My friend at work has a Spidey punching bag in her office. At times I find myself gravitating there to punch the bag, knowing that since I internalize my grief, I need an outlet. Several things had been bothering me, and as I carried all my burdens, I felt so helpless and tired.
The Spidey bag taught me a lesson today: the harder I hit, the harder it came back.
It was my sign.
Squeeze me?
Sometimes I just have to back down from the fight,let Spidey stand and stare me square in the face.
"The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places."
-Ernest Hemingway
Monday, March 29, 2010
Mr.Roboto
The mind is a strange thing.
It is amazing how we remember and forget. I am very detailed-oriented on a day to day basis at work but ask me what I had for breakfast that morning, I blank out completely.
What's worse is that I am losing pieces of past, rapidly.
Squeeze me?
Over the weekend, my sister (who remembers EVERYTHING) referred to an event that happened in our childhood. As she recounted the details, the feelings flooded back. And I realized that I had blocked out that event because it was associated to negative feelings. So much so that when she told me the story, I relived each moment like it was yesterday.
Now this is not a new revelation. Many psychologists have researched the brain and the effects of traumatizing past events but it really dawned on me how nonchalantly we deflect those feelings and memories to a point that they never exist today.
For us who want to move forward, do our new, lovely memories in fact replace the old, bad ones? Is this done consciously or unconsciously?
Or is it a matter of feelings? Do we feel less than previous generations? Are we out of touch with reality as we move away from social interaction?
As life passes us by, are we just going through the motions...Mr.Roboto?
It is amazing how we remember and forget. I am very detailed-oriented on a day to day basis at work but ask me what I had for breakfast that morning, I blank out completely.
What's worse is that I am losing pieces of past, rapidly.
Squeeze me?
Over the weekend, my sister (who remembers EVERYTHING) referred to an event that happened in our childhood. As she recounted the details, the feelings flooded back. And I realized that I had blocked out that event because it was associated to negative feelings. So much so that when she told me the story, I relived each moment like it was yesterday.
Now this is not a new revelation. Many psychologists have researched the brain and the effects of traumatizing past events but it really dawned on me how nonchalantly we deflect those feelings and memories to a point that they never exist today.
For us who want to move forward, do our new, lovely memories in fact replace the old, bad ones? Is this done consciously or unconsciously?
Or is it a matter of feelings? Do we feel less than previous generations? Are we out of touch with reality as we move away from social interaction?
As life passes us by, are we just going through the motions...Mr.Roboto?
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Bullocks! She got cheated out of that Oscar
While driving into work this morning, I heard the disturbing news that Sandra's Bullock husband, Jesse James, cheated on her with a tattoo model he met and the same day, had sex with on his office couch.
Squeeze me?
I remember vividly how she thanked him when she received her Oscar, with tears in both their eyes! Oh Gawd.
Donald Trump even quipped with James, "What the hell does she see in you?"
Imagine: You tell Barbara Walters that your husband is the love of your life and he pushes you to attain your highest goals. You then win the Oscar and thank your bozo husband in front of millions. A week later, you find texts from the mistress on his phone and you move out of the family home and cancel your movie premiere.
High one week and absolutely at your lowest point the next.
Jesse, Tiger, Eddie and all you male hotshots...just because you are a celebrity doesn't mean you won't get caught. Money and fame do not control the world.
Remember the 90/10 rule. 10% you can control, the other 90% is your reaction.
Sandra, your reaction? Throw the Oscar at his nuts!
Squeeze me?
I remember vividly how she thanked him when she received her Oscar, with tears in both their eyes! Oh Gawd.
Donald Trump even quipped with James, "What the hell does she see in you?"
Imagine: You tell Barbara Walters that your husband is the love of your life and he pushes you to attain your highest goals. You then win the Oscar and thank your bozo husband in front of millions. A week later, you find texts from the mistress on his phone and you move out of the family home and cancel your movie premiere.
High one week and absolutely at your lowest point the next.
Jesse, Tiger, Eddie and all you male hotshots...just because you are a celebrity doesn't mean you won't get caught. Money and fame do not control the world.
Remember the 90/10 rule. 10% you can control, the other 90% is your reaction.
Sandra, your reaction? Throw the Oscar at his nuts!
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Trying to make someone fall in love with you is about as pointless as trying to control who you fall in love with
"Friendship is imnportant to me,
And in my heart I see,
That friendship is a gift.
But when there is no more friendship
The gift is broken into so many pieces,
That Love cannot count them."
I wrote this poem in Grade 6 and left my teacher sobbing. Cheesy as it may sound, it made the yearbook and raised my celebrity that year--ironically the year I had no friends.
Squeeze me?
I yearned for friends growing up, actually aching for someone to recognize my uniqueness. Bullied for being different, I conformed to their standards, willing to forfeit my morals and values just to fit in. The more I was bullied, the more I changed and abandonned my true self. By Grade 8, I didn't recognize who I had become, BUT I had two friends.
Fast forward 5 years. High school and maturity. I could breathe easy and finally be myself and accepted for my differences. I had a gazillion friends. But it was a struggle to find my identity. Trying to control the situation and my friends.
Today, one friend in particular is strong, aggressive and too bold for her own good. I see her wanting respect and acceptance. But I see her going down the wrong road.
I remain quiet and wait. And eventually she turns a corner and realizes her lack of compassion. Without me saying a word, she is starting to change, soften and relent. She isn't losing control; she is learning not to control. Makes my heart rise and want to hug her hard.
If you want friends, just set them free.
And in my heart I see,
That friendship is a gift.
But when there is no more friendship
The gift is broken into so many pieces,
That Love cannot count them."
I wrote this poem in Grade 6 and left my teacher sobbing. Cheesy as it may sound, it made the yearbook and raised my celebrity that year--ironically the year I had no friends.
Squeeze me?
I yearned for friends growing up, actually aching for someone to recognize my uniqueness. Bullied for being different, I conformed to their standards, willing to forfeit my morals and values just to fit in. The more I was bullied, the more I changed and abandonned my true self. By Grade 8, I didn't recognize who I had become, BUT I had two friends.
Fast forward 5 years. High school and maturity. I could breathe easy and finally be myself and accepted for my differences. I had a gazillion friends. But it was a struggle to find my identity. Trying to control the situation and my friends.
Today, one friend in particular is strong, aggressive and too bold for her own good. I see her wanting respect and acceptance. But I see her going down the wrong road.
I remain quiet and wait. And eventually she turns a corner and realizes her lack of compassion. Without me saying a word, she is starting to change, soften and relent. She isn't losing control; she is learning not to control. Makes my heart rise and want to hug her hard.
If you want friends, just set them free.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
The Art of Listening
“If A equals success, then the formula is A equals X plus Y and Z, with X being work, Y play, and Z keeping your mouth shut.” Albert Einstein
When I was younger, my reports cards dating back to kindergarten commented on my chatting "skills". Teachers remembered fondly my ability to capture the attention of an entire classroom while simultaneously and effectively making mention that this was during class hours when the teacher should be teaching. Ooops.
In high school, friends enjoyed hour-long lunch discussions with me despite being unable to get a word in edge-wise. Ooops.
As an adult, my "50 words per minute" were exasperating to most and the "foot in the mouth" syndrome was appalling and embarressing at the same time. Ooops.
Along with my metabolism, my talking speed started to slow down (especially when I encountered bulging eyeballs) and yes, I finally came to the conclusion, something that I was acutely aware of but ignored throughout my childhood: I have a listening disorder.
Squeeze me?
Am I practicing what I preach? Night after night, when complaining to my girls that they do not listen to their teachers, their parents, their grandparents, the news channel or any relevant information for their benefit, I realized I was that pot calling the kettle black. And without revealing it to them, I sheepishly noted my listening disorder had been passed from one generation to another!
Listening is not just about not talking. I realized there was another language out there--an unspoken language: body language, gestures and looks that I was just too busy to interpret while blabbing incessantly to get my point across.
If you meet me today, don't take my silence and equate it with rudeness, lack of understanding or an unwillingness to contribute to the conversation.
I will not talk over you. I will listen to your words and process them before speaking or not speak at all. I will be watching, assessing and taking it all in with stride. I will no longer take advantage of you. And for this, I hope you will respect me in the morning...
When I was younger, my reports cards dating back to kindergarten commented on my chatting "skills". Teachers remembered fondly my ability to capture the attention of an entire classroom while simultaneously and effectively making mention that this was during class hours when the teacher should be teaching. Ooops.
In high school, friends enjoyed hour-long lunch discussions with me despite being unable to get a word in edge-wise. Ooops.
As an adult, my "50 words per minute" were exasperating to most and the "foot in the mouth" syndrome was appalling and embarressing at the same time. Ooops.
Along with my metabolism, my talking speed started to slow down (especially when I encountered bulging eyeballs) and yes, I finally came to the conclusion, something that I was acutely aware of but ignored throughout my childhood: I have a listening disorder.
Squeeze me?
Am I practicing what I preach? Night after night, when complaining to my girls that they do not listen to their teachers, their parents, their grandparents, the news channel or any relevant information for their benefit, I realized I was that pot calling the kettle black. And without revealing it to them, I sheepishly noted my listening disorder had been passed from one generation to another!
Listening is not just about not talking. I realized there was another language out there--an unspoken language: body language, gestures and looks that I was just too busy to interpret while blabbing incessantly to get my point across.
If you meet me today, don't take my silence and equate it with rudeness, lack of understanding or an unwillingness to contribute to the conversation.
I will not talk over you. I will listen to your words and process them before speaking or not speak at all. I will be watching, assessing and taking it all in with stride. I will no longer take advantage of you. And for this, I hope you will respect me in the morning...
Monday, March 8, 2010
Open your eyes to Half the Sky
Happy International Woman's Day
I hope you wore a string on your finger. And I really hope you go out and buy the book "Half the Sky" by Nicolas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn about the oppression of women and girls across the globe.
While reading the book, many nights I needed to stop on the account that my vision was blurred by tears. This book is a wake up call--a call to everyone to understand that like the Chinese proverb says, Women hold up half the sky.
Check out this video to learn more how anyone can make this world a better place by educating women.
Remember, you are one drop in the ocean
I hope you wore a string on your finger. And I really hope you go out and buy the book "Half the Sky" by Nicolas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn about the oppression of women and girls across the globe.
While reading the book, many nights I needed to stop on the account that my vision was blurred by tears. This book is a wake up call--a call to everyone to understand that like the Chinese proverb says, Women hold up half the sky.
Check out this video to learn more how anyone can make this world a better place by educating women.
Remember, you are one drop in the ocean
Monday, March 1, 2010
And God made plastic surgeons...
Don't know if you are following the Heidi Montag saga.
Her plastic surgeon performed 97 procedures on her in one shot.
When asked about her relationship with God, she proclaimed, "I am a religious girl. Beauty is on the inside not the outside."
Squeeze me?
If beauty is on the inside, why bother with multiple surgeries?
"I prayed to God and in return, he made plastic surgeons to perfect me."
Move over Dolly Parton, Heidi's Double F's are the perfect size in America these days...
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