20Something - Straight Up, On The Rocks, Or With A Twist

NYE…New Years Eve aka, Not Your Expectations

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Mon, 31 Dec 2012 10:41:08 PST

New Years Eve…the holiday we love to hate, and hate to love.

It’s interesting though that it gets that much attention, considering it is such a low-maintenance holiday. Like Thanksgiving or Fourth of July it requires no gift-giving or card buying. Most people don’t have a signature New Years Eve dish or cookie. The only effort this holiday requires is showing up and celebrating…yet we still complain?!

Although we don’t have a tangible obligation of something to; buy, bring, make or bake, there is an intangible stress that hovers around NYE.

I remember when I turned 21, I had some innate need to go out every Friday and Saturday night. I had waited my whole life to be “legal” and go to the bar/club, so I made it my duty to get dressed up and hit the town every weekend. I felt that if I staying in I was acting ungrateful for the fact that I now had nothing holding me back. I built up the big 2-1 in my head for so long, that I had to make the most of it.

At first, it wasn’t a problem. But, as that 21st year marched on, I found a sense of guilt come over me when I wanted to stay home and watch a romantic comedy in PJ’s on a Friday night. As my phone would flash and the Sex-In-City ring tone filled the air, I found it incredibly more difficult to tell my friends I wouldn’t be heading out that night. It was “Party-Guilt” and I allowed it to motivate me to get into the shower and get dressed to face another night out.

Thinking back to that year, there were a few nights when I did find myself, drink in hand, surrounded by friends, on the center of a dance floor somewhere, dancing like I’d never danced before—those nights I’m happy the “Party Guilt” got me out there. But that was a rare occasion.

For the most part, when I went against my gut instinct to lay-low and spend the night in, I found myself yawning at bar, stuck talking to some D-list, guy who thought HE was the most interesting person HE’D ever come across. While my friend (whom guilted me to come out) talked to his equally disappointing wingman.

Needless to say, those nights, did NOT make it into a facebook photo album. No great memories to stash away, just a filler-night—One of the many “other” bar nights in between all the great times.

And that is the same risk we run with New Years Eve. It could be a night to remember for all time, or it could be a night where you just wished you were home in PJ’s in front of the TV.

However, New Years Eve, has an extra component of stress. The involute decision of choosing the right way to ring in the New Year; A black-tie fancy party in the city, a low key shin-dig at a friends home, or a night in. Then we have to commit to a certain group of people to surround ourselves with; friends, family, all of New York City in Times Square. There is an endless list of options to commit to.

And that’s what I think the problem is…not the options but the commitment. We don’t stay committed to what we really want to do. We have “Party-Guilt” to do something wild and make this year like no other. Then once we’re half-way into the night, if we find ourselves not having fun, we are stuck. These are the plans we made, so we stick it out until midnight.

I remember a New Years Eve when I was in law school. I went out to dinner with family earlier in the night, a tradition we’ve had for many years. I remember, that year at dinner we had a fabulous time—a couple martinis, great food and laughing with my family. Sometimes it doesn’t get better than that. As the last plate was cleared from the table, I remember thinking that this great dinner was a foreshadowing of what was to come for the rest of the night. That this was just the beginning of a great New Years Eve.

As, I buttoned my jacket, kissed my parents goodbye, and left the restaurant, I had high hopes for the evening. Unfortunately, it didn’t turn out that way. The party was a dud. As the ball dropped and I counting backwards from 10, I wished that I was back my family.

But I didn’t leave. I decided on going to that party and I was committed. Mentally, I committed and would have felt bad leaving. Physically, it was New Years Eve and everyone I knew was drunk, so I was out of options for a ride home.

Nevertheless, as I sat trapped in the awful party, I made a promise to myself. I promised that if I ever found myself in a situation where the thought of watching reality TV on DVR, while snuggled in my PJ’s sounded more fun, than I would cut and run—No matter what the date!

So maybe that’s the key to a fabulous New Years Eve. Maybe we need to let go of all cliché “Supposed To’s.” Forget about the “Party-Guilt” and be honest with ourselves about what we think we want to do. But we have to remember that we’re human, and we’re fickle and we change our minds. Therefore, if we find ourselves in a situation, where we thought we’d have fun and it turns out a dud, it’s okay to cut and run. Plans are not set in concrete. Things come up, feelings permutate, and it’s okay to be flexible and change your mind.

You see, despite all the New Years Eve stress and pressure, the day is actually about personal reflection and hope. It’s a time to look back and pat yourself on the back for surviving the past year. To take a moment and appreciate all you endured. To cerebrate and hold strong to the lessons you learned in the past year. To congratulate yourself on how far you’ve come in a years time. To think about the things you want to fix in your life. This is where the hope comes in…

Despite your feelings about the past year, on this night, it is over. There is a hope. Hope for a new year, for better things to come. Hope for the opportunity to be a better person, live a better life. Hope to take new risks and open yourself up. Hope to make changes, take chances, and find adventure in the unknown of the 365 days that lay ahead of you.

No matter what kind of year you’ve had, on New Year’s Eve you can reflect and celebrate the past year, or you can hope and celebrate a new beginning.

The key is to not feed into the “Party Guilt.” Do what you WANT to do and if midstream it’s not what you thought it would be, cut and run to change the scenery. It’s not about where you physically are at midnight; it’s about where you are mentally. So get to a good place, do what will make you happy, and welcome the New Year with open arms.

SHORT AND SWEET…aka…MORAL OF THE BLOG
The point of New Years Eve is to celebrate. Sift through the “Party Guilt” and forget about clichés. Do what you want and when, or if, it’s not fun anymore, do something else. There are no rules and no “supposed to’s.” But don’t lose the real meaning of the night—REFLECT, HOPE and CELEBRATE!

Happy New Year!

xoxo
Lana

“If you always do what interests you, at least one person is pleased.” Katherine Hepburn

Bullying…The New Epidemic…NOT

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Thu, 18 Oct 2012 12:56:55 PDT

Another person falls victim to bullying. This tragic and horrible epidemic is newly taking over the teen and tween population. Spreading like wildfire amongst the most impressionable generation all because of the bastard internet.

Okay, wait. That’s not true.

In fact, bullying has been around forever. I remember sitting with my grandmother. A 5’ foot tall, Irish woman, who had the sweetest face, and the sharpest tongue. She was cute as a button, but that was only a façade. I must have been only 5 or 6 years old and I remember her teaching me a little song. I sat on her floral couch, wide-eyed and singing along.

Here’s my pinkie…

Here’s my thumb…

Here’s my fist you better run!

It was a silly little song, and with each line, we performed the corresponding movements. We showed our pinkie, then our thumb, and finally raised our fist with a very serious look on our face (crinkled nose and all). After the song we would laugh and laugh. Then she would become very serious and looked at me with those piercing blue eyes.

“You listen to me honey; this is just a silly song. And I want you to know that you never throw the first punch… ladies don’t act like that.”

I shook my head in affirmation. “Okay Grandma.” I said.

She continued on, “But if someone does start pushing you around, then you raise that fist and defend yourself like the feisty Irish girl that you are.”

I smiled up at her. She was the picture of class, with her pearl necklace and long pink skirt, but those who knew her, knew better than to cross her. She could hold her own. She was everything I wanted to be when I grew up.

I held onto the talk with my grandmother. Drawing on it time and again, as the tween and teen years approached. I never did have to recite the rhyme and throw a fist, but I used my words to fire back quite a few times; stood up for myself when no one else would.

I distinctly remember 7^th grade, riding the bus home from middle school. An 8^th grade girl, who, for whatever reason, decided to pick on me. She made small comments about how she wanted to cut my hair, rip my pink backpack off my back and beat me up. After about a week of this, I told my mom I didn’t want to take the bus anymore. Through sobs I explained each humiliating moment to my mother.

She sat stoic, listening and offered me a comforting hug. Then she looked me straight in the eye and said,

“I am not picking you up from school. You are going to take that bus and your going to tell that girl to pick on someone one else.”

I remember panic washing over me. Didn’t my mother know that that was the LAST thing I was going to do? I wanted to avoid her and that bus… forever.

“Lana, girls like this are all bark and no bite. You stand up for yourself and she won’t know what to do. She’s a bully and she’s used to pushing people around. Don’t let her push you.”

My mother continued on with this inspiration “Rocky Speech” to get me pumped up. Throwing in that my grandmother would have never let anyone push her around, and I had to carry that legend on.

The next day, after school, I boarded the bus, sat in my seat and took a deep breath. Trying to collect my thoughts as the bus pulled away and she began to taunt me.

“Nice side pony tail! Sike! You’re such a loser.”

When we reached the first stop, I stood up and cut her lewd remarks off.

“You know what Rachael, if you want to beat me up so bad, then get off the bus and do it.” She fell silent, so did the whole bus. “Come on, you hot shot, you want to yell at me every day then back it up.” I took my back pack off and walked to the front of the bus and got off.

The driver looked at me while I stood waiting and gave me a wink. The bus sat at that stop for three full minutes. Nothing happened inside. When I stepped back on, Rachael was sitting quietly in her seat. As I walked back to my seat, I shouted one more thing to her.

“If you don’t have the guts to back it up, stop flapping your mouth!”

I sat back at my seat. The bus didn’t erupt into applause or anything like that. This was real-life, not some Lifetime movie. But that girl never bothered me again. In fact she never bothered anyone again. She was so embarrassed that someone called her bluff, she never made another peep.

So why can’t people just “handle it” in modern day, like I did in the 90’s? Why? Because there is no shame, or embarrassment or ownership in a typed comment that is posted to a public wall or profile. The opportunity to say it in person is lost in the incessant comments and postings.

Bullying is old hat, but it’s only recently that the internet has thrown it into the spotlight. Before the digital era, kids could only bully each other at school or at an after school event. Now with the internet, the bullying can follow them home and onto their social media pages.

It’s sad really; that the drama of the day, can’t fall idle when the hallways become quiet in the after-school hours. It used to be that whatever kid was bullied or humiliated that day would most likely be out of the spotlight the next day. You see, the 24 hour window of after-school time was enough for the adolescent brain to move onto the next oh-so-dramatic event. Leaving the kid that was Thursday’s sacrificial lamb, to be old news by Friday—If not, definitely by Monday. In current day however, there is no quiet time for the humiliation to sizzle out. Instead, the fire is fueled, kept alive and well, on facebook, twitter and other new media.

But it’s not solely the internet’s fault. I still think the onus lies on the parents. Why are theses kids, ages 11-17 even allowed to have facebook pages, webcams, YouTube or twitter accounts? If posting pictures could be considered child-pornography, because you’re underage, then you shouldn’t have Facebook. Facebook was created for college aged students in the early 2000’s. It then grew to be inclusive to older populations who could join the city they lived in as their network to create a page. Somewhere along the line, the idea of having to be “part of a network” died and Facebook was available to everyone. So parents allow their tweens and teens to create digital identities. So I say to you parents…what the hell did you expect to happen?

We’ve all been bullied. We’ve all been picked on, teased and embarrassed at some point in our adolescence. If you haven’t, well then you’re lying. But what I don’t remember are kids that were “cutters” or “emo.” (Which by the way, stands for EMOtional?) This whole generation of hyper sensitive, fragile paper-thin tween and teens need their parents to pay attention to them and teach them coping skills.

So why expose your children to an adult forum that you know will only encourage the taunting? What do you honestly think will happen to a middle or high school aged child who has Facebook? Do you think they will post life experiences, perspective and respectfully comment on friend’s posts and pictures? Get your heads out of your asses. Be neotenous, and remember the soap opera of your teenage years. The same stuff is going on. Remember how hard it is for your kids and do them a favor by telling them to get off the computers. They don’t need social media; they need to learn social skills in real life. Set them up for success NOT failure.

XOXO

Lana

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE BLOG

Talk to your children! Teach your children to communicate and speak about their emotions from an early age… then as they get older it won’t be difficult to speak with others if they are being bullied, harassed or threatened in any area of life… Standing up for yourself is what each and every one of us needs to be comfortable with.

“Stand up for what you believe in, even if you’re standing alone.” –Anonymous

“Bullies are always cowards at heart and may be credited with a pretty safe instinct in scenting their prey.” –Anna Cooper

Follow your Heart

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Fri, 21 Oct 2011 09:04:49 PDT

I had just completed my first year of law school and I was clerking for a judge during my “Summer 1” (as the law students call it). I should have been enjoying my time off from class but I didn’t feel happy. At lunchtime, I should have been rubbing elbows with the higher ups, networking and learning the politics of the courthouse. Instead, I sat in the giant window in the Judges Chambers with my salad, scribbling away furiously in a pink legal pad.

I knew at Christmas of that year that I wasn’t happy in law school, but I kept pushing to make it fit. Instead of gloating about the coveted clerkship I was privileged to obtain, I was writing, trying to organize my feelings on returning to law school for a second year.

Whenever I come to a crossroads in my life, I like to make a list of pro’s and con’s. Sounds kind of silly, that a list could help me make decisions, but my gut seemed to be confused and as hard as I looked for Jiminy Cricket, he didn’t appear to be anywhere in sight. It was just me and my pink legal pad. So I restored to the list.

The list was comprised of pro’s and con’s of topics like; time, starting over, staying on a set track and finances. Things that were logical and concrete. Then, in the column marked “Pro,” (the upside for leaving law school) I drew a <3 symbol. I didn’t write anything by it, I didn’t need to explain. As my pencil drew the lines of the heart, I heard my mother’s voice in the back of my head, echoing, “If your hearts not in it, it’s nothing worth pursuing, you have to follow your heart.”

That day, I stopped the incessant list and put down the pencil and pink legal pad. I made my way over to my desk in the corner of the Judges Chamber and started Googling graduate programs. It was like asking a child what they wanted to be when they grew up. I didn’t know, I hadn’t ever considered anything besides law, but this felt like the first day, in a long time, when I asked myself what would really make me happy? I remember not knowing exactly what I was looking for, but I knew it wasn’t law.

You see, the fountain of youth may be a myth but the secret to happiness is said to be found when you “follow your heart.” The problem however, is that your “heart” is merely an organ in your chest that beats and pumps blood. This heart cannot be the one they are talking about.

The heart we should follow must be the theoretical heart. The one that you draw on notebooks in elementary school when referencing your first crush. The heart that accompanies your signature on the bottom of greeting cards at birthdays and holidays. The heart that, as you get into your teenage years, you’re warned NOT to wear on your sleeve! The same heart people are referencing when they advise you to think with your head before your heart.

A thinking heart? Now, this is where things get complicated… You see, the older we get the more we’re cautioned to handle our hearts with care. BUT WAIT... How are we supposed to use caution with our heart and simultaneously be thinking with it and following it?

There are just too may contradictions. Should our hearts be cautioned or should they be followed like a beacon pointing us toward happiness?

No wonder everyone is confused and many of us, including myself, end up a little lost.

You see, there seems to be two options…

1. We use caution with our heart, think first and think of others. Doing what makes others happy because were happy when our loved ones are happy.

2. Forget caution and follow your heart. Doing what makes ourselves happy even though it may disappoint or hurt the people that we so dearly want to make happy?

Neither sounds like a “happily ever after” to me…

The crux is that not everyone is going to be happy, despite the simple formula to “follow your heart.” Some of us get lost and we forget about our heart so we stay lost. Some people look at their lives and prefer to see the negative, dark things. They focus on what needs work rather than what needs credit and appreciation. They actively chose not to be happy with themselves and thus, they struggle to be happy for others.

You see, these people think that happiness will find them, so they fail to look for it. The secret is that happiness is not something that spontaneously comes upon us. Although at times it may pop out of the blue, I think it’s safe to say that happiness falls in line with almost every other aspect of life… in order to have it; you have to work at it.

I know, definitely NOT something we wanted to hear.

We wanted happiness to follow a fairy tale story line… that it just happens. It comes knocking on your door and we embrace it and skip through the day. Like winning the lottery without ever having to buy the ticket. It should just strike our lives and everything falls into place. But that is the stuff Disney movies are made of, not life.

Come on, we’re all adults here. By now we know that fairy tale princesses, leprechauns and constant euphoria is not real. In life we have to work towards what we want and we have to embrace it and take it.

Unfortunately, like most good things, happiness does exist without sadness. In order to let in the good we have to let in the bad. There is no path of least resistance to finding happiness. To obtain happiness it must be earned.

Whether it is a goal, a career, a relationship with family, friends, or yourself… true happiness is only found when we consciously and consistently make the choice to be happy.

The cliché “Follow your heart” reminds us to do what's right for ourselves, because happiness comes from within. It reminds us that trying to please everyone results in jumping through hoops and running in circles ultimately running the risk of ending up back at square one.

To “Follow your heart,” the first step is to find the gumption to ask yourself, what makes you happy? Then you need to find the courage and endurance to go get it.

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE BLOG

Although the age old advice to “Follow your heart” may be an effective expression that reminds us to be our own leader. … It is a guide to advocate for ourselves, follow our own way and our own passion. However, it can be vague, and sometimes despite the simple formula, we would all rather just ask for directions.

When we really think about it, the expression enables us to avoid all of the confusion of leading and following or jumping through life’s hoops, circles, and squares. “Following your heart,” seems to sometimes place us exactly where we need or are supposed to be.

xoxo

Lana

"Most people are about as happy as they make up their minds to be."~Abraham Lincoln

Show, Don’t Tell

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Mon, 19 Sep 2011 06:00:06 PDT

“A frail grasp on the big picture…”

Now what the hell does that mean?? First time I heard this particular group of words strung together was in song by the band, The Eagles.

The song talks about the local bar…

Good ol' boys down at the bar
Peanuts and politics
They think they know it all

About relationships…

You don't have the slightest notion what long-term love is all about
All your romantic liaisons don't deal with eternal questions like:
"Who left the cap off the” freaking” toothpaste?" "Whose turn to take the garbage out?"

And about morals….

All our troubles will be resolved
We hold faith above all
Unless there's money or sex involved

This song is brutally honest and makes complete sense. I’ll tell you why…

I am currently teaching writing to college students at the local Community College. It’s English 100 and English 112. I found that in the past few weeks I’ve been stressing to my students a very old adage in writing; one, I think, is the secret to good writing. “Show, Don’t Tell.”

I stand in the front of the room, dry erase masker in one hand, gesturing with the other hand saying…

“Don’t just tell me your character is nervous; show me her palms sweating, or her foot tapping, her heart beating out of her chest, or her finger mindlessly twirling her hair.”

I explain that in writing, we have to remember that the reader is intelligent. The reader will draw the correct conclusions if the writer does a good job of leading them there. You don’t have to “spell things out” for the readers. (NO PUN INTENDED.) Telling a reader is much less effective than showing and allowing them to visualize the picture you’ve painted.

As I explain, I can tell my 8:00AM lecture is resonating with some students. I can also tell that in many of the sleepy eyed college students; it’s going in one ear and out the other. They’re just not getting IT!

Which brings me to my next point…

“UGH, why don’t you get it?”

It is one of the standard “fighting words” appropriate to fire off in almost any situation. It blames the other person, “YOU” and the obscure, “IT.” Choosing “IT” allows the blamer to accuse someone while simultaneously dancing around what’s really going on. When the infamous “IT” is launched, it usually is code for, “There’s something bigger going on here; but I just don’t feel comfortable revealing the truth.” So “IT” weasels its way into the equation. And that little word “IT” can morph into an enormous wedge.

So what do song lyrics, writing, and fighting have in common? Well students, (that’s my teacher voice) they are all examples of a “frail grasp on the big picture.” The inability to get the infamous “IT.”

You see in life, unlike in writing, you can’t always assume that dropping a hint or an inference is enough to lead someone to grasp a certain conclusion. In life, friendships and relationships; sometimes we have to let go, stop guiding or showing, and allow someone to sink or swim. Allow them to come to their own conclusions. Allow them to see the bigger picture, or not.

Perspective is a funny thing. It’s something that has to hit someone on its own. It cannot be forced upon them or taught in a 90 minute lesson.

But “Show, Don’t Tell,” isn’t lost completely in the real world. If someone claims to have miraculously obtained a new found “Perspective.” They want to make a change, be a better person, find another job, or embody a new attitude….Well, these are all groundbreaking revelations. But, if the revelation is all talk and no action…then it’s plain and simple Bullshit.

So how can you tell if it’s really a new perspective? Whether it’s a game-changer or just plain games?

“Show, Don’t Tell.” Just like in writing, to make the character believable, you have to show the reader. In life, to prove your own character, you have to show it. You have to live it.

It’s like those people who diligently attend Sunday Mass each and every weekend. Rain or shine, on vacation or not. They find a church and they go. They think this makes them better people just because they showed up. Yet, upon leaving the church they can’t even hold the door for an elderly person walking behind them. As the door flops into grandma’s face—it’s clear they have a frail grasp on the big picture. They claim to be good Christians, but they don’t live it.

Living it, showing it…that’s the hard part.

So, a frail grasp on the big picture means that people tend to get so consumed with the small details; the minutia of life, that they have a weak hold on what’s truly important. What’s really going on; i.e. the big picture.

The sad part is that if you let the little stuff run your life, you miss out on the real lessons. The real perspective. The real things that you should be grateful for. So next time you feel upset, pissed off, annoyed, frustrated, fed up… think about the big picture. Think about how you hold onto it. Think about perspective. Are you showing and not telling? Maybe you need to reel yourself in and slap yourself back into check…

xoxo

Lana

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE BLOG

It’s easy to lose perspective. It’s easy to talk the talk. But life isn’t supposed to be easy, it’s supposed to be effort and gratification and lessons. So open up your mind and your eyes… look at the bigger picture and if you see it, hold on with both hands.

“You can’t see the Forest through the Trees” –Unknown.

Hallmark Has A Point?

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Fri, 18 Feb 2011 11:30:44 PST

“I’m sorry for your loss…”

It’s what you’re supposed to say. But even as the words left my lips and resonated in my brain, I thought about how empty, generic and half hearted they seemed. As I listened to his voice on the voicemail I rehearsed saying it, but each time it sounded wrong. I wanted a Hallmark zinger; something short, sweet and powerful.

At this point even if it rhymed and skimmed the surface of cheesy, I thought that it would have been better than “I’m sorry for your loss.”

This was a person I spent my childhood summers beside. He was someone I’ve known for almost two decades and I felt like the words “I’m sorry for your loss” were desensitizing
his situation.

This is when I really needed Hallmark, but instead was left to my own devices. Suddenly the voicemail beeped indicating for me to speak...

“Hey… it’s me.” I sounded too chipper; I tried to adjust my tone. “I heard about your dad…” Shit, now I sounded too depressing, I need to fix that {Long Pause}

“I know you don’t have a sister, so I guess that makes me the closest thing… so, I had to call you. I’m so sorry.” {Another Long Pause}

“If you need to talk or you need a drink or you need a ride because you’ve already had too many drinks… just call me. Love you.”

I hung up.

It didn’t rhyme, it didn’t flow, there was no unearthing the meaning of life… but it did the job. Hallmark however, would have had an elegant way for me to state that, so I didn’t have to stumble over myself. Like I feel I just did.

It’s moments like this that remind me why, even writers like myself, pay $6.99 for pre-packaged words beautiful organized into a harmonious greeting card.

It’s not because I couldn’t do it myself. I’m a writer; of course I could have put something to together… for someone else. But this situation was different, he’s my friend and I knew his dad and...

It’s just when emotions cloud the logical and productive side of our brain, it’s difficult to pull the feelings out and stick them onto a page.

Maybe this is why the cards seem to stick for me?

You see, Valentine’s Day is over, the flowers have wilted, the stuffed animals settled into their home a top of a bookshelf. The chocolates have been picked through and eaten; what are left are the undesired flavors marred by tiny nibbles, taken from the corner, to differentiate caramels from peanuts. The champagne has been popped, the surprises over and most of the red and pink mayhem has been marked yellow with a “Clearance” sign. Things have swiftly gone back to normal.

In the aftermath of Valentine’s Day, I’m going to admit, it’s a whole lot of fluff for what I call, one silly “Hallmark Holiday.” I’m down on Valentines, not because I’m bitter and single (that’s only half true ha-ha) mostly though because if you love someone, don’t save your money to buy overpriced roses on February 14^th.

Instead buy a single rose from the drug store on a random Tuesday. To me, little private reminders, casually scattered throughout the year mean more than some showy gesture on V-day that is motivated sometimes just to “keep up with the Jones.”

With that being said, there is one aspect to the debacle that does have sticking power. For me, what stands the test of time is ironically enough, the cards. The cards, which are the foundation of Hallmark. The words strung together on some half-folded piece of overpriced laminated paper.

I mean who the hell decided we should pay $6.99 for a greeting card? But we do. And it’s usually
includes some cheesy catch phrase or rhyming idiom that are supposed to explain the meaning of life, but really just act as a cryptogram.

So, yeah, these cards are obnoxiously “Hallmark,” but we buy them anyway.

In fact we feel out of place giving a gift for any occasion without them. With each passing Holiday we continue to perform the ritual of card shopping. The ritual of dumping money to buy words written by someone else, in hopes that it can accurately express how we feel about the recipient. We buy the cards to personalize the day, gift, occasion.

Whether it’s a need to express sorrow and a condolence, or a chance to express elation and love… we look to greeting cards.

The words, the message, the feelings they evoke come alive with each and every read.

Since I was a child I always saved my cards. The wrapping paper, boxes, ribbons, bows were all quickly cleaned up into the garbage. Eventually the gift became outdated, broken, old… Somehow touched by time. But the cards remain.

I used to put them in the top drawer of my dresser after every Birthday, Christmas, Communion, etc. But by the time I was a tween, the drawer became full and now they sit in an egg crate in the back of my closet.

I’ve considered throwing them all out and making room for more shoe racks, but as much as I love Shoes…I can’t do it.

I’m not really sure what I’m saving them for. I mean, what the hell, am I going to do with a huge stack of old cards? But I can’t bring myself to get rid of them. As I continued to get older, I’ve added graduation cards; welcome home cards, good luck cards, and romantic cards to the bin.

They are like a timeline of my life. Some were encouraging for scary beginnings, some were congratulatory for confident middles, and some were sympathetic for bittersweet endings.

The cards tend to hold more clout than the “stuff.” The flowers, candy, even an embrace… all have a shelf life. The cards, however, memorialize our feelings. They don’t expire, they don’t wilt away, and they don’t just live in the moment. So next time you buy a card, think about the power it has and choose carefully…

xoxo
Lana

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE BLOG

QUIZ:

Is Valentine’s Day an overpriced marketing ploy?

Is it ridiculous that we pay over $6.99 for a disposable card that may only be read once?

Do we need that sappy “Hallmark” shit every now and then?

The answer to all of these is “YES.”

"Life is a special occasion so celebrate” –Hallmark

Forget “It” & The Ground Hog & Try To Balance

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Sun, 06 Feb 2011 13:45:14 PST

“I want it all!”

Those four words are engrained in the foundation of the American Dream. Anyone can have it (whatever “it” is) as long as their willing to work for it. So, we 20somethings, trudge through school in hopes of finding “it”. We secure a job in able to work at achieving “it.” We focus on “it” and we make it our goal, our passion, our dream.

The irony is, that those people who seem most “together,” the ones that are certain they’re going to find “it”, can end up the most lost. Those people who appear to know the program, the ones that are “on the right track” from the start… they are the ones who risk being farthest from “it.”

I can make this general statement with confidence because I was one of those people.

Smart, driven, confident and determined—all of which sounds good on paper, but can actually be a lethal combination.

When you have these qualities and you chose to focus on the wrong thing; or if you find yourself pursuing the wrong “it”, well then you end up making quite a mess for yourself.

In our (my) defense, the trouble is that you never really know your pursuing the wrong “it,” until you’ve lost all perspective. All that damn determination, confidence and wit has you convincing yourself that you’re doing the right thing. Heading you in the right direction and surrounding yourself with the right people. I mean come on… you’re so smart, how could you not know exactly what you’re doing?

(Note the sarcasm)

Once you convince yourself that “it” is the one and only; goal, school, career, car, person, place—whatever it is… once you hone in on “it” and drive full speed toward it, you put on blinders. Not just any blinders, either, it’s the big dark leather blinders, the kind they put on horses, the kind that blocks out everything in your peripheral.

Which would be fine if you’re going in the right direction… but what if you’re not? What if you need a moment to look away or a chance to see the bigger picture? What if you need a second to assess your whole picture... you can’t do it. You can’t do it because you’ve put so much pressure on yourself to keep chasing this one “it,” that you can’t give up now. You’re so close…

In fact, you’re so savvy that you’ve even convinced the people around you that this is your “thing,” your “it,” and you find them cheering you on from the sidelines. You’ve tricked the bystanders and worse, you’ve tricked yourself.

So you get deeper into the commitment, the schooling, the contract, the job or the relationship. So deep that before you know it… that thing is your “it.” That schooling is your degree, that job your career, that relationship your life, and now you suddenly feel pigeon holed by life.

It’s the “This is it?” feeling. It’s disheartening, like finding out Santa isn’t real, or letting the air out of a balloon painfully slow, until it lays limp on the floor, an unrecognized shriveled version of its former self.

You spent all of that time and effort pursuing this? You put blinders on for this? But, by the time you realize “this isn’t for me,” you’re so far in; it feels as if you’ll never be able to get out.

But don’t worry… it only feels that way.

The truth is that, the second you start to look outside of the blinders you’re able to get a good grasp on the real picture.

And the real picture is that finding fulfillment from “it” (job, place, goal, relationship, accomplishment) doesn’t actually exist. Pursuing one thing head-on is a fruitless battle because that one thing won’t ever be truly enough. We’re programmed to want it all, remember?

That’s the frustration because we can’t ever really have it all.

No matter how good you are at one thing, whatever “it” is… the bottom line is that it’s only ONE thing. Just because you have the job, now you want the promotion, the career, the relationship, the real estate, the bank account… you just keep adding things to your “Want” list.

Maybe this is why people have always been so fond of that Groundhog Day movie. Where the same day that plays over and over again. People like this movie because they identify with it. The silly comedy hits a heartstring because it portrays the real fear that life will be end up being one mundane routine that plays over and over again. Day in and day out. We fear we will never feel fulfilled and we will continually chase one goal after another in a tired cyclical fashion.

I think the solution to that movie… to the conundrum that is Ground Hogs Day, is to remember that life is about ebb and flow. It’s not about ONE thing. It’s about TONS of things and the hush-hush secret to a contented life is - balance. You have to have a little focus on success, mixed with a hint of competition, peppered with a desire to find love and acceptance, and finished with a dash of whatever “it” is that you love. The real key is to know when we have enough…

xoxo

Lana

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE BLOG

The best recipes are made with tons of ingredients; the best movies (with the exception of Ground Hogs Day) are created with a variety of scenes and vignettes… so why should life be any different? Forget ONE thing… Forget “it”. Life shouldn’t be singular; it’s supposed to be a complex plural, so strive for a hearty plethora of spice and pizzazz and leave the Ground Hog out of it… what does he know anyway?

"That's the key to having it all: stop expecting it to look like what you thought it was going to look like" ~Quote from Sex and the City

Tech-No-kidology

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Sat, 08 Jan 2011 09:46:58 PST

Holy Hiatus! With Christmas and New Years falling on the weekend this year, I just couldn’t get my life together enough to sit down and blog… which I think is okay, because you readers probably couldn’t get your lives together to sit down and read either… We’re even!

So during this hiatus, winter decided to rear its ugly head. Here in the Northeast we didn’t have a white Christmas, we had a white day-after Christmas. Whether you like snow or not, many Holiday/Christmas songs of a “White Christmas,” end up making most people long for it, even if they don’t particularly like snow. In short, had the storm arrived just 12 hours earlier, it could have arrived to open arms… but truthfully, instead, it was greeted with a groan.

I guess at some point, snowstorms have had to stop being personally offended by the adult – hatred toward them.

“We have to get to work”
“We have to reschedule everything now”
“I don’t want to shovel”
“Oh No, Look at the roads!”

Whether we like it or not, all of those miserable expressions come seeping out of our mouths the second the snow starts sticking to the ground.

Once you graduate high school, snow morphs from “YEAH, DAY OFF!” to “UGH, I HATE SNOW!” It’s a big, white, fluffy (sometimes mushy) inconvenience.

If snowstorms had feelings, they would have to be offended. But while we bitch and moan, our gripes are countered with adolescent screams of joy! They pray for snow in school. They wear their PJ’s inside out in hopes of snow magically appearing. They close their eyes at night and dream about their back yards morphing into a winter sledding amusement park.

We see piles of snow, they see igloos and snowball forts.
We see a covered driveway and think about all that has to be shoveled and they see a clean palate for Snow Angels.

Kids put a happy spin on the snow. So even if a snowstorm did have feelings—which isn’t that far off, I mean, come on, we name Hurricane’s, why not give snowstorms a human quality too? So EVEN IF, they were offended by the adults, the adolescent elation and love for snow, far out ways our bitch-fest’s.

Or at least it used to…

I’m not sure what happened in the last 10 years since I left grade school… okay so maybe it’s more like 15 years but who’s counting—I’m 20SOMETHING—remember?! ;)

So, in that “window” of time, the kids of America have changed. They are technologically savvy. They get leapfrog laptops as toddlers and carry Playskool cell phones. When they become the age to go to school they listen to music on the school bus that blares through their ear buds courtesy of an iPod touch. They keep growing up and manage their homework on a palm pilot or smart phone, they Skype their friends after school and in 8th grade the stay current on who’s going out with whom, by watching the relationship status of their friends change on Facebook!

The kids today are advanced. They are Techno/ digital and thus just too damn busy texting, skyping, downloading and Facebooking to make time for Snow!

One of my best friends has a little brother in middle school. She called me during that last snowstorm pissed off. The conversation went something like this…

“Lan, I have to talk to you.” She sounded upset, so I lowered the volume on my reality-show dujour.

“There is something seriously wrong with my little brother…”

“Oh My God, is he okay?” My chest tightened, I was afraid what she would say next.

“Yeah, he’s fine, it’s nothing like that” Whew, sigh of relief. “I asked my brother if he was going to hang out with his friends since it’s a snow day. He said “Yes” and went into his bedroom.”

“OK, so what’s the problem?”

“The problem is, he never came out.”

“Maybe you should check on him?” I was starting to wonder about my friend…

“Exactly, so I went in to see if he was okay—maybe needed help doubling up on gloves or zipping up his snow boots. I open up his door and find him still in a T-shirt and pajama bottoms, his TV blaring and he’s holding neon controllers in his hands jumping around his room.”

Let me interject here. I do not have younger siblings, I have a nephew, but he’s 1, so I have no idea what in God’s name my friend is getting at. To me, it sounded like her brother had a bad case of cabin fever and maybe an adolescent nervous breakdown complimented by neon glow sticks? So I had to ask...

“What the hell was he doing and where did he find glow sticks?”

“What? I didn’t say glow sticks, I said neon controllers, ya know for X-Box Kinect.”

“X-Box what?”

“X-Box Kinect, it’s a new game!” I was instantly relieved there was a logical explanation for the glow sticks, I’d hate to think her middle school brother was already attending raves.

“So anyhow, I asked him what he was doing and he said he was playing with his friends. Apparently they can all log-on and play these games together. I asked him if he was going to play in the snow and he said, ‘No, its cold out!’ What is wrong with these kids today?”

And there is was, the age old, official statement... “What is wrong with these kids today?!” The second you find yourself saying that in normal conversation, it’s a red flag you’re officially an adult! My friend continued to rant for a few more minutes about how watching your friend on a computer or logging on and playing a game doesn’t count as “playing with friends” or “hanging out.”

She was right though. Not only are these kids isolating themselves with technology, but because they all log on to chat on the computer, play on X-Box or skype from a video, these poor kids actually think they are still “hanging out” with one another.

It’s funny though; we spend our childhood, trying to act like a grown-up. Thinking about what we’ll be when we grow up, trying to learn as much as we can so we can act and be grown up. Then one day, we find ourselves, all grown up.

At that point, we realize that we will now forever spend tons of energy and time, saving money so we can take vacations and act like a kid again. We yearn to travel so we can marvel at something the same way we marveled at snow as a child. We wait in baited breath for Friday night, for the weekend to get here, so we can be care-free for 48 hours, just like we were as a kid, before its back to the grind of adulthood on Monday. We even drive our cars with bumper stickers that say, "It’s never too late to enjoy your childhood!"

Maybe these kids need a little reminder. You have to soak up your youth while you still have the chance. Put those Ziplock bags over your socks and stick them inside snow boots to keep the snow out, because you’re going to go out there for hours.

And who cares if you get sick, because you’ll just stay home from school. The teacher can’t email you homework, you’ll just have wait till the next day when you get there.

See, there really were some perks about not being digitally connected! ;)

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE BLOG

These kids (and us, because the adults are setting the example) don’t need to log on to achieve being connected. We have to log OFF and get OUTSIDE into the world. Build a snowman, have a snowball fight, build a fort, make snow angels, be the first steps in the snow-covered wonderland of life outside after a snowstorm… there’s no age limit!

Half the fun of a snow day was meeting friends, “half way” and trudging through the snow together. The streets are empty, the snow is still, and the only thing you can hear is the echo of your own giggles as you and your friends pummel each other with snowballs.

We have to remind the younger generation of this… That you don’t have to hook something up to your TV, have Internet connection or download something to have fun. Let’s all help these little techi’s, so that they don’t DVR and fast-forward right through their own childhoods.

xoxo
Lana

“Too many people grow up. That's the real trouble with the world; they grow up and they forget. They don't remember what it's like to be 12 years old.”- Walt Disney

Damn Old People vs. Neotony

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Fri, 10 Dec 2010 13:07:40 PST

I have always loved “colorful” words. When I was a child, I called big words or rare words “foo-foo” words. You see, my love affair with words started very early on. I was the youngest in my family and running after my brother and sister, screaming, “wait for me” in every aspect possible. So as I struggled to keep up and be taken seriously, I looked to language to help me. I knew that words and correct phrases could aid me in communicating and getting my point across; but even more, these “foo-foo” words made me sound like a “real big kid.”

So here is a true “big-kid” “foo-foo” word:

Neotony—Pronounced (Knee-ot-Knee)

It is a 50-cent adjective for describing someone. Literally defined as “the retention of childlike attributes in adulthood.” Decoded: it means to be youthful-minded.

Now, neotony is a funny thing. It needs to be balanced. For some people the idea of neotony is laid on too thick. They have retained too many childlike attributes and carried only those attributes to their adulthood. For that we cannot call these people neotenous, instead we call them Immature Idiots (yes, that is a technical term).

The opposite is true for people without any traces of neotony. For those people who have not retained any childlike attributes in adulthood, we affectionately call them Grouchy, Crotchety or Uptight.

Moral is, you can’t have too much and you can’t have too little. The amount is different for everyone. Some need just a dash and some need a heavy-handed spoonful.

The problem is that even when you know how much you need, it’s difficult to maintain this easy-going, understanding, childlike mentality.

I think a lot of times the elderly people get this bad reputation. They logically seem like the ones who would have the most difficult time being neotenous. They are the furthest from youth right? So, it would be easy to blame it on the older generation. However, I just can’t stake the claims there, because I have a grandpop who is the definition of neotony.

“Hi, I’m not available to take your call leave me a message,” It was my Grandpop’s answering machine. I didn’t leave a message; I decided to call his cell phone. (That’s right, my 83-year-old grandfather has a cell phone). He answered.

“Hello Lan.”

“Hi Pop, I was going to stop by, where are you?” I could hear the wind through the phone and I knew he was in the car headed somewhere.

“I’m going to Coatesville to see Wanda.” Wanda is his new girlfriend who he drives 45 minutes to see, about three times a week.

“Oh, OK Pop, no big deal. I was just stopping by to talk, I had some trouble at work today—BEEP BEEP,” I was cut off by the sounds of his horn.

“God damn old people, get off the road if you’re afraid to drive,” my grandfather yells at the passing car.

I laugh out loud into the phone. “Damn old people driving too slow again Pop?”

“ Yeah! It’s a disgrace. I’m no spring chicken, but I don’t act like an old person and I sure as hell don’t drive like one.”

My grandpop is right. Regardless of age, if you act too old or too young, then you live your life like you’re too old or too young. You see neotony doesn’t have an age. It’s a state of mind.

Generally, this trait of remembering and identifying with youth is scarce among adults. We have too many responsibilities, bills and obligations from the REAL WORLD to take the time to be youthful again. We’re always moving forward, not backwards.

So, for people to be neotenous all through the year, it is rare. I think it’s something that has to be worked on every day, so it can become a way of life. (I think my grandfather has mastered this).

But at Christmas time, (or whatever holiday you celebrate) the joy of the season releases magic into the air that intoxicates all who allow it. Even the most rigid of adults can be found standing in awe at a Holiday light display. We are overcome with the wonder of the season. So, we struggle to wrap and hide gifts to keep the façade of Santa Claus alive for the next generation of believers. We smile at the sound of sleigh bells on the radio station as it tracks Santa Claus, and we curl up on the couch to partake in the yearly showing of Frosty the Snowman.

We do this because at the holiday’s it’s easy to remember just how damn wonderful it was to be a kid.

Then there is the FLIP SIDE:

Although the holidays bring out the kid in many of us… the holidays also brings out the true Grinch’s that walk among us. Everyone is always recognizing the happiness, joy and good tidings of the season. But what about all the people whose miserable attitudes are extra apparent, as they shed a dark cloud over the holiday cheer. We all have those “token people” in our families or groups of friends. Those people who just seem to suck the joy right out of the neotenous moments in life.

My mother has a sign that reads:

“You pick your friends, but you can’t pick your family”

At Christmas time, those people we wouldn’t necessarily “pick,” sit beside us at the dinner table. They are people that we are related to and we can’t, for the life of us, figure out how we were cut from the same cloth. People we wouldn’t necessarily be friends with; but whom we are forced to celebrate the season with.

So as you deflect these “Lemon Relative’s” (See previous blog about Lemons ) remember that neotony doesn’t have an age. As you master the art of deflecting a grumpy, uptight relative, keep in mind that just because someone looks “old,” they may not be driving through life like an “old person”. Neotony doesn’t discriminate and those of us who are successful in our “mature, responsible, outlook; coupled with a side of neotony,” need to stick together!

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE BLOG

Christmas is a time to be joyous… but with the extra joy surrounding us, it is easier to point out the old-minded-stick-in-the-mud relatives. Their un-neotenous ways are glaringly obvious. So just like we do with the Lemon People… AVOID, AVOID, AVOID!

Remember… if you don’t want to drive through life like an “old person,” don’t act like one! To stay young minded, you need to remember being young. So, enjoy the season and take the opportunities to act like a kid again!

xoxo
Lana

Thanks-Christmas? What about Thanksgiving?

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Fri, 19 Nov 2010 10:34:14 PST

If you read last week’s blog, you understand that it wasn’t an easy week for me. If you didn’t read last week’s blog, I’m not going to re-hash it, but what I will say is this—losing a pet is hard.

So, when life dishes out something that is difficult, depressing or tiresome, I think we are entitled to a break. We are allowed to reward ourselves for surviving and getting through a particularly hard time. The problem is that life isn’t always fair. Just because you’ve made it through something hard doesn’t mean it will be offset by something wonderful. The Yin and Yang of the universe are not in perfect harmony. There is the “unknown” that we must factor in.

Dare I say it, but sometimes when things are hard, it only means more “hard” is right behind it. This is why I believe that when life offers a “break in the action,” even if it’s just a few hours, we should grab onto it with both hands. During this proverbial “break,” I think we are entitled to something nice.

In 2010, during a time when consumerism makes the world go round, what better way to indulge in your break than participating in what I call “Retail Therapy.”

I would define this as the action of going out to a store and buying something to make yourself feel better. I’m sure some would argue that buying a material “thing” is not a good coping skill. Maybe, those people are right. You probably shouldn’t be out shopping for a new boat or a house just because you endured a rough day. However, what I’m suggesting is indulging in something small and cheap. An easy quick fix to change your mood, but won’t infringe upon your life savings.

As much as I love designer clothes and shoes, expensive jewelry and booking trips to exotic destinations—these are NOT what fall into my category of retail therapy. Instead, last week, when I needed a little “pick me up” I headed over to the drug store.

As I walked into the entrance of my local CVS pharmacy, I squinted my eyes in an attempt to shield them from the fluorescent light beaming through the threshold. It was a stark contrast to the dark sky (which sadly occurs around 5:30 these days—damn daylight savings). While my eye’s adjusted, I grabbed a cart and leaned onto it, as if the cart could temporarily carry the weight of my day. I walked slow, dragging my feet behind the car and can feel the stresses of the day dissipate as I roamed from aisle to aisle.

I am usually in a hurry, crunched for time, under a deadline; but in this moment, with the tacky love songs blaring through the store speakers I let go of those constraints for a few minutes and wandered aimlessly through the store. I wasn’t there to purchase anything that required the assistance of a cart; but I pushed it anyway. After about 5 minutes of wandering, I ditched the cart and walked to the back where the stacked shelves house my glossy, beloved “trash magazines”. Most commonly known as celebrity gossip magazines—In Touch, US Weekly and STAR.

These are my more common purchases when indulging in retail therapy. I call them “trash magazines” because they serve no intellectual purpose, are poorly written/put together, and once read end up right in the trash. People rarely keep them to read twice. Yet, despite their lack of academic, intellectual or accurate content, these “trash magazines” are my guilty pleasure. They are my “break in the action.”

They allow me to indulge in the good ole’ past time of mindless boredom. They provide an opportunity to clear your head of all “heavy” thoughts, give your brain a moment to rest and escape the annoyances and commitments of every-day life.

Usually this works, but this week, as I roamed through the CVS I couldn’t help but get ticked off. I should have been thinking...

Yummy food, pumpkin pie, counting blessings and lying, on the couch watching football. Instead, it was jungle bells, snowmen and red and green mayhem. The Holiday pushing was out in full force!

Thanksgiving is in a few days, but sadly you wouldn’t really know it… The Christmas season has pushed its way in and overshadowed the feast that is Thanksgiving. You would think Christmas could be gracious—giving that it has all the religious adaptations: Kwanzaa, Chanukah and Ramadan. It even gets an “eve” and a “day.” Even more, it is referred to as a “season” not just a “holiday”.

It’s definitely the holiday with preferential treatment and it seems to be socially allocated enough time… but NO! Christmas has to go and step on the toes of poor Thanksgiving. Well Bah-Hum-Bug! How am I supposed to distress during my retail therapy outing when that smiling reindeer is staring at me and seems to be mocking me with his red nose—reminding me of all of the shopping I haven’t started yet.

I am a huge Christmas fan, although from my preceding paragraphs you probably don’t believe me, but it’s true.

I love Christmas; drinking hot cocoa while watching "The Polar Express" and watching “A Christmas Story” on repeat for the 24 hours leading up to Christmas Day. Wrapping presents, decorating the tree, and baking cookies. Listening to the radio as it tracks Santa’s sleigh and plays endless Christmas tunes.

I am confident that for another consecutive year I will overplay—no that’s not strong enough—I will absolutely kill the Mariah Carey song “All I Want For Christmas Is You”, so much that anyone who steps foot near my car will roll their eyes in disgust wondering how I could be content listening to it over and over. I’m telling you, I love Christmas… I just don’t love it before it’s scheduled to arrive.

I want to ignore it, I want to look away and just enjoy the Thanksgiving holiday, but it’s virtually impossible when the stores fronts, drug stores and supermarkets are bursting with red and green just hours after Halloween has passed.

Maybe, in a society of consumerism, the problem is that there isn’t much to “market” by way of retailers for poor Thanksgiving.

Halloween = overpriced costumes
Valentine ’s Day = overpriced greeting cards and giant overpriced stuffed hearts with creepy adorning arms or 4 foot teddy bears (all of which you donate to toys-for-tots a few weeks later. I mean who has a place for a 4-foot bear?)
Fourth of July/Memorial Day/Labor Day = we drop loads of money on red, white and blue EVERYTHING along with smuggling fireworks and all the dressings for a BBQ.

But Thanksgiving is really only about food and giving thanks. No trinkets to buy, gifts to wrap, costumes to wear or fireworks to set off.

Maybe this is where “Black Friday” came from?

Just maybe the big business’s realized there wasn’t any money to be made off of people getting together and being grateful for their blessings. There was nothing motivating these grateful people to buy/shop at Thanksgiving. So, instead of allowing society to take a moment and give thanks for the abundant blessings, retailers distract us with the ding of cash registers and signs luring us in to “BIGGEST SAVINGS OF THE YEAR.”

This should work. But, for someone like me who whole heartedly believes in the benefits of relaxing retail therapy and mindless trash magazines, you would think I would be on the Holiday-Pushing, Early-Christmas-Shopping, Black-Friday-Bandwagon. But I’m not… To be honest, I think all you Black Friday shoppers are crazy to be up that early and ballsy to face those massive crowds. I’ve never had the draw.

As I said last week, I HATE the pushing. I truly believe we all need to slow down and stop the rushing. I am a huge fan of taking things in stride, allowing the natural domino effect of life to take its course, including appreciating the beauty of each and every holiday—particularly Thanksgiving— since it’s one of the rare holidays that isn’t driven by consumerism; but is still rooted in the origins of being thankful for life’s real blessings.

SHORT AND SWEET… AKA… MORAL OF THE BLOG

We are too busy to hold doors and say thank you. We don’t write out thank-you notes, instead we shoot an email with the subject line reading “Thanx.” There are many instances when we are more productive and less appreciative. We expect instant gratification and forget how lucky we are to get it.

Although, I think we should continue to participate in personal retail therapy sessions, during Thanksgiving, I think we should give the credit cards a break and FORGET about Christmas shopping for a moment—at the very least until Black Friday. Don’t worry Christmas is coming, but it’s not here yet! Before you surrender to full blown Christmas shopping madness, take a moment, and in the spirit of Thanksgiving… just be thankful.

xoxo
Lana

We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures. ~Thornton Wilder

I have strong doubts that the first Thanksgiving even remotely resembled the "history" I was told in second grade. But considering that (when it comes to holidays) mainstream America's traditions tend to be over-eating, shopping, or getting drunk, I suppose it's a miracle that the concept of giving thanks even surfaces at all. ~Ellen Orleans

Whether the Weather Whispers a Reminder

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Fri, 05 Nov 2010 17:42:30 PDT

It was time. As long as I tried to put it off, as much as I pretended it wasn’t happening, as much as I hoped to ignore it… It was time.

This week, in Northeastern America, those of us holding tight to grips of summer had to let go. We were forced to do the dreaded “switch.”

Packing up beloved sun dresses made of paper thin material that sways in the wind and replaced them with warm, fuzzy sweaters that will attempt to keep our body heat IN and the frigid cold OUT. We swapped open toed sandals for stark heavy boots. The last days of Indian summer ended and officially fall is here.

Every year at this time of year, I gripe about the change in season, temperature and weather, but this year I noticed something different. No I’m not talking global warming or anything like that, the difference I noticed this year was not environmental, it was perspective provided, through care of my 15-month-old nephew.

Isn’t it weird that we say months for the first few years of life, maybe it’s because babies are changing so much that we need to differentiate the exact age to mark the milestones of first step, first food, first dessert, first word etc. Years just aren’t exact enough.

Fall is like that too. Each day is so different that lumping all the spectacular changes into one seasonal category “Fall” just doesn’t seem accurate enough. There are …

End of Summer-Fall (commonly called Indian Summer),
Warm-Fall (where we still fake the appropriateness of flip-flops)
Cool-Fall (where we pretend a light jacket is appropriate but we are really freezing our ass off)
Blustery-Fall (thank you Winnie the Pooh, enough said) and finally
Oh-Shit-It's-Almost-Winter-Fall (which induces the seasonal “switch”)

The variety is vast because of the temperature, but the variety is also visible in the aesthetics. The colors seem to pop, as if polished by the cool air and finally able to vibrantly show off their best assets. But you have to pay attention, because the colors and temperature changes quickly. Like trying to take a picture of a setting sun; each shot is different because every minute the sky is changing—the sun is sinking and the colors are reflecting differently.

The same is true of fall. Every day “outside” is different.

At this point in my life, I’ve lived through 25 “Falls”—well this being my 25th. So although I have a fair share of Fall experiences, it wasn’t until this year that I really took in the magic of the season. You see I’m a summer girl, so I never paid Fall much attention. Yet, all of a sudden, because of my 15 month old nephew I am seeing the beauty of the season in a whole new light.

It was a few weeks ago, when it was still “Newborn Fall” or Summer-Fall, and I took my nephew for a walk. I placed him in his stroller and bent down to buckle him in. As I did, a big gust of wind whipped by our faces and my nephew smiled as the wind danced across his face. I fastened his belt and he pointed up to the tree’s “Ohh,” he said. I followed the direction of his chubby little finger and noticed he was pointing at the tops of tree’s swaying in the wind.

“Tree’s” I said.
“See” he repeated and kept pointing
“Yes, I see the tree’s buddy…”

I went around to the back of the stroller and pushed him along to a park by his house. When we got to the park I freed him from the constraints of his stroller and put him down in the grass. He started walking, towards the swing-set (his favorite) when another big gust of wind whipped by. He turned and looked at me, and then pointed to the trees,

“See,” he said.

I looked up at the tree’s bending with the wind and realized now that he wasn’t pointing at the tree’s at all, in fact he was pointing out the wind.

“Wind,” I said to him.

He looked at me and smiled, as if happy that I finally understood him. As we played and the wind blew I would stop him. “Listen Angelo,” I said as the wind whooshed by. He would stop in his tracks and stay still… letting it brush over him.

As people, it seems common practice to hear the wind, we even have a word for it’s sound. Cows say “Moo,” Pigs say “Oink”, and the Wind says, “Whoosh.” Even though I already knew how to identify wind, I never really noticed it anymore. I was too busy rushing to work, too busy getting to an appointment, attending a meeting or reaching a deadline. Too busy to hear it whispering it’s presence. I needed my nephew to reassure me of its wonderment.

In 2010, it is inherent to want to be productive and efficiently use the time we have. So we plan, we micro manage our lives with day-timers, Blackberry’s, planners, and calendars. We try to fill up every moment so that we can be productive in a fruitless attempt to do it all and be everything to everyone. All the while we are forgetting the little things.

I remember last year, at this exact time of year I felt such freedom being out of law school, but I also felt lost. I had no job, no direction, no prospects for a job, and the only thing that kept me going was to attend graduate classes two nights a week. Despite my most diligent, organized and best efforts to execute my plans, life had different plans in store for me.

So what’s the point of making a plan if we never really stick to it anyway? I guess we make them because they help us put our dreams into action. They provide us with to-do lists and schedules to follow that keep up on track. Yes, we know we will fall off track… that’s the whole point… but we have to do something, so we plan, we dream, we find something to work towards—even if it starts out as the wrong plan.

We do it because we can’t just sit around waiting for our lives to start and working toward what we think is right in that moment, is the only thing we know to do. But we have to be open to stopping in out tracks, taking an inventory of where we are, soak in the small moments and sometimes revaluate the plan.

You see, I thought that when you had a plan and you work hard, then things work out. They don’t fall into place. They end up the way they do, because you put the plan in motion. But when I stopped to reevaluate, I decided to pick the brains of some successful people whom I hoped to emulate,

"So, how did you end in your position?” Many would respond… “Ya know, I don’t know, it just kinda found me or it all fell into place I guess.”

This answer used to torque me. I never understood how things could just fall into place.

It wasn’t until recently that I realized, sometimes, we need to stop our plan and just let the wind blow us where we’re supposed to be.

Maybe this is why I’m so reluctant to let go of summer, because in the summer, every week I plan to go to the beach—and that’s it. I never know what I’ll do when I get there; I just plan to get there. Maybe that’s the secret… To plan a general idea and leave the rest open to adventure, opportunity and fate.

To stay up with the daily to-do lists, but leave time for error, relaxing, adventure. Leave time to stop and notice the small stuff, like the sounds and feel of the wind. Allow yourself to move with the changing breeze of life. Be open to new opportunity and when fate comes knocking at your door—open it, if it doesn’t go according to your original silly plan, another breeze will blow.

We only live once, so we have to make the most of it and we have to soak up as much as we can of it. The ever-changing seasons remind us of this. The seasons...and my innocent little nephew, who is wise enough to notice the power, pleasure and purpose of the wind blowing around us…

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE BLOG

Life and weather are both unpredictable—the twists and turns are endless and you’re never really quite ready for them. They don’t ever fit in our original plan; in fact they throw a wrench in it. So ditch the rigid plan. Make one so you have some motivation but stop to see/feel the wind and when you do, let it blow you in whatever direction it pleases.

xoxo
Lana

“I don't mind the wait, it's fine, as long as you know, it's the wait that could be the something…So, Let the wind blow us to wherever it says we are supposed to go.” ~ Joshua Radin

Once a year…Tricks, Treats and Slut-ification

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Fri, 29 Oct 2010 11:34:57 PDT

Pumpkins, candy, ghosts goblins, ghouls and witches. Halloween is on Sunday—but the most defining characteristic of course is Trick-or Treating. It is when children dress up in a costume and go door-to-door filling bags and pillowcases with chocolates and candies.

Normally, as per the political correct gender roles, it seems that only girls continue to play dress up past Kindergarten. Sure little boys have that “stage” around 3 years old where they refuse to take off their Batman or Superman costume, but once they hit first grade that routine is over.

Yet, Halloween seems to be the exception, so much that parents are spending tons of money on costumes encouraging their children to strut though the neighborhood. It’s something that we American’s are accustomed to. We grew up doing it and we don’t think twice about it

Historically, it is claimed that Trick-or-Treating resembles the late medieval practice of souling, when poor people would go door to door on Hallowmas (November 1), to beg for food from the wealthy in exchange for prayers for the dead on All Souls Day (November 2). Maybe back then prayers from the poor were more effective than from the wealthy… who knows?

The point is that this modern practice of trick or treating does resemble this “souling” business, but it doesn’t seem to fit modern day ideals. In 2010, a time when you’re not supposed to talk to strangers or trust anyone you don’t know, it seems odds that kids are still going door to door.

Despite the oddities, they do it. The kids come out in droves dragging their bucket or bag around to fill it up with as much candy as they can carry, from anyone and everyone willing to contribute to their self induced sugar coma. I doubt these kids will be praying for any of the people giving those goodies, (all historic roots are left behind) instead, today we adults just get good-old satisfaction for continuing a tradition.

Doesn’t it make you feel good to spend $6 on a half-full bag of candy just to give it all away to some bratty kid who forgets to say thank you? Real feel good stuff…RIGHT?

Well when we put it like that….

I’m just kidding… kind of… (Although the lack of manners in today’s society will be in an upcoming blog called “Bring out the paddles, chivalry’s not dead yet!”)

Anyhow, all other 364 days of the year we try to teach our children to be cautious, beware of strangers. The textbook example is don’t take candy from someone you don’t know, but on Halloween, all bets are off. On Halloween, we make an exception and practice indulgence.

Indulgence, this seems to be a logical explanation for why we find it normal for children to dress up like silly characters and roam the neighborhoods collecting candy from strangers. Children indulge in make believe and fantasy when they dress up and indulge in gluttony as they tear through the bag of candy.

Lets then apply the “no rules… just indulgence” theory to adults, us 20somethings. For us, Halloween is all about partying, and specifically for women, it tends to be about the slutty costume. It’s true… The radio calls it “the one day a year where women are allowed and encouraged to be slutty.”

Now I would like to get on my high horse and say that I have NEVER partaken in these slutty festivities, that women are equal and should not have to degrade themselves by dressing a certain way, yadda, yadda, yadda. Although that is all true, if you’re my friend on facebook, and you click back through the years, I’m guilty as Halloween slutty-charged.

It’s a societal pressure, as we women get older, we leave the cute and fun costumes behind and we move on and progress to the “adult” aisle of the Halloween store. Now, it’s truly nothing like an adult bookstore or movie store, however, it’s definitely not a place where you find a costume to be the girly green M& M or Tinkerbelle.

I recently was finishing an assignment for a magazine I freelance for and was sitting at my kitchen table typing away on my laptop when my sister and her fiancé came barreling through the front door. My sister’s fiancé had a picture in his hand.

“Check this out,” he said, while handing me the paper. It was a picture of a man in a brown costume with angel wings and a halo.

“I don’t get it…” I say staring at the sad looking angel costume. Do you want to be a chocolate fairy or something?

“No.” he laughed. “Look again, the costume is called “Holy Shit!” Pam doesn’t think I should spend the $60 on it, but don’t you think it’s hilarious?”

I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. It really was ridiculous and hilarious. Truth be told, I was relived he wasn’t trying to be some chocolate fairy from the Candy Land game.

In reflection though, it doesn’t seem fair that guys get the trick part of Halloween, the funny/joking aspect. They get the “trick” and we ladies are stuck with the “treat.” I use the term STUCK because in costume/clothing terms, this means that while the guys bask in the silliness and fun of the holiday; we concede to the “one day a year rule”.

We ladies, head down the “adult” aisle to find the most flattering, microscopic, slutter-ific costume we can get our hands on. We are the “treat” because these costumes make us the eye candy of Halloween.

As I said before, I followed suit and did my dutiful march down that aisle. My father had cringed as he looked at my newly purchased costume hanging in the cheap plastic bag. Despite his look of horror, I wore it out on Halloween anyway—hey it was “the one day a year.”

During one of my slutty years I was Little Red Riding Hood, and I distinctly remember some drunken guy who approached me, spilled some of his beer on my skirt because of his inability to stand still and while swaying, slurred, “Can I be your wolf?” So maybe, at 25 we remember the feeling of disgust as we attempt to dodge the cheesy costume pick-up lines.

Maybe by 25, we had our few years of indulging in the freedom of anything-goes-Halloween-sluttyness and we remember why it only happened once a year—because being oogled by drunks at a house party or bar isn’t really that fun anyway. Maybe we realize that we’d rather spend $60 to $100 on a nice pair of high heels rather than some microscopic costume that we will inevitably freeze our ass off in and end up in the trash anyway.

At 25, I’ll admit that my drive to fulfill the slutty Halloween duty is over. Been there, done that, don’t want to do it again. Maybe by mid twenties, we acknowledge that it’s the end of October and you can only bypass the temperature for so many years. Maybe we are just old enough to understand the fine line between classy and trashy—and we know that classy will get us much further. Maybe it’s a combination of all of these.

So, if this year you find yourself feeling like you just don’t want to participate in the annual Halloween Slutification, then don’t. If you haven’t done it yet, then for “life experience sake,” I think everyone should partake in the skank festivities once—just to see what all the hype is about. Trust me, you’ll quickly realize you’re not missing out on anything, because it really is just hype and you really will be freezing your ass off!

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE STORY

I guess feeling this way, is an indicator that I’m getting old, but thank goodness… Nobody wants to be the old head still clinging tight to the slut card. Truth is, when you really think about it, the herd of children marching though the neighborhood dressed up in costumes is just as weird as the herd of slutty-look alikes marching through the bars… But at least the kids are leaving with candy… they definitely have the better deal.

xoxo
Lana

Halloween was confusing. All my life my parents said, "Never take candy from strangers." And then they dressed me up and said, "Go beg for it." -Rita Rudner

“I'll bet living in a nudist colony takes all the fun out of Halloween!” - Anonymous

My Oh Miners…. Thanks For The Reminder

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Sun, 24 Oct 2010 11:25:14 PDT

When the entire world tunes in to watch the same news on television, their computers, and even cell phones, it almost always means a tragedy. That something catastrophic has happened… like a terrorist attack, 9/11, The Haiti Earthquake, a volcano eruption, hurricane damage, wars or bombing. We all sit wide-eyed in front of the screens silenced with disbelief as our eyes watch the unthinkable unfold.

This week however, was different. This week the world watched as the exception to the rule occurred. This week people across the country and around the world watched in relief and disbelief as 33 miners were pulled from ½ a mile underground where they were trapped for 69 days. Each and every one of them was successfully pulled to the surface and saved.

In a time where the slumped economy, debt, unemployment, terrorism, war and depression plagues our daily headlines; and we are so used to expecting the worst, watching this rescue unfold seemed surreal. As it streamed lives across the screens of our television, laptops, ipads and cell phones… it was so refreshing it seemed magical.

All odds were against these 33 men, statistically and logically things were not in their favor, yet, they survived anyway.

Over the past 2 days, I have heard people saying “that is stuff movies are made of” and I laugh to myself thinking that 10 years down the road, when Hollywood undoubtedly makes a movie about this event, our children will look up at us and ask,

“Did that really happen? Did they all really make it? ”

And they probably won’t believe us when we nod in positive reassurance. They will ponder in disbelief because what happened this week is only truly believable when seen with your own eyes.

If it were a movie we would mock the ending as cheesy, predictable, sing-songy. And as critics exited the theatre they would whisper to each other,

“They all can’t make it out, that’s so cliché.”

So this week, as the world held their breath waiting for all 33 men to surface, it was comforting to know that those “movie moments”— when hope defies logic and life defeats death— really do exist.

As the footage streamed through my TV I didn’t watch the red ticker tape that ran across the bottom of CNN giving me other updates. I didn’t listen to the reporter commentating on the size of the capsule, the age of each man or how long each had been a miner.

Instead, I tuned all of that out, and found myself all consumed with the survivor’s faces.

I watched as each man shielded his face from the bright lights, squinting their eyes as the sunlight drenched their face. I watched as they got their bearings and the medics on site removed the medical monitoring devices. Each man seems overwhelmed, but also stoic. They did not come out of the capsule cheering, clapping or overly excited. In fact, their initial reaction was quite anti-climatic… that is until they made eye contact with a loved one. This was my favorite part.

Even though these men were armed with dark sunglasses, it was as if you could pinpoint the moment their eyes adjusted to the sun and fell onto a familiar face. In that millisecond, the stoic exterior melted away and the corners of their mouths turned up into a small smile. What they did next is what surprised me.

They didn’t run to their loved ones right away. It was not at all like a scene plucked from a romantic movie where the two lovers run full blast at one another. Instead, almost all of the men stood still for just a moment, before they closed the gap between themselves and their loved one. It was as if their lack of movement allowed them to really soak their loved one in before they embraced.

When they finally did reach one another there was no passionate kiss between husbands and wives or girlfriends and boyfriends. Instead the initial reaction was a hug. Not just a quick embrace but a real good hug. One where you completely fill your arms up with that other person and really just hang on for a moment.

They all hugged their loved ones like this, their wives, girlfriends, children, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, and friends. The news is calling it the “hugs felt around the world” and I have to agree to this hallmark-coined phrase, because it’s true.

The 9th man to be pulled up, and oldest of the group, Mario Gomez 63 years old, immediately upon surfacing acted slightly different than the rest. Instead of staying still, he dropped to the ground in prayer before he embraced his wife. I don’t think he did this to make a religious statement or stance. Instead, because we have the gift, the luxury of watching, this man inadvertently shared a personal moment with the world.

I don’t know one any of the 33 miners. I don’t have a friend whose former neighbors co-worker married one of those men. They are not in any way associated with me, yet when I watched them finally get to hug their loved ones or drop to their knees thanking something greater than themselves that they survived, I couldn’t help but feel moved and emotionally overwhelmed.

It’s moments like that when you can watch tears of joy fall from someone’s eyes and you can’t help but be moved. You know, tears of joy don’t’ make a cameo appearance very often? They are reserved for moments, when we are truly in awe of life. This week was one of those moments and we don’t realize how lucky we are to be able to watch and be a part of it.

As much as I rag on technology for acting as an isolator, deconstructing social skills and human interaction, this week I was thankful for globalization and all the gadgets that allowed me to witness the rescue.

Luis Urzua, the 55 year old foreman and last man to be lifted to safety, more than 22 hours after the rescue efforts was quoted saying this…

“We had the courage and the spirit to fight, to fight for our lives and our families and that is what is most magnificent.”

Luis is right. What is most significant is the ability to hold tight to hope; a hope to have another chance to soak in and see the people that matter the most to you. That’s what it’s really all about isn’t it? I ’m thankful these 33 men reminded us of that.

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE BLOG

In 2010, with packed schedules, the drive to multi-task and over- achieve, to stay current on paying bills, to stay up on responsibilities and to make our daily failed attempts to “do it all,” we need a little perspective. We need to be reminded to NOT allow ourselves to be all consumed with the messy-ness of life and instead remember what really matters. The people… So next time you see a loved one, take a moment and soak them in.

Xoxo
Lana

“To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else” Emily Dickinson

“Seeing the Good” just might screw you

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Fri, 05 Nov 2010 17:48:39 PDT

This week, People magazine featured Elin Nordegren (Tiger Wood’s Ex-Wife) as its cover story. It is the first time she has spoken out since the ordeal of her husband publically slutting himself around with umpteen women behind her back. Her personal marital problem is only a feature story because her husband is the highest paid athlete in the world and his list of indiscretions became public.

At the core, it’s just a run-of-the mill story of a slime-ball and his and laundry list of infidelities. To me this isn’t really “breaking news,” but as I paged through the article I noticed a quote Elin gave which People Magazine highlighted in a sidebar. This quote caught my attention. Elin says….

“I always believe the best of people, and when you do that, you’re going to be really screwed sometimes.”

I loved this quote, it’s raw and honest, but most of all, it’s true.

We find ourselves reciting the homage “See the good in people,” but what we forget is that sometimes...even when we see the good... people suck and that strategy gets us screwed.

I applaud Elin for her reminding the world of this. Mostly though, I thank her for reminding all women of this.

I wish I would have been told this when I started dating. At 15, after I had my first date; I.E, Going to the movies with a boy, without 10 other people (girls do travel in packs). I remember stealing the book “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus” off of my mom’s bookshelf. For some reason I thought that now that I went on a date, I needed to read this book. As if it housed a secret or would explain to me some unspoken rules of the dating world.

Unfortunately, at 15 years old, that book didn’t really provide me with too much information. I remember I stopped reading when the author was explaining “The Man Cave” and the “Rubber Band Theory.” Definitely over my head as a tween.

Ten years later, as I have grown oh so “wise,” since 15 ;) I have heard some shorter explanations about the differences in men and women regarding dating. No longer are we from different planets, but now we have different brains. Hmmm…

It’s often said that men are concrete thinkers. They see the world in black and white. To men something IS, or it IS NOT. Women on the other hand are over-analyzing. Women look INTO things more often than they look AT them. To women something COULD BE or something MAY NOT be.

Elin’s article motivated me to revisit the socially acceptable explanations for the differences between men, women and relationships. Another common adage for dating is this…

Women go into a relationship hoping things will change, while men go into a relationship hoping nothing will ever change.

I don’t know if I completely agree with this one (It is a generalization, which usually pisses people off, but let’s go with it.)

Let’s look at it like this… Women go into a relationship seeing the potential that this man has and hopes that he will reach it. Like seeing a diamond in the rough, so to speak. While a man goes into a relationship because he genuinely likes the women for what she is, not who she could be, and hopes she stays the same.

I feel like that may happen more often than not. That women, “hope for the best” and men already see her for her best. Is this because the man is a concrete thinker from Mars? Maybe, or maybe men just make less of a mess by honestly seeing things and people for what they truly are.

As much as I would like to blame the men for not living up to some potential, they didn’t know we set for them, (notice the sarcasm) the real problem is, us ladies. The problem is that sometimes “Seeing the good in people” backfires. Sometimes, as Elin would say, it leaves us screwed.

So we are faulted for being hopeful? No, that’s not what I’m saying; I guess the bottom line is that we need to set boundaries with ourselves on the extent of “seeing good in people.” I also think it may be safe to say that we should not be going into a relationship hoping a man reaches the potential or goals we set for him.

Truth is, no matter how flowery we word it, if we’re hoping he changes and if we go into a relationship with that hope… well, at this point, we know that we’ve set ourselves up for disappointment. We’re 20something here; we’ve all seen that fail at least a time or two.

We need to “reel in” the “See the good,” it should be an application to things that also involve looking on the bright side, like why you’re stuck in traffic, or missed an appointment, or why you grind your teeth and bear with an annoying co-worker. That’s when we should be applying the “see the good” homage. Not to romantic relationships.

I think there is a time and place for the positive affirmations. “Dance like no one’s watching,” “Live Laugh Love,” “Believe” etc. etc. etc… Truth is, life is hard and the world can be cold and we need those sayings to warm our hearts and keep us chugging along.

Fair enough right?

But let’s not forget the reality of the situation. The reality is this; we should “See the Good” 50% of the time and remember that the other 50% “People Sometimes Suck.”

The trick is to have a healthy balance on these factors of the reality; when to see the good and when to concede that people sometimes suck.

Sadly, no book about planets or quotes about brains can whisper us the answer. Instead, we practice trial and error with our personal attempts at balance.

But just as “People Sometimes Suck” can leave us jaded, well, “See the Good” may force us to stay naïve to the truth. Sometimes “See the Good” forces us to put blinders on our gut instincts and that’s never a good thing.

This I do know, seeing the good may backfire, but following your gut never does. Regardless of how many affirmations you say and how much good you see in people, if your gut tells you that you’re getting screwed, you probably are... and if you have the proverbial blinders on, there may not be anyone to blame but yourself.

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA...MORAL OF THE BLOG

No matter how smart, nice, pretty, successful or kind you may be. Even if you’re beautiful and married to the world’s richest athlete, the laws of balance still apply and sometimes people do suck. So always remember that, and, use Elin’s words of wisdom, just as we use those motivating affirmations to arm yourself against that harsh realities of the all too “real world.”

Oh, also, if you find yourself in a relationship hoping that someday this man will change, someday he will reach his potential and then you’ll be happy in the relationship…well ladies… the harsh reality is that in that scenario, YOU Suck. I’m sorry, I had to say it, but sometimes, the truth hurts.

So if that’s you, REEL IT IN and date people who you actually like, not someone you’re motivating/pressuring/waiting to change. Date someone who you just plain like in that moment in time, you know, like guys do. I think it really does make things less of a mess in the long run. Ya know?

xoxo
Lana

“Don't spend time beating on a wall, hoping to transform it into a door.” ~Coco-Chanel

“The basic discovery about any people is the discovery of the relationship between men and women” ~Pearl Buck

“Sometimes I wonder if men and women really suit each other. Perhaps they should live next door and just visit now and then.” ~Katherine Hepburn

Fearless? No Fear-More

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Fri, 06 Aug 2010 07:06:31 PDT

My nephew turned one last week; my brother and sister-in-law taught him how to say “UN” so it sounds like one. It’s adorable! It’s also unbelievable that in just a year’s time he is already starting to walk and talk. Last year we hadn’t even met him and now his bubbly little personality rules the roost in our family.

At his first birthday party, I looked at him surrounded by Mickey Mouse balloons, noisemakers, streamers, figurines and even a Club House Mickey Cake and I couldn’t help but be in awe of him. It truly gave me perspective on how vastly things can change in a year’s time.

I remember last year around that time tapping my foot in the Charles De Gaul Airport in Paris, France waiting to board our plane. I am always nervous about flying, but this flight was unusually nerve racking. My sister-in-law was due to have the baby any day and we were still on vacation. My sister Pam called home to tell my family we were boarding the plane and to get a baby-status update.

As she hung up the phone her face looked relieved.

“They went to the hospital last night, but it was false labor. Their home now, no baby yet!”

My sister, mom and I had planned our trip to Paris months in advance not thinking that the due date and our vacation would coincide. (Not that there was anything we could have done had we been home, but we just didn’t want to miss being there the day he was born.)

Luckily, my little nephew waited for us, he arrived just three days after we landed in the Philadelphia airport and he changed our family forever. In fact, change seemed to be the theme of last summer. Three weeks after his birth, I received my acceptance to graduate school and officially withdrew from law school. It was a lot of change at one time. We had a new addition to our family and I was getting ready to head down a new path.

When I think about just one year ago, my whole life was different. Last year my life was filled with stress, uncertainty, unhappiness and fear. But as I think back, I am grateful for the fear. The fear is what turned everything around though.

Now, I’m not talking Freddy Krueger-Halloween- horror movie fear, I’m talking about the good kind. Good kind? You ask…maybe that was a typo? Nope, I’m talking about the fear that settles into the pit of your stomach and makes you feel antsy inside. The kind that makes you second guess yourself and rethink your decisions. It all sounds “bad” and not “good” but stay with me…

My theory is that without that pit-of-your-stomach-fear we would never develop the gumption to try new things and accomplish great successes. Luckily, the thing about fear is it usually doesn’t stick around for too long. While we are 20something it sometimes feels as if fear is a constant because we have so many new choices thrown at us all at once. Our decisions about schools, career, relationships and overall purpose have lasting effects on our lives and the fear of making those choices can be overwhelming.

So with all of this closing in on us at one time, it feels like fear could be unvarying. But we should find comfort in knowing that fear is actually a fading feeling and once faced head on, can be conquered.

Doubt, Guilt, Sadness…. now those have sticking power…. but fear is really all bark and no bite.

Think of it this way, without fear we wouldn’t take that first step into the unknown and we sure as hell wouldn’t appreciate how far we have come once we get there. It’s the fear that makes it good.

When I studied abroad in Italy I went cliff diving. I remember climbing all the way to the top and looking down into the aqua blue water of the Mediterranean Sea. I took in a deep breath of the salty air and looked down, only to think…

“What the hell am I doing? This cliff is high, only an idiot would jump off this.”

Some call this a rational thought, (it partially was, okay probably more than partially) but some aspect of that thought was also motivated by fear. Yes, fear for my life (I was on a cliff in a foreign country) but it was also fear of a risk.

I would like to tell you that I was practical/rational/responsible and snapped a couple pictures before making a safe descent down the cliff, however I was only 19 years old and practicality didn’t really fit into my five months abroad. Instead, I took a few steps back to get a running start and I jumped.

I was sacred, but I did it anyway. I pushed the fear back to wherever it came from and leaped. As soon as I hit that water and swam to the surface I looked up at that cliff and felt a feeling of accomplishment. A satisfaction that, yes, I survived, but also that I was ballsy enough to jump. I think I told everyone on the beach that day that I jumped from the top of that cliff.

That’s the “good” fear. The fear that challenges you and without the challenge, there would be no reward. Without the fear there wouldn’t be the sense of accomplishment at the end. It is one of the strongest catalysts in life.

I know that my sister-in-law felt fear as she pulled up to the hospital a year ago to have a baby. I know that I felt fear when I signed the “Official” paperwork to withdraw from law school. I can even see the fear that drives my precious little nephew as he steadies himself on his feet and grips onto the nearest table or chair while he gets his balance. His face grows serious with a look of determination as he lets his hands fall to his side and he stands on his own, and then a rush of excitement crosses his face as he begins to take quick tiny steps forward in his wobbly attempt to walk.

Determination, Fear, Courage and Accomplishment. (In that order)

So even though we are all scared to let go of the comfort and stability, we continue to conquer fear and in essence take on new challenges. We do it because sometimes we have to, or we need to, or we want to. We do it because fear is what adds the spice and excitement to life. It is the motivator that pushes us to take a minute, evaluate, and gather the guts to go forward, head up, putting one foot in front of the other and take that crazy leap.

So as we stand at the brink of something new… a new relationship, a new job, a new path or endeavor, don’t let fear deter you. Just soak it in for a minute and remind yourself that those butterflies, in the pit of your stomach, are there because you’re pushing yourself and doing something new and exciting; changing direction, changing your life and at the very least making great memories.

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE BLOG

It isn’t until we feel fear and decide to move beyond it that we can really comprehend the stuff we’re made of and get a real taste for life. We have the rest of our lives to be settled, comfortable, and predictable. So be happy when you feel that pit-of-your-stomach fear because it means you’re standing on the edge of something new!

When that “good fear” happens things are supposed to be scary, things are supposed to change and things are supposed to be exciting. So take a step back, get a running start, don’t punk out, be courageous and take the leap. That’s what being 20something is all about.

xoxo
Lana

“The only constant thing in life is change…”-Unknown

"Do one thing everyday that scares you" -Eleanor Roosevelt

Let’s Talk About Sex Baby!

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Fri, 23 Jul 2010 08:03:58 PDT

I love to read and a few weeks ago a friend of mine gave me a bag of books to look through.

“I read them all, so you can keep what you want,” she said.

Honestly, it was like Christmas morning! The start of the summer and a whole new bag of books to read. I could hear the beach calling my name. Among the mystery murder novels and cheesy romance books was one by comedian Steve Harvey called “Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man.” I laughed out loud at the title and began to page through the book. It looked like an “easy-read” so I started scanning the chapters.

The book started out with “What Drives Men” a section where Harvey explains, first things first… immediately upon meeting women, almost all men, are plotting on how to get in your pants! “They can’t help it,” he says, because they naturally think about sex way too many times in one day.

Now, I’m usually cautious to make generalizations about gender… that stuff pisses people off. But, as you can imagine, I was intrigued and kept reading. Another section that jumped out at me was called “The 90 Day Rule,” where he compares sex in relationships to medical benefits. This is what spurred this blog…

You see, I started a new job in May and it wasn’t until July that I became privy to the paperwork of the oh-so coveted medical benefits. That first month and a half was the probationary period. The time frame where the company takes time to figure out if I’m a good fit for them. They aren’t going to extend me the ultimate benefits of the job until they are sure I’m the right person for the job.

Steve Harvey says that we women should practice the "90 Day Rule." Hold off on the “benefits” and make sure they are the right person. While all you men reading this are groaning at this suggestion, let’s face it, it’s an interesting and logical concept.

You see, people always get jumpy when you talk about S-E-X. Its private, its personal and so it’s best to shhhh and keep it to ourselves. Right? WRONG! I think that this topic is something that should be talked about whether you’re having “it” or not, especially for our 20something generation.

Now I’m not talking any intimate details here. I’m not one to kiss and tell, so keep all that stuff to yourselves. (Sorry if this disappoints you). What I think needs to be talked is the answer to that age old question, “When do we have ‘it’?”

Any girl who has asked this question to a friend, sister, parent, cousin, aunt or co-worker (after the shpeal on babies, responsibility and safety) get’s the same cryptic answer “When you’re ready.”

This is where the confusion comes in! The “READY” feeling is the piece of the puzzle that is easily swayed, even in our 20something years.

A very good friend of mine, whom I hope is not upset that I’m using this story in a blog, (remember this is for a greater good), met someone who she believed was a “great guy.” They exchanged numbers, talked for a while and he asked her to “hang out” one night at his place to watch a movie. It was date #1, she went over and they ignored whatever was happening on the television screen. One thing quickly lead to another and she slept with him on the first date. Whoops!

Okay so not the ideal romantic situation, but there are no rules to dating. Unfortunately, the “dating” only lasted four more encounters. After that night he called her again later that week and they had a repeat performance. I think dinner may have been involved in date #2, but I don’t recall. Anyhow, after the 3rd date he stopped calling her completely.

This is when she started calling me! “Do you think it was too soon?” “Should I call him?” yadda, yadda, yadda. You know that stream of questions that your friends sound off when they are in a quasi-desperate frantic state. *Side note, its usually best to listen and try you’re hardest not to judge… people don’t like to be kicked when their down.

Anyhow I suggested that if it would make her feel better, she could try calling him. She text him instead, (not anything that was “stage 5 clinger” status), but just made some effort to reach out to him. He ignored her text. Her frantic state returned and so did all the calls to my cell phone where she proceeded to question herself and her choices.

After about a month of this, right when she was starting to get over it… he called her and asked her to go out. Sometimes I swear you men have a supersonic sense, you can feel it in the air when we are about to be officially over you and you swoop back in. That’s what this guy did anyway. He gave her some bullshit line about him being busy with work, yadda yadda yadda.

Now my friend is a smart cookie, so she didn’t believe for an entire month he was too busy to respond to a text. (DUH) What did he think she was an idiot?

Well he probably didn’t think that, but he knew minimal effort with a minimal excuse would work. Why wouldn’t it? It’s the only effort he’s put into their “relationship” thus far and she’s accepted it before. Case-in-point… he was right and against my best “you can do better” pep talk, she agreed to meet him for dinner anyway.

She called me the following week crying. She informed me that after that dinner—date #4—she had sex with him again and he stayed the night at her apartment. Now, it had been a week and he hasn’t called.

Well, I hate to say that my friend was a booty call… That word is so unorthodox and crass. We’re not 18 anymore. We are 20somethings, sophisticated (so we think) mature (so we think) and way too old to be throwing around phrases like that… but if the shoe fits right? *Side note if you think that maybe you’re friend is “The Booty Call” tread lightly when breaking this news!

I gently asked my friend why she decided to sleep with him again, knowing that he was being so flaky before.
She claimed,

“I don’t know, I just thought… {long pause}” she said nothing.

Now, I didn’t want to scold her, I’m not her mother or a relationship authority (that’s for damn sure) so I sat quiet and waited for her to continue.

“Well I don’t’ care, it’s not the sex that matters, I don’t regret it, I have needs too,” she said in the most convincing tone she could conjure up.

Maybe my friend has watched too many Sex and the City episodes, but her Samatha-esk no-strings-attached attitude didn’t fool me for a second. I truly believe that my friend was trying to convince herself that her decision was okay, even though she herself was not okay with it. She’s trying to be casual when she was seriously hurting.

I am not going to try and put a timeline on WHEN it’s “okay” to have sex in a relationship. But this I do know—brace yourselves now… I’m going to follow Steve Harvey’s lead and make a generalization here, which almost always pisses people off, but here goes anyway…

Women TEND to equate sex with love, commitment and attachment. Whereas, Men TEND to equate sex with sex. (For men sometimes it’s possibly will be more; commitment, attachment, companionship, but I don’t believe they are thinking about their relationship status as they are removing their clothing.)

So, maybe my friend can have sex and have it be just sex. But I saw how hurt she was. I saw the sadness in her eyes and heard the heaviness of her tone. She was extremely disappointed, discouraged, let down and rejected. I acknowledge that she may have felt this way, sex or not, but I can’t help but wonder… Was her “ready feeling” to go ahead and have sex with him a desperate attempt to push the relationship along? Give him what he wants (SEX), so she can get what she wants (RELATIONSHIP)?

I think my friend tried to cover-up her feelings of attachment by saying she didn’t care, but she did. She said she didn’t want strings attached, or a commitment, and yet she moped around her apartment after he failed to contact her.

So the next question presents itself—Why do we women feel like we have to pretend that we are “okay” with a casual relationship, if we’re not? More importantly why are women consenting to having sex when really they are only using sex to convince the man they should be in relationship?

This I do know. I f a man is not ready to be in a relationship, then that’s that! There is no swaying or convincing. They are not ready, end of story.

If a guy tells you this up front, appreciate his honesty, because he's a rare gem ladies! Sadly though, most guys will not tell you this. Not because they are bad people, but because they are not thinking long term relationship or bringing you home to meet their mom during sex… Believe it or not, during sex, they are thinking about one thing… S-E-X!

Hey, I’m not Dr. Phil… but I believe that women should stop trying to pretend they are “okay” with casual sex if they’re not. Newsflash…if you’re going to be attached, disappointed or feel rejected afterward… you’re NOT CAUSAL, so stop pretending! You’re not fooling anyone—Not even yourself.

Finally, instead of looking to use sex as a catalyst for a relationship, try being honest with yourself and evaluating why you make the choices you do. If you’re casual and you just want to be casual—then that’s your business. But don’t try to “trick” guys into a relationship by giving them the benefits right away and then expecting a commitment.

Sorry to break it to you, but guys are too smart for that! Plus, I think it takes guys much longer to get attached… and I really don’t think one great night will do it.

Besides, I don’t think there should be any swaying or tricking in a relationship. If you feel like you need to use sex to push things along… stop pushing. Do you really want to be with someone you have to “convince”? That is not the stuff romance is made of!

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE BLOG

It is common knowledge that when a man asks a woman out on a date, no matter how much that date costs, the women does NOT owe him anything in respect to sex. It’s just dinner and a movie for goodness sake! So why is it so hard for people to comprehend that sex does NOT equal a relationship? Women don’t owe sex after a date and Men don’t owe a relationship after sex either! So tread lightly.

Hey, maybe try out the probationary period idea and stop giving it up right away! Most respectable jobs make you wait for health care benefits… So if you want to remain respectable in his eyes…try waiting it out, give it time, decide if you even like each other enough to invest.

xoxo
Lana

“Love is the answer, but while you are waiting for the answer, sex raises some pretty good questions”-Woody Allen

Lust is easy. Love is hard. Like is most important. -Carl Reiner

The Price of Freedom & Wicked Loneliness

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Fri, 16 Jul 2010 11:57:11 PDT

Last week I blogged about freedom and independence…but I left something out. I left out a very important aspect; one that we usually try to ignore when thinking about the exhilarating benefits of freedom and independence; one that doesn’t have a place in a flowery reflection. It’s the dark reality that hides on the sidelines.

What I left out was considering, the price, we pay for freedom and independence.

Everything has a price and at this point in life, we know that. A ying and a yang, a give and a take. It can’t all be great because we would never appreciate it and it can’t all be terrible because we would never yearn to attain it. Instead, the truth is that we have to give something up to gain something. (I hate that part sometimes.)

All of us in our 20soemthing years are yearning for independence on some level. Almost all of us are working toward it. Intellectual independence is why we sit through college classes to gain knowledge, because whether we like to admit it or not, that cheesy slogan “knowledge is power” has some truth to it. Or maybe you’re working your butt off at a job because you want financial independence. The days of asking Mom and Dad for money ended a long time ago and we want to be able to get out there in the world and do for ourselves.

Sounds great right? But, then I have to go and rain all over the parade and bring in that pesky “price” idea again. To gain freedom we have to take risks, big risks, expensive risks, the what-the-hell-were-we-thinking risks.

A very dear friend of mine recently took one of those risks. She was offered a job in a different state. The job required her to move. She had no qualms about this. She lived away in college; she studied abroad halfway around the world (literally, in Australia). Two hours from home was nothing. She was adaptable and confident. So, she took the job.

She got her OWN apartment—No college roommates to slop the place up. No roommate’s boyfriend staying for free and mooching off all her food. No nagging parents, or annoying siblings. This place was in her name and it was hers.

So, she moved in and enjoyed the quiet… Well at least in the beginning. But before long, the silence was overwhelming, thundering. She quickly realized that YES, she was independent and free, but the price for that was that she was also lonely. No matter how confident, secure and independent you think you are… NONE of us are immune to the feeling of loneliness.

I, personally, think one of the highest prices of freedom is loneliness. Being LONELY, just typing that word makes me feel like I’m whining. No one likes to admit it. I hate it, but it’s true. They say, stand up for what you believe in, even if you’re standing alone. “They” (whoever they are) weren’t kidding. When were 20something, we’re all striving to find that place and find what it is we’re supposed to be standing up for and when we get the gumption to stand up, sometimes we find that we really are standing alone.

Sometimes that feeling of loneliness can be overwhelming! It can engulf our mood and be a catalyst for a whoa-is-me pity party that we all tend to throw occasionally for ourselves.

But isn’t that what we want? Isn’t “being on our own” the goal?

Well yes, but we didn’t want to feel ALONE while we’re out enjoying being independent and free. We fought for our intellectual, financial and personal independence… so why are we whining about it?

I’ll tell you, because while we forged forward we forget the price and the bottom line… loneliness SUCKS! So when that feeling hit us, do we sit down? Do we retreat home, back to the comfort zone?

HELL NO! We work thorough it and we keep going forward.

My parents got me tickets to see the Broadway Musical “Wicked” for my 25th birthday. As a child, “The Wizard of Oz” was my all-time favorite movie. I watched it so many times I wore the VHS out. (I know the youngins today will never understand the true magnitude of that statement, because they never watched tapes, they only understand DVR or DVD, but for us 20soemthings and above, I know you can appreciate that)

I loved that movie. (I also attribute my fear of thunderstorms and tornados to that movie.) Anyhow, to see “Wicked” for my birthday was amazing. I sat wide-eyed in the theatre soaking in every moment.

Wicked explained a lot of the “why” questions that arose for me as a child while watching the Wizard of Oz. Why is the witch so mean, why is the lion a coward, why is the scarecrow a fool? Ya know all that stuff. It explained the back-story of the characters and the “price” they paid to get to where they are.

There is a breaking point for the Wicked Witch, (who P.S is NOT so wicked) and she decides to take the road less traveled. In this scene, her character is depicted as a 20something and I thought the lyrics were very apropos.

“Too late for second-guessing, too late to go back to sleep, it's time to trust my instincts, close my eyes: and leap…and if I'm flying solo, at least I'm flying free…”

I loved those lyrics. I ran out and bought the soundtrack at intermission (which was insanely overpriced and I could have bought on eBay for ½ the price.) However, I bought it because that song spoke to our generation and where we are in our lives. It leaves out any visions of grandeur of yellow brick roads and gets right to the truth- that…there comes a point when we break away, from family, friends, old habits, old routines and stand on the brink of our lives and are faced with a decision—we either leap or not.

Before we take the plunge, we think about the price, we think about the ramifications of our actions.

Could we fail?
Could we get our hearts broken?
Can we get our spirit broken?
Will we lose faith in our dreams, or worse, ourselves?
Will we lose touch with friends or an old love?
Will we regret it?
Will we end up alone?

We run a million questions through our head, we think about the price of freedom and independence, the things we have been avoiding while we worked to get to this point. But now we’re here on the edge, so what do you do? Run back to what you know or close your eyes and leap?

We have survived high school, in some cases college and now we are adults. We have made tons of mistakes at this point in our lives. But from mistakes comes wisdom and experience. We have to mess up to keep figuring it all out. But, the only way to move forward is to close your eyes and leap onto the next.

Leave the questions, the past mistakes and the doubts behind. Hold onto the reality that it won’t be all rainbows and sunshine. That sometimes… you’re flying solo, fighting off the feeling of loneliness, but remember; at least you’re flying.

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE BLOG

Loneliness is a funny thing… you can sit in an apartment 2 hours from home and feel it, but it can also follow you to a crowded bar and still make you feel like you’re on your own.

But shake it off! That crappy “alone” feeling will pass and when it does, we will be happy that we didn’t sacrifice our fight for intellectual, financial and personal independence.

xoxo

Lana

“Nothing in this life that is worth anything comes easy.” –Unknown

“If it was easy… everyone would be doing it!” – My parents

Freedom on the 20something Battlefield

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Fri, 09 Jul 2010 14:59:52 PDT

Independence Day was last weekend. The 4th of July! Maybe you’re wondering why I didn’t blog about this LAST weekend, since the holiday of course was LAST weekend. Well, ya know what? I took a week off last weekend. Didn’t notice? That’s because you too were carried away with the hustle and bustle of the weekend; the rushing around, packing, planning, driving, BBQing, fireworking and celebrating.

It wasn’t easy for me to take a week off though. I felt guilty. I haven’t missed a week since I started. But then I thought, it’s a holiday, the day we celebrate living in a free country… so taking a week off and doing what I want, be free of blogging for a week. It all kind of fits right into the theme of the celebration.

So that’s why we’re doing Independence Day now…just thought you should know.

The 4th of July is one of my favorite holidays. It’s a chance to take a break and celebrate in the summer. A holiday without any expectations; no turkey, no costumes, no bunnies hopping around with candy or old men in red suits creeping around at night leaving gifts. There is no “dog and pony show” with 4th of July. It’s a relaxed event, with the only necessity being some sort of hamburger, hotdog or BBQ food with maybe a sparkler or fireworks on hand.

So I think I speak for most people when I say that I love celebrating the 4th! Plus, it’s a day where we celebrate being American. Not our race, religion, gender or age…just our nationality. We celebrate the men and women in the service, then and now, who have fought for our country’s independence. We celebrate being independent and free.

Freedom… now this is something us 20somethings can relate too.

I thought about this as the fireworks went off and my neighbors stereo played Pat Benatar’s, “Love is a Battlefield.” (Random I know, but significant… stay with me here.) I thought in reflection about this blog and what I would write this week. Remember before when I said I was feeling guilty about not writing on last week? So I’m at a party and I’m thinking about blogging. I was trying to focus on the fireworks and the “feel” of the BBQ… looking for something I could pick out, something to portray or personify. But then I hear,

“ We are young; heartache to heartache, we stand…”

Ugh the damn radio is so loud, I’m thinking. I can’t think when it’s blaring and I’m trying to reflect about what I want to write. This week’s blog needs to be a “great one” because of my hiatus this past week. But I just couldn’t concentrate on my reflection because I’m busy taping my foot, along to…

“We are strong; no one can tell us we’re wrong…”

I give up I thought. Once you’re subconsciously humming a song to yourself, it’s stuck in your head for a while. So I accepted defeat and decided I would think about blogging later. But now I had that song on my brain. It was kind of ironic. Here we are celebrating the fact that people went out on a real battlefield and fought for our independent and Pat’s singing about love as a battlefield.

Love as a battlefield seems kind of dramatic doesn’t it? As I tap my foot to the beat, I thought to myself about how the song kept making me think of us 20something’s. Love may seem like a battlefield at times, but the real battlefield is our 20something years. I noticed that Pat’s lyrics were applicable to my 20something theory.

We are young - We are no longer teenagers, but we are young adults. Those of us at the start of our 20’s are a little younger than those of us in our mid and late 20’s… but nonetheless bottom line we are young adults.

Heartache to heartache we stand - We are at a time when if we happened to make it through our teenage years unscathed, the reality is bound to set in during our 20’s. The reality that you don’t always get what you want, no matter how hard you work. The reality that we lose people we love no matter how much we need them or how much we think we need them. The reality that we will be picked over in jobs and personal relationships. The reality that we will have our heartbroken because of rejection, loss, defeat and the inevitable bad luck. But before we get too depressed… remember…

We are strong - During our 20’s we learn how to stand on our own 2 feet. Despite the harsh realities of life we pick ourselves up and dust ourselves off. This is a time in our lives when we learn how to get back up and get back on the horse. It’s not fun, it’s not easy and we don’t like doing it… not matter how many times it happens, but we are strong, so we endure.

No one can tell us we’re wrong - This may be my favorite part. Not because we think we know it all… but hey, we are 20something, we’ve lived through a lot and so at times we think we know almost everything… right? ;) In truth, I think this part of the song is what sets the 20somethings apart from every other generation. We have that resilience that makes us stand apart. Some people call it tenacity, chutzpah, guts, nerve or moxy. It’s the part of us that has retained the childhood wonderment of life and the glow in our eyes sprinkled with edginess.

We have the fight in us. We are ready for the battlefield even if we don’t believe that we are. It’s the part of us that believes, despite all the heartache and disappointment, that we can still make a difference or a change. The part of us that holds strong to the belief that we can be the exception to the rule. The part of us that shines through the jaded cynicism of the world.

We have that feeling in our gut that pushes us forward; the burning desire, the need, to do something extraordinary no matter what the cost. It’s the reason why we changed our major’s and our path’s in life to do what we love. Why we switch career’s mid-stream regardless of the promise of a hefty paycheck. It’s why we travel to new places and take big chances. Why we look for adventure and excitement. Why we take chances on new people. Even though we know the risk of heartache and regret is huge… we do it anyway.

When we really think about it, 20something really is a battlefield. It only took 4th of July and an 80’s song for that to become glaringly obvious to me. The two together are terribly wrong and also a perfect marriage. You see, our something’s are a battlefield, but we’re not fighting for love (I mean that’s part of it) what we’re fighting for is independence. We are fighting to break away from our childhood and be our own people. We want to grow up (most of us anyway) and be independent.

We take the hits of life as we figure out our college major, our job, what makes us happy, who makes up happy, who makes our heart sing and who makes us want to run for the hills. We are figuring out where to live, how to live, or if we should just concede and move back home as a reprieve. Its up’s and down’s. A balance of thinking we know it all and coping with abrupt reminders that we really don’t—deaths , end of relationships, loss of jobs, and worse losing ourselves or our direction. We are confident one minute and confused and reevaluating the next. To tell you the truth… the whole damn thing is exhausting! But who ever said fighting for independence was easy?

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE BLOG

Fighting for our own freedom on the battlefield of our 20’s is supposed to be hard, but, when we get it; it’s supposed to be exhilarating, worth it and worthy of a celebration. So keep on fighting… and remember, we’re all out there because we believe that it’s worth it and the best is yet to come.

xoxo
Lana

“Freedom is one of the deepest and noblest aspirations of the human spirit.” – Ronald Regan

“No one said it would be easy, they just promised it would be worth it.” - Unknown

Fans, Bandwagons & Switch-hitters

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Fri, 11 Jun 2010 07:50:37 PDT

Breakaway…he shoots, and…SCORE!

That’s what I was hoping to hear when I watched the Flyers go into overtime during the Stanley Cup Game 6 on Wednesday night… Instead, I watched in utter confusion as Leighton, (our goaltender) stayed bended on one knee.

Is he hurt I wondered? It appeared that the game was still going on. Then I noticed that he hadn’t got up because the far shot, made in passing, had gone into the net. Chicago scored the winning goal in overtime and just like that the game was over.

It happened so quickly that I didn’t even see it go in. The sports bar fell silent as we Philadelphia Fans watched in horror as the Stanley Cup was being ripped away.... Silent that is, until someone yelled out…

“Our goaltender sucks!”

The man who uttered these words was dripping in Flyers paraphernalia. He had on a Flyers hat and T-shirt. He probably had those team flags flying from his vehicle.

I hoped that he was a bandwagon fan. Someone who stood in line at Models after the Fly-guys won the play-offs, to buy his first orange shirt. Maybe… or maybe he was just a typical “Philadelphia Fan.“

Either way, I shouted back at him… sometimes I just can’t keep my mouth shut.

“Leighton doesn’t suck, it was a close game the whole time you asshole! What kind of fan are you?”

In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have yelled at a strange, intoxicated man, upset about the outcome of a sports game in open forum. But hey, I was pissed they lost too and even more pissed about the switch-hitting fans who so quickly jumped ship.

The man never said anything back to me. He was either too drunk to acknowledge my comment or actually saw my point. That…

A. He actually is an asshole for wearing the T-shirt of a team he is now attacking OR
B. That both teams were an equal match-up that played a terrific series and thus why the game was so close. (It was probably the former.)

The following day I had dinner with my grandpop and I asked him about the illusive “Philadelphia Fans.” We are one of the ONLY stadium/arena’s in the country that have a holding cell inside the premises. We will boo off our favorite singer or player at the drop of a hat. We are a “tough” crowd.

“Pop you grew up in the city, what’s the deal with the Philly fans not supporting their teams?”

He just shrugged, “That’s the way Philly fans are that’s all.”

I of course, was not at all satisfied with this answer. “What do you mean that’s just the way they are, that doesn’t sound like an excuse?”

My grandfather was annoyed that I wasn’t accepting his answer at face value. “Listen Lana, You know who Joe DiMaggio is right?”

“Yes Pop,” I was afraid this conversation was about to take a turn to “appreciate your heritage hour”. Luckily I was wrong.

My grandfather continued. “Well, when he came to Philadelphia in 1941 he was up to bat and hit his 56th hitting streak record, and you think that the fans would have cheered for the fella, but they didn’t. Not even the Italians…they all booed him because he was a Yankee. He set a record, but Philly didn’t care…its just the way they are.” He returned to his soup and left it at that.

But this got me thinking…maybe we Philadelphia Fans aren’t just boisterous, drunken asses (although that guy at the sports bar was). But, maybe we are just die-hard fans who get so involved in the game that we cannot hide our emotions? (Yes, some are just drunken band-wagon fans) but I say…and to that I say if don’t know what a cross-check, hand pass, icing, a hat-trick or cherry picking is… then don’t shout an opinion at the television.

For those of us who are REAL fans… we watch these games and we are so involved that we easily get carried away. Like all things in life, where there is a big investment, there is the risk of big disappointment.

Regardless, we let ourselves get wrapped up. We bleed Green. We proudly wail out the Eagles Fight song. We are the Orange and the Black. We scream “Hey Ref You Suck” at the end of the chicken dance, as if it were the God-given lyrics. (That’s right 210A!!) We believe in sports miracles because our Phighting Phils and Chase Utley reminds us that we are “World Champions, World Fucking Champions!”

So, yes, despite our tough-guy brotherly love physique—We love our sports teams!

But with love comes vulnerability. So when the outcome doesn’t go our way, we feel personally jarred. We wanted so badly to be the exception to “The Rule.” To watch in awe and be a witness to “the stuff that movies are made of.”

What we forget is that the exception to” The Rule” is just that…an exception. It is a rare case, an extraordinary scenario, when something bizarre goes against “The Rule.” The fluke accidents, mishaps and denial of all odds are “the stuff movies are made of.” But these things only happen once in rare while.

Yea, Yea, we know this…but us Philly Fans watch these games with high hopes, big hearts and heightened emotions. Like children we sit wide-eyed in front of the television secretly keeping our fingers crossed, in hopes that this night, this time, could be the exception!

Sports are one reprieve in life where we can allow ourselves to be lost in the fog of unrealistic hope. The idea of “The Rule” can drift away, and the belief in the exception takes precedence. All logic is lost and nothing matters but the game. Anything can happen!

Sports is a rare situation where luck and timing are just as import as training and skill.

We Philadelphia fans recognize this unique opportunity that a sporting event presents. A time where if we just keep faith alive then maybe…

Yes, this scenario can cause us to be calling each other assholes in a bar (Guilty as charged) but at least we can say we’re passionate right? At least we can say it was in the name of love, because despite our disgruntled opinions we love our teams. I mean “We’re Philly Fan’s, it’s just the way we are.” {Enter innocent unexplainable shrug}

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE BLOG

Philadelphia fans are a tough crowd, but it’s only because we care so much about our teams. That’s why we’re quick to praise and wear our teams name with pride. This is also why we’re so quick to call out “asshole” in open forum and probably the reason why we have a holding cell in our stadiums.

But hey, it’s a complicated relationship we have with our teams. Like family…we can say what we want, but don’t dare anyone else contribute to our rant.

So those of us supporting The City of Brotherly love are passionate, we cannot deny that; but maybe we could work on showing the actual love a little more?

xoxo

Lana

We didn't lose the game; we just ran out of time. -Vince Lombardi

“Being a sports fan is a complex matter, in part irrational, but not unworthy; a relief from the seriousness of the real world, with its unending pressures and often grave obligations.” - Richard Gilman quotes

Summer time: The livin’s easy & the clothes sleazy

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Fri, 04 Jun 2010 12:25:55 PDT

It’s summertime, the days are longer, the weather is warmer and the clothing is scarce.

Part of this can’t be avoided, when its 90 degrees outside it’s impossible to not be in anything beside shorts and a tank top. Truth is, if you were walking around with a hat, scarf and gloves, people would think that you’re nuts.

So, there is a skimpiness to summer that is undeniably acceptable. Hey, I will be the first person to trade in boots for flip-flops, a jacket for a tank top or pants for shorts … and it’s only a certain time of year, a small window of time, where you can wear a bikini and sheer cover up to a beach restaurant/bar and still be considered “dressed.”

So the clothing is minimal and for the most part, this notion is socially acceptable.

But, then there are the trends that push this acceptance. The skirts that are “cheeky” or the tops that push you up, out, and cause you to spill over. This sleazy-push appears to be coming from the “youngins” that are just below our 20something generation.

I had finals a few weeks ago for my Graduate classes and one of them lasted until after 9:00 PM on a Thursday night. As I walked to my car I was momentarily confused about why the campus was still so busy and why the groups of girls were dressed as if they were going to a nightclub opening. Then I remembered “ THIRSTY THURSDAY. ” It really wasn’t that long ago that I myself was an undergrad getting dressed to the 9’s to play beer pong at an apartment party. Granted I wasn’t dressed like that… but I’m trying to identify to the situation on some level.

Anyway, I think what bothered me most is that it WASN’T that long ago that I was in college, gearing up for Thursday and yet, I never considered leaving my dorm or apartment dressed like that!

I’m not sure what happened in the past few years, but it seems like a switch flipped. When did a skintight dress that showed the bottoms of your butt checks come into style? I don’t think thats EVER in-style, but these sleazy get-ups are running rampant through the high school and younger, "less-than-20something" generation.

Personally, I think it’s tasteless. Universally, I think it’s a disgrace to fashion.

The crazy replaced the classy, the outlandish replaces the chic and it seems that shock value is held in higher regard than actual beauty.

So who’s to blame? Is it the fact that you can send sexy/dirty pics to your new crush-du-jour in seconds on your cell phone? Or maybe it’s because you know the picture snapped on the digital camera will be instantly updated to facebook before the night is even over? Maybe it’s because reality TV shows like Tila Tequila, Paris Hilton and The Jersey Shore have confirmed to the viewers that shock value gets attention? (P.S. these shows, characters should not be emulated, at least by anyone with half a brain)

But maybe it’s not technologies fault. Maybe it’s… dare I say the taboo… the parents? If these kids weren’t so coddled, maybe their parents wouldn’t be afraid to tell them to step up their game and pull down their skirts? Pull up the pants? Cover up the very excessive cleavage?

Hell, maybe none of these things are mutually exclusive. Maybe they have just uniformly come together as a perfect storm, to wipe out any remnants of style, self-respect and class?

Either way, I wanted to walk over to these girls and ask them if they were serious with these looks? I wanted to say that no one respectable would take them seriously if they could arguably be mistaken for a stripper or hooker. I wanted to ask them if they would wear that outfit in front if their grandparents? I wanted to ask them if they had ever heard the phrase “Dress for Success?”

But, I didn’t say any of this.

Instead I just got in my car and headed home. Hey, I’m not the fashion police. And I may only feel this way because I am 20something. For all I know, when I was a teenage, I may have dressed like that too?

Maybe… at the beach or hanging by a pool.
Maybe… in the summer when that window of opportunity was wide-open letting in all the hot air?
Maybe... just maybe I conceded to the heat wave and without realization, dressed as sleazy as the girls I was currently critiquing?

Maybe… (but Probably not!) Nahhh … not with my parents.

Anyhow, all wondering and reminiscing aside, this I know for sure…

Regardless of the summer window of sleazy opportunity, I did NOT dress risqué at school! I never attended an event, graduation party, or family function in shorts that made Jessica Simpson’s Daisy Dukes look like long johns.

Truth is, the term “fashion statement” wasn’t coined without reason. It was intentionally called that because fashion is just that… a statement!

But I’m not saying anything new here and the generation below us 20something’s knows that. Hell, they are the ones responsible for inventing the term “EMO.”(Which I just recently found out stands for “EMO-tional,” meaning they dress according to their emotions.) They wear black, or whatever dark color they chose, to express their true feelings.

Well you know what I say? What the hell do these kids have to be EMO about? The time before your 20something years is light-hearted and carefree. No big plans, no bills, no insurance premiums, no student loans, no serious relationships and rarely any health problems. Its’ the land of “what are you doing after school tomorrow” and “who are you taking to the Winter Formal?”

So are those the stresses that cause that generation to dress via their emotions? If that is what’s making them EMO… they better buckle their seat belts; because they’re in for a tough ride. One that fashion spiked hair, and black finger nail polish won’t help them cope with.

Either way, this “younger-than-20something-generation” knows the importance of a statement through fashion. Which I guess makes me question what kind of statement they intend on making with these sleazy get-ups?

Sadly I think that these girls are dressing this way for attention. Yet, they are mixing together both good and bad attention. They cannot forget the key points; that people are only staring for one of two reasons…

1. They are horny and appreciate the free peek.
2. They can’t look away because you look like a sloppy train wreck.

I don’t think either option sounds appealing. So ladies…please, act like ladies. Have some decency; some dignity and most importantly make those guys work for it. Everyone is so quick to complain that romance is gone and chivalry is dead… but do we ever think they are extinct because there is no pursuit? I mean… they’re giving it all away for free! Bottom Line; if a second look in the mirror makes you question the decency or appropriateness of your frock, err on the side of class and get it together.

Remember, rule of thumb… The adage less is more… refers to jewelry adorning an outfit… not the amount of clothing you wear.

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE BLOG

Attention is NOT good when it’s given because you look like a sleaze—Keep this in perspective.

Scrape up your dignity and buy an outfit that covers your goodies. Oh and leave something to the imagination, there is so much truth to that. Finally, “It’s getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes” is only a song, not mantra! If you are not a summer sleaze, but you know of one… do the lady a favor and pass the message along.

xoxo

Lana

“A Girl should be two things… Classy and Fabulous” -Coco Chanel

A Memorial For A Summertime Ride

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Fri, 28 May 2010 09:28:49 PDT

This weekend is Memorial Day, the unofficial start of summer [Enter: Sigh of relief]

Summer means no more snow, no more cold nights and no more bundling up in jackets, scarves or hats. Summer means running around in flip-flops, short shorts and tank tops. Being able to drop the top on your car, open the sunroof or roll down the windows.

Summer is a time when we’ve replaced hot cocoa with ice cream; Christmas lights for lightening bugs and warm blankets for sandy beach towels. Instead of being hit in the face with cold air as you walk out your front door, you’re hit with a heat wave that smells faintly of honeysuckles and swimming pool chlorine.

The days are longer and it just seems like the nights are more fun! ;) We are more likely to venture out for happy hour or hang with friends at a barbeque. We are more apt to travel, plan road-trips or an outing. Summer means more freedom and fewer restrictions because the weather is working with us, not against us.

But above all of this, my favorite aspect of summer, what I think takes-the-cake, is for those of us who are fortunate enough to live near a coast, Summer is time to head “to the beach” or “down the shore.”

Weekends are filled with miles of boardwalks, hours on the beach, boat or by a pool. Food cooked on the grill outside and happy hour starting just after noon. It’s a time to kick back, relax, and enjoy the fruits of your winter labor. Ahhh, sweet summertime …I am a summer girl through and through so for me, Memorial Day has been a long time coming!

But margaritas, barbeques, bikini’s, beach trips and pool parties were never part of the origins of Memorial Day. The whole point of this Holiday was to be a day of remembrance, a day to honor those men and women who were, and are, part of the Armed Forces. A special occasion to … you know, memorialize—hence the name. But, somehow these “summerisms,” (if you will) have managed to dominate the weekend. In the mix of the sunny haze we forgot the historical point.

Now don’t stop reading because you think the rest of this blog is going to be a history lesson on the origins of Memorial Day …that is not at all where this is going.

I am not a history teacher.
This is a blog, not a research paper. If you want to know the origins of Memorial Day go to Wikipedia like everyone else.

Anyhow …my point is that we are SUPPOSED to be memorializing people and events that have contributed to our lives. I think it’s a wonderful thing and that should not be lost in the mix. Making a day to remember is one of the best ways to remind an entire nation; that without these people’s contributions, we may not have the freedom to embark on our “summerisms.”

However, what about all the days in-between that came before and after this event. The days between the start of that war and the end of it? Time in-between the turmoil. Time that is not marked by a day of remembrance or any great achievement; where no great problem was solved or solution discovered. A day where nothing terrible and nothing extravagant happened. A day that was just…dare I say …Normal?

What about those regular Joe-Schmo days. The uneventful, filler days, ones that are represented by the words “2 Weeks Later” in movies or books, when the writers want to just skip the mundane and get right to the heart of the story.

The secret is this … in-between these big events—the wars, the holidays, the happy graduations, the promotions, the demotions, the births and deaths; lays the real heart of the story. The “regular” days, where the daily events seem smaller in scale, but, as we learn over time, actually have a greater worth.

I say all of this on Memorial Day because this date has a special significance for my entire family. Memorial Day is a tough time of year for us, because last year, over the holiday weekend, my cousin was in a motorcycle accident. He died at the scene of the crash. In an instant our “summerisms” dissipated and reality set in.

In an instant my cousin was snatched away. The same amount of time it takes to snap a picture or snap your fingers. That fast … It can all change.

Last year, for us, it did.

My cousin Michael loved his Harley, and on his “holiday,” his day off, he took his beloved bike for a ride. I remember the weather that day. I remember that it was sunny and warm. My skin was hot under the sun, turning pink and tan from the heat of the rays. The sky was blue and the clouds looked like cotton candy pillows floating thru the sky. The weather was perfect.

My immediate family and I spent the day at our beach house. We were having a crab party that night so we all came back from the pool, beach and boat early to cook our holiday feast of shrimp and crabs. It was a happy day, one of those days where, if you were watching a movie, you would never believe that this was the setting for something terrible to happen.

We were sitting down for dinner when out house phone rang. One ring, one sound and everything changed. It was my Uncle and he was calling to tell us that Michael was in an accident.

I think about that day now and I imagine Michael on his bike. I think about how he must have felt with the breeze on his face, the wind setting off the heat, just enough so that the temperate felt perfect.

I imagine that when he got on his bike he was able to breath a sigh of relief. All of his problems were left behind him and riding cleared his head. Michael loved to ride and I hoped that day he had taken a deep breath and let the air fill his lungs. I know he felt at home, peaceful and happy on his motorcycle. I hoped that he was completely content.

I imagine that when the accident happened he didn’t feel anything aside from the sun warm on his face and the breeze cool behind his neck. I don’t believe that he suffered, because there is no way that Michael could have ever suffered while riding his bike. The two just didn’t go together … so I don’t believe that he felt anything besides the sheer joy he got from taking his bike for a ride on a gorgeous day.

I believe that because in an instant he was here and now he’s not. While my immediate family and myself were cleaning crabs and setting the table for dinner, Michael was gone.

A year later when I think about him, I don’t remember him in the context of the day he died. I don’t think about the accident. I don’t think about him at his graduation or at a big holiday event. Instead, I think of him just on a regular day … my big teddy bear cousin who loved to cook and ride his Harley.

That’s the irony. We put so much emphasis on the “events,” the holidays, but in the end, when the dust settles, it’s the regular days that we hold close to our hearts. They are where the true greatness lies. The “regular” days are what we look back on in retrospect and hold close to our heart.

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE BLOG

The regular-stuff becomes what we truly cherish. We forget about the big events or big gestures, instead, we remember sitting around a kitchen table laughing with someone we loved on a random Tuesday in May. We remember the sound of their voice, the smell in the kitchen, how we felt and how much we loved them. That’s the stuff that sticks.

So on this Memorial Day, don’t stress about the big stuff, the plans, the events, or fulfilling your “summerisms”. Instead, hold tight to the small stuff and remember … what we think is mundane now, actually becomes the heart of our stories.

Cherish the moment…

xoxo
Lana

"Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things." -Unknown

“Ride on Michael … Ride on.”

Mother’s Day, Motherisms & Sub Ins

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Fri, 07 May 2010 10:53:20 PDT

Mother’s Day is Sunday. It’s the Hallmark-official day when we are required to celebrate our mothers. In theory it’s nice. It says, “On this special day in May, make sure you tell Mom how great she is.” Okay we can live with that… but in reality; it doesn’t fit into such a neat little box…

If you are a person who has a strained relationship with your mother, then Mother’s Day is not exactly your favorite time of the year. Truth is, not everyone has the Mrs. Brady mother type. You don’t have to get a license or pass a test to procreate, therefore, some people, who aren’t quite suited for the job, end up becoming mothers. So for those people, the day is awkward, forced and fake. You participate because you feel obligated.

If you are person who lost your mother, (especially if it’s recent) then Mother’s Day is painful. You don’t want to be reminded that you are without a Mother to celebrate.

If you are a person who has been trying to conceive a child, but have been unsuccessful, then Mother’s Day can be sad. It acts as a reminder that you will not be included on this exclusive festivity. On the other hand, if you were not trying to conceive child, but whoops, you did… then Mother’s Day is not exactly a second Christmas for you either.

If you’re a person who considers your mother one of your nearest and dearest, then she has grown into the “friend” category as you have grown into your 20’s. If you identify with this, then you don’t really need one day to “thank” mom, because you’ve probably done that hundreds of times throughout the year.

So why then have we continued this tradition? Is it just something that people feel pressured into participating in?

I think we participate because no matter what your gender, sex, race, religion, heritage, political viewpoints, social associations or any other category we use to define ourselves—at some point, we have all had a mom. In some form or fashion, despite her idiosyncrasies, her constant reminding (nagging), her ability to so graciously force her views or share her wisdom, we love her.

Even if she’s not Mrs. Brady and you don’t have the “friend” relationship you accept her on some level because “She’s my mom.” You shrug, what else can you say? This answer seems to explain almost all of the complex relationships that float around Mother’s Day.

If you’re reading this and you’re someone who has lost your mother, then I am going to force my own mother’s advice on you… Celebrate your “stand-in” mom or moms.

My mom lost her own mother over 17 years ago. She still says that she misses her every day. (If you have had a good relationship with your own mother, I don’t think that longing ever goes away). My mom says that she uses Mother’s day to thank the older women in her life who have lent her an ear, or given her advice, or forced their wisdom on her in a time when she didn’t think she needed to hear it. You see, NO ONE can compete with your own mother, but sometimes there are people placed in our lives by the heavens, who fill the voids of others we have lost. So use this Mother’s Day to recognize the other women in your life who have subbed in.

Finally, if you’re like me—still have your mom AND have a great relationship with her, then you should consider yourself VERY LUCKY!! Even though you may talk to her often, you should make sure to recognize her on this official Hallmark day anyway. Mostly in part, because over the years I think we have all taken for granted the “mommy-esk” things that she has done for us.

When we were kids they stayed up with us when we got sick and they let us climb into their beds when we had bad dreams. Even if they wanted to go to the gym or get extra sleep they allowed us to be their priority. They let us stay home when we faked being sick. Sometimes our mother's even called out of work themselves and stayed home with us in their pajamas. (in my house it was dubbed International Pajama Day, actually a much-needed mental health day that only my mom seemed to notice that we needed.)

Our Mom's reassured us of how smart, beautiful, capable and nice we are. They are our biggest fans and the loudest in our cheering section of life. They held our hand when we needed them to and as we grew up and became independent, they let us go when we needed them to. Over the years they have packed us lunches, our overnight and summer camp bags. They have helped us pack up our rooms when we moved out or onto college and if it didn’t work out; they have even helped us unpack when we move back in…

So, despite our own feelings, I guess we don’t really appreciate the changes that our mother’s go through until we’re in our 20something years. We don’t realize that we should use this Sunday, in May, to celebrate our Mother’s because they brought us into this world. They allowed us to come in and change their whole lives. They sacrificed some of their youthful hopes and dreams for our better good. They made many choices because they thought about themselves, but they also made numerous ones because they thought about our needs, our welfare and us.

Moms have traditionally been referred to as “the heart of the home.” The people who’s responsibility it is to teach their children about love, acceptance, kindness, forgiveness and tolerance. Not any easy task. It’s not a 9-5 job and it is something that is taught by example. They don’t have the opportunity to retire from work, throw on some sweat pants and kick back for the rest of the night. Instead, they have to be always ready, 24/7 to practice what they preach. You would think they would complain about this more, but somehow, as babies and small children, we weaseled our way into their hearts, so they do it because they love us… unconditionally. (Lucky for us!)

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE BLOG

Don’t let the Hallmark-holiday, pressure exclude you… No matter what your situation, you should thank your mom, in person, on the phone or through prayer that she decided to bring you onto the planet.

If you don’t have a mom, thank your sub, or stand in. If you do have a mom, suck it up and honor all of her work. Let them enjoy their special day; they deserve it for dealing with us all 364 other days of the year.

xoxo
Lana

"The language of the heart allows us intimacy... It is the conveyance of the most tender, most delicate of emotions. And if one is lucky enough, that language is learned at a mother's knee...”~ Maya Angelou

Plastic’s not Perfect

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Fri, 30 Apr 2010 11:45:09 PDT

Keeping up with the Joneses, just another “THEY” we feel compelled to follow. So, maybe that is why our society is so apt to embrace change. Why we rush to obtain the new and cutting edge. Maybe we’re all just trying to keep up. My question then is have we taken this too far?

Newest trend in the past 2 decades—tattoos. (Yes I know people in the military, motorcycle organizations, etc… have been getting inked for a long time, but only recently has it become universal) To the younger generations (we 20somethings), tattoos are not only acceptable but have grown to be somewhat of a norm. I think this is largely in part because we are striving to individualize or make ourselves unique and independent from “everyone else.” But, for some this new fad, the obsession with ink, is just another way to keep up with those damn Joneses.

Either way, if you’re getting your ink in a clean reputable establishment, and you’re willing to tolerate the extended stare (sometimes snarl) of the older portion of our culture... then tattoos are unique and seemingly harmless.

But what about the other things we do to our bodies to stay up with the times. Things that people do to stay cutting edge—things that actually involve actual cutting… What about plastic surgery?

This, too, leaves something permanent on our body—massive scars. “Going under the knife” in recent years has definitely become something that is socially acceptable. We see people on TV and people that we know getting plastic surgery more and more often.

Sadly, if someone is aging gracefully we assume, “ Oh he/she must have had work done.” We disregard that maybe they wore sunscreen, took care of their skin, never smoked, stayed active and lived healthy. All of those are attributes that just cannot be true; we do not ever consider that. Probably because we are a quick fix society and when someone looks “great for their age,” they MUST have had SOMETHING done.

This automatic assumption is what scares me. This assumption is what leads me to believe that plastic surgery has crept into the “norm” category as well.

This week the oh-so-dramatic and compelling new series of “The Hills” came out. If you’re not familiar with this show, it’s probably because you prefer to watch television with talented actors and actresses. But if you’re like me, and you just can’t look away from the shallow, dramatic, “ reality” shows”… you’ve probably watched this MTV hit.

I am not too proud to say that I DVR the show and faithfully watch every episode. (No judgment my dear readers…if anyone went thru your list of DVR shows you probably have something listed you would rather not admit too!) Hey, we all need a mindless escape. It’s called de-stressing.

Anyhow, one of the main character’s, Heidi, debuts her made-over body. She underwent 10 plastic surgeries and is quoted in People magazine as “being obsessed and definitely going to have more!” Side note, in the “before” picture she already had her boobs done, but was still unsatisfied, which is why she opted for 10 more. I, in no way intend to defame Heidi’s already tarnished reputation, but I think this girl is out of her mind! She was actually a pretty girl before any of the surgery. Sad, isn’t it?

Maybe if you have a bump in your nose that you’ve always wanted fixed or a deviated septum. Maybe if you have boobs so big that they are causing back problems or vision problems, which require an eyelift… These are SOME situations I think that plastic surgery- IN MODERATION is a positive thing.

But thinking you have small boobs and risking silicone leaking throughout your insides is not a decision we should take lightly. Having drains attached to your body, draining out fluid (EWW… I don’t even want to think about, I’m cringing as I’m writing) is not an “easy recovery”. Undergoing anesthesia and risking your life, so that you feel more confident… there is big a problem here.

Feeling confident is exactly that… a feeling. Having some quick fix will not change your perception of self and may not change how you think people perceive you. Think about it like this, holding a diploma in your hands does not make you educated, having a certain job title printed on your business card does not make you experienced and having a quick fix plastic surgery will not make you feel better. These are all surface things. How we feel is not.

Feelings are complicated and how we feel about ourselves is probably the most complicated of all. What is difficult is that we juggle our perception of self, right alongside of how others view us. How our colleagues and peers perceive us weighs heavily on how we view our selves. There are tons of emotions and feelings that depend on outlying reactions …

Shame is something that generally only surfaces when someone else reacts to our behavior. Without this outside viewpoint, we may only experience guilt. Others induce shame.
Satisfaction is something that generally only surfaces when someone praises us. Without this praise we may never recognize a job well done.
Love is something that generally only surfaces when someone else reacts to our feelings. For love to be real, (relationships, family, friendships,) are all dependent on someone else’s reciprocation of our feelings.

All of these emotions depend on others and how they view us. They are all feelings that are all induced by other’s reactions of us.

Truth is, that no matter what the time frame, genre, story line, subject… in the end, life is about people and relationships. We value family, friendship and romantic love.

People on the planes in 9/11 called their loved ones before it went down. People in the military call and write letters to their loved one before they go into combat. People fighting disease and cancer want to be surrounded by their loved ones for strength. When someone passes away, we turn to and lean on our loved ones that are left behind.

It can be depressing to think about, but it’s a fact of life. It all boils down that we need one another despite our yearning to individualize and stand out.

So, it’s not our fault then that even the most confident of the bunch, care and react to how people perceive us. We are social beings. We need each other.

I think the problem comes in when we allow too many views or reactions to influence our decisions. When opting for surgery as a solution to fit EVERYONE’s standard of pretty or developing an eating disorder as a solution to fit EVERYONE’s standard of skinny. People do it, because they want to be perceived positively by others and besides, that’s what THEY, (the Joneses) say is attractive.

Well I say, screw the Joneses! Marilyn Monroe, one of the biggest sex symbols of all time and was arguably a size 12. She was eating … its okay. Cindy Crawford, one of the world’s top models has a mole on her face that she refused to remove. She was different … it’s okay.

Some people believe Marilyn was too big or Cindy’s mole was too distracting/ugly, but some people didn’t. Some people agreed that their attributes made these women individual NOT generic. The secret is that not everyone is going to agree on what is pretty, smart, successful. Standards are all different, so we shouldn’t waste our time, money and effort on trying to please everyone and fit into a universal standard.

So, maybe our society, our generation, needs to stop thinking that we can fix the way we feel by changing the surface. Feelings come from within. Any body art or reconstruction probably won’t “FIX” whatever is it that ails you. Instead, maybe we need to re-evaluate whose opinions and reactions we take to heart, whose we value and whose we should just say “ screw you ” to. Actually, who am I? This is all just my opinion - so take it or leave it.....

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE BLOG
Everyone has an opinion; it doesn’t mean they all have to matter to you. We need to evaluate how we let others influence us. We need to remember that being our own person is the most attractive attribute. That dancing to the beat of our own drummer is the best way to stay unique and individual. Being a cookie-cutter replication of someone else will NEVER get you noticed.

So be proud to do your own damn thing … whatever it may be and do it well, as only you can do!

xoxo

Lana

“Be who you are and be that perfectly well” – St Francis de Sales

“Be a first rate version of yourself, instead of a second rate version of someone else” – Judy Garland

Lost and Found

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Fri, 23 Apr 2010 10:21:10 PDT

In our 20something years we are figuring ourselves out and trying things on for size. We are interviewing people we meet. With new friends it’s to decide if they are the type of person we want in our inner circle. With dating, we interview people to decide if we want a relationship with them. For work, we interview for jobs to see if we want a particular career.

So, with all of incessant Q & A circling around us, we have heard that dreaded question time and again. The one that makes our palms sweat and heart race. Where as soon as the words are uttered, we feel instant anxiety. It’s awkward and heavy and most of us cannot conceive to think about the answer… but it is frequently asked anyway.

“So where do you see yourself in five years?”

[GROAN!] We stumble over our answer while frantically trying to organize our thoughts. With trepidation we try to formulate an “acceptable” answer.

I want to stop here and point out that I hate this question. So I am taking a stand, and with that said, I choose not to validate this question with an answer.

Those of us who think we know exactly where we will be in five years have left out the small factor of the unknown. Sorry to burst your bubble, all you happy planning types. But thinking you can predict where you will be in five years is only setting yourself up for a huge disappointment. Truth is, we're really not supposed to know.

We are supposed to shoot high and work hard and hope for the best. However, we need to remember that we will get sidetracked and distracted. We will stumble, fall and head in the wrong direction. We will get lost and hopefully we will find our way back.

The words of wisdom from our elders will fall upon deaf ears. We will disregard warning and advice because we will insist on figuring it out on our own.

We are young and dumb and determined and motivated. We want to do it for ourselves. We have fire under our ass and the Eye Of The Tiger soundtrack playing in the background. We have big dreams and great ideas. We have experienced enough and have convinced ourselves we know what we are doing. That is our 20something journey.

Not because we are self-destructive or because we are destined to ruin the future of mankind, but because it’s what we need to do. I read a quote that said, “Good judgment comes from experience and experience comes from bad judgment.” This exemplifies the idea that experience is what matters.Experience is what helps up grow as people. Experience is learned on “the journey” between the start and the destination.

I studied abroad when I was 19. I moved to Rome with 3 friends from college, lived in an apartment off campus and hoped to survive for the next 5 months. There was basically no supervision or micro-management from our University in Rome. Hey, its Italy… we were supposed to just eat, drink and be merry.

So we armed ourselves with maps we couldn’t read, of a city we had never been to, along with an Italian-English translation book that we couldn’t pronounce. We were ready! (note the sarcasm)

Every day is an adventure when your 19, especially when you’re in Europe... alone, unsupervised and just generally happy that we could order wine with every meal! So on one of our many adventures, despite how gallantly prepared we were, believe it or not, we ended up lost! Shocked right?

We had got on the RIGHT bus going the WRONG way. Not conducive to be being productive. So, we got off that bus after 30 minutes of aimlessly riding in the wrong direction only to stand at the bus stop for close to an hour waiting for another one to come. (*Side note* - In Italy they have bus schedules but it’s really just a façade. They do not abide by them. Like I said everyone is so busy, eating, drinking and being merry, they just don’t have time for schedules.)

So, when a bus finally came our way, we got on. Yes, we are aware that it was not the right number. Yes, we were aware that this particular bus was what you would call a “short” bus. So it wasn’t EXACTLY what we were looking for. But we were stranded, (young and impatient) so we got on anyway.

It wasn’t until I plopped down into my seat that I noticed...

My roommates and I were the only ones on this bus. (Strange?) No we just shrugged it off.
Then I noticed that the bus was flying by all of the other bus stops. (Strange?) Now, I was starting to get a little uneasy, but I shrugged it off.
It wasn’t until this short, deserted bus pulled into a pitch black tunnel that I thought- maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

It was dark inside this tunnel and eventually the bus came to a stop. The driver said nothing; he just got out and left the door wide open. My roommates and I were alone on this bus in what looked like an empty basement of a parking garage. (At this point, had I seen the movie “Taken” or “Hostel” I would have got right off that bus and ran—but I was 19 and naïve—so we all sat patiently waiting for another bus driver) Maybe it was just a change of shift?

After another 25 minutes of waiting. We decided to exit the bus. We wandered through this parking garage and found a sign that said “San Pietro -->”. Without any other better ideas, we followed the arrows.

We traveled across 2 people-movers (you know those things in the airport) and up 3 escalators. It seemed to be a pretty high-tech parking garage.

As we emerge to ground level. I remember the sun glaring and my eyes were having a hard time adjusting. When the spots had dissipated and I could get my bearings, we discovered that we were standing on the edge of Saint Peter’s Basilica…aka…the Vatican! (Hence the San Pietro sign)

We had tried for weeks to get to this part of Rome but we just couldn’t figure it out. Little did we know that this bus station sat below Vatican City and was only a 15 minute ride from our apartment (assuming we got on another short Vatican Bus and didn’t start out going the opposite direction). Anyhow, as time passed I do not remember how frustrated, tired, hungry or confused I felt…that fades. What I do remember is how I felt when I looked around me. The sky that day was magnificent. Almost magical. I took a slew of pictures and even now (6 years later), I still believe that the sky is “just different” over Saint Peter’s.

For the next few hours we walked around Vatican City in awe. Thanking God that we didn’t end up trapped in a scary garage basement, but also appreciative that we had the gift of being lost.

To this day, I ask people if they know that the view from Gianicolo Hill is one of the best in Rome? Or if they know that those short small buses skip all of the traffic and end up in the heart of Vatican City?

Most people don’t know this. It was a secret that the city revealed to us. Only because we decided to just “go with the flow” and accept being lost!

So, the getting lost and figuring it out… The saving yourself… The doing for yourself. That is what makes us who we are. Having a job or a relationship means nothing if you didn’t have to work to obtain it. If you didn’t really want it with everything that you are. If you didn’t get lost and mess up and trip over yourself to get there. Without all of that—the journey—it would be worthless.

What if we just accept that we are going to get lost? “Shoot for the moon and even if you miss, you land among the stars.” That’s the cheesy heartfelt quote, but it has some truth to it. It’s telling us to do our best, make decisions, that at the time, we feel are necessary and aim high. We need to do this and also realize that we will be pig-headed and have to figure things out on our own.

If we consciously accept all of this, maybe we will make the whole journey a little easier. If we just stop swimming against the tide and could accept the idea of going with the flow… we may find that we end up just where we are supposed to be.

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE BLOG
We cannot predict where we will be in five years. It’s not fair to put that kind of pressure on ourselves. So I say, when asked that question we should respond…

“I hope to be _____, but I know that I will get lost and I will figure it out and I will be a better person for it, yet, I will keep doing the work I will end up where I belong with a great story to tell.”

How do you think that would fly in an interview? Probably not so great… and since the economy sucks and the job market is so competitive, maybe just say

“I hope to be right here working at _________ (insert venue)”

Let’s not forget that there is a time and a place for honesty. So on that interview, keep this to yourself, but find comfort in knowing that the sky is the limit. ;) Remember even though the plans fall through, what takes shape may be something far better than you could have planned for. So embrace the stints of feeling lost and trust that you will eventually be found. We almost always find our way eventually and when we do, we may be pleasantly surprised at the place, career, event or person that has emerged on our path.

xoxo
Lana

“When I get lost on purpose, I usually wind up feeling, to an extent, more exactly where I am” –Jason Millard

Earth Day & Electronic Device Day?!

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Tue, 20 Apr 2010 08:12:48 PDT

Next Thursday, April 22nd, will mark the 40-year anniversary of the first Earth Day! In the 1970’s, that generation, (the “hippies” if you will) created the radical “go green” movement. They hugged a tree and with that started a legacy and a holiday that carries into 2010. “Reduce, Reuse and Recycle,” that’s their slogan and their mission: to keep the planet clean for the next generation (that would be us).

I think we have done a good job of carrying out this legacy.

Today, you’re an oddity if you don’t recycle. We encourage eco-friendly habits; Electric cars like the Prius or Hybrids; reusable containers and Tupperware; trendy reusable bags from our favorite retail and fair trade grocery stores like Trader Joe’s.

We read news headlines online and have paperless paychecks and bills. We are environmentally friendly and we’ve made our parents generation proud. They were wise enough to see the potential danger that a wasteful life could have, so, they opened their mouths, made some noise, got some attention and started a movement.

They thought out side-of-the-box, they used foresight to see the potential harm of a wasteful lifestyle and the significant benefits that change could bring. I say, who cares if those hippies went to Woodstock, smoked grass and burned their bras…. they were still bright, progressive, creative and innovative.

So what about us? Our generation has proven to be a conscious, conscientious part of this world today. We recognize that the abundant life on this planet provides for all our physical needs. Our “Hippie-Baby- Boomer” parents made sure of that with the inception of Earth Day and we carry that on with each passing year.

But, what about our 20something generation? What will we leave behind? What much needed, meaningful movement will we start?

Some argue that we are the “techy” generation. We are computer savvy and technologically advanced. We’ve lived through:

VHS, DVD’s, and now Blue Ray
Atari, Nintendo, Sega, Gameboy, Xbox, Rockband and DSi
Headset radios, boom boxes, Discmans and now the iPod
Color TV, Digital TV and High-Def
Computer monitors with green screens, laptops, Macs and iPads

We are on the cutting edge… but with technology comes immense amounts of waste that we accumulate. Every time something new is developed, within a month’s time, it is out of date. We are updating our gadgets faster than we can purchase them.

So is that our legacy? … A pile of old cell phones, VHS tapes, CD’s DVD’s, computer games, video games, empty ink cartridges and old monitors? As we condense our lives into one compact gadget (iPhone, blackberry, laptop or iPad) will we also have condensed our legacy? Will our kids celebrate Electronic Device Day?

How will we mark our generation? How can we make sure that our technological advancements are not all that we leave behind? How can we ensure that we make a personal impact? Yes, I know, we’re not hippies … but our influence should move beyond just gadgets. So, I thought about people and how they manage to leave a piece of themselves behind.

My mom’s mom, my grandmother, passed away when I was five. My grandmother was on dialysis and went to the hospital three times a week. Her kidneys were failing and she was growing weak… but don’t start to feel sad and somber, because my tenacious Grandmom wouldn’t want that.

You see, she was a tough Irish woman, not much taller than me (about 5’2 as well) and although her body was giving up on her, she wasn’t going without a fight. Each and every time we would wait for the ambulance to come and carry her off to dialysis; my job would be to retrieve her lipstick from her bag. I remember thinking how beautiful she looked as she applied shiny pink lipstick to her lips. My mother, however, would ask her what she was doing…

“Mom, you’re going to the hospital, what are doing?”

She would answer in her thick Brooklyn accent, “Karen…A lady, is a lady, is a lady—no matter what the situation, don’t you forget that! I just want to look nice… besides those boys who escort me to the hospital are cute and I’m not dead yet!”

This always left my mom laughing. My grandmother would wink at me and I would smile. On one of my many trips to fetch her lipstick, I sat on the couch; legs swinging off the edge, watching her artfully trace the pink tube over her lips. I asked her, as only a 5 year old can do…

“Why do you say you’re not dead yet Grandma? Is something bad going to happen?”

She twisted her silver Clinique lipstick down, replaced the cap and gave me her full attention. This is when she told me about the ladybug. She explained that she was very sick and wouldn’t be able to live at our house too much longer, but not for me to worry, because she was going to come back and watch over me.

She told me that in awhile, whenever she missed me, she would fly down from heaven and come back as a ladybug to sneak-a- peak. I remember being so sad and tears rolled down my face with the realization that I couldn’t keep her forever; but I also remember a sense of calm that came with that moment and that is what I continue to hold onto.

My little, tenacious, Irish, grandmother explained that she chose a ladybug because they are good luck and she would forever be a “lady.” My family is Roman Catholic. Catholic’s do not traditionally believe in reincarnation, yet, this does not stop me from thinking of my Grandmother any time I see a ladybug. I do not believe that she is actually a bug, but when I see them, I think of her. Over the years, my family has bought one another countless ladybug trinkets, cards, stickers; I even have a ladybug tattoo (don’t ask where it is and NO you can’t see it)!

The ladybug has become a symbol that represents my Grandmother and the belief that she is watching over us. It is something small that allows her legacy to live on, immortalizing her every time we see a little polka dot red bug.

So, isn’t it interesting the things that live on? What will take shape and take on a life of it’s own?

What I fear is that our generation is so consumed with being the consumer; that we will be distracted by all the gadgets and things… the stuff. We work hard to acquire it and keep up with the changes. However, what will we leave behind?

What will live on long after us is not our “toys” or our gadgets. Sure the. jpegs, emails, texts, documents will be saved to some memory board, flash drive or internet file. But our memory must surpass the gigabyte or megabyte. It has to be a memory that remains’ in the forefront of people’s brains. A smiling Earth, or a ladybug — they are small symbols, but they represent something so much more; something too large and too moving to trivialize and fit nicely in a zip file on one of our gadgets.

So as Earth Day approaches, we need to remember that everything we need comes directly or indirectly from the bounty of the earth. I am thankful that we, the “ techy” 20somethings, realize that we need to continue to consciously do our part. To protect and restore this beautiful planet and live harmoniously with nature.

We also need to stay aware, just like our parents did, that our actions will affect the next generation. By recognizing the impact and change that our parents were a catalyst for, maybe we too can make a change. We need to look ahead for our children and maybe we can tweak our “techy-ness” into a gift or a legacy, left behind by us.

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE BLOG

"Going Green”, as we say today, is so much more than just a color… it’s a state of mind. We should try and keep just a little bit of “Hippie” alive in all of us. (Bell Bottom pants excluded!) But keep in mind that we want to leave something of our own behind as well.

Whether it’s a smiling earth that represents Earth Day or a tiny Ladybug that can remind people of our presence—Nothing is too small to make a great impact. So get thinking, these are our “formative years” as people and as an entire generation!

xoxo

Lana

“The only thing you take with you when you're gone is what you leave behind.” -John Allston

“The Earth is our Mother, we are all her children.” -Hindu proverb

Easter Bunnies & Other Lies We Tell…

noreply@blogger.com (Lana) — Fri, 02 Apr 2010 09:44:35 PDT

Easter is on Sunday. For 20something’s and adults that means we have to hit the gym because Spring is in full force and Summer is just around the corner. For children it means something much different.

For them they look forward to the Easter bunny hopping up to their door leaving them hidden colored eggs and a basket full of candy. It’s so cute and warm and fuzzy….right?

WRONG!

Why in God’s name do we adults continue to convince the innocent children of the world that a life-size bunny hops around the whole world in one day distributing eggs and candy? When we really think about this, logically it’s bizarre and creepy.

But this is only the start. What about Halloween? We tell kids not to talk to strangers and never to accept a gift or food from someone they don’t know. Yet, on Halloween, we encourage them to dress up in a costume, walk up to a stranger’s front door and tell them its okay to take the food. See a Mixed Message here?

Then there is Christmas…we express to children that they need to keep their doors locked at night and if a “bad guy” or stranger breaks in, then they should call the police. We stress this 364 days of the year, but on Christmas we contradict ourselves. We tell them that it’s completely normal for an oversized, old man, to “magically” come into our house at night, walk around, eat the food and leave presents.

This man knows exactly what to leave because he personally reads letters from every child in the world; while little people, which we explain are magical elves, help him make all the toys. The fact that these elves can even make computers, iPods, DVD’s and all the other electronics is amazing to me. (I think the name elf should be retired and we should start calling them “mini-engineers,” but that’s beside the point.)

The point is that kids believe these illogical bizarre things because we tell them so… Because they think that we adults know what the hell we’re talking about… Because they trust that we are telling them the truth.

So are we exploiting their trust and tricking them?

HELL NO! Kids need to be kids. They need to enjoy, imagine and yes, believe.

What I think we are forgetting is that the kids are not the only ones we are doing it for. The kids are only half the reason. The other half of the reason, why we carry out these traditions and keep the holiday spirit alive, is because we NEED to do it for ourselves. All of it, the “hustle-bustle” in...

shopping, card buying, holiday driving, cooking, baking, egg dying, costume making, gift wrapping, basket stuffing and candy sorting.

Through ALL of those things we feel so compelled to complain about “HAVING” to do, I think there is a piece inside each and every one of us that does it because we actually need to. We struggle to keep these traditions, myths and beliefs alive because we need a reprieve.

We need an excuse to look away from the news headlines. We want to forget about The realities of everyday life plague us, but on holidays we get a break.

health care reform, unemployment, bills, terrorists attacks, counting calories, floods, droughts, earthquakes, crime and politics.

Holidays are different. For most of us we get a day-off from work and although we have let the ideas of bunnies and elves slip through our fingers; we remember the way we felt when we experienced these holidays as children.

We remember running our fingers over the smooth surface of a freshly wrapped gift
We remember the crunch of Easter grass as we dug for lost jelly beans
The smell of Christmas cookies baking in the oven OR
The sense of satisfaction after you finished a diplomatic candy trade after a long night of trick-or-treating.

Although we may not believe that Santa is tucked away inside the North Pole, part of us still wants to, because part of us still remembers how wonderful we felt when we did believe… When something magical wasn’t exceptional, but was typical.

If Santa comes down your chimney they why wouldn’t an Easter Bunny hop around your living room and deliver eggs? As a child, it makes perfect sense. As an adult, part of the joy of the holiday is witnessing the power that pure imagination, trust and hope can have.

We are not longer enamored with the legends and the silly myths, but instead, with the opportunity to witness hope, belief and imagination existing all at the same time. As we get older the hard realities of life squash out these pure characteristics of youth and they unfortunately become a scarce resource in our lives. So we look forward to the holidays when we have an “excuse” to act like a kid again.

Whether you have a child, nephew/niece, young cousin or neighbor you can witness this. Notice when they look at Christmas lights wide eyed or when they run around the yard dressed like Superman or Cinderella. Those are the things that make us smile. Those are the reasons why we decide as adults to continue telling these silly “holidays lies” just to carry out the tradition. The sparkle in the eyes of the youth when they whole heartedly believe is the purist form of wonderment.

As we become adults this fades and we find ourselves falling into the routine of life. Days are monotonous and the luster of youth is dulled and the sounds of childhood joy deafened by responsibilities, obligations and reality. But what if we could find that childhood belief and imagination? What if we could apply that enthusiasm to adulthood…?

If we could envision our own career’s and place in the world with the same wistful potential that we used to see the North Pole, the Great Pumpkin, or the Easter Bunny? If we could hope, believe, and imagine the things we could do, the places we may go and the impact we could make… I think we would see that the magic is still there.

SHORT AND SWEET…AKA…MORAL OF THE BLOG

I think we need more wonderment in our lives. So take a break and just for one day, let yourself remember how wonderful it was to believe.

If you don’t think that you can see the magic anymore….squint and really try to focus…trust me, it’s there.

xoxo
Lana

“When you believe in a thing, believe in it all the way, implicitly and unquestionable” ~ Walt Disney