Delight.

someone told me some time ago, that when a delightful one leaves she takes the light with her.

i was enchanted by that sentiment – how wonderfully loving and sensitive!

…then after some time had passed, i wondered if delight still hung on that someone’s mind like a be-dewed ray of sunshine, or had that someone gotten used to how life was, way before delight came and, and - perhaps forgotten who delight was, what she is.

have you forgotten about delight, my world-weary citizen?

delight hasn’t forgotten about you.

The Garbage Truck Theory.

Beware of Garbage Trucks
By David J. Pollay

How often do you let other people's nonsense change your mood? Do you let a bad driver, rude waiter, curt boss, or an insensitive colleague ruin your day? Unless you're a robot, you are bound to blow your top off. However, the mark of a sucessful person is how quickly he or she can get back his or her focus on what's important.

Sixteen years ago, I learned this lesson. I learn it in the back of a New York City taxi cab. Here's what happened.

I hopped in a taxi, and we took off for Grand Central Station. We were driving in the right lane when, all of a sudden, a black car jumped out of a parking space right in front of us. My taxi driver slammed on his brakes, skidded, and missed the other car's back end by just inches!

The driver of the other car, the guy who almost caused a big accident, whipped his head around and he started yelling bad words at us.

My taxi driver just smiled and waved at the guy. And I mean he was really friendly. So, I said, 'Why did you do that? This guy almost ruined your car and sent us to the hospital!'

And this is when my taxi driver told me what I now called, 'The Law of the Garbage Truck'.

Many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it. If they happen to dump it on you, don't take it personally.

You just smile, wave, wish them well, and moved on. You'll be happier if you did that rather than fight them.

So this was it: 'The Law of the Garbage Truck'.

I started thinking, how often do I let garbage trucks run right over me? And how often do I take their garbage and spread it to other people: at work, at home, on the street? It was that day I said, 'I'm not going to do it anymore.' I see garbage trucks everywhere and everyday. I see the load they're carrying. I see them coming to drop it off. And like my taxi driver, I don't make it a personal thing; I just smile, wave, wish them well, and I move on.

Good leaders know they have to be ready for their next meeting. Good parents know they have to welcome their kids home from school with hugs and kisses. Teachers and parents know that they have to be fully present and at their best for the people they care about.

The bottom line is that successful people do not let garbage trucks take over their day. What about you? What would happen in your life, starting today, if you let more garbage trucks pass you by?

Here's my bet. You'll be happier.

So ... love the people who treat you right.
Forget about the ones who don't.
Believe that every thing happens for a reason.
If you get a chance, TAKE IT!
If it changes your life, LET IT!
Nobody said it would be easy ....
They just promised it would be WORTH IT

Cheers!

'Life is short. Enjoy the journey.'

For The Love of Words.

Words I Like
Fall – as in the season, what some people refer to as autumn
Autumnal – the adjective of what the rest of us refer to as fall
Vitriol – because it sounds as strong as what it means
Sentiments – doesn't it have such a romantic flair
Arse – I love pronouncing it, writing it, grabbing it…
Gorgeous – need I explain?

Words I Dislike
Toe/toes – bleeeeeah, and not just because I dislike feet..
Baby – call me ‘baby’ and I’ll rip your balls off!
Ma’am – I''m not 100+ years old.
Connoisseur - an English word with Latin origins that sounds French but appears bastardised by having an oi instead of ai.
Incredulous – sounds a bit overly dramatic.
Awesome – a highly overused word on its own, even I'm guilty of that at times.

Words That Make Me Giggle
Bollocks – when said as an interjection, perfect with a British accent.
Ass – as pronounced by North Americans as Opposed to the word ‘arse’
Bosom – which goes hand in hand with heaving. The image that conjures in my mind....
Brouhaha – try saying it without laughing
Z – when pronounced Zee by North Americans as opposed to Zed for the rest of us.

At a Loss For Words.

There is a lot I want to say at times, nothing that I can articulate into sentences, just a whirlpool of thoughts and emotions in my head that need to be diffused or released. It could well be the lack of restful sleep of late, or the unusual dreams that wake me up with a ‘what the…’ feeling or that occasional pounding heart rate at 2 am that refuses to calm down.

There is a lot that can be said to maintaining a certain standard in a blog, going through archives, classifying and sorting through emotions. It’s not an exercise in creative writing, but a stocktake of emotions over a period of time.

There are many occasions when I just want to let it out and speak to a particular person or two, without self-restraint, without concern for their feelings or interpretation, without carefully weighing each word so they don’t come back and bite me some time later.

There are days when I just want to say wonderful things to people who make a difference but something within stops me from spontaneously expressing those words. I resort to careful planning and editing, and in the process I lose the powerful words that would in turn make a difference to their day.

There is a lot that I feel and don’t feel. There are moments where the highs are just beautiful and long lasting and the rest is just plain and ordinary sensations, nothing to mull over or be particularly sad.

There is a lot that I wish to say to you, and you, and even you. But I can’t tell you when you can’t hear me, and you’d prefer not to listen, and deep down you really don’t want to know. Because you already know.

There is a lot to say when I’m being incoherent.

Today's Quote.

A quoi bon soulever des montagnes quand il est si simple de passer par-dessus?

Why move mountains when you can simply go over them? ~Boris Vian

Almost Indifferent.

I miss manners. I miss the moment when, a man and a woman meet and suddenly air is in drastically insufficient quantities, when eyes are shifted, darted, drawn back again to that which you desperately want to stare at, yet know is in exceedingly bad taste and little manners to even contemplate. Such impudent independence.

I miss when it meant something for a man to request the pleasure of a woman's company for a turn about the drawing room, and when parlour dances and cards where how Friday evenings were spent. I miss empire waistlines, bonnets and pin curls. When relations between an unmarried man, and an unmarried woman, were held to exquisitely high standards, and both parties were more than obliged to maintain those standards; they were proud and most anxious to do so.

I miss balls, and croquet, and houses lit by candlelight. No radio, or television, or Internet to soften our brain cells. When music meant playing the piano or spinnet, and when reading a book was a family affair.

I miss those which I have never known; a man telling me he loves me, and meaning it. A man standing by me through all the awful, hard, proud and desolate moments that go to make up a woman's life, and waking up each day to know he would still be there.

I miss Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Wentworth. I miss Ms. Bennet and Ms. Elliott. I miss Ms. Ryane, and don't quite know how to retrieve here from the place from when she's strayed. So much easier, it is, and more constant, to simply remain distant and frozen from this life, and yearn for that which I have only ever known in past carnations. I miss a moment spent outside under the dark cocoon of a summer sky and the only thing to see riding across the heavens is thick swathes of stars...illuminating space as far as the eye can detect. No streetlights. No sirens. No industry.

I'm well aware that were I living in Jane Austen's time, I would be more than an old maid; I'd be a parlour maid, or a serving maid or potentially, were I very lucky and clever, an upstairs maid. Would I be a married woman, at 37? Unlikely. And yet...

37...in 2010, is akin to 27...in 1813. My only reference is that I, at least, need not rely upon any male relation to see to my livelihood or yearly salary. I, at least, am able to earn my own keep and take care of myself.

But at what cost? Sometimes, I wonder.

Love, Senorita.

There is an irritating-time-wasting-gag-worthy shopping task that I occasionally have to endure, and pay handsomely for the privilege. It may sound simple, to elbow others in front of a messy stand – and that’s in itself cause for ire – and choose a piece of mass-produced cardboard with a few printed words. But in reality, it brings out the red monster within.

Greeting cards work on the premise that the image will grab your attention and the clichéd words will reflect sentiments you are incapable of expressing. They have a short expiry date in your life, unless you hoard memorabilia from every birthday, Christmas, New Year, illness, hospital stay, graduation, farewell, engagement, wedding, anniversary, baby, and death.

Whenever I am given a card, I pity the person watching me open the envelope. If it is a Far Side card, my reaction is to give them a long hard blank stare. I just don’t get it. And if they have to explain it to me, I still don’t think it’s funny. Cute teddy bears, I’ve outgrown when my teddy got jealous, and he’s a precious one I dare not upset. Cutesy cats and dogs are out of the question for someone like me. Floral arrangements, housey cottages, artwork and nature make me reach for the porcelain bowl recycling bin. Girly cards with lots of splashed pink aren’t me.

Which brings me to e-cards. Having enjoyed a ten minute fame in their heyday, flash-animated cartoons with annoying music leave me cold, reaching for that bottle of brandy reserved for cool, sleepless nights. In fact, I have stopped opening them when one innocent click downloaded a malicious virus and hijacked my PC.

But I confess to having in my possession a small collection of memorable cards. They have a stylish and modern design, they are sassy and bold – a bit like me – with just a few heartfelt words written by the sender – like ‘Dear Senorita..., Love Me’.

Which is why I was instantly attracted to this site and I immediately raced to send one. No, not this one.

So, on this Valentine’s Day, permit me to send you all a little expression of my sentiments.

Job Titles When I Become President of My Own Company.

-Super Dooper Director
-Mega Manager
-Executive Dreamer
-Lead Typist In An Office
-Coordinator of Copy Management
-Culinary Cooler Coordinator
-Morale Manager
-Director of Global Gossip
-Group Travel Manager, Happy Hour
-Senior Vice President, Other People’s Personal Business