blogger humor

The Lost Art Of Humility

imageThe Lost Art of Humility

I saw an interview recently of a young, huge hit maker, music industry mega star. I can’t for the life of me remember who it was. For the sake of this post I will call that malady: menopause brain. It is similar to pregnancy brain, or so I’m told. I used to have total recall, but since 50 that has gone the way of perky boobs and flat abs.

Here’s a funny or sad story, you decide. I was talking to a friend the other day, on my cell phone, while rifling frantically through my purse, looking for my cell phone. I told her I had to hang up and try to find my phone, so could she please call it so I see if I could hear it ring? There was just silence on the other end. I’m sure she was dialing 911 on her land line. When I realized what was happening, I laughed so hard I almost pee’d my pants. Ugh… I’m turning into my mother.

Anyway….this young guy displayed a trait you don’t see much of these days in the mega famous. Humility. It was so refreshing, it was like a glass of ice water in hell.
He was asked how he felt about all his success, and he said: I would not be here if it weren’t for the people around me.

What?!

The interviewer pressed on: Well, what about this great thing, or that great hit? That’s just talent, right?
The very humble star continued: I had a music teacher in middle school that saw something in me, if he hadn’t, who knows where I’d be. I wasn’t good in school, I would have fallen through the cracks.
I had a mom that believed I was special. If she hadn’t, I might still be back in Virginia, doing who knows what.
I had a mentor, a producer that took a chance on my first CD. It wasn’t successful, but it allowed me to learn. If I hadn’t had that experience, I wouldn’t be where I am today.
Those people changed the trajectory of his life and he is forever grateful.
I fucking love that.
There are too many stars, too many successful people, that buy into their own hype. They start to forget how things began, how they evolved, and all the people and the steps it took to get to the top.
They have no desire to pay it forward. They pay tribute to no one. They are legends in their own minds, because everyone tells them they are. They are surrounded by “yes” men and women who are all on the payroll.
They can’t find the time to mentor; they’re too busy looking in the mirror.

We all are NOTHING without the people around us.
I’ll take it a step further. We are all CONNECTED.
As one person is raised up, we are all raised up.
Come on people, let’s all remember to look back and lend a hand.
To pay tribute to those that saw our potential, even when we couldn’t.
To affirm humility above bravado.
Don’t get me wrong, I love me some bravado when it’s earned, but for God’s sake, if you had a mentor; and you probably did; mentor someone in whom you see potential.
Pay it forward.

Success is tenuous and delicate. Don’t take it for granted.
I’ll say it again. We all are NOTHING without the people around us.
You know who they are. They give you the support, the confidence, the love, the big breaks. Give them some props man.

I had a music teacher, Ed Archer, who saw vocal potential. I had a sixth grade nun, Sister Mary Gabrielle, who instilled the love of learning and books. My mom said I could do anything, she was my mom so I believed her. My husband thinks I’m funny. He’s French and they think Jerry Lewis and the Three Stooges are funny and I don’t; but I’ll include him anyway. These are the ones that immediately come to mind, I know there are more. Stay tuned…

Tell me whatcha think. Who changed the trajectory of your life?
Who has been your biggest champion, believer, mentor?
Who saw/sees your potential?
I’d love to hear from you!

XoxJanet

The Trouble With Transition

The Trouble With Transition

Red hair, blonde hair, soon grey hair, thin days, fat days, aging…my picture can never keep up with the ever transitioning me!
Happy Sunday!

XoxJanet

Bad Mojo Has Left The Building

Bad Mojo Has Left The Building

This morning it dawned on me that after writing about saging and my love for Nagchampa incense, that I should get busy! So, it’s pretty smokey in this house, and it smells like the back of a hippie tour bus, but there’s no bad mojo to be found. ” Bad Mojo has left the building!” Mission accomplished!
Your turn.

XoxJanet

Be Your Own Dream Maker

Be Your Own Dream Maker

Do you have lists, folders or a bulletin board full of things you desire?
I do. At my store I had an entire wall of cork behind the desk. It was 11 feet high. The entire surface was covered with pictures, cards, swatches, anything and everything I loved. Except for the very tippy top, because if I could reach it standing on my chair, so be it. If I had to get the ladder; it didn’t make the cut. Too lazy.

I dream big. Always have, always will.
I believe EVERYTHING is obtainable.
The extraordinary things I covet and the pictures I collect are just reminders for me.
I want it all!
Then reality lands on my head. And while he messes my hair, he whispers in my ear this loaded question:
Are you willing to do what it takes?
We all know deep down what’s required to achieve our dreams.
What changes, course corrections, sacrifices, hard work and amount of commitment will deliver them to us.
But will we only reach as high as the chair will take us or will we get off of our asses and get the ladder?

Are you willing to do what it takes?
We can ask that question of ANY situation. If we do, often the answer will be: not now, or I’m not ready, or flat-out NO.
Then we have no one to blame but ourselves when something slips through our fingers and that’s no fun.
Blame comes in handy. It deflects the shame.

Sometimes you think you know what you’re willing to do, but if you’d really known what it would take, you’d have packed your bags and moved to Siberia.

When I decided to buy a house I knew I had to put an end to my frivolous spending.
I was making good money and buying everything that wasn’t nailed down. I was a hoarder of all the finest things in life. But I could not continue to be that girl AND own a home. Not unless I learned how to turn shoes into gold.
I was sick and tired of greasing Uncle Sam’s palm with my tax money, and listening to my upstairs neighbor’s terrible music and bad headboard rhythm during sex.

I wanted a house, and I wanted it in a year.
I was 39 years old. Time was a wastin’.
But…Was I willing to do what it would take?
It had to be drastic. I needed to save $40,000 in twelve months. I formulated a plan, and jumped. Are you seeing a pattern in my life? I am.

I moved out of my 3000 square foot rented duplex, and put everything in storage. Then my two Siamese cats, their giant cat tree, and 1/3 of my clothes, moved into a 10 x 10ft. bedroom at my sisters with her husband and my two-year old nephew.
It was a toddler/cat free-for-all for this childless, terminally single girl.
Did I also mention that my 7 minute commute turned into one hour each way?
Oh yeah, now THAT’S commitment.
All the sacrifice, all fur balls and midnight cat fights paid off. I did manage to move out after exactly one year. It was a good thing too. My sister was four months pregnant with my niece by then and was going to need MY room.

As I write this I’m sitting in that very house, which I LOVE. I’m proud of myself for buckling down, behaving like grown up, and going after my dream.
Parts of it were fun, but I can’t imagine doing it again. Not in a million years.

I’ve worked two jobs, logged thousands of overtime hours, and passed on great vacation trips, as I’m sure a lot of you have, to get what I wanted.
I’ve learned how to be soft and vulnerable, while getting my heart-broken, in order to be ready for my husband.
Some jumps I’ve taken have failed.
A lot of what I’ve done, I’d never do again.
If I’d REALLY known what it would take, I may not have been so willing.
I think as time goes on you develop a kind of amnesia to the pain. It keeps you in the game.

Regardless, it couldn’t have been THAT bad.
It has all brought me here, and here, is pretty damn good.
So I say: Go for it.

XoxJanet

Hi, I’m Janet

Mentor. Pirate. Dropper of F-bombs.

This is where I write about my version of life. My stories. Told in my own words.

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