There was a restaurant that used to exist in our community that was what I consider to be a 'pivotal moment in time' for Grande Prairie and area residents in the 80’s/90’s, and that place was named Dar’s. It was more than a restaurant, though. I doubt those who frequented it back in the 80’s would call it such, as it was so much more.
It was a place that has been lost in time, throughout the years that since followed. No longer can people visit Dar’s, as it shut down in the 90’s. But when they used to frequent Dar’s, it wasn’t just a place to eat. Despite the astounding, amazing food, (spoken of so fondly, over three decades later; the cheesecake, the wings, the fries and gravy, and more!) - It was an incredible meeting place for the community to gather with friends and family. Many folks of GP and area have cherished memories such as gathering with high school friends after school; dining on fries with gravy and unlimited coffee. There were first dates that took place there, and of course, there were also (some – just a few) drunken evenings spent visiting with friends and munching on pizza, after attending local bar events or after a late night/early morning party was over. (Bush parties!) It was an incredible pre-movie date place. The ambience was so warm and cozy. Family celebrations such as birthdays, grads and more were also celebrated at Dar’s. Dar’s Lounge also had some of the best servers around. Norm, always with a great big grin on his face, worked in the lounge and was employed there for many years, which says a lot about the fine management. Office staff from various local downtown businesses such as the Daily Herald Tribune, and more, would stop by on Fridays after work for some cold, refreshing beer. They had TV’s in the lounge that would play 'Cheers' when it aired in the afternoon, through cable from Northern Cablevision. At Dar’s, everyone really did know your name. Gone are those days, though, where in a local dining establishment, staff and customers mingled as though in a relaxed, unhurried state of mind and body. Maybe the advent of cell phones, computers, and technology have made people shut down, shut off and hug their phones a little tighter, hoping to capture some of that incredible ambience and camaraderie that used to exist, yet failing miserably to do so. If I had a time machine like Marty McFly, that time, that place, that ‘feeling’ is what I would be setting my DeLorean back to. I have a feeling that I am hooked on a feeling. :(
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One of my friends comes from what she considers to be a dysfunctional family. She doesn’t say that much about it but has told me that she tended to block out much of her childhood. Her mother had a mental disorder and she felt distant to her Mom.
She swore she would raise her own child differently, and she has. She has been there for him and is close to him. She talks to him, and listens. She gives him the ability to soar on his wings, of his own merit but she is there for support as needed. Thinking back to my own childhood, there were some things I wanted to change about how I would parent my kids. I always grew up knewing I was loved, but our family didn’t talk about it. I would hug and kiss my Mom and Dad good night, until I got to the age where it just seemed awkward to me, perhaps around 9 or 10 years of age. It wasn’t until high school when a teacher asked us, “Who here, tells their parents they love them? When was the last time you told your folks you love them?” It was food for thought. I went home that day and awkwardly said it. It was reciprocated. In later years, it was still somewhat awkward to say over the phone, but eventually we all just did so. I made it a point and the setiments were always returned. I’m glad I did that as my Dad passed away almost 6 mos. ago, and I will never regret telling him I love him, each time we spoke! Not to mention, the emoticons, etc. used in phone messaging. Every night I hug my daughter, and when I hug her I try to do so with the utmost of love shining through. I had read of the importance of physical contact, even if just an arm on a shoulder for my 21 year old son. Kids need to hear they are loved but they also need to know it from the warmth emitted in a hug. I can not bear the pain anymore of seeing a tragedy in the news, particularly if it involve kids. Prior to having had my kids, watching the news felt different to me than it does today. After having them, a parental chord is struck - and ingrained within a parents’ mind is that of the pure connection between parent and child. Before we had the technology of social media and all that information that goes along with the world wide web, news was fairly easy to watch. Some tragedies would be reported, to be sure, but overall, the feelings that it evoked were those of sadness and of course, upset. Those thoughts, feelings and emotions did not linger as long, nor did they take over my entire being, the way they do now, after having had kids. Now in the news when I learn of tragedies, I see the difference in how the news is brought forth. Typically, I learn of the news first through social media, then, through the internet and news stations. Along with the news, are thoughts, opinions, sadness and often, images. Political discourse is often on the menu. For the Love of God, please do not post images of tragedies on FB or other social media avenues that you wouldn’t want to see of your own family, if the situation was reversed. The news itself tends to report, over and over, notable, newsworthy events. Such is the par for course for tragedies. One thing I find now, is that as each day that progresses, often the images and stories get more and more personal - and sad. I am a natural empath and find that the more time I spend immersed in keeping up with the news of such tragedies, the more drawn into it I become. ANY parent of children want to hug their kids a little more tightly when they receive bad news. I have felt so sad for the Broncos who lost their lives, as well as their parents, family, friends and entire communities. It really is a village of sorts, when thinking of tragedies that hit hard. The heartfelt outpouring of love is greatly appreciated by those affected, and I do my part in terms of understanding what happened, acknowledging it and, donating when needed. What I have found myself doing in these past few tragedies, is - obtaining the necessary, critical info., then pulling myself away from it after a few days. If I don’t, my mind is heavy with sorry and my heart feels like it’s breaking. My pain is nothing compared to theirs and I can live with the empathy I feel. What I don’t want to do though, is impart my heavy heart into my own family who is here now, and I can deeply appreciate. One thing about tragic events is that people WILL feel sad, and in despair for sure. Hanging on to such sadness, where it affects your heart and makes one feel sad and in a weakened state, is finally, after much thought process in my mind, detrimental and not a positive move. Positivity breeds positivity and while nothing on this earth will bring the Broncos back - nor will any amount of sadness and grief. Grief is a process for all of those more deeply involved in these Broncos lives, now that they have passed on. That is not the type of grief I am suggesting be hold back. Grieving is a true process and needs to be done to allow healing to commence. Yes, I wore a jersey as a show of support. I read many articles initially. How do I know when it is time to stop? When I just can’t bring myself to click on the link of the Bronco teen who is ‘doing better’ and is ‘positive.’ My heart hurts much too much to read up on him. I know he lost his friends, his coach, and physical therapist. He is moving on and will be ok, after all. You Let Your Life Revolve Around Your Fears When Your Fears Should Revolve Around Your Life7/11/2018 Do you have a phobia? I do, and it is not an easy existence. Depending on what your phobia is, of course, it will impact your life in many different ways. If you were afraid of leaving your home, for example, as an agoraphobic you would find exceptional difficulty in performing any task outside of the home. Scared of bridges? You may need to seek out a place that doesn’t have bridges that you would have to cross. Some people are scared of things like bras, and pickles, and I really couldn’t make this stuff up. I saw it on Montel Williams show before, and believe you, me, you do NOT want to have a phobia that is that terrifying should you spot one. I am saying the above tongue-in-cheek but of course, any phobia is something that is terrifying, to the person who is phobic. I understand that what one is afraid of, someone else will not be, and I understand because my own phobia is hit and miss, in terms of someone understanding mine. I am afraid of insects; mostly of wasps, hornets and bees but if something is flying, you can be dang sure that I am on the lookout for it and/or am running away since my flight or fight response is triggered as soon as I set foot outside. So from my own experiences with my deeply rooted phobia, I understand that someone’s fear of feeling a loose hair on their hand after showering (another real phobia I once noted in a friend of mine) is no less significant of a phobia than mine is. A bra, a pickle, a hair on a finger, can instill just as much cold fear coursing through someone’s veins, as an insect will for me. While I may feel their fear is an easier one to handle, I still recognize that fears that lurk in people’s hearts all have one thing in common; they have the ability to be debilitating for even the strongest person. People have a tendency to let their lives revolve around their fears, when they should be considering having their fears revolve around their lives. I am currently in a mode where my life revolves around my fears. I make it a point to not go outside. Basically, ever, unless I need to set foot outside to get to the vehicle. Now for me, that is my fine line of when I will finally seek professional help (again) for my phobia. The day I can not leave my home to get to my vehicle is the day I will admit defeat. Currently, I force myself to go from home to vehicle and it works because I know if I do not - that I am basically ‘done.’ For now, though, this blog remains largely unfinished - conquering my fears will take some serious reflection and much work yet, on my part. What are some of your tips to counteract your own phobias? Why is it easier to become close to someone online as opposed to meeting someone IRL (in real life?) It has always been easier for me to define myself, my emotions and figure out ‘who’ I am in reflective thought, so it makes sense that when trying to emit to someone ‘who’ I am in person, that it would still be portayed more easily in written word, as opposed to person to person, or face to face.
I wonder how many other people in today’s world feel more comfortable in their own skin as an online presence, as compared to in real life? And is the reason for online or written representation of themselves because of how easy it is to go online and talk to people? Back in my day, as a child, my family would have a lot of people over for drop in coffee, sort of the same as showing up online on messenger. People could talk to each other more easily back in those days - eye contact was maintained and the art of conversation was not lost as it seems to be today. I have conducted a few social experiments as of late, for my own interest and understanding of the complexities of human nature. Now granted, I am only one person and so it is, this is not by any means a legitimate experiment that could be written as such. What it helps me with, is to better understand and acknowledge the fact that in my own life, human connections are getting fewer and fewer IRL. I had been fond of making FB comments on a couple of friend’s friends’ posts off and on over many months, finally venturing out of the security of talking mostly with long-term, ‘secure’ friends. I branched out and accepted their FB friend request. I began chatting in small increments, showing them an interesting article, or further discussing comments we had left on a friend’s FB post. Eventually, both of these people turned into someone I would consider a real friend. I found myself they reached out to me more often and I did the same. Eventually I determined when it was time to meet these new friends. I wondered - what would they sound like? What would their mannerisms be? Would they like me, as a person in the non-written format or would they prefer my written-work self? I met one friend at Starbucks, he had his dog in the vehicle and his dog has anxiety, so we stood outside with drinks in hand. Luckily, I had passed the ‘dog likes you’ test, as that is a very important one! I found this friend to be relatively easy going, in fact, more so than the serious side that he often displayed to me on FB messenger chats. Turns out for him, his more pensive side is explored through writing. His ‘real-life’ self is a lot more jovial and easy going than the serious side I often saw him exude, so I was very glad I met him. He also made me laugh out loud, literally and it was fun, we stood outside chatting as the summer evening sky got darker and as the mosquitos bit us up, we bade farewell - for now. We have since made potential future plans as we both see the merit to having the friendship be one that exists both in person and on-line. As for my second friend, he initially contacted me through a FB post I made in a community group, to offer up some help to walk us through a furnace issue. Basically, we just kept chatting and never stopped! Off and on throughout the day, it was mutually asked how we were doing and we would compare life notes. I am very glad I got to know him through the months because initially, he did not present as being ‘himself.’ What I discovered was that only once he got to know me did he really start to show off his true self. Meeting him in person was a delight, I had more experience in meeting ‘new’ friends now, and because we had gotten to know each other very well there wasn’t much anxiety to be had. I met him, gave him a friendly hug greeting (a handshake would seem silly and much too formal at that point) and we visited for a couple of hours. He also was different from his online self in that he was able to talk more than he did in chats, as he normally types out chats from his phone, so in person is a lot easier for him. I noted that he speaks in detailed sentences and intertwines them together in wonderful consecutive order. I knew he was intelligent either way, but I was impressed to witness it in person. I will also meet with him again in real life, but the convenience of online chats definitely makes it easier to talk off and on throughout the day. Both friends are such that we often say good night to each other. I feel as though I have known them equally as long as any other friend whom I have known well over 40 years, even. One thing I find very interesting about my two ‘new’ friends is that they are male, not female, which is new to me in terms of sex of friends. My husband is a male, so of course I am familliar with being friends with a male, but these friends are platonic. My female friends are also platonic but if I am being honest, I find that there can be a bit more drama involved, overall. If you are my female friend reading this, it’s not ‘you.’ Ha ha! It really isn’t! ;-) After my father passed away a few months ago, in Oct. 2017. I was struggling internally to deal with such a significant loss. I penned this blog out for a Facebook Grief group that I’m a part of, to reflect on and share the feelings I had. Reading my thoughts again evoke feelings of sadness but also offer peace. There is spiritual cleansing involved in writing – and in sharing with a group. And so it is, I would like to share this with you,
What it’s really like to lose a parent (your dad.) I was one of you before…The ones who had never lost a parent. I truly and earnestly FELT for you. I sympathized with you and my empathy ran very deep. Yet clearly not deep enough. Now that I am in the club, I can’t believe it. It doesn’t register with me (yet.) I see your posts – the ones that describe the unbearable pain with each passing event of birthdays, anniversaries, Father’s Day, Christmas, and more. The posts that show how MUCH you miss them, which only shows in my heart that…. I will never stop missing him. Time will heal wounds, say some; (things will be different but bearable.) I don’t want for that though. I want for life to be livable. For life to be enjoyed. I want to know I will laugh and smile again in the same way that I did before. And to know that I have my Dad in my corner, ready to seek wisdom – *at any time. * I know deep down it is impossible to feel ‘ok’ again but is also not impossible. I also know that I want to cherish and honour my own Dad’s passing. I want to live in a happy light that spreads joy to everyone and anyone that we meet. I want to give out compliments like they are going out of style so that people smile and feel special – as they should. If I can accomplish all of that, then maybe none of this would be in vain. I am in a new 'club' now. I used to have the privilege, before my mother-in-law, and now my own father, passed away. The club is now summed up by the photograph you see in this post. The club is for anyone who would pick a parent to sit on the bench with, for just one more hour. When Dad first passed away, I thought, (upon seeing an elderly man at the dentist’s office who reminded me of my own dad) – “How LUCKY your family is that you are here.” I wanted to tell him to love and embrace his family when he got home. But of course, I didn’t. An elderly lady kindly smiled at me one day in a chance meeting. We had briefly chatted and connected over a small grocery store item. I almost asked her, knowing how old she was, that she must have at some point lost her own parents – “How do you cope?” But I simply bit my tongue. I knew the answer already, though. No one wants to deal with it. We are not strong for dealing with it. We deal with it because we must. There is no other alternative. I understand my Dad is at peace now, yet his sudden passing was shocking. He himself spoke in the past that there is a time for everything, yet it was very hard to witness him being diagnosed with cancer, then ‘gone’ within one short week. He had so much life left to live. He had only been retired a very short time, under one year, because he felt so happy to help people in his calling as a minister. He kept putting off his retirement, choosing instead, to help others as much as he could. I also thought of how seeing this image prior to my mother-in-law and my dad’s passing, that I would have tried to think of someone ‘cool’ to sit on the bench with. I can think of no one cooler than my dear mother-in-law Elsie or my dad, Ken. I also think of the ‘Be Here Now’ mantra which I still plan to get tattooed on my left forearm arm one day. It meant a lot to me before Dad passed on and means more to me now, than ever. The truth is - none of us know how much longer we have here on this earth. If we can live right here, right now, in the moment… in this very moment, then we have accomplished a tremendous feat. Many people look back toward the past, to try to see the errors of their ways, and they stress about the future. It's difficult to live in the present moment. But if right here, right now, you are ok, then that's what counts! Erin Stashko - Nov. 21, 2017 If ever fighting a battle, (*especially if facing inner turmoil) remember this: "An eagle does not fight a snake on the ground. It picks it up and changes grounds, then releases it back to the ground. A snake has no stamina, no power, no balance in the air. It is useless, weak and vulnerable unlike on the ground where it is deadly, wise and powerful."
In my own words, take on the 'battle' but do so with your own astute level of knowledge to make the battle ground be your own. Use your intuition, too. You will feel confident and comfortable, and this will disarm your opponent (in this case the so-called opponent will be your own negative thoughts) and allow you to win the battle. This quote has traditionally been meant in a spiritual sense relating to God, but in my own fighting spirit sense, I took it to mean relating to sparring that can take place with internal struggles! 😛😜 I was talking to a friend of mine about names spelled backwards and what they mean. Some names have no meaning behind them when spelled backwards, but others are quite interesting!
I was pleased to find that my name, when spelled backwards, encompasses exactly who I am. Urban Dictionary website describes the word ‘Nire’, (which is my name spelled backwards), as this: ”The missing ingredient that is sold out. something you want but can never have.” On many levels that spoke to me. As a mother of two children (21-year-old son and 15-year-old daughter), as a wife, and ‘household glue’, I am painfully aware that ‘everyone wants a piece of me.’ Even the dog. The cat literally walks all over me but he’s a bit of a jackass and thinks he owns me. The truth is, no one owns me. All anyone can ever have of me is just a piece. Never the whole picture. Sadness and innate inner turmoil is a large part of who I am. It’s not depression that eats away at me, so much as it is empathy, compassion and heart-felt awareness of feelings; both mine and others. If someone hurts, then so too, do I. Not only is being this way exceptionally draining but it will always involve others being able to have only a small piece of me. There is only so much a person can give; only so much to go around. Many parents will be able to relate to this. The other component for me is that the sad part of me is often hidden; one would never know. It is a dark, significant part of who I am. An undesirable trait, to say the least. In my case there is an essential ingredient missing. ‘It’s sold out,’ just as Urban Dictionary states. Wanting more of me is out of the question then, for people who try to get to know me or for those who know me but want to learn more. The missing ingredient? I know what it is. It’s ‘myself.’ Very few people - in fact, only three people in my life of 48 years, have been able to have more of me than what others get and it’s what I think of as the ‘real me.’ Processing all of this as I am writing it out has been cathartic; it has helped me to see that I am a work in progress and need to continually move forward or forever be held back. Maybe it’s time to be myself, after all. How old do you feel? When I’m in a room with a crowd of adults, I feel like I’m the only non-adult there - like an imposter. As a kid, I wanted to grow up fast. The days, months and years literally dragged on, the way they do in the lazy days of summer. The older I get, the faster time goes by. I’ve discussed this with friends: The time span of one week that passed by when I was a child now feels like a short blip in time, with one ‘garbage day’ rolling into the next. It feels like it’s always garbage day, now. Thankfully our garbage day falls on ‘hump day.’ 😉 One of the best days of the week.
One component in life that has not changed as time moves forward, is how ‘old’ I feel. I don’t feel older than perhaps 20 years old, despite being 48 years of age. I recently asked one of my closest friends what age, mentally and emotionally she ‘feels’ she is. She’s 49 years old: “I feel about 25 years old. I feel like a kid when I'm in a room full of ladies my age (at a school meeting, Christmas party, etc.)” My friend also spoke of a quote someone shared with her: “I’m 40, but I feel like I’m in my 20’s…until I hang out with 20-year olds then I’m like, nope never mind, I’m 40.” She pointed out why she does not feel only 20-years old – she doesn’t feel she is younger than her own son, who is 23. That’s something for me to consider, since my own son is 21… do I really feel younger than him? No. Certainly not. Mind you, he is wise for his years in many ways. It’s nice to be able to connect with him with the mindset of being younger than my 48 years. My friend contemplated: “Do people who don't have kids feel the same way? My kids keep me young at heart, and I like hanging out playing games with Jay and the boys because I can let my guard down, have fun and not worry about being judged.” This sounds plausible to me! Having kids may be something that allows us to touch base with our ‘go with the flow’ youthful mind-set inner child. To me, it feels as though everyone else in the room has figured out this ‘adulting’ business. I went through all the right steps to be an adult. I found a career I loved early in life, dated a few gems and a few not-so-gems, got married, had 2 kids, numerous pets and last summer, we painted the picket fence white. So then, I’m all set. We even have the majority of paychecks going toward bills. Colour me an adult… externally. Internally, I’m still growing up. Life factors in my own life have affected my ‘eternal’ age of 20 mindset. For example, being the baby in the family may have made me feel younger than everyone else. Or, being in a community organization as a teen where I acted as participant, pianist, and other roles, but never the lead role. Maybe not having ‘take charge’ roles in my formative years led me into feeling others were wiser, and thus, ‘older’ – more adult-like. I feel like a fake in a group of adults, wondering if any of them will figure out that I’ve not really grown up yet, myself. What factors do you think influence what age you feel, inside? If you do feel your calendar age, does it continually change as more time passes? When I was in junior high, I wanted to quit playing the trumpet in the band class and switch to the clarinet, as my teacher believed me to not have the right ‘embouchure’ to play the trumpet.
I also wanted to quit an organization for young ladies that I was in; Job’s Daughters. I was shy around the group and being one of the youngest girls there, didn’t feel I fit in. My dad wasn’t accepting of my quitting the trumpet. (No doubt. Buying a trumpet had been expensive, and adding a clarinet that we couldn’t afford, was out of the question.) The message to me was, “Just keep trying.” I was irritated, but I did, soon falling into the trumpet 1st spot in the band, because I wanted to prove the teacher wrong. I was allowed to make the choice on whether to quit Job’s Daughters. Even at around 13 years of age, I did not make the decision lightly. I remember spending a long time debating the pros and cons but felt overwhelmed if I stayed on. I could see it was somewhat of a disappointment to my dad when I told him my decision, as he had expressed how important it is for a young lady to be a part of an organization, and, he felt that it would be advantageous to remain in the group. I begged to differ and remained firm in my decision to quit. My dad was good about it; he accepted my decision. When I wanted to quit piano lessons soon after though, I had a struggle with my dad on that one. I got ‘the talk.’ It was: “Do you want to be a quitter your whole life?” In my defense, playing piano by sheet music using notes, had never really made that much sense to me. I had been blessed with the ability to play music by ear through my maternal grandfather. Though I had welcomed the basics of piano lessons (and admittedly, it was beneficial for chording, etc.) I no longer wanted to put more time and effort into playing by note. I was in school, band, and had a part time job. I didn’t want piano practices or piano lessons getting in the way of my spare time. Playing by ear was my retreat into a private sanctuary of joy at times, and pure calm at other moments. It was my dungeon of darkness when sadness and teenage angst overcame me. I could play whatever tune I wanted to, and it didn’t require additional effort to do so, (because if I knew how the song sounded, I could play it.) I told my dad outright that I wasn’t a quitter, nor did I intend to be. I was quite taken aback. I knew inwardly already at a young age, that I was full of fire for whatever I set my mind to. I never quit anything again that I can recall, other than a job for a more opportune one. (I think my dad’s concerns stuck with me.) I was always filled with gumption and tenacity, with those two traits being my strong motivators in life. Through the years I can think of so many different scenarios where I would not give up. From small things such as dismantling pc’s and fixing them, to big issues that took many hours and days of time to get through to the end… Quitting was never an option for me. In later years, my dad told me he had the talk with me about ‘being a quitter in life’ because he had been concerned that if I started dropping out of things, that it could become an easy route out for future events. He also said he could see that I was not a quitter in life. This blog makes me question the idea of, what makes a person be coined a ‘quitter?’ If one has a valid reason for quitting, is it ok? What constitutes a valid reason? Then I look back to the Job’s Daughter’s scenario. I believe I made the best decision I could at the time, with the information I had available to me (which was, the experience of being in Job’s Daughters for a lengthy time.) However, as an adult, as I look back, I wonder – how would things have gone differently for me in life, had I stayed a member? Would I be a more poised, confident person in communication within groups or even one on one? Would I have had excellent qualities of leadership had I remained a part of Job’s Daughters and became the ‘Honoured Queen?’ After considering all aspects, I am inclined to think it is best to get involved in something because YOU want to. I chose the trumpet because my sister’s friend, Margo, had one, and “It’s an amazing instrument”, my sister told me. I joined Job’s Daughters because my two sisters were already involved in it, my dad was a member of the Masonic Lodge, and, the expectation was there for me to join when I was old enough to join. It was also expected that I attend college or University. Instead, I joined in on a career in the beauty industry that I loved, which lasted over 25 years. Making your own choices in life means you will likely pursue them with greater interest. Setting your own goals and dreams creates a lesser chance of quitting. If you do quit? Likely, there is a valid reason and you will move on to do other things you are destined to do. When I was a young girl, my dad posed this universally pondered question: “If a tree fell in the forest, and no one was around to hear it – would it still make a sound?” Immediately I exclaimed, “Yes!”, and laughed. Obviously if someone isn’t there, a sound will still be formed. Or would it? The more I thought about it, the more it freaked me out. No one would be present in the forest to witness whether a sound would be created.
The thing is – questions crop up pertaining to observation and perception. This reminds me of someone who is on the ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder.) When processing info., it has sometimes been stated that those on the spectrum ‘can’t see the forest for the trees’, indicating that instead of seeing the whole picture, they may end up focusing on the fine details. Perception is present though and, in many cases, those on the autism spectrum discover fine details no one else would even notice! The truth remains that perception is different from one person to the other. Combine that aspect with a wide variation on what the ‘norm’ is for processing info. through our 5 senses. So, getting back to the tree falling – if no one is around to observe it, is it then a moot point? With the tree creating no sound? Obviously, one can place a recording device to record the moment that the tree falls. My guess is that sound would be heard. It makes the most ‘sense.’ One must define ‘sound,’ though. Is it what you hear? Is it what someone else hears? Is it vibration of sound waves? Furthermore, is not sound the interpretation of what our ears pick up? So, in this sense, does the tree falling in the forest create a sound, or not, if we are not present? I hesitate. I liken it to seeing colours. The red colour/shade that I see may very well be your green colour/shade. I don’t think anyone knows who sees what shade. The dress on the internet that made rounds last year (What colour is the dress?) went viral – was it blue and black, or white and gold, to you? I initially only saw it as white and gold, but later was able to see it as blue and black. I see different tones of colour from one eye to the next, so it strengthens my theory that people may see different colours and shades altogether. Especially when colour blindness enters the fray. There is evidence that being colour blind restricts certain colours from being seen. So, back to the tree once again – if no one is around (think of it as being with all five senses out to lunch, so to speak), and since people observe and process sensory info. differently – would it form sound or not when it falls? There are two types of people who will answer this. The first type is a very straight forward, no-nonsense type of person who will exclaim “Yes, of course it still makes a sound.” They know that logically, there is no good reason to assume the noise would no longer be made if someone were not around to hear it. There is the other type of person who is reading this – maybe you – who thinks about the different possibilities behind any of these theories. For example, technically speaking, a recording device could be stated to be an extension of our ears. So, in that regard, it’s not a true test to record it. What is fair is to consider the question - that with nobody present, not even a recording device, when the tree falls, whether a sound is made. The second group who answers this question by saying sound would not be made – the ones who questions this question and other theoretical questions, are dreamers in life. You generally think with your heart and intuition instead of putting practicality into play. There are pros and cons to each way of thinking. No one group is better than the other; each has their own ideas and perceptions on this theory. Although one would be right and the other would be wrong, the truth is – there is no way to know 100% for sure since no one can be present to answer the question. Going off in another direction, this ties in to Christianity in its own way. We can’t necessarily prove that God exists, just as we can’t prove that he does. We go with whatever knowledge we have at the time and try to process the information so that it makes sense to us. Some say Yay, there is a God, others say Nay. We are all entitled to our own thoughts, ideas and processes in life. It would be ill advised if we were to tell others how to dream or think. Philosophy and life matters go hand in hand. That question is an entertaining one to consider. What other philosophical questions get you straining your brain to interpret and respond? While talking to a friend of mine, I mentioned to him that the content I post on Facebook leans towards the positive side, largely because I am inclined to remain somewhat guarded as to how my life is going. This is not to say my life is all doom and gloom, but rather, for my online persona, I prefer to view the glass as being half full, rather than half empty at times as I do in my real life.
My friend stated in response, “I’m too much if a realist to pretend everything is perfect. I wish I could. Might make certain things a lot easier.” He’s right - My life (online) looks good overall and makes things much easier for me if my friends and family see that all is well. It is also easier in the sense that people don’t offer up their opinions and (generally unsolicited) advice on how I can ‘fix’ things in my life such as career and other elements. Not to sound ungrateful, but at 48 years of age, believe you, me, I have tried ‘this’,‘that’, and also THAT, (that they are suggesting) - and it didn’t work. I once joked around on Facebook that I could still fit into my earrings that I wore for high school graduation 30 years ago; one of my Facebook friends sent a private message to tell me about her weight loss product. People like to ‘fix’ others, and often are listening not to hear, but to respond - as was the case with my friend. One of my friends posted a quote by Brian Tracy on Facebook that states, “Successful people are always looking for opportunities to help others. Unsuccessful people are always asking, “What’s in it for me?”” True! (That is exactly what my friend had been doing, in trying to sell me on her weight loss product.) I like that quote because helping others is a huge part of what I want in my life. The fact that it is indicative of success is an additional perk. I think that when posting on social media, determining whether you are a realist, or an idealist is an important factor. If you’re a realist, you can’t pretend everything is fine because you know exactly what you’re up against. In that sense, being a realist is me to a ‘T’ because I am aware of life’s obstacles, in tandem with my shortcomings, downfalls and whatever else the combination may throw at me. But being an idealist is where my heart truly lies, in real life. I find myself often reflecting on issues that others may think are naive, impractical or out of touch with reality. I long for a life of great ease, yet one loaded with tremendous challenges. I want to pick and choose my challenges though, and in life, we just can’t do that. It is what it is, the cards are dealt, and we must deal with what cards are in play. I can however, choose to promote a positive self on Facebook. Not only is it more uplifting for myself, it also enhances positivity for my Facebook friends and family. In that sense I don’t feel my Facebook persona is a lie, because I seek the positivity within my own life that I can write about, and post to Facebook for my friends to see. My Facebook posts are always heartfelt; they just may not disclose all that I feel, and that’s ok! If I can’t dream it, then what’s the point, I say? I always liked the half glass full and half empty analogy until I discovered one day, a new saying about the glass that I am even more fond of - you can always refill it!! There is more where it came from. Sitting here now, drinking my iced caramel macchiato at Starbucks, I visually see the drink dwindling down. I long for another one already. Because it is something enjoyable, no matter how I look at the glass half full or half empty, I do see it as half empty - but I also see it as something I *can* do something about. I can refill it! Yes, please! A friend of mine told me about ‘wussy’ words and the meaning they may evoke. Words such as ‘if, maybe, perhaps.’ These words seemingly provide commitment to a certain degree, yet, offer a quick way out for those using them. On the other hand, a certain amount of distrust to those words is something that commonly occurs, the more times one uses those words and fails to follow through on a planned thought or action.
As a kid, we heard phrases such as: “If we have enough time, we can stop off and get a sundae.” If. Or more common yet – “If you’re ‘good’, we can go the fair. Using a wussy word is unfair if you think about it. 😉 It always has a safety net attached to it and more imperative is that there is always a condition attached, usually garnering hope for the expected intended promise which may or may not be done when using the words “if, maybe or perhaps.” I plan on banishing those weak words that offer no real intent, promise, or goals. After thinking this through, I’m going to start modifying my phrasing. I admit, I really will have to fall back on those words that offer up a ‘possible’ benefit. Other times, if I know I am going to bake cookies for the school bake sale, I will now commit fully, stating it as such. “Yes, I will be bringing 2 dozen salted caramel home baked cookies to the bake sale.” Putting it into a positive statement lends credibility that will extend into other areas in life. More serious matters. People will start to take you more seriously when you don’t use wussy words. It reminds me of Charlie Brown, and his wishy-washy ways, when the wussy words if, maybe, and perhaps are used. There are more words than only these three and when you hear yourself committing to something, you can listen closely to if you made a real commitment, or a perceived commitment, I want to be more like Lucy – someone people can count on. (Except I won’t pull the ball away.) One appreciates something more, after giving it up. Take coffee, for instance. Not instant coffee, though! Take it - but take it away, please. I had given up drinking caffeine for several years since I had suggested a caffeine free way of life for my son a few years ago, due to his anxiety. If he wouldn’t have it, then neither would I, I rationalized.
The addictive nature in me longed for it in many ways over the years of caffeine elimination. I had been ‘imbibing’ in caffeine since I had been a young teen. Tall glasses of icy cold Diet Coke were consumed, along with shared secrets between friends at Dar’s, the local hangout. In the evening, coffee, and lots of it, was merited since the Dar’s servers kept coming around with free refills. Because I had been accustomed to caffeine for so long, I had never realized the impact it had on me. It just was - and I just drank it. (I assumed I was naturally energetic and somewhat spinny. 😉 ) Giving up caffeine for 3 pregnancies, 2 of which came to full term, was perfectly easy to accomplish when there was just cause – a life, growing inside of me! When I was around 42 years of age, I gave up caffeine for the third time. It should not have been hard to do, as I was used to having only two servings in a day. Yet, something was lacking once I gave up caffeine. Initially the headaches came on as a strong, frantic outcry for help. I refused to give in though, and eventually I felt ok. But just ‘ok.’ Finding ways to cheat the system wasn’t difficult. Sometimes I would go to Starbucks and order a decaf (venti) iced caramel macchiato. Sounds innocent enough, but their decaf contains enough caffeine to be highly enticing. It was something I found myself craving. In December, I turned 48. I have no explanation for why I started drinking coffee with caffeine on a regular basis. I don’t even remember when I started to buy K-cups filled with the goodness of caffeine. I think they just fell into my cart, really. (I think that’s a thing.) I do remember when I allowed caffeine for myself at Starbucks, when I was with my daughter. That occasion was an accident and I didn’t want to have them re-make my order at their expense. I discovered that for a short span of time, caffeine allows me to feel energized, engaged, highly motivated and creates a racing mind, which can be great for so many reasons. For the reasons it’s not great, (nervous/jittery) it wears off, eventually. What I learned from having given coffee up for so many years is that, deep down, you still know what you’re missing once it’s gone. Just like my Dad. Oh, I knew, how special he was. He knew I loved him with a full heart and tremendous pride. I knew without a doubt, he loved me just as I am, unconditionally. That was a true blessing. But now that he’s gone – I know full well what I am missing out on. Last June, my sisters and I got together to recreate a photograph of us as children, that my parents loved: The 3 of us little girls were sitting on the bed, combing and braiding each other’s hair. I was perhaps 3 years old then. In the recreation, my oldest, then middle sister, then me, are in tandem, sitting on the bed. I got to ‘fix’ a stuffed toy bear’s ‘hair’, the same as in the photograph from days of our youth. We have never laughed so hard in our lives while we created the new rendition. We presented the photograph to my Dad, as well as a video of the making of it, with bloopers included. I did not know it was to be his last Father’s Day with us. My sisters and I had often spoke of wanting to recreate that photograph and I am very grateful that we had a chance to do so before he passed. Coffee is addicting, and people can be addicting in our lives. Ultimately though, coffee can be ‘yay’ or ‘nay’. People? - Not so much. Let’s live in the here and now and enjoy who we have at whatever time in our lives that we have them. One day soon, I must get that tattoo on my wrist – “Be Here Now” - It is a reoccurring theme in my life that imparts a significant impact. I was employed as a Beauty Advisor/Manager at Merle Norman Cosmetics Studio for over 16 years. I would watch my employer, Sharon Kuykendall, (who also did nails), interact with clients. She treated each client as a close personal friend, forming an immediate bond with client upon client, within moments of meeting. I considered her to be an extrovert and to have a unique gift of relating to people.
What came so naturally to her was something I had to work on consistently to achieve. My introverted personality was such in the field, that in time, with practice, I became steady at forming solid relationships with clients as I got to know them. I couldn’t seem to master the immediate connect that my employer had with people she first met. Sometimes within a half hour or so of meeting, my clients and I would be talking like old friends – but Mrs. Kuykendall had a special way about her that would make people feel comfortable to immediately open up to her in conversation. It was fascinating to watch unfold. Mrs. Kuykendall would sometimes say to me that our business was a bit like being in the counseling business, as we would listen to them confiding personal struggles or sharing celebratory moments. She provided sage advice to them, when asked. She was also a strong ‘go-to’ person for advice for me over the years. I was only 17 years old when I started working at the studio, so she and her husband Lyle were like second parents to me, as my own parents left Grande Prairie that year for my dad to further his education. I miss her deeply. Sadly, she passed away in Feb. 2017. While at Esquires Railtown a couple of weeks ago, I watched with interest, two ‘strangers’ meeting for the first time. They both acknowledged it was great to meet the other and they gave each other warm hugs upon introducing themselves. It made me curious as to how they had met, how long they had known each other online or over the phone, and – why they were meeting. I never did find out, because I don’t like to try to eavesdrop. I could see though, that they easily united as they chatted earnestly over a cup of coffee. Today while at Starbucks on resources road with my daughter, the local coffee shop was crowded on a Sunday afternoon. A lady scrunched into the seat beside me and was as warm and friendly as could be. I instantly liked her; she gave off a vibe of being a kind and trustworthy soul. Even though she was perhaps 20 years older, I felt that in real life, she and I could easily become friends. She made small talk with me and I envied the ease with which she did so. I immediately thought of Mrs. Kuykendall at the cosmetics studio, who was charismatic and had given so much of herself to others. This is what gave me the idea for this blog. Is there a reason for introverts to remain introverts? Why can we introverts not branch out a little bit further to become more extroverted? From my own experience, I know it’s possible, especially with a bit of ‘roleplay.’ I was a salesperson of cosmetics and skin care and when working in the studio, I would assume a slightly different persona than the one I was born with. I found inspiration through my dad, a Realtor and of course, my employer, Mrs. Kuykendall. I was grateful to attend sales seminars with Mrs. Kuykendall, to further assist the necessary process of becoming more of an extrovert. I found that while dressed in my business attire, nylons, high heels, and full makeup on, that I became someone a little bit different than who I really am. Cosmetics provided me with self-confidence that carried over into my salesperson mode. I was still myself, but with a more outgoing personality than I would normally exude. It feels to me as though my full ‘costume’ was what carried me from shy, quiet introvert, to a confident, well-spoken extrovert. I still find myself falling back on my ‘makeup’ – ensuring to do a good job with it, not to try to look better, but, to feel better about myself overall, especially when in a social situation with others, and, when meeting people for the first time. It is a tremendous confidence booster! That was one point I made clear to my clients when I worked with them, giving them their best possible ‘look’ - It was for themselves too, not solely for others. Upon finishing the makeover and asking which products they wanted to purchase, I would sometimes hear, “I just want to go home first and show my husband, to make sure my husband likes this look.” I didn’t put pressure on them, understanding it was a legitimate concern for them. I would give them their list of products with prices in hand, to go get a second opinion from their spouse. I would though, try to get that point across that they felt great, they knew they looked gorgeous and clearly felt beautiful and confident. Many of them would end up purchasing on the spot, recognizing the merit the cosmetics would have for them. Funny then, that a couple of weeks ago, upon meeting a new friend I had met online with a lot of common ground in the history of Grande Prairie, that I immediately reverted to my former, introverted ways. I no longer wear the business attire, but I had my makeup on and should have felt confident. Yet I was nervous, shy and practically tongue tied. I got better as time progressed through our meeting and was better yet in our second meeting. This just goes to show to me…Maybe you can’t truly change an introvert into an extrovert. What do you think? It’s peculiar that first impressions possess such a significant status in society. How important are first impressions – both those that you emit to others, and those that you assess in others?
The first impression that I make to others is most likely an inaccurate reflection of who I am. The word ‘painfully’ goes hand in hand with ‘shy’, in my case. I grew up without brothers. I was shy even in high school, preferring to hang out with my female friends, rather than hang out with the guys. I found it awkward to even speak to them. This transpired before the internet and social media – so all in-person impressions counted. I’ve always felt that if I had a brother, I would have quickly realized that guys are simply people, too. I spent summer evenings after graduation hanging out with my friends at dance clubs and became more confident in conversing with guys, but innate shyness still clung to me, like white cat hair on a black polar fleece jacket. Because of my inability to kick shyness, first ‘meet and greets’ with people were always awkward (and continue to be so.) If people judge me solely by their first impression of me, it is hit or miss, depending on how well I can conceal the shyness and how effective I am in bringing forth myself, and not a shy imposter, to the table. Thank God for second chances. Luckily, in today’s world, we often have ample opportunities to present ourselves initially with an online persona, (in a reflection of our true selves), since our inhibitions are lowered by the protective shield that an online presence provides. On the other hand – trying to gauge someone’s characteristics and personality using first impressions (who initially presents online) can be difficult if they provide a false portrayal. What if they are not depicting their true selves? I spoke of the advantage of hiding behind an online protective shield to avert shyness, but it is entirely possible that some people hide behind the shield and exaggerate ‘who’ they are. Thus, proceeding with caution is merited. Luckily, a person can hide behind that façade only until the first in-person meet, in cases such as job interviews, room mates, new friends, potential boyfriend/girlfriend, and more. If in-person first impressions were the end all be all, I would basically be screwed. Thankfully in life, additional chances are often provided, and people then have a better chance to get to know one another. If someone hastily determines that they don’t care for me after the first meet, I try not to concern myself with failure that my own first impressions may elicit because chances are, they are not someone with whom I would ever have a great connect with, anyway. It’s wise to come to your own conclusion of assessing people during first time in-person meets. When I told my friend that I was working on this blog, he expressed, “There have been a couple of people I have known over time that if I had listened to other people, I would not have had long term friends.” His first impression was heavily clouded by someone else’s interpretation and it was beneficial that he chose not to listen to them. My friend’s statement reminds me of a time I initially believed my close friend’s words about a new (and still) friend of mine, and as a result, the first in-person impression I had didn’t go over that well when I met them. I was overly cautious about ‘accepting’ them into my life due to what I had heard, but the more I got to know them, the more I could see that the issue was simply a clash of personalities between both of my friends and not a glaring error in their personality. On the flip side, my friend who made the statement that I quoted earlier also declared, “There are people that I was warned about that I should have heeded the heads up.” Oh, how did my mother know that my friend’s character was not ‘all that and a bag of chips’, ha ha? That was the time I should have paid heed to her warning; she knew from the first time that she met my friend that she spelled trouble. In this case, her first impression was an accurate interpretation. In my defense, I was only 18 years old at the time and thought I was a good judge of character. Turns out mothers really do know best! Understanding how much I dislike being judged upon first impressions does lend leniency to how I monitor first impressions that I have of people. I recognize that if I don’t want people thinking of me as exactly how I am when they first meet me, that perhaps it is a similar situation for them. Shyness is only one factor that inhibits first impressions. There are a lot of other factors that play an active role in the inaccuracies of first impressions. What are some concerns or fallacies with first impressions that you have when you meet people and try to assess them from just one meeting? What would you prefer people know and understand about you when they first meet you? This morning as I was driving, I noted a sense of unrestricted freedom - but it wasn’t because I was driving away from home and responsibilities. It was because typically, I drive with the seat pushed up close to the steering wheel. The only reason I was driving with it pushed all the way back today, was because I had to fish my keys out from under the seat yesterday upon arriving home, and I had not pushed the seat back into place afterwards.
My Dad instructed me, when teaching me how to drive, to drive with the steering wheel to be a distance from me. He felt that in case of an accident, it would be safer for me to be farther from the wheel. (This was in the days before air bags.) But with the seat still pushed back this morning, I noted several things as I was driving. 1.) I felt not as ‘safe’ or cocooned, as usual. 2.) BUT - I felt totally free and unrestricted, almost as though I could conquer the world! (Or, at least, deal with a badly messed up mobile drive through order.) Most importantly to me was point #3: 3.) It felt as though I were being encouraged to taste life – take a risk and step off of my usual branch of comfort, and fly. It felt as though I was the me I am supposed to be. Myself. My point? Always keep your eyes open for small but significant changes in life. Sometimes, the tiniest changes can impart significant meaning. The scariest, loneliest thought in the world occurred to me over 21 years ago, when I was giving birth to our first born, a son. I was in the throes of labour, listening to the physician chat with the nurse and my husband. The conversation would occasionally lull, as they noted my obvious discomfort during the stronger contractions and the nurse would coach me to ‘push.’ My husband lovingly added to the encouragement through voice and touch but in one quick second, when all the room was silent, I was alone with my own thoughts while holding my breath when attempting to push our baby out. It then dawned on me…
I am the only one who can push this baby out. No one can help me; it is my task and mine alone. I am ALL alone. (Just like Donkey in the Shrek movie when he sings, “I’m all alone, there’s no one here besiiiiiide me.”) I suppose a C-section would make this not so, if the situation were to arise, but ultimately, we expected a traditional birthing experience to take place, and we were lucky that it did. The thought of feeling alone, however, was as real and tangible as anything I have ever experienced in my life. Quite frankly, it was terrifying to have that feeling wash over me. No where - in the books, manuals, health unit clinics for parents, did ‘they’ ever mention that. The professionals had discussed, “You won’t be able to talk, because you will be in so much pain.” The entire birthing experience wasn’t as bad as expected, not by any means. (I found my gallbladder attacks in years prior, to be more painful than labour.) It was not due to the pain that I couldn’t talk during the birthing process. The reason I couldn’t talk was simply because every part of me was deeply absorbed in the birth of my child. It had surprised me then, my lack of voice, and would surprise those who know my somewhat chatty self. 😉 What proved to be utterly terrifying to me in that moment though, was identifying I was alone. I knew my husband was at my side, rooting me on, assisting in every way possible. He was just as eager as me to get our baby out safely… But I was still alone, in that, no one could do what needed to be done, except for myself. Time had no meaning at that point. A minute easily felt like a much longer time span. If I were to explain the experience, I would say that even being on a remote, isolated island for a week or longer, would not have created as much of an impact on me. Realizing that giving birth to our son was something only I could do held significant impact. I pushed really hard, following the nurse’s instructions. She told me everything would be fine if I just pushed as hard as I could, but she didn’t know my son would come out with a hand outstretched, waving “Hello!”, with his attempt at American sign language. “H-**OW!**-dy”, I replied. While he got cleaned up, I got stitches, due to his overzealous waving. In any event, he was safely out, and we were thrilled! We had a beautiful baby boy, weighing in at 8 lbs., 8 ounces. I turned toward my husband, smiling, and said, “I’d do that all over again.” I meant it, too! Five and a half years later, I did, with our daughter. This time, I knew what to expect in terms of experiencing solitude of the utmost degree and I dealt with it ok, since there was, again, nothing anybody but me could do to push my daughter out. To me, the sound of silence is best described as: What a woman hears within her mind, as she pushes with all her might, to give birth to a baby. Never again since, have I felt as solely, completely, utterly alone as I did in those two experiences, that were body and mind shattering. The three words preceding the word ‘alone’ are indeed redundant but are stated for demonstrating just how devastatingly alone I felt during the labour and delivery of our children. The silence really was deafening, as the metaphor goes. The experience sounds like it was traumatic and to a certain degree it was. But ever since the experience with my son, recognizing I was alone in that instance, I realized that I am stronger than I think, and when push comes to shove, I can do it. This is something I reach back into my mind to relate to, when I feel I am up against an insurmountable task or goal. Sometimes I remind myself that I may seek assistance from others and not have to feel as though I am alone. Other times, depending on the task at hand, I just buck up and do whatever needs to be done – alone, because I have done so in the past, and I know I can do so again. Besides, some tasks in life really can't be done by anyone other than ourselves. There may be strength in numbers but there is certainly strength within yourself, whether you stumble upon it, or draw upon it. A friend of mine suggested a volunteer opportunity for me and they knew the coordinator of the event. I stated to my friend that I would make him proud. I wanted him to know that since he had facilitated the volunteer connection, I wouldn’t let him down.
He immediately threw back an idea at me - “It is most important you make yourself proud.” Upon hearing his words, I felt an influx of feelings and emotions: Firstly, I really did want to make him proud, primarily because I didn’t want to let anyone down since it was a referral. My second and stronger feeling surprised me - it was a flooding of embarrassment; why make myself proud? I do not feel worthy - of being proud. I recognized upon reflection, that it relates to the fact that I am a perfectionist. When I first became aware of it, I was in early elementary school; I aimed to make my teachers and parents proud of me. I sought that type of attention that would merit praise for my hard work and efforts. When I did make mistakes, I felt ashamed. People assume perfectionists focus on having to be 'perfect', but the underlying theme for me was to try to make myself feel better about my shortcomings. I found that the more excellence you achieve, the easier it is to believe that your shortcomings are fewer. It’s believable for a while. Until... Someone pops in with a comment to remind you that you are worthy of making yourself proud, so then you question the notion. I am comfortable with making my Mom, sisters, husband, kids and friends proud. I am not - yet - comfortable to make myself proud. This is something I will have to explore more deeply, now that it has come to the surface. One could say, but if you make yourself proud, it means you have done a fantastic job, does it not? But in my heart - anything that focuses on feeling admirable about myself isn’t justifiable when I don’t feel deserving of it. Sure, I put on my armour of confidence whenever I can and pretend to be as confident as the next person. Sometimes it works, other times, not at all, since confidence ebbs and flows. But to feel genuinely proud of myself isn’t something I am ready to tackle - yet. However - just recognizing and identifying an issue is enough to motivate me to strive to address the issue accordingly. I believe people who do great things should feel proud about themselves, I just can’t buy into it for my own self yet, and that is ok this time, for now, because... I am a work in progress. While scrolling through the posts in one of my favourite Disneyland Facebook groups, I noticed the exuberance with which a group member posted: “So there is this group of people whom many we have never met, yet some that we have but I adore them all! We have this magical thing in common which all started with a mouse. Have you ever felt so close to people you don’t know or have barely met? I love these people to the moon and back! Thank you for being YOU! YOU addicted, fun fantastic peeps. Watching y’all today made me happy to be a part of this family! Yes... it’s a family! Hope to see you next year.”
She had recently been to a Facebook group ‘meet and greet’ at the Disneyland Parks with several other members, knowing that they all shared a strong common bond - the love of all things Disney. I’m in that Facebook group because I love Disneyland and have been lucky enough to have cashed in our Air Miles to go on several family trips to Disneyland. My family and I met a member of the DISboards forums website by chance, on a visit to Disneyland. On the side of my purse, I had attached my ‘Alien Green’ paint sample classic Mickey Mouse head shape (pre-determined on the DISboards that this would be our universal ‘sign’ to spot other members.) She noticed it and introduced herself to me. We immediately felt as though we knew each other. Talking about different group members as well as Disney facts and trivia was interesting. I also made a new friend, Katie from the Disboards forum group, when we had to reschedule our Disneyland trip. I wanted people on the DISboards to get first dibs on a highly sought-after family suite reservation that would be opening at the Hojo Anaheim hotel, a popular one in that group as it is a tremendous hotel. We were able to ‘book’ her into our hotel reservation and we have remained friends ever since. We have never seen each other as she lives in New Zealand, and I, in Canada but she is one of my dearest friends, we hit it off and speak of so many different topics now. One of my friends is a dedicated sports fan; he has a Twitter account and he tweets out as he watches the games. He was formerly a sports writer, so he is astute with his observations and provides engaging commentary. His Twitter followers are supportive, but some argue with him over various sports teams and sports related issues. Online friendships work well for him, I believe, because he says exactly the same thing online, as he would to someone’s face. He has stated to me before, this Dr. Seuss quote: “I mean what I say, and I say what I mean.” This is so. He is his ‘real’ self, both online and off. A factor of annoyance for him is that anonymity on the net can draw out the worst in people, particularly those who hide behind their keyboard. He notes that online, some people have no qualms about name calling, (even to those in a position of respect) or commenting with derogatory comments on Facebook, Twitter or other social media. He feels some people have no filters when they go online. Using terminology such as ‘morons’ is not something most people would say IRL (in real life), but is visible on social media as well as website forums today. My friend has a positive outlook though: “I tend to think of the positive side of FB and Twitter, that I met people I would not have had otherwise and found opportunities without it, for example hockey tickets to a Montreal game through a friend I made.” He certainly raises a valid point! I was able to take my family to Disneyland’s Club 33 in 2007 to celebrate our 15th Wedding Anniversary. It is impossible to get in unless you ‘know someone.’ I became friends with someone through a Disneyland website forum, when he offered to help to make a reservation for my family to dine at Club 33, where I reinstated our wedding vows to my husband. That is one of the most memorable moments of my life because I kept it a secret from him for months, right up until we rang the buzzer at the door to Club 33 to enter into the club. Knowing there are downfalls to communicating with people online, my friend told me: “People who hide behind their computers make me initially angry but then I get over it.” Often, these people are so caught up in their own battle of trying to prove a point, that as my friend notes, “Sarcasm goes over their heads, so it is time to move on.” He is smart to see the complaints and BS for what it is - BS. Then he moves on. The societal impact of social media affects different people in different ways. How important is social media to you? As a child I was fascinated with the concept of time – how it elapses and in what manner we perceive it to be vanishing before our very eyes, like sand slipping through the narrowing tube of an hourglass. I was already aware that sometimes, time dragged on (think church, and school.) Other times, when playing outdoors with friends, hours of play seemed like moments.
Fast forward to today’s world. I am 48 years of age but can not say I feel I have lived for 48 years. I would estimate it feels like perhaps 20 years have gone by, give or take. Why is it important to note this? It is of merit because one of my friends is afraid – phobic really, of dying young. She is 28. She feels if she were to be diagnosed with a terminal illness and pass away within the next short while, that she is ‘ripped off’ of spending numerous quality years on earth. She told me she would be ‘ready’ to die at 80 years of age, though. I have been thinking about what she was saying. To me, my 48 years (which feels like 20 or so) would still probably feel, at 60, similar what it feels now. In other words – time marches on to its own beat. Once time has elapsed, we can neither go back through it, or understand the full meaning of what it was. Time that has passed can hold treasured memories only – for it no longer carries all of those minutes and hours that we once lived. Time is never to be retrieved again and our memory of it is not a constant – 60 min. in a past time period is only reflected in our minds as a few moments of remembrance. So, what then? Well, we must live each day, hour and minute to the fullest. This means – don’t fret about the past and live in the here and now. Worrying about the future takes away precious time. Looking back to the past to try to measure how fruitful our lives have been is a moot point, since the present exists now. If then, each moment in our lives is lived to our fullest capacity, who’s to say that dying young will be so much worse than dying when elderly? Obviously in theory it appears to be better to be able to stick around for as long as we can – people have events that they long to see such as wedding, grandkids, etc. But this is something I have been thinking about…What if – LIFE for one person who dies at 21 young years of age feels as though it is the same duration as life for someone who passes on at 80 years of age. Is this even possible? I would entertain the thought it could be possible. Being that, time apparently passes by differently for each person. Perhaps every single one of us actually has the exact same amount on earth in terms of how we perceive time! A friend of mine posted a timely quote on Facebook that I noted after I began this blog: “It’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years." – Abraham Lincoln” So…If we haven’t figured out how to live life in it’s present moment – maybe it’s time we consider enjoying the journey itself. Let’s put the life back into our years, as evidenced by this fantastic quote, also posted on Facebook (by the same wise friend who posted the aforementioned quote!): "Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away." – Maya Angelou We Stand as One Hockey Nation
We stand as one hockey nation For the Broncos team of Humbodlt Saskatchewan Green and gold, colours of the team The hockey sons of Canada Who perished on the 6th Of April in the spring - Weather for spring that was hit or miss These kids and coach signify our nation's pastime But it means a whole lot more These hockey kids had great passion And their lives will be no more Their hockey spirit will shine through As each day the sun comes up Each single one of them will move us Every time a hockey team wins the Stanley cup The commitment the achievements Of what these young men did Was something understood Only by those right in the midst Of the skate laces, the sticks, the pucks And the long practices 'cuz they cared The change room banter and whole-hearted 'good lucks' The comradeship was tight that they shared Why on earth has this happened we ask The tragedy of 15 lives lost, gone forever Who is to understand? Now, what is our task? These young men will never skate - ever In the days ahead, we must stay stronger While the grief hits hard and makes us feel sad In the coming days, the sun shines longer As communities hold together for these lads Their spirit and strength will live forever in our hearts They were a tremendously fine team And a tragedy ripped the team apart They are remembered; Broncos, forever deemed By Erin Stashko, April 8, 2018 #Humboldt #Broncos #PrayersForHumboldt #HumboldtStrong |
AuthorErin Flanagan Stashko Archives
December 2018
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