Posts

Mother’s Day, Motherisms & Sub Ins

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Mother’s Day is Sunday. It’s the Hallmark-official day when we are required to celebrate our mothers. In theory it’s nice. It says, “On this special day in May, make sure you tell Mom how great she is.” Okay we can live with that… but in reality; it doesn’t fit into such a neat little box…  If you are a person who has a strained relationship with your mother, then Mother’s Day is not exactly your favorite time of the year. Truth is, not everyone has the Mrs. Brady mother type. You don’t have to get a license or pass a test to procreate, therefore, some people, who aren’t quite suited for the job, end up becoming mothers. So for those people, the day is awkward, forced and fake. You participate because you feel obligated. If you are person who lost your mother, (especially if it’s recent) then Mother’s Day is painful. You don’t want to be reminded that you are without a Mother to celebrate. If you are a person who has been trying to conceive a child, but have been unsuccessful,

Plastic’s not Perfect

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Keeping up with the Joneses, just another “ THEY ” we feel compelled to follow. So, maybe that is why our society is so apt to embrace change. Why we rush to obtain the new and cutting edge. Maybe we’re all just trying to keep up. My question then is have we taken this too far? Newest trend in the past 2 decades—tattoos. (Yes I know people in the military, motorcycle organizations, etc… have been getting inked for a long time, but only recently has it become universal) To the younger generations (we 20somethings), tattoos are not only acceptable but have grown to be somewhat of a norm. I think this is largely in part because we are striving to individualize or make ourselves unique and independent from “ everyone else. ” But, for some this new fad, the obsession with ink, is just another way to keep up with those damn Joneses. Either way, if you’re getting your ink in a clean reputable establishment, and you’re willing to tolerate the extended stare ( sometimes snarl ) of the olde

Lost and Found

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In our 20something years we are figuring ourselves out and trying things on for size. We are interviewing people we meet. With new friends it’s to decide if they are the type of person we want in our inner circle. With dating, we interview people to decide if we want a relationship with them. For work, we interview for jobs to see if we want a particular career. So, with all of incessant Q & A circling around us, we have heard that dreaded question time and again. The one that makes our palms sweat and heart race. Where as soon as the words are uttered, we feel instant anxiety. It’s awkward and heavy and most of us cannot conceive to think about the answer… but it is frequently asked anyway. “So where do you see yourself in five years?” [GROAN!]   We stumble over our answer while frantically trying to organize our thoughts. With trepidation we try to formulate an “acceptable” answer. I want to stop here and point out that I hate this question. So I am taking a stand, and wi

Earth Day & Electronic Device Day?!

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Next Thursday, April 22nd, will mark the 40-year anniversary of the first Earth Day! In the 1970’s, that generation, (the “hippies” if you will) created the radical “go green” movement. They hugged a tree and with that started a legacy and a holiday that carries into 2010. “Reduce, Reuse and Recycle,” that’s their slogan and their mission: to keep the planet clean for the next generation (that would be us). I think we have done a good job of carrying out this legacy. Today, you’re an oddity if you don’t recycle. We encourage eco-friendly habits; Electric cars like the Prius or Hybrids; reusable containers and Tupperware; trendy reusable bags from our favorite retail and fair trade grocery stores like Trader Joe’s. We read news headlines online and have paperless paychecks and bills. We are environmentally friendly and we’ve made our parents generation proud. They were wise enough to see the potential danger that a wasteful life could have, so, they opened their mouths, made so

Easter Bunnies & Other Lies We Tell…

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Easter is on Sunday. For 20something’s and adults that means we have to hit the gym because Spring is in full force and Summer is just around the corner. For children it means something much different. For them they look forward to the Easter bunny hopping up to their door leaving them hidden colored eggs and a basket full of candy. It’s so cute and warm and fuzzy….right? WRONG! Why in God’s name do we adults continue to convince the innocent children of the world that a life-size bunny hops around the whole world in one day distributing eggs and candy? When we really think about this, logically it’s bizarre and creepy. But this is only the start. What about Halloween? We tell kids not to talk to strangers and never to accept a gift or food from someone they don’t know. Yet, on Halloween, we encourage them to dress up in a costume, walk up to a stranger’s front door and tell them its okay to take the food. See a Mixed Message here? Then there is Christmas …we express to chil

“Click”… Life Gets in the Way

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“Pictures don’t change only the people in them do.” No truer words have ever been spoken. I look back at pictures of my life, elementary school, high school and college. In all of the pictures as the camera clicked I am smiling, arm around my friend du jour, thinking, “It will be like this forever”. Some of the pictures are with friends who are still my “true blue” today, but some are with people who are no longer in my life. Some I’ve had a “falling out” and some it’s just because “life gets in the way.” My Mother is from Long Island, NY, born and raised. She relocated to Philly years ago, but when she gets on the phone to talk to her “Long Island Girls” she is always emotional when she hangs up. I remember being very young and seeing tears in her eyes as she hung up the phone. I asked her what was wrong and she replied “Oh nothing is wrong, I just miss my girls.”  I remember being perplexed by this comment. It seemed easy enough to me, so, I added my adolescent solution

Skewed Meaning of "Seen But Not Heard"

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“Children should be seen and not heard” -----that’s the age-old saying. I think it’s supposed to imply that kids should observe, speak when spoken to, not talk back and give respect to their elders (that mean anyone older than them--so us 20 something’s fall into that category too!) I am a 20something. It isn’t THAT long ago that I was a kid. I remember hearing and being offended by this little cliché saying. I found it insulting and stifling. Now as an adult, I see the logic behind it. It’s not supposed to imply that children should not have a thought or an opinion or a voice. It means that children should observe, learn how to make appropriate comments and how to interact socially. I think somewhere along the line this idea became skewed. Children are not quieted to learn and observe, but are silenced by technology and lack of parenting. Let me explain… I walked into a restaurant the other night and I saw a little boy; he must have been 7 or 8, slumped over in a chair wit

Being American with Olympic Humanity

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The Olympics happens once every four years…well actually, once every two years because summer and winter alternate…but you know what I mean. Even if you’re not an avid watcher you cannot escape the headlines in the newspapers, the clips that pop up on the Internet or the TV in the restaurant and bar that is broadcasting the event. It draws you in and who can resist watching history in the making? What I think is interesting about the Olympics is that it is one of the few events where people identify and are proud to be American. As people, we tend to get caught-up in rooting for our favorite sports teams, colleges or universities, cities, even political parties. There are endless groups that we choose to associate ourselves with. Being “a part of” provides a sense of belonging to a certain category. When I lived in DC, I mockingly wore my hunter green jersey on Sunday’s in the Fall, during a Redskins game and proudly proclaimed, “I’m from Philly, I’m an Eagles Fan.” I was rooti