The executive (I would call him the "dumb executive," but that would be redundant and repetitive) I spoke of below just sent an email about...oh, it doesn't matter what it was about. What matters is that it's yet another email from yet another dumb person that just riles me up, because he acts like he knows all the answers, but the only reason he knows anything about this particular subject is because the past four weeks of my work life have been spent trying to figure it out for idiots like him.
ANYway. I was laughing about it, because what else can you do? It doesn't help to get mad, frustrated or cry. I turned to the intern that sits outside of my office, and I said, "Riddle me this. Perhaps 12 years of working in this environment has made it so that I can't see answers as clearly as you may be able to, being new and eager and all that rot. Why is it that only dumb people seem to get promoted and get promoted quickly?"
She thought for about two seconds and said, "Because dumb people don't want anyone smarter than them working for them."
What a brilliant insight! And from a 21-year old, too.
I hope, though, that this doesn't mean that as I get older and more jaded I get dumber. This is why I don't want to get promoted or go into management -- I'm afraid of the mandatory labotomy.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
I Just Don't Understand
There are many things I don't understand, and I'm the first to admit it. But one of the more confusing issues I have to deal with daily is executives.
Yes, executives. People who get paid many more times than I do, get more vacation, drive a company car and who are in charge of the financial well-being of the company I work for. It's scaaaaaaary.
Granted, not all of them are dumber than hair. But many of them say or do things that leave me scratching my head in confusion.
Here's today's sampler.
I just got an email from one of them at 11:20 asking me to reschedule a meeting today for 10:00 or 10:30.
Look, HG Wells, unless you've got a time machine handy, that's just not gonna work!
Yes, executives. People who get paid many more times than I do, get more vacation, drive a company car and who are in charge of the financial well-being of the company I work for. It's scaaaaaaary.
Granted, not all of them are dumber than hair. But many of them say or do things that leave me scratching my head in confusion.
Here's today's sampler.
I just got an email from one of them at 11:20 asking me to reschedule a meeting today for 10:00 or 10:30.
Look, HG Wells, unless you've got a time machine handy, that's just not gonna work!
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Driving Miss Laura
The drive to Utah from southern California can, I suppose, be made in leisure. I have never done it that way. Ten hours is little enough to be easy to do in one day, and long enough to want to do it all as soon as possible and reach your destination .... in just a few more....miles.
It has, on occassion, taken me longer than 10 hours to do, but only if the traffic between here and Vegas is bad. ("Bad" = filled with idiotic southern Californians who think that the rules of highway courtesy are the same as freeway driving. They're not. And you're crowding the road and making it unsafe for the sensible ones of us who took actual family trips in a station wagon with no air conditioning, in the years when an interstate meant that you had to go through every town because that's how it was built. The days when truckers owned the road and respecting their considerable size meant living to see another day. Go away, modern road-trippers.)
This time, I was determined to do it in less than the usual 10 hours. My mom was in the hospital. Again. Some more. And even though it had been happening so frequently over the summer, though intermittently, this time was different. This time my sister was hedging when I asked if this meant I should come, which meant I should come. This time, my brother was coming too.
So I left work, threw some clothes into a bag, grabbed all my toiletries, bade goodbye to the cats, and left. I didn't want to leave my cats. I seem to be doing an awful lot of saying goodbye this summer. Some of it is the good vacation-kind, and some was the bad see-you-on-the-other-side kind, but neither one is terribly fun. "Why can't we get all the people" (and cats) "together in the world that we really like and then just stay together? I guess that wouldn't work. Someone always leaves and then we have to say good-bye. I hate good-byes. I need more hellos." -- Snoopy.
As I drove, I thanked the traveling gods that it was early Friday yet, so the crazies hadn't all left for their weekly emmigration to the city of billion-watt store fronts, lost money and empty facades, so my traffic was good. Except for a little bit of rush hour traffic through Las Vegas, I was in good shape.
I stopped in Mesquite for gas. Could've made it to St. George, I suppose, but didn't feel like pressing it. Besides, I wanted some travel snacks before I stopped for dinner in St. George. I loaded up on trail mix, Cheeto-s, bottled water and chocolate-covered pretzles. I put the bag on the floor in the front seat and didn't look at again until my drive home.
St. George, with its red rocks and canyons, loomed around the corner. Sonic beckoned. Diet limeade, Sonic-sized tots and a hamburger made dinner, with a peanut butter fudge sundae anticipated as dessert.
Twenty-one miles into Utah, I see a car go off the road. I immediately brake and pull over, especially since the other five or six cars in the nearby vicinity don't. I didn't see what happened, I just saw a car no longer attempting to stay between the lines, spin out and take out the road-side sign. A truck also stops. "Good, I think. Someone else can help give first aid. Those truckers -- they're the salt of the earth." That particular salt, however, stopped because he thought he caused the car to go off the road. Come to find out, he did, although it took the highway patrol officers looking at the damage on both vehicles to determine that and break the tie between the two drivers. I wasn't any help since I hadn't actually seen anything, my view being blocked by the 18-wheeler. I had just called 9-1-1 and stayed with everyone until UHP showed up.
And I looked at the stars. The sky is closer there. Part of it is the higher altitude I'm sure. And all of you scientists can tell me all about light pollution and smog down here ruining the view of those celestial bodies for me. But if it weren't for the smog, what would cover up that huge hole in the ozone? And the lights -- well, I could see the stars just fine even with the police flasher lights piercing the darkness. The milky way was indeed milky looking, and reminded me of something....Oh! My sundae! Officer, you don't mind if while I'm waiting for you to take my (non-) statement I just go and finish my dinner, do you? She didn't and I did. De-lish-us.
I'm now only about five hours away, and as I drive and listen to my audio book ("Jonathon Strange and Mr. Norrell"), I contemplate the miles falling away beneath me and who I'm missing out on seeing. Jill and Tonya in Hendersen. Allison in St. George. Another Jill in Hurricane. There are others, I'm sure, but those are the ones I think of just then. But I don't stop now for the same reason I never do and more. Besides having a mother in the hospital and a sister who needs support, I just want to get there.
At 11:05 local time, I take the 2nd Payson exit. I cruise through the hospital parking lot, but seeing that my brother is not there, drive the final two miles down the highway to my sister's house. It is 11:15 when I pull in.
I made it in just less than 10 hours. Could've made it in 9 if the wait at Sonic hadn't been so long and if that stupid trucker had given more room to that car's bumper and if I didn't have a bladder that only holds a certain amount of liquid before making demands.
The stars say hello.
It has, on occassion, taken me longer than 10 hours to do, but only if the traffic between here and Vegas is bad. ("Bad" = filled with idiotic southern Californians who think that the rules of highway courtesy are the same as freeway driving. They're not. And you're crowding the road and making it unsafe for the sensible ones of us who took actual family trips in a station wagon with no air conditioning, in the years when an interstate meant that you had to go through every town because that's how it was built. The days when truckers owned the road and respecting their considerable size meant living to see another day. Go away, modern road-trippers.)
This time, I was determined to do it in less than the usual 10 hours. My mom was in the hospital. Again. Some more. And even though it had been happening so frequently over the summer, though intermittently, this time was different. This time my sister was hedging when I asked if this meant I should come, which meant I should come. This time, my brother was coming too.
So I left work, threw some clothes into a bag, grabbed all my toiletries, bade goodbye to the cats, and left. I didn't want to leave my cats. I seem to be doing an awful lot of saying goodbye this summer. Some of it is the good vacation-kind, and some was the bad see-you-on-the-other-side kind, but neither one is terribly fun. "Why can't we get all the people" (and cats) "together in the world that we really like and then just stay together? I guess that wouldn't work. Someone always leaves and then we have to say good-bye. I hate good-byes. I need more hellos." -- Snoopy.
As I drove, I thanked the traveling gods that it was early Friday yet, so the crazies hadn't all left for their weekly emmigration to the city of billion-watt store fronts, lost money and empty facades, so my traffic was good. Except for a little bit of rush hour traffic through Las Vegas, I was in good shape.
I stopped in Mesquite for gas. Could've made it to St. George, I suppose, but didn't feel like pressing it. Besides, I wanted some travel snacks before I stopped for dinner in St. George. I loaded up on trail mix, Cheeto-s, bottled water and chocolate-covered pretzles. I put the bag on the floor in the front seat and didn't look at again until my drive home.
St. George, with its red rocks and canyons, loomed around the corner. Sonic beckoned. Diet limeade, Sonic-sized tots and a hamburger made dinner, with a peanut butter fudge sundae anticipated as dessert.
Twenty-one miles into Utah, I see a car go off the road. I immediately brake and pull over, especially since the other five or six cars in the nearby vicinity don't. I didn't see what happened, I just saw a car no longer attempting to stay between the lines, spin out and take out the road-side sign. A truck also stops. "Good, I think. Someone else can help give first aid. Those truckers -- they're the salt of the earth." That particular salt, however, stopped because he thought he caused the car to go off the road. Come to find out, he did, although it took the highway patrol officers looking at the damage on both vehicles to determine that and break the tie between the two drivers. I wasn't any help since I hadn't actually seen anything, my view being blocked by the 18-wheeler. I had just called 9-1-1 and stayed with everyone until UHP showed up.
And I looked at the stars. The sky is closer there. Part of it is the higher altitude I'm sure. And all of you scientists can tell me all about light pollution and smog down here ruining the view of those celestial bodies for me. But if it weren't for the smog, what would cover up that huge hole in the ozone? And the lights -- well, I could see the stars just fine even with the police flasher lights piercing the darkness. The milky way was indeed milky looking, and reminded me of something....Oh! My sundae! Officer, you don't mind if while I'm waiting for you to take my (non-) statement I just go and finish my dinner, do you? She didn't and I did. De-lish-us.
I'm now only about five hours away, and as I drive and listen to my audio book ("Jonathon Strange and Mr. Norrell"), I contemplate the miles falling away beneath me and who I'm missing out on seeing. Jill and Tonya in Hendersen. Allison in St. George. Another Jill in Hurricane. There are others, I'm sure, but those are the ones I think of just then. But I don't stop now for the same reason I never do and more. Besides having a mother in the hospital and a sister who needs support, I just want to get there.
At 11:05 local time, I take the 2nd Payson exit. I cruise through the hospital parking lot, but seeing that my brother is not there, drive the final two miles down the highway to my sister's house. It is 11:15 when I pull in.
I made it in just less than 10 hours. Could've made it in 9 if the wait at Sonic hadn't been so long and if that stupid trucker had given more room to that car's bumper and if I didn't have a bladder that only holds a certain amount of liquid before making demands.
The stars say hello.
Tuesday, November 1, 2005
The New Man In My Life
When a man has been in your life for 11 years, it's hard to think about moving on quickly.
I did it in two weeks.
Oh, don't get me wrong. It wasn't easy. I did some serious browsing on-line, looked at a lot of different pictures, interviewed many potential representatives. Once I found him, I knew he was the right one for me. There was a gleam of playfulness in his eyes, a come hither look, and an offer of many years of happiness to come. Of course, it hasn't all been roses. There has been a definite adjustment period. Like most men, he thought he would rule the roost. He made the mistake of thinking I was coming into his world, not he into mine.
After some false starts of learning where he can pee, where he can sleep, and what furniture he's allowed on, we've moved into the honeymoon phase. He runs to greet me when I get home, and wants to be hugged and kissed. He squirms a bit if I get any lipstick on him, but it's easily wiped off.
All in all, it's a great match.
Wait a minute. You thought this was all about a HUMAN male? Nah, not on your life. It's my new kitten, Dakota. Go to the photo gallery to see some pics of him when he was only a few weeks old.
I did it in two weeks.
Oh, don't get me wrong. It wasn't easy. I did some serious browsing on-line, looked at a lot of different pictures, interviewed many potential representatives. Once I found him, I knew he was the right one for me. There was a gleam of playfulness in his eyes, a come hither look, and an offer of many years of happiness to come. Of course, it hasn't all been roses. There has been a definite adjustment period. Like most men, he thought he would rule the roost. He made the mistake of thinking I was coming into his world, not he into mine.
After some false starts of learning where he can pee, where he can sleep, and what furniture he's allowed on, we've moved into the honeymoon phase. He runs to greet me when I get home, and wants to be hugged and kissed. He squirms a bit if I get any lipstick on him, but it's easily wiped off.
All in all, it's a great match.
Wait a minute. You thought this was all about a HUMAN male? Nah, not on your life. It's my new kitten, Dakota. Go to the photo gallery to see some pics of him when he was only a few weeks old.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Wicked
One of the things from my pre-summer list of things I was looking forward to was seeing "Wicked, the untold story of the witches of Oz."
I didn't read the book by Gregory Maguire, mostly because I had tried reading one of his other ones about Cinderella's step-sister and couldn't even get through the first 50 pages, which for me is saying quite a lot because I love to read, so it wasn't the story that intrigued me.
Oh, and it especially wasn't the story of "The Wizard of Oz" that I loved that made me excited to see it, because I hate that movie. Okay, maybe "hate" is strong. But "hated" works. When I was little and that would be the featured Sunday Night Family Movie on Easter Sunday or whatever, I could only get as far as the witch's castle because the flying monkeys freaked my tree. Really. Scared me. To death. Or at least scared me to not being able to sleep well. Just ask my sisters -- I'm sure they'll tell you all about it. Anyway, I don't know that I ever made it completely through the movie. The only time in recent, memorable history that I'd seen it completely all the way through was when I was in Chile. For some reason, it wasn't as scary in Spanish.
Speaking of the monkeys, three of my friends who I was going to go see it with first were sending an email back and forth while I was in Guatemala talking about the reviews the play was getting here in L.A. One of them said that someone she knew had gone to see it already and had this to say: "The sets are great, the music is great, the cast is great. [Laura, close your eyes]
She did say the flying monkeys are pretty scary. No one mention this to Laura..."
So you can see that I wasn't thrilled about the original story, or even the book the musical was based on.
But a couple of years ago I made one of the best music investments ever when I shelled out $17 for the soundtrack. A friend of ours had seen the pre-Broadway version in San Francisco and raved about how great it was. I didn't understand all the nuances of the story just from listening to the CD so I asked my friend to fill in the blanks for me. I was hooked. The music was beautiful, the lyrics creative, and the story intricate -- with the details it wove in from the original L. Frank Baum story to the current one.
I ended up seeing it three times this summer. I actually had tickets for a fourth night, but ended up selling those ones to a friend. I plan on seeing it again when it comes to the OC next summer. It is absolutely entrancing.
People more qualifed than I have gotten paid to write actual critical reviews of it, so I won't do that, but I did want to share some of my favorite words or lines from it that I wrote down because they were so enchanting.
"It's good to see me, isn't it?" (Glinda when she's descending from the sky in her bubble.
"You've been Galinda-fied." (Fiyero to Elphaba when he sees she's a victim of one of Glinda's makeover attempts.)
"You think I'm really stupid, don't you?"
"No, not REALLY stupid." (Fiyero and Elphaba.)
"He's been thinking, which worries me." (Glinda to Elphaba regarding Fiyero)
"I don't cause commotions, I am one." (Elphaba)
"I happen to be deeply shallow." (Fiyero)
"Excuse us just a tick-tock." (Glinda to her adoring public.)
(then a bit later:) "Wait just a clock tick."
"There's a goat on the lam!" (don't remember who says this, but it's hilarious.)
"We can't all come and go by bubble." (Elphaba to Glinda)
"And that poor little dog, Dodo!" (Glinda to Elphaba)
"Lemons and melons and pears."
"Oh, my." (Boq and Nessarose talking about what's in the punch.)
"I clash with everything." (Elphaba commenting on her green skin.)
And some fun, Glinda-fied words:
Innuendo/outuendo
Confusifying
Definish chance.
Hi-odeous.
Thrillifying.
Toss-toss. (what Glinda does to her hair to try and teach Elphaba how to be Pop-uuuu-laaaaaarrrr)
I didn't read the book by Gregory Maguire, mostly because I had tried reading one of his other ones about Cinderella's step-sister and couldn't even get through the first 50 pages, which for me is saying quite a lot because I love to read, so it wasn't the story that intrigued me.
Oh, and it especially wasn't the story of "The Wizard of Oz" that I loved that made me excited to see it, because I hate that movie. Okay, maybe "hate" is strong. But "hated" works. When I was little and that would be the featured Sunday Night Family Movie on Easter Sunday or whatever, I could only get as far as the witch's castle because the flying monkeys freaked my tree. Really. Scared me. To death. Or at least scared me to not being able to sleep well. Just ask my sisters -- I'm sure they'll tell you all about it. Anyway, I don't know that I ever made it completely through the movie. The only time in recent, memorable history that I'd seen it completely all the way through was when I was in Chile. For some reason, it wasn't as scary in Spanish.
Speaking of the monkeys, three of my friends who I was going to go see it with first were sending an email back and forth while I was in Guatemala talking about the reviews the play was getting here in L.A. One of them said that someone she knew had gone to see it already and had this to say: "The sets are great, the music is great, the cast is great. [Laura, close your eyes]
She did say the flying monkeys are pretty scary. No one mention this to Laura..."
So you can see that I wasn't thrilled about the original story, or even the book the musical was based on.
But a couple of years ago I made one of the best music investments ever when I shelled out $17 for the soundtrack. A friend of ours had seen the pre-Broadway version in San Francisco and raved about how great it was. I didn't understand all the nuances of the story just from listening to the CD so I asked my friend to fill in the blanks for me. I was hooked. The music was beautiful, the lyrics creative, and the story intricate -- with the details it wove in from the original L. Frank Baum story to the current one.
I ended up seeing it three times this summer. I actually had tickets for a fourth night, but ended up selling those ones to a friend. I plan on seeing it again when it comes to the OC next summer. It is absolutely entrancing.
People more qualifed than I have gotten paid to write actual critical reviews of it, so I won't do that, but I did want to share some of my favorite words or lines from it that I wrote down because they were so enchanting.
"It's good to see me, isn't it?" (Glinda when she's descending from the sky in her bubble.
"You've been Galinda-fied." (Fiyero to Elphaba when he sees she's a victim of one of Glinda's makeover attempts.)
"You think I'm really stupid, don't you?"
"No, not REALLY stupid." (Fiyero and Elphaba.)
"He's been thinking, which worries me." (Glinda to Elphaba regarding Fiyero)
"I don't cause commotions, I am one." (Elphaba)
"I happen to be deeply shallow." (Fiyero)
"Excuse us just a tick-tock." (Glinda to her adoring public.)
(then a bit later:) "Wait just a clock tick."
"There's a goat on the lam!" (don't remember who says this, but it's hilarious.)
"We can't all come and go by bubble." (Elphaba to Glinda)
"And that poor little dog, Dodo!" (Glinda to Elphaba)
"Lemons and melons and pears."
"Oh, my." (Boq and Nessarose talking about what's in the punch.)
"I clash with everything." (Elphaba commenting on her green skin.)
And some fun, Glinda-fied words:
Innuendo/outuendo
Confusifying
Definish chance.
Hi-odeous.
Thrillifying.
Toss-toss. (what Glinda does to her hair to try and teach Elphaba how to be Pop-uuuu-laaaaaarrrr)
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Homing Humans
I was reading today in the fabulous book, "Catwatching" by Desmond Morris a snippet about cats' homing devices. A German zoologist did an experiment where he crated several cats then drove them many miles outside of town using a very circuitous route, to a maze that he had constructed in a field. The entire maze was enclosed so that no natural light could enter to give navigation clues to the cats. The majority of the cats selected the passage which was pointing directly toward their home.
Other cat scientist people though there must be some sort of flaw in that method. So they performed more tests with US cats. They doped the cats, putting them into a deep sleep before the trip so that they couldn't retain any visual clues. Upon arrival they were allowed to wake up fully and then were put to a similar navigational test. Astonishingly, they knew their way home.
Morris goes on to say that it has since been discovered that may species, including human beings, "possess an extraordinary sensitivity to the earth's magnetic field which enables them (and us) to find the way home without visual clues. The experimental technique that clinched this was one in which powerful magnets were attached to the navigators. This disrupted their homing ability.
"We are still learning exactly how this homing mechanism works. It seems likely that iron particles occurring naturally in animal tissues are the vital clue, giving the homing individuals a built-in biological compass."
I am intrigued by the idea that humans have a built in homing mechanism based on iron particles that point to a specific place. It begs some questions. What home does your built-in mechanism point to? What magnets might disrupt your homing device and put you off-track? What does your personal compass use as its own North Star?
Many of you will see what obvious (to me, at least) parallels I can easily draw here, but I'll tell you what I hope my own homing mechanism is.
Though "beautiful downtown Burbank" is a wonderful place to live and the place I currently call "home," it is not my permanent home. Nor is Walnut Creek where I grew up. Humans move around a lot. No one stays in the same place for a lifetime. What, then, is "home?" For me, I define home as the place I came from originally and the place to which I hope to someday return permanently -- heaven. Whatever name you assign to it, to me, it means the permanent home of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
My compass can be a lot of different things -- a testimony of the divinity of the Savior, daily prayer, the scriptures, the guidance of the Holy Ghost -- essentially, anything that keeps my homing device pointed to heaven.
The strong magnetic forces that mess up my own personal compass, or the built-in ability to sense where the pathway to home is can be anything. Too numerous to name, says King Benjamin, and in today's world, are constant and omnipresent. They also change from day to day, depending on individual and circumstances.
Polaris, the guiding star by night that is constant and doesn't change position even as all the other nighttime constellations rotate and move, can be an obvious analogy to Christ. Always there, always beckoning, always guiding. I just have to be willing to look and be guided.
What home are you looking for? How will you get there? How do you know what path to take? How do you not get off course?
Other cat scientist people though there must be some sort of flaw in that method. So they performed more tests with US cats. They doped the cats, putting them into a deep sleep before the trip so that they couldn't retain any visual clues. Upon arrival they were allowed to wake up fully and then were put to a similar navigational test. Astonishingly, they knew their way home.
Morris goes on to say that it has since been discovered that may species, including human beings, "possess an extraordinary sensitivity to the earth's magnetic field which enables them (and us) to find the way home without visual clues. The experimental technique that clinched this was one in which powerful magnets were attached to the navigators. This disrupted their homing ability.
"We are still learning exactly how this homing mechanism works. It seems likely that iron particles occurring naturally in animal tissues are the vital clue, giving the homing individuals a built-in biological compass."
I am intrigued by the idea that humans have a built in homing mechanism based on iron particles that point to a specific place. It begs some questions. What home does your built-in mechanism point to? What magnets might disrupt your homing device and put you off-track? What does your personal compass use as its own North Star?
Many of you will see what obvious (to me, at least) parallels I can easily draw here, but I'll tell you what I hope my own homing mechanism is.
Though "beautiful downtown Burbank" is a wonderful place to live and the place I currently call "home," it is not my permanent home. Nor is Walnut Creek where I grew up. Humans move around a lot. No one stays in the same place for a lifetime. What, then, is "home?" For me, I define home as the place I came from originally and the place to which I hope to someday return permanently -- heaven. Whatever name you assign to it, to me, it means the permanent home of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
My compass can be a lot of different things -- a testimony of the divinity of the Savior, daily prayer, the scriptures, the guidance of the Holy Ghost -- essentially, anything that keeps my homing device pointed to heaven.
The strong magnetic forces that mess up my own personal compass, or the built-in ability to sense where the pathway to home is can be anything. Too numerous to name, says King Benjamin, and in today's world, are constant and omnipresent. They also change from day to day, depending on individual and circumstances.
Polaris, the guiding star by night that is constant and doesn't change position even as all the other nighttime constellations rotate and move, can be an obvious analogy to Christ. Always there, always beckoning, always guiding. I just have to be willing to look and be guided.
What home are you looking for? How will you get there? How do you know what path to take? How do you not get off course?
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Friendship
The importance of friends in our lives I think cannot be defined succinctly, cannot fully be comprehended as to its importance in our lives, and as such, can be, I think, taken for granted. People much more talented and word-smithy than I have undertaken this topic and there are books and articles written on the topic that cover it much better than I ever could. Even as I write this, I know how woefully inadequate anything I write will be in comparison.
The blessing of a true friend is just that -- a blessing. There is something magical, and perhaps even a bit mystical that happens with friendship. Like the miracle of the Grinch's heart expanding within his chest with the gift of giving, friendship makes one heart feel better than it can on its own. Being listened to, heard and understood, and offering those gifts in kind makes a good person better. Carl Jung said it this way: "The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed."
Not only can a good and true friend make you a better person, but the value comes in other immeasurable ways. You find a type of validation that you don't get with strangers, work associates or even good acquaintances. "In a friend you find a second self." (Isabelle Norton.)
Or the same sentiment is expressed this way: "True happiness is of a retired nature, and an enemy to pomp and noise; it arises, in the first place, from the enjoyment of one's self, and in the next from the friendship and conversation of a few select companions." (Joseph Addison) We become people we cannot become on our own. Oh, I know I've already said that, but there truly is something wonderful that happens when you find someone with whom you can share your thoughts, hopes, fears, dreams. It really is as though by finding a second self, your own self enlarges and expands. You become more capable in goals and endeavors, and more able to help others.
The writers of South Park expressed the value of friendship this way: "I've learned that all a person has in life is family and friends. If you lose those, you have nothing, so friends are to be treasured more than anything else in the world." (Trey Parker and Matt Stone)
Can a high enough value ever be placed on friendship? Certainly not monetarily. And you can't measure or value spiritual and emotional growth, so perhaps that is why we struggle with expressing the importance of friends. It can't be expressed properly because it can't be valued in human, mortal terms of measurement. Only the soul truly knows the worth of a true friend.
I have been blessed in my life with many wonderful friends. Some have lasted for a shorter time than others, especially when I was younger and perhaps it was easier to take all of those for granted. In fact, as I've grown older, and (hopefully) matured, friends and the blessings they bring into my life become more precious and valued. When a friendship is lost, for whatever reason, it makes it that much more painful because I believe that I've reached a point in my life where no friendship is trivial. And understanding all that other stuff about being able to speak spirt-to-spirit and heart-to-heart in ways that only the soul understands and values makes it nearly unacceptable. And AND if a true friend really is a second self, losing a friend is like a kind of amputation. I don't want it. It hurts. It's a part of me that's lost, not just the other person. So when I've had no choice in the matter, well, that really bites.
There is a great scene in the movie "Beaches" with Barbara Hershey and Bette Midler. There has been a rift in their friendship for several years, and they finally have a moment where CC, Bette's character, is forcing Hillary (Barbara Hershey) to confront the fact that she has refused to speak to CC for many years.
Hillary:I don't even remember what it was I was mad about and I don't care. Whatever it was that you did, I forgive you.
CC Bloom: What I did? You and your lousy letters. Just to get one of them made me special even before I opened it. All your crappy stories, all your big dreams.
Hillary: I didn't know that.
CC Bloom: Well, what the hell did you know? Did you know how bad things were for me? No, because you wouldn't even open my letters. If you had even answered one, just one! Told me what a jerk I was, anything! But you didn't. You took your friendship away without even discussing it with me.
I know exactly how CC feels. Like her, I have specific ideas of what comprises a friendship. I believe there must be mutual respect, communication, and a certain amount of time invested. I know that events come and go, but friends can be constant, if that friendship is nurtured. Nurturing doesn't have to be a full-time job, but there is an investment required. With no investment, nothing can be earned. I don't believe that friendships are an even 50/50 split of time, just as with any relationship. With any relationship that matters, neither party will count the investment percentage. But both parties will emerge better people because of time that's been invested. And if there is no investment on one side, just like with CC and Hillary, a breaking point is reached, and the decision must be made to either make a clean break and move on, or resolve differences and move on.
I understand that friendships come and go. I know that sometimes you become friends with someone for brief moments for very specific reasons and that some of them aren't meant to last for this entire lifetime. I get all of that. But that doesn't lessen the hurt when one is taken away from me, by that friend, prematurely and without my permission.
It's hard to make an offering of friendship and have it rejected. But I know that I'd be willing to accept the friendship were it ever offered again. But I don't know that it will be. And that, more than anything, is what bites. I do not want to accept that it is totally over, but I fear it is. The problem is, that decision has been taken away from me, and I don't like that. But there's only so many times and ways I can continue to offer my friendship up before the comparable amount of rejection makes me unwilling to make one final offer. I want to make that one final offer, but I am human, and as such, despise rejection.
Perhaps it really doesn't matter that it's over if I take this last quote to heart: "Do not keep on with a mockery of friendship after the substance is gone - but part, while you can part friends. Bury the carcass of friendship: it is not worth embalming." -- William Hazlitt
To all my friends, past, future and present, thank you for all the lessons you've taught me, the love you've freely given, and the growth in me you've encouraged. I love you all. After all is said and done, the blessing in this can be the lesson to learn to forgive more easily in the midst of feeling wronged and misunderstood, and to not take anyone for granted, because you just don't know how long it will last.
I hope I can freely return the friendship to you that you have given me.
The blessing of a true friend is just that -- a blessing. There is something magical, and perhaps even a bit mystical that happens with friendship. Like the miracle of the Grinch's heart expanding within his chest with the gift of giving, friendship makes one heart feel better than it can on its own. Being listened to, heard and understood, and offering those gifts in kind makes a good person better. Carl Jung said it this way: "The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed."
Not only can a good and true friend make you a better person, but the value comes in other immeasurable ways. You find a type of validation that you don't get with strangers, work associates or even good acquaintances. "In a friend you find a second self." (Isabelle Norton.)
Or the same sentiment is expressed this way: "True happiness is of a retired nature, and an enemy to pomp and noise; it arises, in the first place, from the enjoyment of one's self, and in the next from the friendship and conversation of a few select companions." (Joseph Addison) We become people we cannot become on our own. Oh, I know I've already said that, but there truly is something wonderful that happens when you find someone with whom you can share your thoughts, hopes, fears, dreams. It really is as though by finding a second self, your own self enlarges and expands. You become more capable in goals and endeavors, and more able to help others.
The writers of South Park expressed the value of friendship this way: "I've learned that all a person has in life is family and friends. If you lose those, you have nothing, so friends are to be treasured more than anything else in the world." (Trey Parker and Matt Stone)
Can a high enough value ever be placed on friendship? Certainly not monetarily. And you can't measure or value spiritual and emotional growth, so perhaps that is why we struggle with expressing the importance of friends. It can't be expressed properly because it can't be valued in human, mortal terms of measurement. Only the soul truly knows the worth of a true friend.
I have been blessed in my life with many wonderful friends. Some have lasted for a shorter time than others, especially when I was younger and perhaps it was easier to take all of those for granted. In fact, as I've grown older, and (hopefully) matured, friends and the blessings they bring into my life become more precious and valued. When a friendship is lost, for whatever reason, it makes it that much more painful because I believe that I've reached a point in my life where no friendship is trivial. And understanding all that other stuff about being able to speak spirt-to-spirit and heart-to-heart in ways that only the soul understands and values makes it nearly unacceptable. And AND if a true friend really is a second self, losing a friend is like a kind of amputation. I don't want it. It hurts. It's a part of me that's lost, not just the other person. So when I've had no choice in the matter, well, that really bites.
There is a great scene in the movie "Beaches" with Barbara Hershey and Bette Midler. There has been a rift in their friendship for several years, and they finally have a moment where CC, Bette's character, is forcing Hillary (Barbara Hershey) to confront the fact that she has refused to speak to CC for many years.
Hillary:I don't even remember what it was I was mad about and I don't care. Whatever it was that you did, I forgive you.
CC Bloom: What I did? You and your lousy letters. Just to get one of them made me special even before I opened it. All your crappy stories, all your big dreams.
Hillary: I didn't know that.
CC Bloom: Well, what the hell did you know? Did you know how bad things were for me? No, because you wouldn't even open my letters. If you had even answered one, just one! Told me what a jerk I was, anything! But you didn't. You took your friendship away without even discussing it with me.
I know exactly how CC feels. Like her, I have specific ideas of what comprises a friendship. I believe there must be mutual respect, communication, and a certain amount of time invested. I know that events come and go, but friends can be constant, if that friendship is nurtured. Nurturing doesn't have to be a full-time job, but there is an investment required. With no investment, nothing can be earned. I don't believe that friendships are an even 50/50 split of time, just as with any relationship. With any relationship that matters, neither party will count the investment percentage. But both parties will emerge better people because of time that's been invested. And if there is no investment on one side, just like with CC and Hillary, a breaking point is reached, and the decision must be made to either make a clean break and move on, or resolve differences and move on.
I understand that friendships come and go. I know that sometimes you become friends with someone for brief moments for very specific reasons and that some of them aren't meant to last for this entire lifetime. I get all of that. But that doesn't lessen the hurt when one is taken away from me, by that friend, prematurely and without my permission.
It's hard to make an offering of friendship and have it rejected. But I know that I'd be willing to accept the friendship were it ever offered again. But I don't know that it will be. And that, more than anything, is what bites. I do not want to accept that it is totally over, but I fear it is. The problem is, that decision has been taken away from me, and I don't like that. But there's only so many times and ways I can continue to offer my friendship up before the comparable amount of rejection makes me unwilling to make one final offer. I want to make that one final offer, but I am human, and as such, despise rejection.
Perhaps it really doesn't matter that it's over if I take this last quote to heart: "Do not keep on with a mockery of friendship after the substance is gone - but part, while you can part friends. Bury the carcass of friendship: it is not worth embalming." -- William Hazlitt
To all my friends, past, future and present, thank you for all the lessons you've taught me, the love you've freely given, and the growth in me you've encouraged. I love you all. After all is said and done, the blessing in this can be the lesson to learn to forgive more easily in the midst of feeling wronged and misunderstood, and to not take anyone for granted, because you just don't know how long it will last.
I hope I can freely return the friendship to you that you have given me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)