Made Up Words

Nirvana. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. Tolerance.

Increasingly in my life, I believe “tolerance” is a made up word. Cain killed Abel because he was “intolerant” of the way Abel worshiped God. Abel chose a different way and Cain killed him for it.

Having a belief system (whether someone else agrees or not) does not make you intolerant, ignorant OR phobic. A&E has the ultimate right to do as they choose with shows under their umbrella, but I DO believe it was an unwise business decision. A&E cashed in on the Robertson family and their way of life. It is illogical to suddenly have a problem with part of their belief system because a certain part of it isn’t PC. It is illogical to believe a family who has been unapologetic about their faith will suddenly apologize or shy away from talking about what they believe to be truth.

My belief system is this: man without God is a broken thing. Scripture says that with God all things are possible. The reverse, then, is also true. Without God, NOTHING is possible. We are incapable of showing love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness OR self-control without God. Period. The end.

 

PS. For the record: All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags; we all shrivel up like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away. Isaiah 64:6

I am a broken, disgusting, dead thing. But, because of CHRIST, I have been remade. All of us are broken, disgusting, dead things. My life choices. Your life choices. Broken. Disgusting. Dead. But for Christ. Amen.

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I declare

line-in-the-sand

You might say this is a declaration of sorts. A warning. Whatever. A darling and dear friend of mine says, and I whole-heartedly agree, that facebook has become so saturated with rants (political, social, religious, whatever) that she is just over it. While I cannot, legitimately, walk away from facebook entirely because of work, I CAN prune my lists down to only connect and share with close friends and family and I intend to do just that. And you know what, guys, I know I do it too. I didn’t used to, but I’ve been swept up in the mob hysteria from time to time and I am heartily sick of my own inability to SHUT UP. And, since I am officially out of the “everybody should have a say and I will fairly and evenly listen and process every point of view and try and find a middle ground” business, I don’t have to feel like I’m being unfair by not being interested in listening/reading about views that go against everything I believe. (they aren’t listening to me anyway, so why should I listen to them or feel compelled to try and meet reasonably somewhere in the middle?)

Connecting with everybody has been fun, but I’m tired. Tired of the rants. Tired of biting my tongue ALL. THE. TIME. I swear, Mother, that level path is getting harder to find. So, I’m mowing the grass so to speak. I am just wired to want to “dialogue” about issues and life is too short to constantly feel the urge to “mix it up” (nicely, of course) with those who stand at the polar opposite of me. Right or wrong.

I get why monks lived in monasteries; rather than deal with all the DRAMA. Not that I’m promoting the monastic lifestyle. I like talking and singing and eating and not doing yard work too much. And I’m not big on burlap, which, I swear, all the monk’s robes in the movies look like they are made of.

Spit and polish…and nothing else?

Increasingly, I’ve been wondering if national politicians are anything BUT talking heads (and money).

It takes ungodly sums of money to run a national campaign. (Obama’s spent almost $300 MIllion so far, and Romney’s spent a little more than half that). I can’t even imagine what all that money looks like (advertising, mostly). You wonder what they would be capable of if their staff was redirected to raise money for a worthwhile charity; like Habitat for Humanity, United Way or Communities in Schools. Shoot, the total amount raised this year could completely revolutionize education. Can you imagine what school districts could do if they had constituents who could be counted on to give and give and give, like politicians? And, for the love of Mike, isn’t the work schools do far more important than some guy in a suit with an American flag on his lapel, or some sharp-dressed and sharper-tongued woman – promising change we can believe in, or the “right” kind of change or some other promise nobody but the candidates themselves believe will actually come true?

And then there is the talking head. Is there actually any substance to these people? They are surrounded by people telling them the right thing to say and how to say it in a compelling way. People in my field (even though I would be so out of my depth with any of them) make a living “advising” others around us (read=influencing behavior). Those with scruples are working for the best message; one that will clearly explain the heart and soul of an issue. There are many, though, who seem to be motivated by something else. What that something is, exactly, I don’t know – having never been IN that world. It’s so easy to sit back and throw stones. (trust me, I’ve been pelted with rocks by people who don’t know me OR what I do)

My argument that these politicians are all talking heads and they are so message and talking point driven, you can almost see the cards flipping in their eyes when they are asked a question. People (like me) make a living anticipating questions and preparing for interviews. Everything they can think of to keep their candidate from saying something stupid; a monumental task, apparently. This article, from the Chicago Tribune, talks about some of the more memorable gaffes from this campaign (so far).


Two of my favorites, from both sides. *rolling eyes*

It seems to me that, when these guys go “off message,” they can’t stop themselves from saying something stupid. It’s probably the only time we get to see anything resembling the real guy or lady under all that spit and polish.

I’m not saying it’s not a good idea to have people around you who will help you craft a message. (shoot, that would be advocating the end of my career field) I think it’s a great idea to have somebody who makes a living thinking about words and the affect they have on people. But it’s important that the person uttering those words have some input – the words must be their own. Otherwise, you get the talking points and hollow messages that get screwed up the minute the person behind the curtain stops pushing the buttons.

Hm…. Something to think about this voting season. Are you giving money and voting for the guy/gal you like/believe in, or are you voting for the spin doctors behind him/her?

 

Crappy Day

This day has been a big, smelly, load of gross. Seemingly, everything that COULD go wrong, DID. The only thing I can think of that would have topped off this day is 1. locking my keys in my car or 2. getting pulled over.

Despite great planning and stellar coping skills, there were several technical issues with our parent meeting tonight that caused the wheels to come off in front of 500 parents and, naturally, The Boss.

The car is acting up. Again. The only bright side to this day’s car nonsense is the promise we are going car shopping VERY. SOON.

And I have another day that looks just like this one to look forward to. Joy.

Not for the first time, I wonder if is time to look at another line of work. Not because I don’t love what I do but because there is not enough of me to cover all there is to love. Ever. No matter how hard I work, no matter how much I achieve, there is always more to do/accomplish/overcome. There is never a single moment to reflect. To decompress. To breathe. It is a constant state of hyper-aware.

Like Alice’s White Rabbit, I’m always late. Always just on the verge of panic. Regardless of the reality of my level of preparation (which, most of the time, is pretty damn detailed), I always feel like I’m winging it. I loathe that about myself. I know it is because I am a perfectionist. My problem is that I am the black swan. I hear my darkest fears just over my shoulder (You are inadequate. You are incapable. You are NOT ENOUGH.) and so I rub and polish and worry until I’ve worn away all the shine on something. Even if there was never anything there.

Sinatra would say, “That’s Life,” but I wonder if it really has to be. *sigh*

g’night. I’m giving up on this day.

Living in Crazyville

I’m not sure, but I’m beginning to think Crazyville isn’t just some silly name I came up with when I was designing this blog. I’m pretty sure it’s one of the more accurate labels I could put on our life.

Working in the school district, I get spring break off. During spring break, it became abundantly clear how desperately I’d been craving some downtime. We didn’t go anywhere and just being home, with no games, meetings, appointments, dance classes, work functions, WHATEVER was amazing. It was probably more time together, as a whole family – maybe ever. Crazyville.

Then, school started again and immediately we were right back up to our eardrums in all of the above. I woke up Tuesday morning after spring break and that knot at the base of my neck was back. In less than 48 hours. Crazyville.

Then, you come to something like our crazy day today. (incidentally, from the time I posted the diagram of my afternoon to now, the picture has changed three times) Crazyville.

How do we simplify? Coach can’t stop being a coach. Well, he could but that’s like telling me to stop singing. I tried that for a season and all the color went out of my life. Not an option.

I can’t stop doing my job. Well, I could but what would I be gaining other than some free time? And, who’s to say it would work? I am a high-octane personality who tends to grow my job into a high-octane job; no matter where I am. My job today is significantly bigger than when I inherited it – I did that.

We could stop taking Munchkin to extra activities but I don’t think anybody would accuse us of overscheduling our kids with extra-curriculars.

And Princess Crybaby is just a toddler along for the ride.

This may just be a season that we’ll grow out of (or just have to live through). All in all, we have a great life – just a busy life. Crazyville.

RLY? Pizza as a vegetable

Is Pizza a Vegetable?

According to Congress, it is.  *snort*

Couple of problems with this.  Mainly that Tomatoes are classified as FRUIT. 
Second, that they are making this stretch to keep pizza on school lunch menus. 

Brilliance.  Sheer brilliance.  And these are the people representing us in order to conduct the affairs of the Nation.