportunities and challenges and living. Yet, there are times, like now, during which I want nothing more to than to go back to the familiar.
I think my "way" is coming to an end and I'm facing changes that I thought I was prepared and ready for, but am finding out rapidly that I am not. I have everything I've ever wanted - a great job, a house with a huge yard, a loving partner, a few close friends I would walk to the ends of the earth for, two cats, a bike and the ability to ride it, and family that I adore. Yet, I have days where I feel as if I'm so profoundly alone and have no bearing on this world and those are the days during which I know that I am in the midst of a change...waiting to pass through...
But if you know me at all, you know that I'm not a patient person. Sure, I may seem patient at times, but I'm mostly just being polite. I like efficiency and I like instant gratification. This is where I get into trouble when it comes to the subject of change. Yes, change! I'm all for it! As long as it's NOW. I'm at the drive through window for change. Have a seat and order change? No, that won't do.
And so it is that I'm having a hard time being patient about the changes currently taking place (or not yet taking place, ugh!) in my life. I'm not sure what I thought it would be like. I guess I thought I would hit the ground running. New instant life, coming right up! WITH a side of social life and a tall glass of possibility. Instead I'm stuck waiting for a booth while the servers are on a smoke break. Sure, I try getting their attention. I even sit down at a couple of tables hoping to get served, but it is no use. I'm not yet meant to dine...
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