Fun on the Run: Is Dinner Just the Appetizer of the Evening These Days?

Dinner is the appetizer of the evening.

Um. Did you catch that?

Dinner.

Is the appetizer.

Of the evening.

???

When this mind-numbing phrase was uttered by my husband last week, my wheels started turning: Could this be true in America today? Is dinner just supposed to be a quick stop on a Friday night before something else becomes the big event? Dinner is usually my appetizer, meal and dessert, so if dinner is only supposed to be the beginning, what comes to comes next when it comes to fun? Am I super boring or too old school for just wanting to sit and talk instead of dashing off to some activity? And if I am, how did I end up like this? If dinner is the appetizer of the evening, then I had questions…

With a bit of *** DEEP THOUGHT*** I realized that within the confines of that single, clever metaphor is a statement that’s both uniquely personal and overarchingly cultural. How much of what we do for fun is of our own spur-of-the-moment volition, and how much of it is us unwittingly carrying on family or cultural traditions without even realizing it? Are our life-long social scopes actually set in place by- gasp!- our parents?

What IS you doing?

Hang on. Before I ask all those questions, I have other questions: IS dinner really just the appetizer of the American weekend evening? If you go out to dinner is it just the pre-game pitstop, or is dinner your main event? I have opinions on this. (Surprise!) But if they’re way off base, then what DO people do for fun these days and what activities are at the center of it?

I know me really well and no one is quicker to self-analyze their own tendencies than I am, so I gotta admit it, here: I’m a little freaked out by the fact that none of this has never occurred to me. Let me explain how this started.

It was a Saturday night and Husb and I were trying to decide which local restaurant to go to. We both had “had it up to here” with work and desperately needed a little down time. (PS- Being married and deciding on a restaurant is an annoying venture anyway. He only ever wants “meat” or “Mexican” or his all-time favorite food “I don’t care” which, like revenge, is a dish best served cold, in my opinion.) So here we go trying to decide…

Chinese? Always a “yes” from me when it comes to take out, but a resounding “no” anytime we want to sit down, have a drink and eat the yummies on site.

Mexican? A usual “no” from me, but definitely a “no” tonight because Mexican food literally arrives at your table in under 10 minutes. And I just wanted to relax.

“I hate that!” I said. “If you really wanna go get Mexican, we’re ordering one thing at a time.”

“I agree,” said Sean, my husb- scrolling through Twitter as I ranted.

“I mean, you’re out for dinner! The thought of going out on the weekend and having a good time is what gets everyone through the damn work week! Who wants the night to be over in 30 minutes?”

“Right,” he sighed, “but for most people, it isn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Most people probably want their food fast because they’re going somewhere afterwards. Movies, sporting events, shopping, bowling…”

“Bowling?”

“I’m just saying. For most people, dinner isn’t the main event. Dinner is the appetizer of the evening,” he said, and turned his eyes back to TweetBot.

I stopped. I put down my wine glass. I stared at him. (It’s been known to happen. Have you seen him? Anyway…)

“Did you just say dinner is the appetizer of the evening?” (He knows I love metaphors.)

“Yeah. You realize three hour dinners aren’t typical. Don’t Italians in Italy do that? Sit around and eat 15 courses of food and drink and talk each other’s ears off? That’s probably why you guys do that. Americans are in a hurry. They make dinner out of a box or order it through a drive thru or make something easy and then get on with their night. Dinner’s an hour. Tops. Then they go do other things.”

But… but… when do they have deep conversations about the meaning of life and hypothesize about the purpose of man’s existence in the universe? (Ok, my Husb would NEVER even entertain 30 seconds of a conversation like that. Sigh.)

But like, when DO they talk about their current projects and goals?

When do they gossip about other family members?

When do they bitch about their bosses?

Surely, not while they’re freakin’ bowling! It can’t be true that dinner is the appetizer of the evening! Dinner is… it’s… it’s everything!

I started to wonder if he was right. Was my social interaction style some dusty, old cultural hold over that I was completely unaware of? To be fair, my grandfather IS 100% Italian. His parents came over on the boat from Sardinia in the 1910s. So really, I suppose we’re not that far removed from the old-world hours-long Sunday suppers that might have unknowingly shaped my entire concept of recreation. Hmm…

I had flashbacks of my mom saying, “Don’t go through life thinking everyone was raised like you, because they weren’t.” I thought that was a warning to avoid the killer or people who wanted to, oh I don’t know, blame me for stuff I didn’t do. I digress.

Really, my ma should have said, “Remember that our family parties like it’s 1492. Gettin’ all medieval and sh*t.”

Crowd surfing. Now there's an idea for Thanksgiving...

What is happening?

Husb was right; my family gathers mainly to eat and drink and… that’s usually it, and that IS an Italian thing. Traditional Italian dinners in Italy, even in modern times, start late, around 8PM, and go on for hours while 3-10 courses are often served. Italians view both cooking and eating as an art, and savor the food and the conversation with relish. We DO do that in my family.

In fact, we very occasionally play games, but we almost never watch movies or sports and we certainly don’t go DO anything after the meal. Is that weird? That stuff’s just not the kind of entertainment we were ever interested in. I remember one time in my entire life that I went to the movies with my parents; I think I was four years old. Neither one of them cared a lick about sports the entire time we were growing up, so they didn’t have “a team.” And they would both rather have jumped off a bridge than go bowling or to play mini-golf or something. It just didn’t happen. Did we miss the boat some how on how to properly be social?

It's not always this cute when I do it....

The MEAL is the social event in my family, so we make it special. Everyone cooks like a pro, everyone brings their best old or new dish and we put on good music and eat and drink and talk for hours. In some people’s family, that probably seems boring, but with a family as animated and outgoing as mine, there’s never a dull moment and before we know it, the clock is striking midnight and someone’s singing, making the cat dance and busting out the limoncello or another bottle of red. It had never occurred to me that this was an “Italian thing;” I thought it was just what all families do. Is that wrong? Limiting? Lame?

I always thought I was really well-rounded, with lots of broad interests and myriad life experiences going for me. In this whole “dinner is the appetizer” situation, I wondered if Sean Spouser was saying the only thing I like to do socially is eat and drink? Because that’s not the case!

I’m always… uh… I also like to… sometimes I… that one time we… damn. I started thinking: Surely, the nucleus of my entertainment scope is larger than cooking, eating, drinking and talking!

My friends. My BEST friends! They can vouch for my other interests! In fact, I had a dinner date this week with two of my best friends! We went to dinner at our favorite Italian place that has a nice Chianti and awesome classic rock and chocolate-cello shots in a mini-wine glass and we always end up sitting there for hours talking about all the things about ourselves no one else understands!

Crap, that sounds the same, doesn’t it? Now that I think of it, they’re both also Italians.

Fine. I admit it. I write, I cook, I eat, I drink, I gab, I listen to good music. Maybe that makes me a person of limited interests. And if it does, um, I don’t think I care.

I might be a person who’s short on interests, but I’m definitely one who’s BIG on quality time. That time around the dinner table, in my opinion, is ground zero for honing relationships and communication with friends and family.

So should I be more American and run off to a movie while wolfing a burger and chugging a milkshake in the car? Is that what people do? Cuz… I don’t wanna do that.

No. Supersize ya own damn self.

Maybe I don’t get it. If dinner is the appetizer of the evening and we hurry up and eat and then go sit at a baseball game, that’s fun (for you, LOL); but we can’t do much talking about how, say, your job is going.

If we’re bowling (bless our lame little hearts) I’m sure we’re being competitive and, like, lively or something. But we aren’t probably getting to the heart of how you feel about the situation in your family that’s been bothering you.

I can’t lend an ear to your relationship triumphs or troubles if we’re power-shopping through the discount racks at the mall.

NO! I want to sit down, look into your eyes, break bread with you and give you my undivided attention while you talk about all of the things in your life that truly matter to you. Because you matter to me. I want to help talk you through anything that upsets you, congratulate you and celebrate you on all the good you’ve got going on and hatch a plan with you that will get you one step closer to making your next dream come true. That’s what I do. It’s who I am and what I live for.

I spend all my time rushing. Rushing and working. Working and rushing. When it comes to being social, I want to slow down, taste, sip and savor. I want to talk. Talk for real. I hate questions that start with “How’s… fill-in-the-blank?” It’s probably fine, or it sucks, I don’t know. But let’s skip the small talk. Let’s skip having to order our food within the first 20 minutes of sitting down. I don’t want to do that. It’s not a race. It’s my life.

I feel like I should feel boring or lame for the way I like to hang out. Maybe it’s antiquated and outdated. Maybe I’m not cool. But you should know something. If I invite you for dinner, it’s not going to be the appetizer. It’s going to be a full, five-course, old school event. And when you leave, I hope your stomach and your heart are full, your mind is light and you have a happy buzz of good wine and friendship. THAT is what relaxes me. That’s what recharges my batteries. And maybe it’s not the American way, but I suppose that can be a good thing sometimes.

So cheers to that sweet, slow lifestyle that I now realize is not my personal choice so much as it’s a passed down way of living prized by a culture of people known for their art, their incredible food, their health and a life expectancy that we should all strive for. In my big Italian family, dinner might be a production, but it’s a production that’s going to lead us to a better, more fulfilled life. Have I convinced you to stop rushing yet?

In my world, dinner is not (and never will be) the appetizer of the evening. The fun starts when I walk through the door, put on my leggings, pour a glass of white wine, ask Alexa to put some real good classic rock on (and I have to do this about 14 times because she sucks) and begin to cook a meal for my family. By the conclusion of that meal- and yes, I secretly hope that is a few hours from when I set it on the table- it is my intention that our bodies, minds and souls are a little bit stronger for my efforts. Dinner isn’t the appetizer of my evening, dinner is the dessert of my day, and a that’s pretty sweet way to live if you ask me. -Kelly

Remembering September 11th- Why "I Still Believe That People Are Really Good At Heart"

Today, some humble thoughts on 9/11- because I always get too overwhelmed on this day to try to be cute. This was going to be a FB post, but it got a bit too lengthy, so, as usual, here I am. Also, excuse the lack of images- there were too few thatI found which were genuine and not self-indulgent.

Most of you know that during the day, I “Clark Kent”-it as a non-profit theatre pro; managing shows, writing grants and the like. It’s a cool gig and sometimes- on days like today- it’s an even cooler gig.

There are a handful of things in life that leave me without any chill whatsoever. Those things include cats, children, cats that are children and two more things… almost all manor of performance art and patriotism.

Combine the two.

On 9/11.

I dare you.

No, wait, don’t.

Because that exact scenario happened today and, of course, I was reduced to tears. At work. In front of 500 patrons. While managing a show.

Pause.

I remember a few years back when I was teaching AP World Literature and I taught my kids the word “jingoism.” We were using it in reference to literary tone, and for your learning pleasure, it means “fanatical patriotism.” If you know me, you’ll know I’m one of the most black-and-white people ever. I’m either completely obsessed with something, or it doesn’t even make my radar. As a young person, that was a tough personality type to have, but as an adult, I like to think it makes me cool. So yeah, when it comes to patriotism, I border on being jingoistic and today, The Texas Tenors (of America’s Got Talent fame) put me over the hairy edge.

Their voices were pristine gorgeousness first of all, and every music-loving gene in my bod was in awe of their talent, but it was more than that. Today is September 11. Their set was red, white and blue. Actually, it came off as not cheesy at all. They did a multitude of patriotic songs, and my little patriotic-self started tearing up… and thinking. Thinking about a bunch of things that I’d never thought about before.

Do you remember those really cool kids in high school? The ones who were straight- A’s and beautiful and popular and president of everything and voted most likely-to-succeed? Those kids with the nice cars and the newest clothes who always had some sports record, a witty quip in class, the right answer during discussion and a crown on their head at the end of all the school dances? Yeah. Those kids. It struck me today, as the doggone Texas Tenors were singing, that America is THAT kid.

And remember being… well… NOT that kid? Remember being unsure of yourself and gawky with hand-me-down clothes and braces and no car, no athletic ability, a couple friends and no date for the prom? I do. Well, maybe not all those things at once, but definitely all those things at one time or another. So those kids are, metaphorically and possibly psychologically, all the countries that are “not America.”

Do we ever stop to think about that?

Does jingoism exist in other countries (outside the realm of sports, of course, because all countries are fanatical about their teams)? And, if so, what does that look like? How do we see it?

I remember teaching my kiddos about Adolf Hitler’s jingoistic propaganda and how it sucked in the German nationalists who were smarting after being ordered by the Treaty of Versailles to take the blame for WWI. But I started to wonder, is North Korea jingoistic? Is Russia? I’m sure the answer is yes, and if they are, uh, how do we feel about that?

Is fanatical patriotism only good when it’s American-fueled? Does a jingoistic Russia or North Korea… or heck, even Vietnam or China or Mexico or France or Spain or Australia or Namibia or Equatorial Guinea or Laos or Panama freak you out? Before you go down that rabbit hole, let’s ponder something…

We’re Americans. Honestly- who has it better? Literally. WHO has a better life than us? We were born into a place where there will never be a day in our lives when we’ll have to worry about whether or not we’ll have clean, running water accessible to us within walking distance. If you can beg a dollar off the street here, you can buy yourself 1000 calories and last the day. You very likely have most of your teeth in your mouth. You can read. You’ve got SOME kind of a skill that someone will pay you to use for them. In essence, you’re going to be okay.

This isn’t a guilt trip. This is why I cry during the National Anthem. Every time I think about this, I think: We are so so so damn lucky and blessed! If you woke up in America today, I hope you said a big thank you to the sky.

If you know me, you know I have a bit of an obsession with not only Anne Frank, but with the entire WWII situation at large. It boggles my mind that one of the greatest (not the, if you know your world history, but one of the greatest) incidences of genocide and mass tragedy to ever strike the earth happened in the 20th century. I am obsessed with the nuance of how that happened- how modern, literate, intelligent “Christians” were at the helm of horrific violence and murder. And how the world watched, circumstantially either unknowing, or unwilling to acknowledge what was actually going on.

Which leads me to this: Where were you 16 years ago today?

I was fast asleep in my college dorm. Esch Hall, actually, at IUP. I awoke on the morning of September 11, 2001, to screaming- blue, bloody-murder screaming. We thought it was a hoax. We turned on the TV. The news. A plane had flown into one of the Twin Towers. What a terrible accident. Maybe the pilot had a stroke, a heart attack, a seizure, a diabetic incident.

And then we watched, live, as the second plane flew into the towers. More screams. No. This is pre-recorded. This is computer CGI. It looks so real. I see things falling from the windows, limb-like things waving in the air. They almost look like people. But that’s not possible. This is America, the world’s “cool kid”- and nobody takes down the cool kid and makes him look vulnerable or scared or ruined.

I remember a friend of mine walking up and down the sidewalks of campus trying to get calls out on our ancient Nokia cell phones, but we couldn’t connect, because everyone on planet earth was trying to call home, desperate for a crumb of reassurance in this crazy world. And there I was. Eighteen years old, with less than six weeks of being on my own under my belt, and completely sure that whatever had happened was certainly not terrorism. Not violence. Not murder. It was surely just a misunderstanding. An accident. A happenstance.

Anne Frank once wrote, “In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.” Ha. Anne was younger than one of my grandmothers. She should still be here with us. And you know, it’s still a fatal flaw of mine that I assume people are inherently good at heart. From the off, I operate under the assumption that people- the drivers who let me pass in traffic, the people I work with, the children I taught, the readers of my blog, the dearest loved ones inside my heart- are good, kind people with honest intentions of doing right in the world. And the hardest lesson of my life is simply that that’s not true.

Jingoism.

Sure, few countries in the world can question our “greatness.” But at this point, please, someone, define ‘greatness’ for me. There are powerful men in the world who can inspire laymen to do the unthinkable. And there are 13 year-old girls who can embody the voice of hope for a century of humanitarians. You know, I’m so sick of people thinking that in the grand scheme of life the bedfellows of power must be money and intimidation. To me, power is the influence of positivity. I’m sure that sounds naïve. But let me be the first to say, I could not hold less interest in power, titles, money or influence. I do not – in any way- want to be “important.” What are we doing, everyone? What are we doing?

I’m not a super smart person. To say anything otherwise would be foolish in and of itself. But what power my mind lacks, my heart makes up for. And my heart is one that’s proud of its country. My dad, who left this cruel world when I was 14 and he was just 48, was a veteran, a Captain in the US Army and a medic during Vietnam. There are sparkling bits and pieces of him that pepper my memory and many of them involve his experience fighting for our country. He lied on his draft papers, claiming to be old enough, 18, to fight in the war. Lied to get in when so many others were lying to get out. That man, he never did one thing the easy way, start to finish and half of what he did was for all the right reasons and all the wrong logic. I inherited that trait and I’m damn proud of it because it makes me true, if nothing else. But to sign myself up for THAT at 18? Hell, I could barely acknowledge that a plane had crashed in Shanksville, half an hour from me on my safe little college campus that September 11th of my own 18th year. War. Can you imagine?

My daddy had the most beautiful singing voice you ever heard, but I never saw him get all the way through the Star Spangled Banner without being reduced to tears. All 6’2” and 220 lbs of him didn’t stand a chance against those pure words of patriotism that had been so carefully crafted by old Francis Scott Key (relative of my favorite author of all time, Francis Scott Fitzgerald) so long ago.

I look exactly like my mom. I am nearly a carbon copy of her. But when it comes to being jingoistic, you’ll see me wearing red, white and blue every 9/11. You’ll see the tears run down my chin during the National Anthem before every sporting event… and if you were with me, you’d see me pick up rocks or dirt or sand when I’m standing around outside, wondering who or what else graced that handful of American soil before I came across it. You’ll see me searching the faces of the people I know for the traits of their ancestors from here or there the world over. You’ll hopefully read the book I’m getting published in the coming months about the incredible and uncanny journeys that brought each one of us to this corner of America during this exact time.

And I hope, as it all unfolds, that you find yourself proud to be an American. Patriotic. Jingoistic. I hope you free yourself from modern politics and are able to FEEL patriotism instead of just thinking you’re voting for it.

While the lovely melodies of the Texas Tenors mixed in my ears today, I recalled that sixteen years ago, the world’s bravest average Joes aboard Flight 93 gave their lives to purposely crash a plane bent on evil destruction a mere 30 minutes from where I stood as a clueless 18 year-old college student. If that’s not proof that you can wake up tomorrow and change the course of history, I don’t know what is. So remember to be patriotic, jingoistic, optimistic and hopeful and also remember- above all else- that you are blessed to be one of the world’s “lucky ones” and, like the heroes of Flight 93, what you choose to do with that blessing can make all the difference in the world in all of our futures. Peace and love to you on this day of remembrance. -Kelly

Coming Home: Why We Moved Away From Small Towns And How It's Possible To Go Back- And Love It

            Are you home for Labor Day? Everyone comes home for Labor Day. What? YOU’RE NOT COMING HOME FOR LABOR DAY???? But, but, but… the FESTIVALS!

            Wait, you say. People actually travel back to their hometowns for Labor Day- of all holidays? LOL!

            No, not LOL! Because, in my town they do.

            This week, I was fortunate enough to write five (count ‘em!) articles for the October edition of the magazine I write for, Johnstown Magazine. Whilst pursuing this endeavor, a few thoughts surrounding my hometown really resonated in my mind and heart, and I would be remiss if I didn’t share them.

            If you know me, you know I’m constantly working, writing, mentoring, developing the production company I’m a partner in AND pursuing (let’s be honest) whatever whim strikes my fancy at the moment! However! Johnstown Magazine, my hometown’s own local chronicle, is too near and dear to my heart to give up. So when my editor doled out new assignments, I was eager to get cracking on some new stories; truthfully, because I LOVE to tell positive stories about the people of my hometown, the place I love more than anywhere on earth.

            Wait, this girl loves JOHNSTOWN, PENNSYLVANIA, more than anywhere on earth? LOL again! What in the not-so-fresh hell?

            Yeah, I said it. Think I’m being disingenuine? Fine. Let me explain.

            It begins with the fact that I feel like most of the world is so DOWN on small towns these days, on those little places we grew up in before we got too big and fancy and important to bother with home anymore. Everybody is too good for home. People are disdainful about the areas that time seems to have forgotten. They consider them uneducated, small-minded, racist, bigamist, back-woodsy. They lump every small town into that category, as if they're all exactly the same. 

            I’m talking about places where industry has long-since folded, shutting down those blue-collar factories, plants, mills and mines where our grandfathers worked while our grandmothers measured out flour and sugar by the tablespoon hoping there would be enough to get the family through the week and praying for the “pay after next” when the possibility of making ends meet might finally happen.

            I’m talking about towns where the small businesses are closing left and right, leaving the people who’ve run them for 30 years with meager-to-no retirement and uncertainty about their futures.

            You know the towns. The ones where the average age of the population seems to be about 702 years old and there isn’t a single thing to do for entertainment, even on a Saturday night. Except when people hold their wedding receptions at the town’s go-to venue for everything- the local firehall, the same spot where the church ladies come to hold Monday night Bingo and host the fish fry every, single Friday night in Lent.

            The places where people still read the physical, black and white morning paper, buy the same brands of everything they’ve bought since the advent of time and basically refuse to acknowledge that they’re going to have to use the internet sooner or later. The places where you sell a car by parking it in your yard with a “For Sale” sign you made out of the back of an old pizza box or, if you’re fancy, bought at the local hardware store.

            Yeah. I’m talking about regions where heroin, meth and prescription pill addictions rip our loved ones out of our lives faster than we can blink. The places where ¾ of any given graduating high school class of seniors will run from screaming and try to forget about until they have to remember it when Christmas rolls around every year. The towns where there are no jobs, no money, no opportunity. No hope.

            I’m talking about places like Johnstown, Pennsylvania. My favorite place. 

            But you know what, everyone? It really doesn’t have to be that way.

            Do you let your kids play in your big, spacious yard without you watching them like a hawk? Do you let them ride their bikes up and down the streets until the streetlights come on? Do you grow a garden outback of the house and supplement your grocery bill with it?

            And, hey, where do you buy those groceries? From a giant supermarket chain or megastore? Or, these days, from the internet to be delivered because we’re all too busy now to even stop off at the grocery store after work?

            Hey, do you eat out more than one meal a week? Who doesn’t now? So, do you hit up a local favorite pizza place or Italian spot or BBQ joint or burger stop? Or do you just drive through a McDonalds or park it at a Chili’s or an Olive Garden and consider it a night out?

            Guys, humor me, here.

            WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF WE ALL JUST WENT HOME?

            Not just for the holiday, for the weekend, for our cousin’s wedding, for a funeral. What if we went home and stayed there? What if we (the Gen-Xers, and my group, the Generation Y crowd, hey, even the Millennials that people ruthlessly make fun of) all decided to make our hometowns our forever homes? What if we still decided to chase all the dreams we have- but do it at home, where the people are often trustworthy and hard-working and the economy needs us?

            (Side Note: Hold on, I gotta get real here for a second. Whether you’re a Baby Boomer, a Gen-X-er or a Gen-Y-er, let me remind you of something. A wise woman named Whitney Houston –LOL!- once said “I believe that children are our future,” and, um, yeah, that’s true. If there is any hope whatsoever to undo the complete implosion of the small towns that the mass exodus we X-ers/Y-ers caused, it’s in the hands of Millenials. For real, you should quit calling them Snowflakes if you want to have a job in a small town in 15 years- I am not even kidding. The world runs on technology and these kids are just better at it than we are. Admit it and embrace it. We need them. Otherwise, you better take the time to learn cutting-edge tech for yourself and beat them to the punch. There’s no other way.)

            Now back to our regularly scheduled programming…

            Listen, it might sound like I’m encouraging you to “Make America Great Again.” Before half of you stop reading, that’s not what I’m saying, okay? I don't blog about politics, I'm about as straight-down-the-middle as a person can be. But lets look at that slogan. There is a nostalgia implicit in the PHRASE itself. In fact, go ahead and ATTEMPT to deny that that slogan is not pure genius, ‘cause it is. Oh, it is. HOLD ON!!! Do not click away yet! I'm a words person, remember? 

            That little gem evokes an incredible sense of nostalgia in lots of people. We are all very, very nostalgic about many of the past moments of our lives. Hindsight may be 20/20, but we also often view it through rose-colored glasses. If there was EVER a time in your life when things were better than they are now, you had at least a moment where you thought: Hmm, those WERE the good old days! Simpler times. And you miss them, and you want them back. And part of you wanted to "make America great again"- or make yourself great again- even just for a minute. (Unless, of course, you weren’t aware of anything that happened in the world before, oh, 2008 or so because you had been a child with no past or treasured memories to compare "now" to, in which case you thought it was a stupid, thoughtless slogan. Sigh. But again, lets not hate on young people just because they’re young though, ok?) But truthfully, when people say “Oh yeah? When WAS America great?” Well, I think the subconscious answer that swayed the election was: whenever YOUR life was happiest. And the older the voters were, the less likely that answer was to be “Now.” So boom. Here we are. You know?

            If you’re still reading, thanks. But do you see what I mean? We’re all so adamant about getting up and out, “Moving on up to the East Side” and finally getting our piece of the piiiiieeeeee and such. How could we possibly reach our full potential at home? Obviously moving to a city is the answer, going to a major university is the answer, working for a mega corporation is the answer. Maybe it is. But what would happen if you came home? Plugged some of that money back into the local economy? Lent your talents to endeavors that support regional growth?

            When I lived 500 miles away from home, I hated holidays. We had to drive nine hours to get here and then drive to this house and that house and someone else’s house and lunch with those friends and dinner with that family. It was rushed and unfulfilling and annoying and when it was over I was both relieved and exhausted. Once I finally came home I made a pact with myself. No more putting the greatest, most treasured parts of my life on the back burner while I ran around and tried to be important somewhere "better." That was me turning my nose up at my family, my friends, my neighbors, my traditions, my heritage and my home. No. I will never move away again. NEVER. I embrace it all. And it is my intention to perpetuate it. 

            I live about 60 minutes from the building I grew up in. And that’s pretty much as far away as I plan on getting. Did I give up? Pack it up and pack it in? No, in fact. I just love my home. If your family is scattered to the wind, maybe you get to pick where "home" is for you, but if your family is gathered somewhere and you left, I'm saying that there is no more welcoming place on earth than the one you came from. (I'll spare you the Wizard of Oz memes.)

            I want to be able to take my mom shopping and see my nephews whenever I want and eat the food my grandmas used to make and pop into my 83 year-old grandfather’s house on a Sunday afternoon. Family is everything. And you know, I’m not too cool for firehall weddings and church lady bingo and the around-Labor Day bonanza extravaganza that Johnstown hosts every year.

            OMG! There’s the Forest Hills Festival (which, I might add, was THE who’s who spot for all of my middle/high school days. Who got super hot over the summer? Who snagged the newest Airwalks and the cutest flannel? Who fell on their face during our dance company’s ballet performance?) there’s Folk Fest and Ethnic Fest (FIND better food in the state, I DARE you.) and the Cambria County Fair. Potato Fest in Ebensburg? Yes! I want that! And, yo, stop at Morris’ Tavern real quick because every Jtown class reunion in life will be occurring in one room or another! Anyway…

            What’s my point? Well, if you’re far from home and happy, maybe try to make wherever you are a place your kids will want to stay. If you’re near home, I invite you to do what I’m trying to do: decide how we can take a place we’re nostalgic about, a place where our memories are kept and our lives unfolded and make it a place where our children will have the opportunity to enjoy. I worry sometimes that there will be no Johnstown by the time my kids are old enough to decide if they want to live there or not. We’ve got to support local business, remember the area and the people who turned us into the kind, caring, helpful, thoughtful people we are today and create more of that as we move into the future.

            Guys, let’s think about going home- for good. Let’s bring opportunity there. Jobs, entertainment, culture. I am so sure that it can be done. We all needed to go sow our wild oats and experience the world when we were young. We did that, and if we’re going to be honest with ourselves, none of those places ever really felt “right.” Now let’s bring our experience and talents and fresh ideas back home and invest in the people and the place that invested in us. Let’s change the world. Let’s start at home. -Kelly

Back to School: The Top 10 Things Your Kid’s Teacher Wants You To Know

Teaching is one of the most rewarding jobs ever, but it is also one of the most challenging. Voluntarily corralling a roomful of crying Kindergartners, awkward 7th graders or too-cool-for school seniors for seven hours a day seems like a job only crazy people would want. 

But you guys are so lucky because you get the WHOLE summer off! 

Um, no. Even THAT little facet of the job is nothing like you probably think it is. 

I’ve been working with kids for… well, since 2002, which would be 15 years now! I’ve taught kids age 10 to 19 in Grades 6-12, (oh, and once in the very beginning, I subbed a day in 4th grade. That was an experience, let me tell you.) I’ve also coached about a million after-school activities over the years. This year, I’m strictly coaching, and I feel so lucky to be getting all the fun and none of the politics that come along with the education sector of this crazy world we’re living in today. 

That being said, I feel compelled to help out my fellow teachers, with a couple things they’d probably like you to know as the school year begins. Most would tell you themselves, but they’re too busy this week to edit those welcome letters we send home the first day. You know, the ones that never get to you because we find them all still in the bookracks under the desks after class? Yeah, those. Sigh. So this one is for all the parents out there… and all the teachers too. 

"It's the moooost wonderful tiiiiime of the year..."

Send them prepared.

“Ms. Morris, kai have a pencil?” “Kai have a re-raser?” “Kai have a tissue?” “Kai get a drink?”

Now, please imagine that times 36, (which is the largest number of students I’ve ever had in one class. 7th graders.) for 9 periods a day, and you’ll get a little taste of what my day was like. 

Yes, you may have a pencil (which I give you everyday), a “re-raser” (to re-rase all your mistakes), a tissue (and let me mentally document everything you touched so I can attack it with the Clorox wipes after you leave) and yeah, go get a drink, but then you have to get started on your workbook page because everyone else is almost done. 

You feel me? Think of the magical world we could live in if Joey would have just had a pencil, an eraser, a pack of tissues and a water bottle in his backpack. This is an unimaginable fantasy scenario and teachers thank you whole-heartedly for any efforts you make towards making this pipe dream come true. 

Why am I the one in charge of the bananas?

Teachers need your support. 

I used to have recurring nightmares about the first day of school. I always dreamed the kids came early, all wound-up, and I had no rosters. No idea who these little humans were, and no way to control them. Teachers get nervous on the first day because first impressions are everything, and establishing that rapport and routine lays the foundation for a successful year. Mess it up and it’s 180 days of doom. 

So we need your help. Your kiddo is going to come home with a detailed report of what we look like, how our classroom is decorated and organized, everything we said and who their clear favorite is. Teachers are aware of this, and here’s a favor we’re going to ask: Don’t take all that to heart right off the bat. 

It is so awesome that your child is able to assess and form an opinion on all that. Aw, they grow up so fast! But opinions are subjective. Things are all well and good for the “favorite” teacher, but otherwise… If your kid comes home saying that he or she doesn’t like a teacher, before you start calling the school demanding a schedule change, maybe go to the Open House or arrange to meet the teacher yourself. There are definitely bad teachers in the game, but I’ll tell you that most of them are great and, as is true in real life, people can really grow on you if you give them the chance. I used to teach with a veteran teacher whose motto was “Don’t smile until Christmas or you’ll never get them back.” Lol. Might be a bit extreme, but being a little more discerning that your 8 year-old is probably a good start. 

Ahh, it all makes sense now. 

Teachers go the extra mile.

There are teachers who leave at 3:00 everyday. But they’re rare mythical creatures created by decades in the classroom and penchant for pulling the same “Xerox” sheet from the “Wednesday Folder” of Unit 6, pass it out and sit back down at their desk. 

I’m sorry, did she just age-shame older teachers? 

That’s not the intention. But you know YOU had one like that. I certainly did. They’re not lazy, terrible people. They’re just jaded and have been in the game long enough to stream-line the process to mediocrity. They get in, do what they’ve always done, nod off in staff meetings and then get home. That’s about 5% of the teachers out there. 

But the other 95% wake up in the middle of the night with an idea for a new review game. And make three versions of the test to accommodate the special needs abilities of each student. They spend their own money and time making 30 puffy-painted team shirts for field day. They notice a kid with no lunch and they give him theirs. How do I know? Because I’ve done all those things a hundred times. That’s what it means to be a teacher. There is not one thing teachers care more about than doing the absolute best things they can for these little people everyday. So when you send your kids to school, know that the person lecturing them on the importance of using the proper pronoun is also unable to fall asleep at night wondering if they really understand the importance of using the proper pronoun. “Above and beyond” is just par for most teachers.

Accept their abilities- and their struggles.

The biggest issues I encountered as a classroom teacher happened as a direct result of unrealistic expectations. There are a few big milestone ages, academically. When they learn to read, when that grammar and math gets harder, when they go to middle school and when they start on a planned path towards future endeavors. Let’s say, 1st, 4th, 7th and 10th grades. I got countless calls and emails saying this, “I don’t understand. My kid has ALWAYS had straight A’s until now. Why are you the first teacher to give her a B/C/D/F?”

Um, well. You know when you’re driving through suburbia toward a city and you keep getting green lights? You think, “My commute is a breeze!” until you hit that city rush-hour and that first red light lasts forever? It’s like that. 

Naturally bright regular kids often have straight A’s until middle school. Then the work gets more complicated, very different, and that A streak can come to a halt. No one is saying your child isn’t smart. They might just need to try harder, study more or even try learning in a different way to keep moving forward. Nothing in life is effortless, including education. I know that’s frustrating for both of you, but it’s so important to accept their abilities for what they are. Not everyone is “straight A” good at writing creatively and Common Core math and spelling and memorizing history facts. Are you? Accept their strengths and the weaknesses they need to work harder on and try not to blame the teacher for breaking the streak. We don’t teach the kids based on their pasts; we teach them based on their futures. 

Can we please take a moment for the good old days?

Know your own kid.

Your son or daughter’s teachers will come to know them really well. All their little habits and quirks and triggers, and we deal with them on a daily basis accordingly. It’s always so odd when a parent says “Oh, they’re so different at home.” We usually hear that about kids who are quiet at school and not-so-quiet at home. That’s usually a social thing and easy to deal with, but we’re always thrown when parents say their kid is the model of discipline and organization at home and we have to look them in the eye and say, “Nope. Not here. Trainwreck.” Ok, we don’t say that, but we’d like to. 

As your kids go back to school, it might be prudent to step back and assess them for a minute. What do they struggle with at home and what difficulties have they had in school in the past? How can you make this school year smoother than the last on yourself, your kiddo and his teachers? If your son cannot remember to bring things home, get him a folder with his favorite comic book character on it and let the teacher know you’re trying to get him into better habits. If I’m passing out papers and every time I hand him one I whisper, “Spiderman,” I’ll probably only have to do that a couple times before he starts to remember first or the girl next to him does or we all- as a collective class- start to yell “Spiderman!” everyday as soon as the bell rings. They love that stuff, it helps them remember and it does work. Know your own kiddo’s weaknesses and form better habits early. And, again, keep them well-supplied so that they have the tools on hand that they need to learn.  

You know who you are...

They’re safe.

I recall a particular tornado warning where the sky was green and tree branches were flying into the windows and all “my kids” were hunched into little balls of terror in the English hallway. Good times. I was petrified. Not for myself, but at the prospect of one thing in this world hurting or scaring them. 

We had this conversation once after an emergency drill where we were all supposed to imagine an intruder was on the loose in the building. 

Girl: “Ms. Dreher, what would you do if there was a shooter at our school?”

Me: “I would shove you all in the storage closets, smallest ones go on the top shelves.”

Girl: “No, I’m being serious!”

Me: “Oh. Well, seriously, I would keep you safe in any way I could. I’d take a hundred bullets to keep them away from you guys.”

Girl: “Aw, Ms. Dre! I don’t think all the teachers would do that.”

Me: “I do.”

Need I say more? Your greatest fears as a parent are teachers’ greatest fears. However what YOU would protect your kid in a dangerous situation is EXACTLY what their teachers would do. Your kids are “our kids” and we will do everything in our power to keep them safe at all times. Feel confident in that. 

Severe weather is scary enough. Weather that can sever? Horrifying. Only in Georgia.

Believe us.

You: “Why do you have a D in math and why am I signing this slip for you to serve ISS tomorrow?”

Your Kid: “Because Mr./Mrs. ____________ hates me.”

Now… Listen, I just told you that a mad gunman would have to personally fight us off like the rabid animals we would become if anyone ever so much as looked at those kids in the wrong way. Thus, I’ll just say this: No teacher hates your kid. They have favorites, oh sure. But no educator thinks, That kid talks in my class everyday, so I’m going to sabotage his ability to learn to read effectively so that he fails elementary school now and later grows up to have a crappy life! Muahahaha!

You know that doesn’t happen.

What a D in math reflects: They’re not doing their homework and/or they don’t understand the concept. 

What a D in math doesn’t reflect: A teachers personal emotional affinity for any certain kid. 

I’ve given my favorite kids Fs and given As to the little darlings who are so annoying that I pity the humans who share their DNA. It happens. It’s not personal.

We don’t do this for the money. 

Teaching is no one’s “get rich quick” scheme. That, you already know. Although, I would like to say, the pay isn’t AS bad as everyone makes it out to be, at least in the public system. (But if you know a teacher at a small private school, keep her in your prayers because it’s not a livable wage. I’ve had friends make $12,000-17,000 a year as a full-time classroom teacher at schools like that. It’s crazy.)

But even salaries in public education are pretty capped. A teacher might be 30 years old making, say, $38,000 a year, but then 35 years later they might end up being 65 years old making $55,000. Not a ton of room for financial advancement. People I know who teach that long either do it because they’d be lost without it… or because they need to keep their health insurance and I’m sure you can decide for yourself what’s more common. 

Teachers teach because it’s rewarding. There is nothing better than seeing a kid turn over a new leaf, gain confidence, move toward a brighter future than his parents had or find a life-changing passion. There’s nothing like it and, truly, there are days where I’ve thought, “I can’t believe I’m getting paid to do something this awesome.” So yes, teachers deserve more money, but on days when my wallet wasn’t so full, at least my heart was. 

“Summers off” are barely compensation.

Let’s say I woke up at 6AM when I was a full-time classroom teacher. I got to school by 7:30, kids came at 7:45, I taught all day until 3:00. Then we probably had drama rehearsal after school until 5:30. I’d go back to my room, clean up any mess from the day, finish making those three differentiated, accommodated tests or the instructions for that group activity, and then run copies I needed for tomorrow. It’s 7:00 by then. I head home, just short of 12 hours in. I make some dinner, answer some emails. By 9:00 I start grading the research papers that have been piling up. (Because we have 9 periods, 7 of which are English classes, and there are 30 kids in each class, so I have 210 five page papers to grade. This week.) By midnight, my stack isn’t much shorter, but my patience is. And so I go to bed and in six hours I do it all over again. 

From August until May teachers work, I’d say, about 16 hours per day on school-related stuff. That’s 80 hours a week. Yes, they get the summers off, and let me tell you, that sounds good, but most of the teachers I know spent that time working a summer job to keep ends meeting, trying to squeeze in time for any hobbies or passions that made them feel like a person, or coaching swimming or little league or any number of other sports or activities that left them teaching all summer yet. Teacher are die-hard workaholics. The summer is purely carbo-loading for the marathon that is the school year. No one could do it year-long without breaks. It’s just too much. So remember that before you say ANY phrase to a teacher that begins with “It must be nice to…”

Let’s work together.

Kids show up on the first day WANTING to have great teachers. Teachers show up on the first day WANTING to have great kids. I find it’s usually the parents who show up at the Open House looking for flaws in their little darling’s daily mentor. Don’t do that. Know your kiddo and meet this new teacher and then try to figure out how you, as a parent, can support the best possible outcome of these two personalities. Any playing of the blame game will only hinder your child’s progress toward becoming the best, smartest kid they can be by the end of the year. 

Not all teachers are good. Not all students are good. Not all parents are good. But as they say, it takes a village, and together, the village can create an even better village for the future. So Happy Back-To-School to all the kids, guardians, teachers, administrators and coaches out there. Hopefully, this is a landmark year for love and learning, and if we all support each other along the way, there’s nothing we won’t be able to achieve.  -Kelly

The Art of Being Supportive: What To Say When You Don’t Know What To Say

It’s been a wild month. Remember those “What I Did On My Summer Vacation” essays? Well, in the past 30 days, here’s what’s happened with my friends and family. There’s been…

- One baby

- The announcement of the impending arrival of two more

- One serious illness

- Two deaths

- One wedding

- One regionally published article  :)

(And of course, accompanying those things, the unceasing deadlines and insane work schedules that those of us lucky enough to have roughly 14.5 jobs juggle daily.)

Frankly, it’s been enough to make my head spin. It’s hard to be happy for the awesome highs when there are horrible lows happening at the same time. But I guess that’s life. It serves as a reminder that the best day of our lives was the worst day of someone else’s. That’s a pretty powerful and humbling concept, when you think about it. Remembering that might be a key tool for staying empathetic in the long run. Very important.

Anyway, naturally with all that craziness going on, I’ve had ALL the following phrases said to me this month:

Congratulations!

I’m so sorry for your loss. 

 Is there anything I can do?

Aren’t you so excited?          

 You have my sympathy.         

Hang in there.

Are you okay?                        

I need your help.                    

I feel so bad for you.

It’s your turn next!                 

That’s so inspiring!                

I’ve missed you so much.

I'm very thankful for everyone who has shown me support recently and always, but it's definitely made me realize something: When the people in our lives find themselves in any sort of extenuating circumstance, good or bad, we feel the need to SAY SOMETHING. But do we say the right thing? What IS the right thing? And, if we’re just trying to be kind, do we have to worry about finding the PERFECT words?

Um, yeah. I think we should. Or we should at least try!  So what DO you say when you don’t know WHAT to say?

Let’s start with empathy, which is ALWAYS the biggest element of effective communication (in my book anyway). But what does that look like? Here’s a Back-To-School themed example format:

Let’s say you run into someone who has just lost a loved one. What should you say?

A.    Oh, my gosh! I feel SO bad for you!

B.    How are you doing? Do you need anything?

C.     I’m so glad to see you! I admire how strong you’ve been through all this. Would you like to talk about it or not right now?

Hmm. Tricky. But yet… Wait. Are you being serious? It’s C ! The only answer here is C !

What do you mean, “Why?” You were going to say B, weren’t you?

There is a very clear reason why C is the best choice. Let me explain. These answers break down simply:

A.    Pity- Feeling bad for someone.

B.    Sympathy- Feeling bad with someone.

C.     Empathy- Truly understanding that person’s struggle.

Understanding, friends. It’s the key to enlightenment.

When I was 14, my dad passed away very suddenly one cold, rainy Monday morning. It was the single biggest shock of my life until… well, for a long time, let’s say. I remember someone stopping my mom and I soon after in a store. She said, (you guessed it) “I feel so bad for you guys!” And even in my 14 year-old naïve and inexperienced brain, I thought, “What a stupid thing to say. I feel bad for YOU.”

You know, when I taught middle school, I used to get upset with the kids when they said unkind things to each other. One day, after I shut down some petty picking, one of little rascals popped back off at me, “We’re kids, we’re not mature and we don’t know what to say all the time!”

And, without really thinking about it, I shot back, “Oh, maturity isn’t knowing what to say. It’s knowing what NOT to say.”

Because of my tone, we all marinated on that for a minute until one of the mini prodigies whispered, “That was a good one, Ms. Morris. For real.”

So, why is “I feel bad for you” a terrible thing to say? Because it’s (not-so-secret) secret code for pity. No one wants to pity themselves or be pitied. Pity makes us feel pathetic.  And when the chips are down, there is nothing more infuriating than a drama-loving hype monger.

Ok, fine. So what the heck is wrong with asking how someone is doing or if they need anything? That’s what people do, you say! Here’s where some of you are going to get mad at me. Because caring, loving, wonderful friends ask those questions… because they don’t know what else to say. It’s passive support.

Yesterday, I read an article where Brits were confused that Americans say “How are you?” in the place of “Hello.” I laughed, because we DO do that. We’ll shout “Hey! How are you?!” across a crowded room, and it’s ironic, because we don’t actually want to know how the person is. It’s just a greeting these days.

In fact, we all know those people who don’t seem to understand this social norm and when we go, “How are you?” they actually reply with a detailed account of their well-being! The nerve! Well, I have a sinus infection and my grandma’s in the hospital again...

Is anything more annoying?

For the love of Pete, I don’t care how you are! I just asked how you are! Geez!

Yeah, that’s kinda the problem when something bad is going on and someone asks how you are. You’re like, Do they actually care? If I keep them for more than 30 seconds will they think, “Dammit. I just stopped into the mall to get a new bra and a soft pretzel and now you’re crying. I should have just pretended not to see you on the escalator in the first place!”

“How are you?” doesn’t work. Unless you amend it with: “How are you really doing? How do you feel right this moment about what’s going on? What are you struggling with? Vent. Do it. I’m here and I’m all ears for as long as you need me to be.” What human being DOESN’T need to hear this? I do!

What about that whole “Is there anything I can do?” piece? I don’t recommend it. When you’re the one grieving a death, divorce, job loss, bankruptcy, fall from grace, rejection or any sort of hardship, you don’t want the ball just tossed into in your court!

Here’s the rationale behind: “What can I do?” They know they can’t help. There’s nothing they CAN do. But they say it… I say it, you say it and- let’s admit- it’s a sneakily selfish response, really. The motive is to alleviate our own guilt at not being more actively supportive; oh, and we also know the person won’t actually ask any favors of us.

If you ever asked, “Is there anything I can do?” And a friend replied, “Yeah, will you call my boss? And just talk to him? And, do you have a hundred bucks I could borrow? Is that a new bra? Are you going to finish that soft pretzel?” You’d be like, What! That is not what I meant!

But you ASKED! So do you really want to DO something for that person, or are you just saying the words?

“How are you? Is there anything I can do?” That’s sympathy. Not as insulting as pity, but still not what they need.

Which brings us to our last option. Yeah, the one you ignored because it sounded like empty ingratiation.  First of all, if you’re depressed, grieving or even just having a bad day, running into someone (in person, via call, post or text) can make you anxious. If the friend starts by telling you how glad they are see you… that’s a start.

Then! Acknowledge the situation, but do it gracefully. If you’re anything like me, when something bad happens, I either totally want to vent or I don’t want to talk about it. People get that, I think. But then they foul up interactions by assuming where you are in the moment.

Let’s go back to when I was 14. There were the people who were like, “Oh honey! Oh my gosh! Are you okay? I don’t even know how you’re surviving this! Horrible!”

Yeah, I couldn’t stand those drama queens. I was devastated on the inside. It didn’t need to be visibly acted out on the outside. Don’t put YOUR emotional response on the shoulders of those closer to the situation than you.  

(And for heaven’s sake, do not ask for daggone prayers for them on Facebook. Oh my goodness. There’s clueless and attention-seeking and then there’s THAT! Nothing is less sacred than social media. Let’s go for quality over quantity in the prayer arena, shall we? Oiy.)

Then there were the people who literally pretended like nothing had happened.
“Did you do the chem homework?”

“Um, no. I was out for a few days. My dad died.”

“Oh, yeah. (awkward pause) It was really hard. The chem homework, that is.”

It was a pretty universal example of how half of the people I know treated me. I don’t know if they couldn’t bring themselves to talk about it or if they thought I couldn’t, but it sure made for a weird year or two there. Don’t ignore the subject completely. It alienates those who are suffering.

And last, but not least. After you’ve told the person you’re happy to see/hear back from them, after you’ve acknowledged the situation, compliment them. Genuinely.

I’ve told you that pity is not support. I’ve shown you why sympathy is not quite enough support. And here it is; in the end, it’s empathy that struggling friends and family need the most.

When someone says they admired my grace, strength and determination in the face of adversity, my ability to embody those qualities increased exponentially. There is such magic in knowing someone believes in you. Not that they feel bad for you or want to technically be supportive while not actually putting in any work. But that they believe in you, empathize with the difficulties you face and respect and admire you as you go through it. That’s support.

So what’s even better than Answer C? Here’s what to say when you don’t know what to say (and there’s only one trick. You’ve gotta mean it.):

-       I love you.

-       Do you want to talk about it or not talk about it? Either is fine with me.

-       You’re one of my best friends and there’s nothing we can’t overcome together.

-       I’m here for you any time of the day or night. Do not hesitate to call me. I’ll check on you soon.

-       What’s got you the most frustrated in this situation? Let me help you talk through it.

-       What is your favorite dinner spot? I want to take you there tonight to de-stress.

-       Remember when this was our favorite song? I’m playing it right now and sending good vibes. You’ve always made my life brighter.

-       Are the little things overwhelming you? Can I come help you make dinner or do laundry? Do you need anything from the store that I can bring over?

-       When I was having a hard time this is what you said to help me: “ _______________”

-       You’re such a great role model. A pillar of your family. You’ve got this!

-       Do you need to cry? Don’t ever be afraid to cry in front of me.

-       Don’t feel like you have to be strong all the time. Take time for yourself.

-       When was the last time you took your mind off of all this? Let’s go somewhere.

-       I brought you this. I know it’s your favorite. You’ve earned it.

You get the gist. Life is so hard. When I think about the worst days of my life and acknowledge that, realistically, they’re not over yet, I get overwhelmed. It’s important to note that some of the best days of my life haven’t happened yet either. And in the days in between, I feel taxed with a pretty big job- making other people’s worst days better and their best days even more special.

To me, the meaning of family should be a built-in support system, not out of obligation, but out of the purest love. And friendship is almost more special, really. If you’re my friend, I wasn’t raised to love you. I didn’t have to. I chose to. I picked you. And when someone picks us as a friend to support and to be supported by, we have to give them our best. To me, empathy is the best medicine.

So on our inevitable hard days…

I’m not sad for you.

I’m not sad with you.

I’m just with you. Right by your side.

And I hope you know that I’m choosing my words with the utmost care.   -Kelly

Rising Above Life-Schedule Expectations: Why I'm Done Letting People Ask "When Are You Going To...?"

The heat maybe be stifling this week, oh, but that's not stopping some people from digging themselves in deep on a couple topics we gotta talk about. Guys, I’m swinging for the fences right off the bat this time. After multiple awkward convos with relative strangers, I'm here with a quick reminder to "Stifle yourself!"  Why? Because...

It is not cool to ask a married person when they’re going to have a baby.

It is not cool to ask a single person when they’re going to get married.

It is not cool to ask parents of only one child why they aren’t having more.

It is not cool to ask a single parent why they didn’t stay with the other parent.

It is not cool to ask someone why they’re getting divorced.

It is not cool to ask people who have been dating for a long time when they’re getting married.

It is not cool to ask an engaged person if they’re “still getting married.”

It is not cool to ask if someone is gay or straight or why they are gay or straight.

We cool?

Maybe you didn’t know that the married lady you asked if she “even wanted kids” has been giving herself stomach injections every day for weeks and hoping to get pregnant. Or worse, has suffered multiple miscarriages. 

Maybe you had no idea you were asking that single guy when he was going to get married not knowing that he’s secretly gay and terrified to come out to his uber-conservative family.

Maybe that single mom you know is still stone-in-love with her baby’s father and he just doesn’t want either of them and none of this was her choice.

We never know what’s happening on the inside with someone. That’s why it’s not okay to ask. It’s not our life. It’s not our decision. And, to be blunt, it’s not our business. If people want to discuss these topics with us, confide in us or ask our advice, they will. And if they don’t bring it up, neither should we.

Don’t put it in a cute little joke. Don’t say it after annoying disclaimers like:

“You know I’d be the one bold enough to ask!”

or “You probably hear this all the time…”

or “We’ve been worried and were wondering…”

Seriously, if you do this, it's time to stop. And if you have had it done to you, I'm going to give you so ammo to counteract these kinds of questions. 

Well, now that I’ve pulled the trigger prematurely… How about an intro?

Ah, the age old “Life Schedule”- around which lovely and kind-hearted terms such as “spinster,” “life-long bachelor,” “childless,” “barren,” “only child,” “broken home,” “divorcee,” and my personal favorite “living in sin” sprang up. They imply that if any of those aforementioned life situations apply to you, then you must be defective somehow. You're not playing by the rules, missy! When I think of the users of this terminology, my mind definitely conjures up the 50+ set, however, that’s not always the case. Us “Under 50’s” do it to each other, too.

This week, I witnessed something… awkward. (“And it goes a little something like this, HIT IT!”)

Friend #1- Oh my goodness! Your baby is getting so big!

Friend #2- Thank you! So, when are you guys going to have one? You better get on it!

Friend #1 (Crestfallen) Oh, I don’t know. Someday I hope, haha. Good to see you guys!

Friend #2 (Blissfully ignorant) You too! Let’s get together soon! Bye!

Is this what friends are for? What if Friend #1 was trying to have a baby and it wasn’t working out, and now she has to publicly account for that? To me that’s like some skinny girl saying to a bigger girl, “When are you going to lose weight? You better get on it!” If someone did that, the entire politically correct world would lose its damn mind. It’d be cruel! So why is this baby thing acceptable???

I’ma get graphic real quick. Asking a married woman why she doesn’t have kids is one of the rudest and most intrusive things you can do. It’s at best a euphemism for: “So, you guys don’t want them? Focusing on your careers-LOL? Or are you not really having sex? Your marriage okay? Well, maybe you are and it’s just not happening then? Are one of you physically defective in some way? Did you do drugs in college? Because I heard that can make it tougher. Have you been to the doctors? You get your period regularly? He had his sperm count checked?”

WHAAAAA???? While, I’m not the girl in the scenario above, and for some reason I feel it necessary to add that I’m not in mom-mode yet, I have wiped away friends’ tears over this, and I’ve also been personally asked these questions! And worse, it’s often not even someone you’re close to who asks. It’s like your great-aunt or an old neighbor or some random Donna at the grocery store. What is wrong with people?

But it’s not just married women who get grilled. In fact, another friend I have announced that they were going to be a grandparent on Facebook the other day. Cool!

Until moments later someone had to comment, “Congrats! Which one of your kids is married?” and this would-be grandparent was forced to replied with, “Neither, but we’re very happy for them, and we think babies are always a blessing.” I was left scratching my head. Clueless or low-key righteous? I couldn’t decide.

Anyway, this omni-present “Life Schedule” we all seem to be on in the court of public opinion only adds tumultuousness in this crazy society. Half the world is saying people shouldn’t even assume I have the parts to BE a genetic female and the other half wants to know why, if I am, I’m not using this sucker to carbon copy myself. What a time to be alive.

The Perfect Life Schedule (as told by my 13-year-old self)

0-14 – Blissful and euphoric childhood filled with love and learning

14-18 - High school

18-22 - College (4 years- more on a Bachelor’s? Loser. Less, you “didn’t reach your full potential”)

23 - First “real” job/Engaged to college sweetheart

24 – Working/ saving for wedding. Living separately, because living together would be “wrong”

25 – Married/ amazing honeymoon abroad/first nice “grown up” car

26 – Buy first house (because you certainly don’t still have tens of thousands of dollars in college loan debt)

27 – Baby #1 (Note: this is slightly late according to stats, hold on for that…)

28 – Masters degree/Climb career ladder with big promotion at work

29 – Baby #2

30 – Silly, funny birthday party involving black “Over The Hill” balloons and family karaoke

30 to Death- ??? All your dreams have already come true, so you just keep upgrading?

This was how I expected my life to go. So at 23 when I lost the relationship with “the one” I kinda spiraled. By then I had already moved to Los Angeles to become a writer, “failed,” moved home a year later, went back for a second degree (teaching) and supplemented my insane college loan debt by working in TV news, which surprisingly pays less per year than the Kardashians spend on salad in one day.

I repeat: I was 23- and I felt like a complete failure. My grandmother (she was born in the ‘20’s, so let’s cut her some slack) actually looked at me one afternoon and asked “Won’t anybody marry you?” Then she suggested two second cousins as possibilities. My brothers laughed like maniacs, and I laughed too, but inside, I was devastated. I. Was. 23! And I was still kind of a lil hottie then, like, WTF?

Anymore, I guess society is “permitting” us to get married later, but if you’re a girl and no one snatched you up by 30, you’re cold product. That’s not even to MENTION those people who tie the knot by 25 because the pressure is on, get divorced and then are equally stamped with that ‘defective’ label on their heads. And relationships aren't the only thing we get judged for. What if you didn't go to college? Oh, the horror! Except that I know lots of blue collar folks who make three times what I make in a year and are perfectly happy. So enough with the judging! This needs to stop, ya’ll! Everyone's 'great' advice is "Quit worrying what people think about you." But these are the same people who question everything you do, buy, wear, post, accomplish and decide. What's a girl to do?

We know how people EXPECT us to live our lives, but how do the majority of people ACTUALLY live their lives?

I did a little digging and supported my findings with cold, hard facts, ‘cause fake news articles aren’t going to be good enough to shut up the peanut gallery on this one. Here’s some stats, on Education, Marriage, Divorce and Babies, friends. Feel free to skip to the section that interests you – and to decide for yourself if that "perfect life" schedule above is even “normal.”

A-ccording! To the US Department of Labor’s Bureau of Statistics, (I’m such a total B today, guys, I know.) these are the deets on EDUCATION:

This year, the HS graduation rate was an all-time high of 83% (Yay!)

Of that, 69% went into some type of college, while 31% did not

Of the 69% college students, 38% also have jobs. (Meaning around 38/100 HS grads work at least part-time while going to college full-time.)

Out of the 31% who didn’t go to college, 22% of those have jobs. 

(So “Fun Fact” 9/100 young adults who graduated high school last year are not working OR going to college. So… what are they doing? Here's where you can apply that harsh judgement.)

The average college student in America graduated in 2016 with over $37,000 in student loan debt.

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, here’s the low down on MARRIAGE:

 In 1970, 95% of women over 30 had married. And the median age for brides was 21.

Today, on average, women marry at 25.1; and men, at 26.8 years old.

44.9% of American adults 25+ are currently unmarried (and women are less likely to be married these days. For every 100 unmarried women, there are only 88 unmarried men.)

The average age for first time homebuyers in America is 33.

From 1990-2007 88% of couples lived together before marriage, a figure that had doubled from the previous bracket.

75% of cohabiting couples plan to marry and 25% do not.

63% of engaged couples stay engaged for 1-2 years before marrying.

90% of people WILL marry at some point in their life.

DIVORCE (a much sneakier topic), according to the American Psychological Association:

Remember the old, “half of all marriages end in divorce” thing that sort of built a cushion of “if we make it, great; if not, we’re still normal,” around the idea of getting married? Well, it’s apparently more complicated than that. The peak in the divorce rate in the US happened in 1980, where that 50/50 thing was pretty undeniable. (I have TONS of friends whose parents say they got married “to get out of the house.”) But the numbers get skewed- here’s some contingencies:

Divorce rates among couples without college degrees remain near the 50/50 mark. (About two-thirds of adults 25 or older fall into this category- remember those EDU stats from earlier were for NEW HS grads. Grad/college rates have historically been much lower.)

Divorce rates of couples who both possess college degrees have declined. (1/3 of all married folks have degrees)

If you happen to fall into that 1/3, experts at the American Psychological Association credit couples finishing their educations, waiting longer to marry, living together first and having more job stability as the primary reasons for the decline. Apparently this group was “more sure” when they got married in the first place, or would have been content with singledom. They also state that in the future, it is projected that the divorce decline for this group will continue, resulting in two-thirds of marriages lasting the duration. Hmm. Maybe less peeps are just getting married these days. 

(Disclaimer: Now, before you freak out and say, “Well, it must be nice to go to college!” and all that, know that I agree. It was an incredible privilege that many around the world will never have, my entire family sacrificed to make it happen and I’m not bragging on it. Simply put, the APA study showed education to be one of the biggest factors. Interestingly enough, socio-economics wasn’t a huge defining factor. The poor divorce a lot. The rich divorce a lot. Sometimes, middle class ain’t a bad spot.)

The CDC and the CIA had some stuff to teach us about BABIES:

According to the CDC, 40.3% of babies born in the U.S today have unmarried parents, but the birth rate for single mothers under 20 dropped from 23% to 13% in the past 15 years. (I see you, increase graduation rate!!! Oh, PS: The teen abortion rate has dropped too, in case you needed that data.)

And the average age when people become parents in America today is 26.4 years and continues to rise. (In Asia/Pacific Islands, it’s over 30. In the Native American culture is 23.)

The CIA reports that American women today will have an average of 1.87 children in her lifetime. For a little perspective:

French women have 2.07/Mexican women have 2.25/British women have 1.89

Women in Singapore have 0.89

And shout out to the brave ladies in Niger who have, on average, 6.62 babies apiece. (We probably don’t need to talk about their death rates, do we?)

The New York Times reports that 20% of all families having babies in the past ten years will only have the one baby resulting in 20 million single-child households in the US today.

The CDC tells us that 12% of women of childbearing age (which they cite as 15-44) have impaired fertility and 6.7% are infertile. Of those, 7.3 million women have turned to fertility services to aid in pregnancy to varying degrees of results.

And, last but not least, here’s some stuff you should realize about the LGBTQ community.

Numbers based on a study from UCLA’s Williams Institute indicate that 9 million people in the United States identify themselves as lesbian, gay, bisexual or transsexual. (For perspective, 40 states in the US have a population lower than 9 million.)

Guys, I wouldn’t deign to pontificate on your religious beliefs or personal lifestyle, but let’s at least recognize that peace is the answer. I support every ounce of diversity on this planet and I’m madly in love with love, in whatever form it takes.

If you’re still with me, here’s the point of all this…

Today there IS no “conventional” lifestyle. The new American Dream is living however the hell you want.

Listen, most of my favorite people are on the planet were alive in 1970 and they are wise and wonderful and they love me and want my life to be full and long. However, back in 1970, when people were married with kids by 21 and the life expectancy for the average white male was 67 years old, yeah, being 50 and just getting the kids into college wouldn’t have been a great plan. Ye Olde Retirement Fund would suffer, and your likelihood of seeing your own grandkids graduate wasn’t great. Hell, I’d already be middle aged at 34. (But retirement? Lol. That’s when I’ll buy my unicorn ranch.)

Guys, it’s 2017. And the average life expectancy for a US citizen is 79.13 years.

And it’s my own belief, that we should spend those short 79 years being good to each other, doing whatever makes us happy and not worrying about what other people want our lives to look like. Some people are doctors. Some people never go to college. Some people never get married. Some people marry someone of the same sex. Some people never have kids. Some people have an average of 6.62 babies. The point is, if you love someone, you acknowledge that their life is their own masterpiece to paint, their own garden to water and tend to and watch blossom. Life isn’t about how many people we can get to join “our” club or coerce into scheduling their life to follow the same path ours did.

You remember those questions from the beginning? If you consider yourself a kind and wise person, then I hope I don’t hear you ask those again. And to those of you who have had to field these queries… I want to urge you to just smile and walk away. Heck, or point out how rude the question was. Or- better!- give them whatever insanely graphic detail pops to the front of your mind related to the question they asked! Yeah! Do THAT! (And let me know how it goes!)

The truth is, we shouldn’t have to come up with a defensive strategy on how to shield someone from asking the personal questions that, to us, are often so raw, so painful and so embarrassing that the mere mention of them shuts us down. We should live the life we chose, accept others for the lives THEY chose and, most importantly, accept OURSELVES for all that we have, will and won’t experience in this life.

Oh, and in case you were wondering when I plan on having kids myself… probably whenever I feel like it. But, you know, even then we can never be sure. I guess that’s the point. –Kelly

Stressed Out? My Top 10 Life Hacks for Saving Time and Staying Sane

It’s July 28 and I don’t even have a tan line. Did someone hit the “warp speed” button on summer? The Fourth of July was my only day spent outside “relaxing.” Otherwise, this summer was work with a side of work, seasoned with work and sprinkled with a work garnish. I blame myself. It’s a lack of planning.

We make life WAY more hectic, frantic, annoying and stressful than it should be. Are there logical life hacks that, if properly enacted, would streamline the process of keeping ourselves alive and functioning from day to day? Yes. So I sat down and made a list. Viola! (I pronounce that VEE-ol-Ah) It turned into a blog. Not a frog. I shall now share it with you.

First things first. Perspective. None of this matters, okay? What did you do four years ago on the second Tuesday in January? You don’t freakin’ know- unless it’s your birthday or someone died… or you were in prison. THAT’S the big stuff. All this day-to-day crap is ‘grand scheme’ pointless. Will you lie on your death bed wishing you folded the laundry that one day in 1991? No. So don’t sweat the small stuff, or you’ll get wrinkles… and heart disease. The point of this is: let’s spend less time on stuff we gotta do and MORE time on stuff we wanna do. Ok?

Now that that’s out of the way, here’s my Top 10 Life Hacks to Save Time and Stay Sane

1. The Two-Minute Rule. When deciding whether to do a task (or procrastinate), this is a go-to decision maker. Can it be done in two minutes or less? If the answer is yes, DO IT NOW. Accumulate too many of these little two minute jobbies, and you’ll spiral into freak-out mode. “Save yourself the stress if it takes two or less.” (I just coined that phrase; I’m also a poet. Household chore verse. Very romantic.)

2. Write down goals. I read that we’re 3x as likely to do a task if we’ve written it down. When do you first sit down for at least 35 seconds in the morning? When you eat breakfast? (PS- if you sit down at a table to eat breakfast every morning, you can stop reading now. I thank you for stopping by, and I aspire to your greatness [or to how little else you have to do].) When you first get to work and sit down at your desk? Or when? (Don’t say the toilet, you savage, but… whatever works.) Now! As early as you can, make a list of three columns and label them NEED-WANT-DREAM.

In the first, write what you absolutely HAVE to get done today. In the second, put what you would really LIKE to accomplish today if conditions were optimal and all hell did not break lose, like it inevitably will. In the third, write what you would LOVE to do today- what you actually wish this 24-hour snippet of your life would be if you weren’t bogged down with obligation junk.

You might say, well, everyday I’ll be writing “Consume life-threatening quantities of margaritas in the Bahamas” in the third category. That’s fine. That’s good, actually. Because I’m willing to bet that you’ll get almost ALL the “Need-To’s” done everyday. You might even get some “Want-To’s” done some days.

But eventually you’re going to get sick of looking at that same goal day after day in the “Dream-To” column. And it’s going to light a fire in you to progress towards that Dream. You’ll block off your calendar. You’ll start a change jar. And you’ll eventually throw in a buck…some fives. Tens. Twenties. And you’ll get to the islands, if you want it bad enough. And you deserve it for all you do in columns 1 and 2.

3. Assume the worst. I’m not a doomsday prepper, but it’s a concept we should consider. There is nothing worse than a wrench being thrown into the day. If you want to keep cool, limit minor frustrations by being more prepared than a nerdy little boy scout! I’m married to a nerdy, big, super good-looking former boy scout, so I should know. Here’s a love story for all you romance lovers out there…

My phone used to die constantly; I could never find my charger, because I was always shoving it in a purse, throwing it in the car or leaving it at someone’s house. Eventually, one morning, I woke up and my phone was plugged into my nightstand. Fully charged. As usual, I grabbed it and charger, threw them in a purse like usual and proceeded through my day. After leaving both downstairs that night, I woke up to find that my phone was on my nightstand, plugged in fully charged, once again. What is this black magic? Back then we were mere fiancés…

“Did you charge my phone?”

“Yep. I did last night too. I get worried that it’ll die and you’ll get a flat tire or something. If you always keep it in the same place and charge it at the same time, it’s one less thing to worry about. I’ll do it if you forget.”

“But what if I’m driving and…”

“I bought one for the car, too. It was a couple bucks. You shouldn’t need it now. But in case you do…”  *He smiles* (*He’s really good-looking* *Did I mention that?*)

And SCENE!

Eventually it became habit, and when I forgot, he didn't. Pretty nice to have a helper. Seriously though, they're 6 bucks on Amazon. There's no reason not to have one in every room in the house.

Moral of the story: You gotta get the little junk out of the way if you’re ever going to find time to ruin your liver on a tropical island.

4. Keep your must-haves on hand. It’s the little stuff that pushes us over the hairy edge and into fresh hell. I’m pretty sure my place in the dark underworld is that Realm of the Inferno where no one has snacks, hair-ties or Chapstick. I can’t. Like, I can’t. Last summer I bought three variety packs of hair-ties and LipSmackers and stashed them EVERYWHERE - at work, in the car, in every room of my house, in every purse. Instantly increased my quality of life! Then I went to a bachelorette party where they handed out little “survival” bags: band-aids, Tums, aspirin, lady-girl products, hair-ties, Chapstick, sunglasses, eye drops, a pen… I put it in my car and now, boom. The other essentials are two umbrellas, a pocket-ish-sized one and a GIANT golf one for your car. (And don’t keep it in the daggone trunk- you’ll “just run” because it’s “faster” -you’ll hate the rest of your day.)

5. Pack a food and a drink stash. Hangry is real. Keep bottled water and semi-non perishable food in your car/purse/desk. Some beef jerky, 100 calorie snack packs or granola bars. Yeah, yeah, we all think we’re “dieting” when we leave for work in the morning, but by 11AM when we’re doing that thing from The Devil Wears Prada where we eat a cube of cheese every time we feel like we’re about to pass out. Yeah, let’s don’t do that.

6. Get gas when you’re free and the weather is nice. Nowhere to go after work? No one waiting on you at home? Still got half a tank? Get gas. Those moments where the digital display has been on “0 Miles Left” for 10 minutes? You’re always somewhere remote or it’s night, or your husband isn’t a phone-charging boy scout. Get gas when you DON’T need it.

7. Encapsulate chores. You know those Russian Dolls that fit inside each other? Whoa, that sounds kinda… anyway… Take that approach with chores and errands. Assign a time limit and cram in all you can! First decide if your tasks are active or passive, and then encapsulate them. Maybe you've got people coming over and only and hour to cook, clean and finish a few things. Here's your Russian Doll Plan.

4:55- Let’s say dinner’s in about an hour (6:00) and people will be coming home/over then. You throw laundry in the dryer. It’s going to take 45 minutes. (passive)

5:00- Use the first 15 min of your hour to prepare dinner (active), which is going to then bake in the oven for 30 minutes. (passive)

(Here’s the point where you’d generally sit down with a glass of wine and turn on HGTV to see what Chip and Joanna are shiplapping today. Not yet. Oh, get the wine, but stay focused.)

5:15- You make a salad, clean up the kitchen and do the dishes.15 minutes. (active)What else has been on your mind?

5:30- Half bath. Wipe down, sink, mirrors, toilets. Fresh towels. And the entry! Hang up coats, line up shoes and straighten up. 15 minutes. (active)

5:45- Pull the food out of the oven. Set the table. (active)

5:50- Retrieve the laundry, fold it… put the clothes back in the basket and hide it in your closet! Putting away laundry does not take two minutes and was invented by satan.

6:00- Dinner like a boss bc you just accomplished A LOT in an hour.

8. Compose yourself. Ladies, on insane, over-slept mornings, you need a “five-minute rule” for each element: hair, makeup and wardrobe. If your best friends aren’t dry shampoo and two bobby pins, you’re doing life wrong. Here are some of the fastest, foxiest hair and makeup time savers out there. (Oh my gah, I love her!)

Wardrobe? Find TWO go-to outfits. When you feel fat or the weather is bi-polar or you hate everything you own, have something you’ll put on and feel great in, even if you wear them every week. Best advice. You can encapsulate your wardrobe just like your chores. There are about 20 work days in a month. Check out how 10 clothing elements can make 25 outfits to keep you looking amazing everyday without a tearful 20-minute morning closet frenzy. (L-O-V-E)

9. Be prepared… to lose weight and gain time. You don’t want to hear it, but one of our biggest stressors is food. Life hack it! If you buy a bag of grapes, take two minutes, cut the stems and put sections into plastic bags. Grab one to eat in the car on the way to work so you’re not doing the cheese faint. Pre-portioning snacks and pre-prepping meals sounds like the biggest pain in the ass until you do it once and feel like you have a personal chef for the rest of the week. It’s the real answer to weight loss and convenience. Here are some ideas on streamlining starvation prevention.

Cook on a Monday and have a new dinner each night until Friday? Score. http://www.theloop.ca/turn-that-1-humble-chicken-into-4-deliciously-epic-meals/ 

Snack prep in Mason jars? Freakin’ Mason jars! What can’t they do?

10. As always, reward yourself! Last but NEVER least, build indulgences/rewards for yourself into every week. And there’s something for every budget. If you’re super broke, sleep is a good one. Pick out one night that you’ll feasibly be able to go to sleep early or catch a quick nap. If that’s out, (here comes my broken record) send a text to a friend telling them how awesome they are. They’ll return the favor and you’ll feel good.

If you’ve got a couple bucks to work with, go outside your routine. Pick a new dinner spot, spring for the $20 vs the $10 bottle of wine or, girls, buy a new shade of lipstick/ guys, try one of those hot lather shaves at the barbershop. Or get a massage! Or dessert! Or, if you’re ballin’, every time you check off everything in the first two Goal categories for a whole week, buy yourself a present. Me? I watch Netflix documentaries in a bubble bath with a glass of wine. And’s it’s heaven on earth.

And those are my Top 10 ways to hate life less and love it more. Now, again, I’m no life guru. I just play one on TV. So, take my ideas with a grain of salt and make them work for YOU. I cooked this blog up after a tough, tough month and a desperate attempt at trying to squeeze more writing time into an already jam-packed schedule. But I really feel like we create our own stress most of the time by winging it and having our attempts fall flat. If we invest more time on the front-end (the planning end), we’ll spend less time on the back-end putting out fires. And no one likes fires on their back end, am I right? -Kelly

The Words I Live By When All Else Fails Me: What To Do When Life Has You Cornered

Rough week. When I feel helpless, my strategy is usually to re-evaluate the principles that anchor and center me. I did that this week, and recognized some vital pieces of advice to remind myself of. I compiled some great snippets of advice in poster form for you to save for your own rainy day.  So now I’m sharing it all with the humble admission that I’m just a girl… in the world… or whatever Gwen Stefani said in 1996. Joking aside, how can we right a rogue life ship? Here’s my two cents.

Avoid Situations Centered On Negativity

Routine is the debbil, Bobby Boucher.

There’s that old quote: If you always do what you’ve always done, you’ll always get what you’ve always gotten. I know. That saying is more played out than the phrase “played out.” Or… is it? Think about all the stuff that made you unhappy today. It probably didn’t just appear in the past 24 hours.

There are exceptions: I watched a guy get a parking ticket today. Why? Because he parked illegally (innocuously!) and someone I know literally called the meter-maid to report him. Now, if you’re that type of person, negativity is your life blood. But, ick. Your karma has to be complete sh*t after a stunt like that. Isn’t all of humanity joined together in meter-maid opposition? Who calls one?

But that’s just it. Maybe you don’t like your life. Or your fate. So you call the meter maid on people. Or you pull rank unnecessarily. Or you point out people’s flaws or gaffes or when they misspeak. Sometimes you spit when you talk. But I will NEVER acknowledge that. Even if you announce it. No way, buddy. I’ll let you think you’re still flawless in my mind. The people who point that stuff out… or laugh? No. The hell with those people. You see where I’m going here?

If you go to work and complain about your boss, clients, workload, coworkers, pay and benefits (or lack thereof), how the heck do you expect to have any happiness in your day? And if day after day is unhappy, before long, you’ve decided to live an unhappy life.

It takes TWO to argue. It takes two to gossip. It also takes two to tango! And tangoing is sexier and cooler than arguing or gossiping, dig? When people come at me with negativity, I avoid.

You need to feel important? I don’t. Bye.

You need to be right all the time? Lol. You must be super insecure. Bye.

You wanna fight? I will assassinate you with kindness and smiles and charm. Bye.

When someone targets you with negativity or invites you to participate in whining or complaining, skedaddle fast- or they’ll zap your shine. And mama, my ma, my mama says, if you join in that negative life you’ll never have a positive one. Just ask Bobby Boucher… or Vicki Vallencourt. Or The freakin’ Fonz.

Seriously, eradicate negativity and don’t engage. I think that’s big.

Set A Meaningful Goal

Stop. When you were a kid what did you want to be when you grew up? Unless it was “a puppy or a kitty” (like my sweet baby cousin dreamed) then… are… you… that? Or are you not? Pretty sure no four year-old picks software developer. And yet… Lots of four year olds pick firemen. Why can’t you be a software developer/volunteer fireman?

My point is, when was the last time you tapped into who you quintessentially were back before the world became “the boss of you”? What dreams did you give up to please other people? At eight, I decided to be a writer and eventually went to college for it. By 22, I was getting my second degree to teach because everyone said I couldn’t “just be a writer.” I had to be “practical.” Okay, well, I was a teacher for 10 years. I liked it. I still do it semi-annually. But I finally heeded the voice within that told me teaching was never my dream, so it can’t really be my path. Not if I’m going to stay true to myself.

What’s your dream? Whether it’s huge (to become a movie star) or tiny (to have a yard full of beautiful flowers). And then literally start setting small goals towards making it happen. Get up everyday and say, “Today, I’m going to _________.” Set achievable goals. Today, I’m going to google “method acting” or “how much does an agent cost” or “what type of flowers can grow in sandy soil in my crappy three-foot yard?” Knowledge toward a goal is straight power.

Goal: To be a novelist. And to do that, people will have to care about my books. But since my blockbuster book isn’t done yet, I’ll write a blog. And it’s going to make a mark. And be my signature. And show the world who I am. So, if you’re reading this, you’re helping make my dream come true. Right. Now. More than words, thank you. Now go do it for yourself and let me return the favor.

Treat EVERYONE well ALWAYS- but go out of your way for at least ONE person a day.

For my first book The Green Locket, I wrote a story called “The Wise Fool.” In it, an omnipotent King learns the hard way that everyone from the mightiest monarch to the lowliest beggar should be treated with the same level of respect, compassion and value. When I wrote it, I was thinking of the book of Matthew (25:40, actually) where God basically says however we treat the least of His people is how we, in essence, would treat Him. No other passage has impacted me so personally. Since I was little, that passage has become a life-defining concept.

I get so mad when someone treats someone else poorly. Or when people are just cold, distant or unfeeling- when someone ignores or dismisses someone else for no reason. Who are you to hurt another person? What if they were sent to teach you an important lesson or give you a life-changing gift? What if they’re the Lord incarnate and you look down your nose? No. Treating everyone with esteem is the best, fastest way to grace- and also- if you’re going to be selfish- to getting what you want in life. That’s just a fact.

Let me share my trick for supreme happiness. When I feel like garbage, I pick up my phone and text or post someone a compliment. My best galpal, my cousin, an old friend, an acquaintance. “I just wanted you to know that…” and I dig deep for the most treasured sentiment I hold in my heart for that person. And I unabashedly send it.

Oh, the impact. They usually respond in tears, and, often, with some return compliment that takes away all those garbage-y feelings you had to begin with.

***If I die tomorrow and you remember nothing else about me, DO THIS ONE THING.*** Your life will be so much better for it. My secret’s out, I guess, but know when I reach out that I’m truly genuine. It means I love you enough to take the time to show you. That, I’m absolutely certain, is what life is all about.

Be Kind To Yourself

Remember my birthday blog from June? So, I just told you to give and give and give. But as the trite axiom goes, you can’t pour from an empty cup. My weakness is often choosing comfort over discipline. Hedonist? Yes, darling, I am, and so are all my favorite people! But it’s not an option. Reward yourself!

That meme, “Life is short, buy the shoes, eat the cake, take the vacation”? Yesssss! We fight with ourselves constantly. But if I eat the cake and take the vacation, can I afford the shoes or even fit into them? Yes, I think, you can. You can have it all, if you’re kind to yourself. You probably can’t have the Louboutin’s AND the gold leafed crème brulee AND the trip to the French Riveria- and if you can, call me.

But you’re able to treat yourself with the love and respect and forgiveness you deserve in your every day life. You have to. How can we delight others if we don’t allow delight into our own lives? What’s your favorite meal, pastime, show, indulgence? Give in. You owe yourself that much and life will feel kinder when you’re kind to yourself.

So that’s it. In review: Avoid negativity. Work to make a dream come true. Treat everyone well- and one at a time- treat them wonderfully. Be good to yourself.

These are truly my life’s philosophies, my soul under a microscope. Guys, I just quoted the Bible and The Waterboy. Love it or hate it, this is who I am; and again, I’m a work in progress. I don’t have all the answers, but I do ruminate on life semi-professionally for your entertainment, so that’s gotta count for something! And if it doesn’t, let it be known that if a bus hits me tomorrow, this was my creed and the hopes and dreams I hold for myself and all the other dreamers out there just trying to be good people on this tiny, spinning, carbon-based sphere in this particular patch of the infinite and terrible universe.     -Kelly