drama

Okay, so…

I saved this. I saw it a few months back and stuck it into one of the gazillion files I have for things I like.
It resonated with me.
I knew I’d use it, someday…
Well, you guys, today is that day.
It’s one of Seth Godin’s daily blogs, and it said what I wanted to say. Only it said it better. It was smart, it stayed somewhat a-political, and it remained void of any swear words (a feat I am incapable of, especially when writing about politics).

But it still hits the mark.

What a week we’ve had inside this reality show Presidency. The Joker has unlimited powers and Superman is nowhere to be found. I think I’ll go devour a sheetcake.

Yep. A real slow motion trainwreak…
Carry on,
xox

A slow motion trainwreck

We like the flawed hero, bad behavior, tragedy and drama in our fictional characters.

Batman and Deadpool sell far more tickets than Superman does.

If we use social media to attract a crowd, we will, at some level, become a fictional character. Reality shows aren’t about reality–they’re shows.

Which means that it’s tempting to become the sort of trainwreck that people like to watch and jeer and root for.

Personally, and for our brand as well.

Every time DC tries to make Superman more popular, they create drama that isn’t inherent in who he is. Brands fall into this trap all the time.

For a long time, people would confirm that they’d rather watch a flawed character, but deep down, they’d like to be Superman. Because his humility, kindness and resilient mental health are a perfect match for his unlimited powers. Unfortunately, as we’ve turned our lives into a reality show, more people seem happier emphasizing their mess.

It’s probably a bad idea to vote for, work for or marry a trainwreck. They belong on screen, not in real life.

Everyone has some Superman in them. But it takes emotional labor and hard work to reclaim it.

~ Seth Godin

https://seths.blog

Recently, a very wise woman after careful consideration, said this to my husband: What if you viewed life as a series of green lights and open doors?

My husband is a serial problem solver. No puzzle is too complex to solve. No obstacle insurmountable.

If you need any problem worked over by a pro—he’s your man.

Great quality, right? It is, with one exception: He’s never out of work! He attracts problems. He sees flaws a mile away. Puzzles with missing pieces find him.

He is the “Obstacle Whisperer.”

Since that wise woman wasn’t me, the suggestion was well received. Profound. All of you wives know how that works.

Actually, it’s better than that. He didn’t hear her say it—It went right by him!

But I did.

That’s because our intrepid trouble-shooter was in full on sniper mode, getting in position on some rooftop somehwhere—in his head—because that’s what happens when you’re awesome at something—the Universe provides, and there is always more than enough trouble to shoot. Problems to kill. Mayhem to murder.

Right?

I mean, there’s so much trouble to shoot out there that in his field, design and building—people pay him to take some off their plate.

This is also the way he looks at everything in life. Show me the problem and I’ll solve it.

That wise woman talked to him for about ten minutes and had him pegged. She totally admired that about him but thought maybe it had begun to wear on him a little. Everything had begun to feel like too much of a burden. Pretty much like it has for all of us, myself included.

Some of us are addicted to the struggle. We’re always trying to get to the “bottom of something.” Well, guess what you guys?

THERE IS NO BOTTOM.

That’s why I loved her suggestion so much I had to share it.

These days I like smooth sailing. Less complicated living. Less fucks given. Minimum drama. And it’s just a simple tweak away.

What if you viewed life as a series of green lights and open doors?

Just writing that makes my shoulders go back where they belong instead of wearing them as earrings.

My husband and I have invented a shorthand to remind each other—Green Doors.

That’s all.
Carry on,
xox

*This is an oldie but goodie from a little over a year ago. Similar drama, same cast of characters, familiar circus—just the monkeys have changed. Better shoes.
Carry on,
xox

“Whenever you become anxious or stressed, outer purpose has taken over, and you lost sight of your inner purpose. You have forgotten that your state of consciousness is primary, all else secondary.”
~Eckhart Tolle~

Man, can you feel it? There’s a LOT of drama out there.

It’s like the Shakespeare Festival has staked its tent and all the players are acting out their melodrama…inside OUR lives. Crazy has come to town.

It feels not only national, but global…even Cosmic.
Lots of amped up solar activity lately. March even spit us an X class solar flare on its way out. I blame everything wonky on solar flares. Computer goes down, car won’t start, dog poops in the house.

“I call it! Solar flare!” From bad TV reception, to cranky pants postal workers, to epic fly away hair and static electricity. I went to pet the dog last night and produced an electrical arc that would have made Tesla proud. “Solar flare!”

If you think that full moons bring out the crazies, I betcha twenty bucks solar flares are worse.

Mother Earth is even rattled for Pete’s sake. It’s rockin’ and rolllin’, and keeping us all guessing. “They” even say that the 8.2 in Chile was not “The Big One”. “They” are not helping. “They” need be run out-of-town with torches and pitchforks. Kidding. But seriously people, you don’t know ANYTHING for sure. Pipe down or soon everyone in Chile and California will be sleeping in the park.

Oh yeah, Crazy loves to camp.

Driving is especially insane these days. On the freeway this morning, there must have been an accident every mile and a half.
People are short-tempered and stressed, and that makes them drive really fast while texting, eating an Egg McMuffin and putting on mascara.

I’d tell you it’s safer to fly, but…honest to God, where’s that freaking Malaysian plane?

The energy seems to be crackling with chaos and turmoil. So how do we stay above the fray? How do we not get caught up in all this drama? Especially when the majority of it doesn’t even belong to us?

1) TURN OFF CNN.

2) Breathe and stay in the moment. Someone’s got to keep a cool head.
Don’t worry about what “could” happen. Breathe and stay in the moment.

If the Earth opens up and swallows your neighbor’s house…breathe and stay in the moment.
If the car next to you swerves and flips on it’s back. Breathe and stay in the moment.

3) Keep a cool head. Stay grounded. It’s not your shit. Help out.
Be one of the people who stays calm and carries on. We need you.
If it’s not happening to you directly, breathe and stay in the moment so you can be of assistance.

If YOUR house is hit by an asteroid, you know what I’m gonna say:
Breathe and stay in the moment.
Then grab the dog and run.

XoxJanet

How crazy is it where you are?
How do you stay grounded? Or do you? I want to hear about it in the comments below.

One night a couple of weeks ago, my husband went into the lab for a sleep study.

It wasn’t all about the snoring so much as the ceasing to breathe (apnea). He gasps for breath like a fish out of water, and when the loud gasping wakes me up — well that shit has got to stop,

I can’t afford to sacrifice one moment of my beauty rest.

Seriously, apnea can cause a whole myriad of health issues — including death — which we all have to agree is the ultimate side effect—so he packed up his pillow and jammies and spent the night at the lab.

“You are one of the worst cases this lab has ever studied,” his doctor exclaimed, barely hiding her surprise as she read the report. “You wake up on average, thirty-seven times an hour! In other words, you get absolutely NO rest!”

She promptly wrote a prescription for one of those sexy CPAP machines, assuring him that it will “change his life.”

I know she’s right — I see a change in his sex life coming real soon.

That night when he got home he couldn’t stop yawning.
“I’m sooooo tired. You know; I get absolutely NO rest” he said, shooting me a zombie-eyed look as he stifled another yawn.

Two hours later, after yawning and complaining his way through dinner, I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Damn, you sure are suggestible,” I teased. “You felt fine until she told you weren’t getting any sleep, now look at you.”

He grinned sheepishly, “I know, right?”

I may know a thing or two about suggestibility.

I am NOT allowed to read the side effects that come with a prescription drug because I cannot be trusted from that moment on to feel anything legitimate.

If it says may cause constipation –– I won’t poop for a week.

May cause drowsiness –– I lapse into a coma.

If it lists depression or psychotic episodes –– I start hearing voices.

The same goes for Web MD.
It is my belief that no one without a medical degree should be allowed to log onto that site!

A few years back, that very same husband met me one morning in the kitchen doubled over, holding his side and wincing in pain. Seems he was up all night self-diagnosing his affliction with the help of the internet, and by morning they’d both agreed –– he had all the symptoms of appendicitis.

Ever the perfect, caring and sensitive wife –– I called bullshit.

“Oh sure you do. Come on, it’s just gas. Buck up and take an Alka Seltzer and quit being such a baby.”

In this case, I was wrong. He had to have an emergency appendectomy later on that night.

But my argument still stands!

Don’t read that shit, especially late at night or your headache will morph into a brain tumor in a matter of hours.

Trust me on this.

She felt amazing…until they told her she was sick…

I’m a firm believer that doctors should forget about their malpractice insurance for a minute and neglect to tell a patient the downside, the side effects, and the survival rate.

Most people are just too damn suggestible (myself included.) That information goes in their ears, bangs around in their brains, fires up all of the fear receptors, and then sets up shop up there—and becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

My father was told that people with his stage of lung cancer had about eighteen months and by God, he kept that appointment with death. Shit dad; it was an educated guess, not a directive from the main office.

Studies have shown that men are the worst. They will obediently mark it on their sub-conscious calendars.

How about if we all agree to attach our hopes to only the positive suggestions; otherwise known as The Placebo Effect—Things work out for the best because we BELIEVE that to be true. 

They feel more like a hopeful heart flutter than a gut-punch.

That procedure doesn’t hurt a bit.

Owning a pet helps you live longer.

Sex can be counted as cardio.

It isn’t only diet and exercise that keeps you healthy, it’s a positive state of mind.

This bug only 24 hours, you’ll feel better by the morning.

Coffee is good for you.

Red wine keeps cancer at bay…

Blonds have more fun.

Those are the yummy suggestions that we should let set up shop in our brains and become a prophesy fulfilled –– not the drama and dreck the fear hands us.

Agreed?

Carry On,
xox