Tuesday, August 10, 2010

LOVE MEANS NEVER HAVING TO SAY …


“Do you own a yacht?” the interviewer wanted to know.

It seemed a question completely out of context, having no relevance to the middle-aged woman’s need for food.

“Excuse me?” she responded. “Do I own a what?”

“A yacht,” he said, rather snarkily. “Do you own a yacht?”

“A yacht?” she asked. “You want to know if I own a luxury boat? You do know I’m applying for some help with food to feed my children and myself. If I owned a yacht I probably wouldn’t need help with food.”

“So is that a ‘no’ answer?” he asked, still snarkily.

“You’re seriously asking me if I own a yacht?” Her question sounded like she simply couldn’t believe that such a question was even in the realm of possibility to be asked. “Why not ask me if I own a boat? Or maybe a canoe. Or maybe a rubber raft. One of those might be reasonable. But a yacht?!”

“If you just answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ we can move on to the next question,” he said flatly.

“The next question?” she asked rather sharply, her voice rising. “What’s that? Do I travel to the unemployment line in a Rolls Royce? Or maybe you want to know if I’ll be dining with the President this evening after feeding my kids with your free box of macaroni and cheese. What is the matter with you people?”

“Okay. I’ll put no yacht,” he said, completely unmoved by her vexation, as if he’d heard it hundreds of times before and simply didn’t care any longer. “Next question,” he continued. “Have you ever been arrested for prostitution?”

“You know,” she said as she stood up. “F#(k you."

The interviewer barely looked up at her. He simply grabbed a new set of questionnaires and called out, “Next.”

So permit me to offer this simple aside. If you’re working in the compassion sector and you find your days to be sadly similar to the one described above – change jobs.

Seriously. Find a different line of work, or at the very least, a different organization within which to work. You and the people you are there to help, will sincerely appreciate it.

Compassion, after all, is still about love. And last time I checked, love had nothing to do with upsetting someone to the point of such exasperation that the F-bomb is dropped.

Seriously. If that describes you, become a different you.

Monday, August 9, 2010

WHY IS THE WATER SO MUCH WARMER HERE?

OH, RIGHT. PEE BREAK.


Not that I advocate relieving yourself in clean whitewater rapids,but I do advocate enjoying your

Monday Morning Chuckle.

Friday, August 6, 2010

WHAT YOU DO IN THE PRIVACY OF YOUR BEDROOM IS YOUR BUSINESS …


It wasn’t especially early in the morning. In fact, the sun had been up for at least five hours. But there sat George, in the corner booth of the restaurant, unashamedly pandiculating in front of everyone.

Wait. What? Pandiculating?

Yes, pandiculating. It means stretching while yawning. (And yes, this is the first I’d heard of the word as well, but you’d be surprised at what you can learn from those word-a-day calendars).

But back to George’s pandiculating. He would yawn and stretch this way. Then he would yawn again and stretch that way. He would tightly shrug his shoulders up toward his ears, and you could hear his bones or joints or thoughts softly cracking. (I suppose it was his joints that were cracking, since cracking a bone would be undoubtedly painful and thoughts cracking would most likely be silent.)

He did this for about fifteen minutes before he settled down to quietly read his morning paper and drink his coffee.

And as fascinating as it was to watch George’s pandiculation, it was equally fascinating to watch the others in the diner yawn shortly after seeing George yawn, although they did so without the accompanying stretches.

As George was leaving, I told him I noticed how much he was yawning and asked him if he’d had a “late night” or something. He admitted that for the past week he had only been getting about three or four hours a night for sleep. He also told me he was planning to “sleep the weekend away.”

I envied the possibility of sleeping away a weekend.

More importantly, I decided that getting “enough” sleep should be a priority in life. Especially since not getting enough can lead to all sorts of problems, from weight gain to aging prematurely to loss of concentration. In fact, sleep deprivation can be so extreme that it can even lead to death.

So here’s a suggestion for us all. Get at least 7 or 8 hours of good sleep most nights. That’s typically enough for the average American. (And yes, despite what the self-esteem gurus espouse, you’re most likely “average.” Unless, of course, you’re part of the Eclectic Family, then you’re quite higher than “average.”)

Thursday, August 5, 2010

AN OUNCE OF AWARENESS IS WORTH A POUND OF PLANNING …


“I like a balanced life,” he said. “Whether I have many or few things that I am dealing with, I want them balanced. I do not like chaos. I like order. I like balance.”

“So what do you do when life comes along and bumps your balance?” I asked him.

“No. I don’t let that happen,” he said

“You don’t let what happen? Life?”

“No. I don’t let the bumps in life upset my balance.”

“But how do you avoid that?”

“Proper planning,” he said, somewhat smugly.

“So, if your home caught fire and was burned to the ground, you have a plan for that?”

“Well, no. But nobody really plans for catastrophe.”

“So if one of life’s catastrophes bumped into your balance, what would you do?”

“I’d have to adjust, I guess,” he said, as if he had never really considered life outside of his plans. “But I don’t really expect anything like that to happen to me.”

“And why is that?” I asked.

“Because I have a good primary plan and a good backup plan. I’ve got great short and long-term goals and I’ve already started on my Bucket List. So even if something happens I can still maintain my balance, with some adjustment, of course.”

Our conversation drifted on toward less philosophical considerations, but I couldn’t help wondering if my young friend was on to something.

Do plans and goals make for a balanced life?

Well, of course they help. But I believe that a balanced life is more about awareness of life than it is about a blueprint for life.

So as you go through the next week, increase your awareness of how life is effecting you.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

HOW MANY EARS DOES IT TAKE TO IGNORE WHAT YOU’RE SAYING …


This might be the best euphemism I’ve ever heard for someone not listening to you.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying particular attention to your words.”

It’s what my wife said to me earlier today.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT WHEN YOU SPOT A SEAGULL AT MCDONALD’S …


She was working the McDonald’s counter alone and she looked harried. There was a bit of a crowd rush at a time when lines are usually nonexistent.

The lady in front of me gave her order. “A large fry, please.”

“Would you like fries with that?” the employee asked.

“Excuse me?” the lady asked.

“Would you like fries with your order?” the employee asked again.

“I ordered fries,” the lady said, somewhat perturbed.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the employee said. “Yes, you did. I’m sorry. Would you like fries with, I’m sorry. I mean, would you like something to drink?”

“No. Just the fries.”

They finished their exchange.

I ordered and received my medium decaf without a problem. But as I walked back to my car, I wondered, “Why do seagulls come so far inland?”

So what does that have to do with the fries order gone awry?

Not much, at least on the surface. But go a little deeper and we may discover how our minds work and where to find ideas for story generation.

It’s been my experience that finding a connection between two disparate things and constructing a plausible story line is a great way to keep the creativity sparks firing.

For example: What if the seagull was the companion of Michelle, the Fry Girl? And the lady was a malevolent creature from the old country on the hunt for the Great Grey Gull. As I walked out of the McDonald’s and headed toward my car, I heard the deadly whistle of a nickel-tipped arrow whiz by my ear. The gull made no noise as the arrow pierced its neck. It merely plummeted silently to the grass. Suddenly, a scream shattered the afternoon air as Michelle ran from behind the counter. “My gull,” she screamed. “You’ve killed my gull.”

And so the potential story goes.

It only takes a few minutes to make these kinds of connections. They don’t have to actually yield a real story. The purpose is to keep your creativity level high. To keep writer’s block at bay.

And you never know when that connection might actually yield a story really worth writing and reading.

Monday, August 2, 2010

I COULD HAVE SWORN THEIR BROCHURE SAID CHAIRLIFT …


Happy Monday Morning Chuckle Time