Kindness begets kindness.

Sometimes...no, wait make that every time...kindness and love is its own rewards.I only hope that life would put me into paths by which I, too, can be kind and I hope I would choose kindness in that moment. This is a video of a firefighter who saved a baby 40 years ago. She (the baby) has been looking for him just to say thank you. He's white, she's black. But that doesn't matter ... all that mattered was that he saved her and she remembered. It is an emotional video that will touch your hearts and raise your spirits. Something we could all use at a time like this.

What the __?

Really, Facebook? Are you kidding me?

Monday Blues.

Deep Thoughts.

I like throwing coins into fountains.

It's my way of giving money to the homeless, in exchange for them bathing.

G is for .......

GREEN

You are a very calm and contemplative person. Others are drawn to your peaceful, nurturing nature.

Find out your color at QuizMeme.com!

G is for ..... GOD Complex.

It was a strange place to have a revelation, but there you have it: it happened in a church. Although it would seem fitting that it was about God, it had more to do with logic than religion.

My revelation, which I’m sure others had before me, was that God, if It exists, cannot be both perfect and interventionist. To be more accurate, we cannot have both an interventionist God and a perfect creation.

If creation is perfect, as some would have it, then there is no need for God o meddle with it, unless It’s bored and looking for something to do—but perfect beings don’t get bored.

Then again, maybe his interventions are all part of the plan, which ipso facto makes Creation imperfect since it needs interventions. I can only see three possibilities here (then again, not being perfect, my vision is limited – which is actually nice, since it gives me a good reason to wear kick-ass glasses):
1. Creation is perfect and God doesn’t interfere
2. Creation is imperfect and God has to tweak it from time to time
3. God is part of creation and that’s why It intervenes.

Blogged with the Flock Browser

Sound advice.

For some reason, I enjoyed this article by Kelly Marages. Maybe I'm simply perverse, or it's because of years of accumulated annoyance from seeing my contemporaries waste resources, as in this quote from the article:

I read a roundup of first-person accounts in a magazine recently about what it feels like to be laid off. This is the kind of article that can be helpful, or even just voyeuristic -- making some feel better for still having their jobs, allowing others to enjoy that I'm-not-alone feeling. But in the end, I can't imagine that many readers got through it without getting angry. One woman, a former finance exec, talked about eating leftovers. "We never did that before," she said.

Oh, the horrors. She had to eat leftovers. Actually, I want to say some unkind things like "Not the sharpest tool in the shed, are you?" or "You must not be responsible for the day-to-day feeding of a family". Leftovers are a wonderful resource and labor-saving invention. Whether it's a big pot of soup or some leftover takeouts, if you are crafty, you can spin it into several days worth of meals. These are days which you didn't have to cook or figure out what to feed your family, but merely popped said leftovers into the microwave and steamed a few fresh veggies from the garden. In short, leftovers equal freedom from drudgery.

Part two: she's a "former finance exec". She is probably interested in accumulating wealth. There are several ways to go about this. One is to have a high-powered job or a stroke of luck. Another is to be frugal, and if one is fortunate enough to not live in poverty, save whatever wealth comes one's way. Yet another is to pursue both methods at the same time.

Perhaps if she'd been savoring leftovers with her high-powered job all along, she wouldn't have to stress out quite as much over being laid off.

What matters most...

I love this picture because it's important to visualize and see what matters most. Our dreams, hopes, and everything we think we are and aspired to be, don't ever think it's too late for you, it's never too late.

What do you see in the mirror? A champion of life, a great artist, stay at home mom, a professional climbing the corporate ladder, a poet, maybe an author of that book you've always wanted to write? Whatever it is, be the greatest that lived in this world, because the only person responsible for your dreams is you.

There have been times when I've doubted my own abilities to do great, my mind would play the repetitive sayings (you're not good enough, you will never be anything, you are not smart enough, you will fail, what are you thinking, take the safe road, that's never going to work...), and I would become terrified, insecure. But not anymore! Now, I face my fears . And hopefully years down the road, I will look into that mirror and see the person I am now. A great person (I hope) who'll someday reach enlightenment and be everything that I set out to be because it's never too late.

So, stand in front of your mirror......and look. Really look. Long and hard. And really appreciate what you see. Okay, so you may have a few extra pounds you need to lose (like me), big deal. So, you may have been born with some difficulties that you struggle with, big deal. Those are the things that just makes you uniquely you. No one else is like you. Which is a good thing, it sets you apart from all the other, giving you your own set of opportunities and abilities to do whatever you want to do because it's never too late!!

Here's to a great weekend ahead, CHEERS!

Then and Now

Then and Now
Ways in which I handled being single and dating 10 years ago as opposed to now:

Then:
Would "make a round" after first walking into the bar to check out which guys I would be flirting with.
Now:
Take turns "buying rounds" for my single gals at the bar.

Then:
Would give out my number to randoms.
Now:
I don't even give my real name to randoms.

Then:
Loved the stripe shirt look.
Now:
Love the excessive tattoo look.

Then:
Spent most of my time at the Boat Quay bars.
Now:
I can be seen maybe twice a month at either Timbre or Wala Wala or whichever bar that is featuring my favorite live band.


Then:
I drank Long Island Tea like water.
Now:
3 Heinekens and water for the rest of the night if I'm driving. 6 Heinekens and water for the rest of the night if I'm not.

Then:
Grinding was foreplay.
Now:
You need to ear f*ck me with your intellect before you even get a phone number.

Then:
Dating a guy with a roommate or two was the norm.
Now:
The only acceptable roommate is a pet.

Then:
If we hung out at least 5 times at the bars, you were vouched.
Now:
I'm about 2 episodes of CSI away from investing in criminal background checks and a DNA swab.

Then:
Full time student would qualify as employment.
Now:
Oooh baby, tell mama all about that sexy career plan and full medical and dentall coverage...you know a full time job with a benefit plan gets me hot.

Then:
OMG, like, lets spend every day together! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!!
Now:
What do you mean you can't wait to see me, didn't we just had dinner 4 days ago? Plus, I have laundry to do and there's a new episode of "Grey's Anatomy" on tonight.

Then:
Girls don't poop, pee, belch, or eat heavy meals.
Now:
Dude, did you hear that? That went on for almost a minute!

Then:
I hope someone at least hits on me tonight!
Now:
Stop bothering me, I'm discussing the Internet with my girlfriends.

Then:
Well, he's not that interesting/cute/emotionally stable, but dinner sounds lovely.
Now:
Do I really want to put on mascara for this man?

Insight on an Aries.

Your Birthdate: April 13

You don't love lightly. For you, love is always a serious undertaking. However, you are able to love many types of people. You can bring out the best in almost anyone. Love surprises you often. You never know when or where you'll find it next. Number of True Loves You'll Have: 1 Number of Times You'll Have Your Heart Broken: 5 You are most compatible with people born on the 4th, 13th, 22nd, and 31st of the month.

What Does Your Birth Date Mean For Your Love Life?

Miss-Fit.

Sometimes I really do think I was born in the wrong era. I yearn to be a heroine in a Jane Austen novel. Fastened into a corset, wrapped up in yards of silk and a bonnet- clutching a finely written love letter from a lover on an adventure, but aching to return to me.

But I was born in the 70’s. Meaning, that the majority of my adult ‘love letters’ have come in the form of emails. I know this is partly my fault (I tend to email people before calling, or actually- gasp!- seeing them), but today while I embarked on the dreaded tasks of cleaning up my email account, I couldn’t help but feel sad about it all.

My grandkids will not inherit dusty stacks of ink stained declarations of love wrapped up in faded ribbon. There will be no discoveries of who I loved at 18 years, or 22 or 25. There will be no tangible evidence of the loves I’ve held and the loves I’ve lost. And in ways that I’m sure I will articulate better when I’m older, this makes me feel like I’ve done a disservice- not only to those I would want to share the letters with, but to myself.

As I allowed myself a bumpy trip down memory lane re-reading all the emails that I’ve amassed over the years, I found myself surprised at what I found. I had forgotten how lovely love could be. How earnest a man in love could sound, what surprises could unfold when I clicked to open an email. I found words that made me cry, words that made me laugh- words that took me back to a time when I felt smarter, but was far more foolish. I found words so… bare, so private I felt like an intruder reading them, though they were addressed to me. I found myself wistful- not for the man, but for the moment when a few short sentences would say everything I needed and wished to hear.

I poured myself a drink and sat back, staring at pages and pages of sweet notes crammed with inside jokes, long letters filled with promises of things to come and messages short on punctuation but long on thought. I realized that if I wanted to, I could print each one out, wrap them tightly and store them away, computer print-outs on pristine white paper never touched by anyone but me. Or I could let them sit in my inbox, a reminder of what is over. Or, I could delete them all, and start new. And promise myself that my next great love would be given a pen.

I deleted them all. I deserve the dusty stacks, touched by his hands as well as mine. I want that. And I know one day, my grandkids will too.

I’m off to find a bonnet.

F is also for .....

First....

first concert ever : Billy Joel

first favorite food ever : corn on the cob
this is pretty much the only food i can guarantee that will taste good at any given time

first musical ever : Starlight Express

first live sporting event : my high school football game

first movie (that I can recall) : The Blue Danube

F is for ....

....Fabulous.

I just went outside and danced in the rain with my friend. Barefoot. This, my friends, is why life is so fabulous.