When Maria took those old curtains and whipped them up into new playclothes for the Von Trapp children, she took some random material and made them into something hilarious and borderline offensive. By getting inspired by the ugliness that surrounded her and duplicating it at least seven times, she was one of the original meme generators. 4chan had nothing on her. Except for Allison Harvard. And that’s a good thing because mixing Julie Andrews with Creepy Chan is like drinking orange juice right after you brush your teeth. TO BE AVOIDED.
As a Christmas gift to you, here’s a little collection of the Internet memes that I love. Some oldies, some newbies. All awesome. Enjoy!
I chose not to post my favorite Geddan video here because YouTube has unfortunately disabled the audio (because, you know, the people making Geddan videos are only in it for the big bucks) and you simply can’t have Geddan without the original music. But this one is pretty good, too. I really hope the drug rehab ad comes up when you watch it like it did for me. You can’t make this stuff up.
2. Joseph Ducreux
It’s really because of Joseph Ducreux image macros that I was excited to make this post. Translating rap lyrics into archaic language and plastering them all over self-portraits of Joseph Ducreux in b-boy posture is the recipe for post-graduate perfection.
3. Hipster Anything
I’m just going to be honest and say that I like these memes because I’m starting to realize that I’m not in college anymore and it makes me sad. Hipster memes make me feel like I’m still with it. I want to be young and cool and speak the language of the youth.
Exhibit One: Ariel
Exhibit Two: Hipster Kitty
4. Combination Pizza Hut/Taco Bell
Alright, so it may not technically be a meme because there aren’t a bunch of versions of it. It may not even be viral because it doesn’t have a bajillion views. HOWEVER I love it and this is my post and I love Das Racist and I love the Internet so meh.
5. Nyan Cat
Mind-numbing and amazing! Pop Tarts and cats! Pixelization! Merry Christmas to you!
I was going to do like five more memes but it turns out that blogging from my mom’s house on Christmas Eve is not conducive to my being humorous.
Have a happy Christmas and enjoy the lack of spam you’ll be getting from me for one more whole week!
So, I wasn’t planning on posting today – I’m saving my big holiday post for Friday – but with the death of Kim Jong Il, I feel like I should say something. Right now, those old nerves I experienced when North Korea would raise a ruckus while I was living in the ROK are resurfacing. This time, I’m honestly a bit worried for my friends and family, both foreign and Korean, who live in South Korea. I know they would all likely say that there is very little to worry over. This is exactly what I used to say to my own family when they called us over there worried sick over the news coverage they were receiving and the potential danger we could’ve been in. What else were we to say? They didn’t know if something bad could happen, and neither did we.
There was one time late last year and early this year when things did get really tense and we did have a small bag packed with our passports and an extra set of underwear in case we had to leave in a hurry. That was as bad as it ever got, and obviously nothing ever came of it. That’s kind of the perpetual situation over there; you’d be equally surprised if something did happen and if something didn’t happen. It’s odd, but that’s par for the course when your nearest neighbor is an ultra-secretive, possibly nuclear-armed communist country run by a psychopath who’d just as well allow the majority of his country to die from starvation than go without his whiskey.
It didn’t help us much in gauging the political climate of the place by talking with the Koreans we were close to. Their attitudes toward the threat posed by the instability of the DPRK took on a tone of nonchalance that was very out-of-line with the amount of levity we wanted to approach the situation with. When we had been in Korea for only a brief time, it was occasionally reassuring to hear our Korean coworkers compare the DPRK to a childish cousin who threw a hissy fit whenever it hadn’t received attention in awhile. That kind of reassurance lasts for a moment, but at the end of the day, you’re still a foreigner who doesn’t speak the language or fully comprehend the cultural ramifications of living in a country where the people are tremendously divided. You’re still an outsider and it gets alarming when it feels right to be scared but the country surrounding you seems to disagree.
When we were alarmed when North Korea bombed a small South Korean fishing community, the Koreans at our office were uncomfortably flippant when we expressed our worries to them. When we asked the principal what the protocol would be if something were to happen while we were at school, she said we “should take the kids down to the first floor via elevator, leave the building, and run.” And then she laughed nervously. Granted, she had already established herself as an idiot on several other occasions prior to this one, so I’m sure her response to that one incident isn’t at all emblematic of all of South Korea, but it was still unsettling to know that THIS is the person in charge of our own safety if something were to happen. Not only is the principal in charge of the school, but he/she is the person in charge of your safety as a resident alien, too.
I feel like I keep repeating the phrase “if something were to happen” throughout this post. It’s that something that you just can’t put your finger on when you are living so close to a secretive, volatile country that functions in many of the same ways as a cult. Oh, a cult that may have nuclear weapons.
There’s a lot in store for the Korean peninsula. I can only be optimistic that the people of the North will eventually be given a voice again.
Before you get pregnant, no one ever tells you that once that little embryo comes into existence in your uterus, you’ll never sleep again. Yeah, not sleeping once the baby is born gets big press, but you never hear much about how having a baby inside you completely obliterates any chance you may have of getting a decent night’s rest ever again. But ah, once again, I apparently know nothing. Pregnancy is constantly pwning me with my absolute cluelessness.
I am beyond worn out. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in months, and I’m beginning to think that I never will again. I mean, it’s only going to get worse once Bebe comes. It’s a combination of several things. First, I have this belly filled with baby who seems to be on Korea time. She is awake and kicking at all hours. Despite the best efforts of Boppy, my body will never rest comfortably again. Bebe just kicks ALL THE TIME and while it’s sweet and nice to know that she’s active and growing, it’s (gasp!) annoying to be awoken in the middle of the night by her rendition of the Elaine dance.
Then there’s the constant peeing. I am so amazingly sick of peeing. I’ve written before about ridiculous pregnant women who relentlessly complain about having to go to the bathroom 25 times a day. Well, folks, karma’s a bitch and now I’m paying for my snide comments. Point taken, Universe. These days I’m getting up to go several times a night, which, you know, kind of disrupts any chance of me ever achieving REM sleep again.
Once I’m up from peeing, I take the opportunity to worry about any and everything going on in our lives, namely money and how the heck we’re going to swing the expenses of 2012 when Bebe comes. Worrying about money in the middle of the night is possibly the worst inclination I could have. It helps nothing whatsoever and it usually just leads me to have a panic attack, which, coupled with hormones, is all the more disturbing to both myself and B. Luckily, he is off work until next year so he doesn’t have to get up as early as he does when school’s in session, but it just can’t be fun for him to awaken in the middle of the night to the sounds of me sobbing because I’m exhausted and freaked out over the change that’s going to come in only three months (time flies, eh?).
To add insult to injury, we got a new bed and mattress over the summer and I just haven’t taken to it very well. It is an Ikea platform bed that doesn’t have a headboard and while I like the design, I always feel like I’m going to fall down behind it (even though this is 100% impossible given my girth at this point). It’s a lot taller than our old bed, too, so there is an actual risk of me falling off the side of it given how pregnantly clumsy I am these days.
Luckily we’re going to Memphis for the holidays, and I tend to be able to sleep extremely well at my mom’s house so hopefully that will offer a little reprieve from my nocturnal purgatory.
While we’re on the subject of traveling and the holidays, I am more than likely going to be posting only once a week or so until January. I like all y’all and everything, but I love having B home with me and want to relish these last months of just him and me. I’m really blessed to have a husband who loves spending time at home with me and my tummy as much as I love spending time with him.
extremely massively blessed to have been honored over and over the last couple months by some really, really great bloggers who like what I’m doing over here enough to call me out on their own blogs. I never would have imagined when I started blogging that I’d get to virtually know so many people in the WordPress and blogging communities who would like what I’m doing nearly as much as I like their work. Miss Demure Restraint said it best: “Bloggers really are the best people.”
I’d like to thank Apple Scout, Never Contrary, Mommy Said a Swear Word, and The Mainland for nominating me for the Versatile Blogger Award; Rita’s Reflections and Elephants and Rutabagas for nominating me for the Liebster Award; and Momma’s Money Matters and Life Love and Baby for nominating for the Tell Me About Yourself Award. These are all great blogs that deserve a visit from you! You’re not allowed to read any more of this post until you check them out. Now go.
OK, did you subscribe to all the great blogs above? Good job. Now for the ceremony.
I’m passing on the Versatile Blogger Award to fifteen deserving recipients. Please check out their blogs as they are the cream of the crop.
Mockingbird, Don’t Write A relatively new blog from a seasoned, talented blogger
On My Square Hilarious, biting truth from a real-life comedian
Beyond the Pear Tree Quiet and thoughtful points to ponder for a moment or a lifetime
Curious Cat on the Run Great travel blog from a gal armed with a serious case of wanderlust and a talent for snapping a gorgeous picture
Miss Demure Restraint The original versatile blog; hope she can make some room on her shelf for one more accolade!
Liquorstore Bear Stuffed animals + liquor = AWESOME
Dear Expletive Baby Telling it like it is but loving that leeching baby every step of the way
Broken Condoms Unexpected pregnancy was never this fun without Seth Rogan!
Becoming Cliche Everyday I resist the urge to plagiarize each and every thing she says.
Southern Sea Muse Pull up a chair and get comfy. You’ll to want to stay awhile.
An American in North Korea Faces of the Hermit Kingdom
Topicless Bar Why I’m glad Freshly Pressed exists; he nails the expat existence in SoKo.
Snide Reply Some of the best writing you’ll ever find on why being a good parent starts with actually treating your kids like humans
Hidden Connections Wonderfully pensive thoughts on Korea, marriage, and fatherhood
The Unsweetie The only food blog I read regularly. Period. There’s a reason for that.
Now, seven snippets you don’t know about me:
1. I was an extra in Walk the Line. It was filmed in Memphis over the summer of 2004. This was right before I moved to Chicago for graduate school. Not a bad summer job if you don’t mind sleeping in rollers and being on a movie set for fourteen hours a day.
I’m the one at 0:46 in the upper right with the Ronald McDonald hair and makeup:
If it looks like I’m bored it’s because at that point I had heard them sing “Time’s A-Wastin’” close to 675 times. I’m in some other scenes, too, but I couldn’t find the clips on YouTube. Maybe one day I will do a giveaway where you can win a screening of Walk the Line with me and I’ll tell you during which scenes Joaquin Phoenix got all method-y and how long Reese Witherspoon’s toilet breaks usually were.
So. Freaking. Sexy. Nearly everything about him is hot: his voice, the way he says “ginger,” how doting he is to his mother, and the fact that he’s not on the Food Network. Dude, everyone wants to be associated with Ming. I have yet to see another PBS chef whose show is sponsored by expensive watches.
Yes indeed, I love me some Ming.
3. My mom once accidentally packed a beer in my sack lunch when I was eleven. And that event made me what I am today. Obviously. I’d say more but I’m saving this one for a full-length post some day.
4. I love ye olde European medieval and archaic things. Beowulf is in my top three favorite books and the mythology of Arthurian romances is fascinating to me because, um, it’s just really kind of jacked up and ridiculously bombastic. When I was in college, Le Morte D’Arthur was my relaxation reading; nothing a coed loves more than reading tales of knights getting their heads cut off willy-nilly. Even though it’s not strictly medieval since it was written in the 20th century, The Once and Future King by TS White is probably my favorite book of all time. I wrote my thesis on it in undergrad and I’m rereading it for the fourth time now.
5. I am a real-life Gap girl except for the fact that I am anatomically female. I have worked at three separate stores. I first started working at the Gap in 2001 right before the quality started going down tremendously. I still wear (or will resume wearing once I push Bebe from my loins) a lot of the clothes I bought back then due to the fact that I purchased them when the Gap actually put a smidgen of value on quality and didn’t screen print slogans all over the buttocks of their merchandise. I have happy Gap memories and I’ll be sad when the brand eventually folds (a little joke for all my fellow t-shirt slaves), which it doubtlessly will soon :(
6. Frogs rule. About a year before we got married, B and I were grocery shopping in Chicago. While we were in the pasta aisle, we came across a frog stuffed animal that some child had obviously picked up over in the gifts and flower section of the store and then become weary of midway through shopping and abandoned among the noodles. Being suckers for anything fuzzy with a face, we felt so sorry for the poor abandoned frog that we decided to buy it.
Little did we know at the time that Froggert (his name, duh) would become basically our practice child. He’s gone with us everywhere and regularly shares his often controversial opinions with us whether we want to know them or not. He worked as a recruiter at a competing school while we lived in Korea (the moment we found out, we grounded him but he just started running a cafe out of our apartment when we were at work), he organized protests against the consumption of frogs’ legs while we were in Paris, and he’s tried to start a business that harvests teddy bear fur to knit into sweaters for needy frogs. He’s thrilled to have a new member of the family soon, but we can tell he is a little jealous as he constantly asks me, “Is Bebe being bad?” and then is disappointed when I tell him that she’s extremely well-behaved so far.
7. I don’t just like the movies I like. I
love adore them. I’m a huge fan of Annie Hall, 2001: A Space Odyssey (actually, pretty much anything Stanley Kubrick), Uncle Buck, Napoleon Dynamite, and In America. These are the Mary Poppinses of movies: practically perfect in every way.
I saw Donnie Darko only a year or so ago and I have regretted not seeing it earlier ever since. I really have nothing intelligent or witty to say about it because I am still incredibly enamored with every single aspect of this film. Please, PLEASE see it if you haven’t already.
Congrats again to all the recipients!
About a hundred years ago I thought I would post recipes and food stuff more regularly here, but then I felt constrained to impart numerous jewels of wisdom (ie how Korean kids like to poke your bottom) that I have accumulated through my extensive travels from places as vast as Walmart and Korea. To those who subscribed thinking that I was a gourmet and would be posting more recipes, I apologize heartily.
But fear not! I have been eating (like, a lot) and occasionally I make something so good that I vow to break my food silence and share it with you. This is the meal that did it: actually good turkey burgers!
My problem with previously-used recipes for turkey burgers is twofold. One, they dry out really easily; two, it’s difficult for them to retain their shape and not disintegrate into turkey croquettes by the end of cook time. This recipe keeps them moist, solid, and most importantly, delicious. Like the choco chip cookie recipe I shared with you, this is inspired by the recipe for Quick Turkey Burgers in The New Best Recipe, pretty much the best cookbook ever.
EASY TURKEY BURGERS
Makes four burgers.
1 1/4 lbs. 93% lean ground turkey
1/2 cup ricotta cheese
2 tbsp. Worcestershire sauce
2 tbsp. Dijon mustard
Kosher salt and pepper
3 tbsp. olive oil
1. Combine the ground turkey, ricotta, Worcestershire sauce, mustard, and S&P in a medium bowl until blended. Divide the mixture into four portions and then flatten the portions into 1-inch thick patties.
Note: I use my hands to get everything combined but I realize that may freak others out since it requires getting up close and super personal with raw poultry. You could just as easily put the mixture in a stand mixer with the paddle attachment and combine it. Regardless of what you do, be sure to be really manic with the frequent handwashing throughout this recipe. The best recipes in the world won’t taste so good when Auntie Salmonella comes around.
2. Heat a large skillet over medium heat until very hot. I use a non-stick pan because then I can just put it in the dishwasher at the end, but NBR recommends using a cast iron or stainless steel pan with an aluminum core. I don’t have one; no biggie.
Swirl the oil in the pan to coat the bottom. Add the burgers and cook over medium heat without moving them until the bottom of each is dark brown and crusty. Flip them and continue to cook until the bottoms are light brown but not yet crusty.
Reduce the heat to low, position the cover so that it’s slightly ajar and steam can escape, and continue to cook them until the center is completely opaque yet juicy or a meat thermometer inserted from the side of the burger into the center registers 160 degrees, about 8-1o minutes. You may want to flip them again during this step to get them crusty enough for your liking.
Serve them up!
A note on bread: I don’t know about you, but I have HAD IT with packaged hamburger buns. Yeah, the gourmet ones taste good, but I can’t really justify spending nearly a dollar per Kaiser roll. When I make burgers, I prefer to just get a really wide French or Italian loaf (they tend to be very inexpensive if you get them at the supermarket), slice it up, toast it, and serve the burgers on it. It actually fits the size of the meat and doesn’t get all leaky if you’re a saucy queen like I am. One loaf will usually be big enough for four burgers, so you won’t have to pay for a bunch of mediocre bread that you won’t even use.
Dear Facebook Friends,
You are not Jimmy Fallon. Please stop writing “pithy” and “pointed” requests to inanimate objects.
Dear Facebook Friends,
The USPS is in enough trouble. Kindly mail your stupid letters to the intended recipients rather than spray them to everyone you know.
Real post later today.
I like to read comments. It’s a bit of a hobby. Reading an article or a status update or watching a video is *edifying* and all, but it’s in the comments that the fun really begins. That’s why you should wait awhile after an item has been published online to read it; the comments will pile up and then you can go see individuals doing their best to illumine why everyone is wrong and they are right.
The New York Times is going to implement some changes to its commenting system that they hope will make the process more streamlined and – more importantly – improve the quality of comments. This heartily distresses me. Moronic, predictably bad comments are what make the Internet the modern-day Wild West, a new coliseum where we can see the freaks at play while we are sitting safely in the risers.
I love the trolls. They are the cool kids who sit at the back of the class and give the nerds and the near-sighted teacher the ride of their lives. I love how easy it is to see the the trajectory of their vile comments.
The troll lobs some easy missile about sexuality, politics, or religion. It may or may not have anything to do with the original subject. The trap is set.
It gets a reaction, a torrent of thumbs down. Several more if the comment permits the inclusion of a trollface emoticon. Those in the know will immediately be tipped-off to the inauthenticity of the commentator’s thoughts when they see the grinning face, but the uninitiated will see the face and immediately get to retaliating against this menace who is putting the morality of all society in jeopardy.
The experienced troll will disguise his identity more stealthily. He will have chosen as his emoticon a picture of an old white dude with no shirt on who lives in Craptown, USA. Intrigued and distressed, the upstanding citizens of the online community wonder how this character managed to get a computer with Internet access at all. He must be schooled.
The retaliation begins. Lots of comments in the thread to set him straight and demonstrate the troll’s own backwards idiocy. Some are longer than others. Although they will initially address the troll directly (as he eagerly awaits the masses’ response), the best refer to him in the third person. The public humiliation of the now-mute imbecile begins.
A few will come to the troll’s aid and say something that is even more egregious than the original fabricated statement. These are the actually disturbed people who genuinely agree with him and can only be handled with tact and a thousand thumbs down. Back away slowly.
But then – AHA! – the climax of the thread: the troll’s identity is revealed! A commentator indicates his suspicion that the originator of this thread is a troll! A mean prankster who intentionally got everyone’s panties in a knot over a sentiment he doesn’t even believe! Some Internet bastard.
The thread huffs and puffs over how it’s been duped by some stupid jerk who enjoys getting a rise out of good, hardworking people who are just taking a break from their long days at work to berate idiots online. Shame on him. Probably one of those Occupy Wall Street communists.
The thread is abandoned as quietly as it was begun. All is well on the interwebs again. But beware; the troll will strike again!
It was way back in January when we knew this was going to be the year that we made a real go of making a baby. And then, in late March, when we returned to the US after touring Paris and Reykjavik, I started thinking about the time table this little endeavor would operate on. Ha. But you’ve got to start somewhere, I suppose.
According to my guesses, I’d be in the early stages of pregnancy in November. I have absolutely no idea why I chose that arbitrary date, but I did. So according to my earliest calculations, I would be about seven or eight weeks along by now. HA (one more time.)
It took two and a half months to get pregnant. Three weeks after we moved to North Carolina, Bebe made an appearance in the form of an additional pink line on the pee stick.
Um, that was easy. Everything worked.
So here we are at week 23 in early December. According to the produce email updates, Bebe is now the size of a large mango and weighs over a pound.
Here’s an idea I am giving away for absolutely FREE to anyone who wants it: a series of image macros that show cute little vegetable/fruit babies in utero saying clever things. Don’t say I never did giveaways.
A couple observations:
My hair is not so good. I think it’s pretty common for ladies to undergo some change in their hair during pregnancy. The pregnancy hormones (haha, I first typed “hormoans”; just the first of several Freudian references you’ll find littered throughout this post) make their hair lustrous and shiny and beautiful and very Pantene commercial. Yeah, so, not me.
I’ve had occasional shoots of gray for the last couple years. At first it was kind of fun to find them because it was like a badge of age and wisdom. They are officially out of control now. Thick and wiry, they stand out prominently against my already dark brown hair.
Also, my hair has become dull and flat. If I were back in Korea, I think my youngest little girl students’ response would be, “Um, Teacher, your tummy is very big and good for the baby, but your hair is not very beautiful.” And they would be right.
And my dreams are taking over. This is in line with the hair theme. I had a really unfortunate dream last night. It’s kind of gross but as this is a pregnancy blog, I’m not really apologising. I first dreamed that a giant gray hair was growing on my tongue so I had to pull it out. I started pulling it out and it just kept going and going and going. Finally I got down to the follicle, pulled it out, and it took a giant chunk of my tongue out with it. Fortunately since it was my mouth it healed pretty quickly. BUT STILL.
Then I dreamed that I was inspecting my scalp yet again for gray hairs and not only did I find them, but I also found giant, broad, flat hairs (think tapeworm) with ultrasound images all over them. I pulled them out and put them in a Ziploc bag and showed them to my mom, who rightly broke out into hysterics. Um, what kind of doctor do you go to with this ailment? I’m thinking a psychologist.
Now for something a bit more pleasant.
Bebe is very, very active. She appears to have acquired an Erector Set in the past few days and is frustrated with the fact that she can’t be as industrious as she would want.
According to the produce emails, she can now hear us very well, so we’ve been trying to include her in more discussions. B will often talk to her through my belly and she will just as often respond with a punch or a kick. We’re attempting to teach her some Morse code so she can weigh in on topics more advanced than “Do you know that mommy and daddy think you’re perfect?”
“Well, yeah. Duh,” she’ll punch. What she really want to discuss is the Euro zone.
I’m finally going to show you a belly picture. Let’s all be honest and admit that pregnant belly photos are really only interesting if you know the person and if said preggo belly is big. I feel like I’ve been writing about my pregnancy long enough now that you guys pretty much get the gist of me and might *kind of* appreciate to see some physical evidence of the Beebs. Oh, I’ve got your evidence:
And one more spurious thing, now that I’ve got your attention:
I don’t get Pinterest. Sorry, just don’t. I sincerely want to like it but I don’t really see the point of it. And I REALLY don’t see why every woman in the history of humanity right now thinks it’s the best thing on the interwebs. It’s a bunch of cutesy pictures haphazardly placed all over a webpage.
Here’s a piece of advice to all of you who are now intrigued and want to go check out Pinterest: do not under any circumstance sync it up with your Facebook or Twitter. If you didn’t want to be bombarded with pictures on FB of how that girl who sat four rows behind you in high school redid her upstairs bathroom last month, you will certainly not want to see 8,000 pictures of wine glasses with feathers hot-glued to them that she liked, too.
Maybe it’s because I’m really sensitive to everything these days, what with the Bebe hormones coursing through my veins.
Maybe it’s because the holidays are coming and a lot of people are talking about benevolence and kindness because it’s the time of year in which we are obligated to do so.
Maybe it’s that cloak of anonymity people put on that allows them to say rude, hurtful things online and use crude gestures while driving.
But to me it seems like we need to reorient and remember that we’re living among human beings who started their lives out in the exact same way that we did: cold, naked, crying, and vulnerable. And all those human beings deserve courtesy. They may have done absolutely nothing whatsoever to earn our kindness, but that really doesn’t have anything to do with our granting it.
And it’s not about begrudgingly smiling at someone through clenched teeth when they offend you, simply because you think that’s the right thing to do, although it’s a start. It’s about having an attitude of peace and openness, no matter what situation you find yourself in.
Few people would disagree that it’s the most vulnerable among us who need respect the most but who are least likely to get it. But thinking and actually practicing that are two very different things. On Saturday, B and I went to Subway; yeah, I was having a very pregnant day. When we left the sandwich shop, a family of four was leaving at the same time. They walked to their car which was parked next to ours and the mom said,
“Jeffrey, if you (f-word) sit in my seat again, I will seriously whip your ass right here.”
I was jarred. How could a parent say such a hateful thing to her five-year-old? How can a child hear that kind of thing and feel secure?
When we got in our car, I said to B, “Let’s be really sure to talk to Bebe like that all the time after she’s born so she’ll always know that threatening the people who are closest to you is a sure way to demonstrate your love. And dominance.”
He looked at me with That Look that says, “You don’t know what the situation is. Have a little benevolence.”
I kept thinking about it for the rest of the day. How can you talk to a child that way? I don’t care what kind of a miserable day/life that woman was having; there is no excuse for that kind of hatefulness, especially when it’s aimed at a kid. And how could B not be more upset? I was fuming.
I started planning the post I would write to obliquely get even with that mom who clearly didn’t know how to parent whatsoever. It was going to be really cathartic for me. I am the one who matters the most in the whole situation, after all.
But this morning, after thinking all day Sunday about how we (key word there) should go through the motions of being kind, benevolent, and understanding, and how it’s the people who are hardest to love that need love the most, it finally occurred to me that I really had it all backwards. Now is not the time for blanket statements on how all humanity should do something. Now is the time for me to start taking my own advice and applying my own lofty ideals to my perception.
It’s time for me to love the woman in the Subway parking lot even though it’s not easy. That doesn’t mean I have to excuse her for the words she used, but it does mean that I shouldn’t judge her based on them. Because judging her was exactly what I was doing. When I heard her say those words, a big mixed bag of assumptions about who she was, what her habits were, and how much school she had completed immediately popped into my head. Those assumptions served as an excuse for me to foment hostility towards her.
Hostility doesn’t feel good. Being nice does feel good. However, I don’t think that’s why I should behave or react a certain way. That seems a teensy bit too subjective. I am going to be nicer and more forgiving because I really have no good reason not to. I’ve been the woman in the Subway parking lot before and I’ll be her again. We both came out of our mothers screaming, cold, and vulnerable, and our mothers still loved us. We both deserve love and respect.
Let me just put it out there that this has been hard for me to write. How do you put into words why exactly you should be kind without feeling like a fraud and a hypocrite the entire time, knowing full well that you fail every day trying to be “good” because your heart wasn’t in the right place to begin with?
I’ll let you know when I find out. In the meantime, I’m just going to trust that Love really is the guiding principle. It’s worked for, oh, a couple of people.