27/02: The Truth About Hats
Category: Philosophically Speaking
Posted by: wingnut
We baby them, wear them, and refuse to share them because they represent us, what we do, and who we are inside. Our hats tell the world what is important to us and sometimes they actually provide shelter.
When you look at someone’s hat, you form a snap opinion right then about his life, his love, and his priorities. A hat represents more than a jacket or uniform ever did. When did you ever suggest anyone wore many jackets? The real fact is: a hat has nothing to do with the clothing on your head, but what you do.
Here are some examples of very big hats:
The parent hat also says “coach,” “chauffer,” “teacher,” “nurse,” “pillow,” “cheerleader,” “photographer,” “dancing partner,” “family calendar coordinator,” “acquisitions specialist,” “savings consultant,” “fixit specialist” and dedicated “booboo medicine” administrator.
The secretarial hat covers “schedule coordinator,” “supply consultant,” “receptionist,” “errand runner,” “transcriptionist,” “interpreter,” “ambassador,” “travel agent,” “file manager,” “bookkeeper,” “petty cash disbursement” and usually includes “sanitation engineer.”
The ministerial hat also says “teacher,” “preacher,” “coordinator,” “director,” “administrator,” “researcher,” “speech writer,” “therapist,” “marriage consultant,” “wedding planner,” “music director” and “person that I call in the middle of his family outing because my family member is ill.”
The school teacher hat includes that of “tutor,” “hall monitor,” “mediator,” “hero,” “villain,” “bringer of inspiration,” “tour guide,” “bathroom escort” and don’t forget the all important “germ finder booboo binder.”
These are but a few examples of how many hats one can wear at one time, but I’m sure you can think of more. Maybe you wear them all at one time. If you wear them well, maybe you could come to my house. I’d like to put on a fashion show.
When you look at someone’s hat, you form a snap opinion right then about his life, his love, and his priorities. A hat represents more than a jacket or uniform ever did. When did you ever suggest anyone wore many jackets? The real fact is: a hat has nothing to do with the clothing on your head, but what you do.
Here are some examples of very big hats:
The parent hat also says “coach,” “chauffer,” “teacher,” “nurse,” “pillow,” “cheerleader,” “photographer,” “dancing partner,” “family calendar coordinator,” “acquisitions specialist,” “savings consultant,” “fixit specialist” and dedicated “booboo medicine” administrator.
The secretarial hat covers “schedule coordinator,” “supply consultant,” “receptionist,” “errand runner,” “transcriptionist,” “interpreter,” “ambassador,” “travel agent,” “file manager,” “bookkeeper,” “petty cash disbursement” and usually includes “sanitation engineer.”
The ministerial hat also says “teacher,” “preacher,” “coordinator,” “director,” “administrator,” “researcher,” “speech writer,” “therapist,” “marriage consultant,” “wedding planner,” “music director” and “person that I call in the middle of his family outing because my family member is ill.”
The school teacher hat includes that of “tutor,” “hall monitor,” “mediator,” “hero,” “villain,” “bringer of inspiration,” “tour guide,” “bathroom escort” and don’t forget the all important “germ finder booboo binder.”
These are but a few examples of how many hats one can wear at one time, but I’m sure you can think of more. Maybe you wear them all at one time. If you wear them well, maybe you could come to my house. I’d like to put on a fashion show.
Category: Philosophically Speaking
Posted by: wingnut
I love my friends. I really do. But please don’t write me into your horror flick. This is a deal-breaker for me and I’m not afraid to tell you why:
First of all, every novel has a protagonist, or hero. The hero has a lot of responsibility if the story is going to be worth anything more than lining the kitty litter box or bird cage. If a superhero is involved it’s even worse. Every time I go to lunch I’ll have to sign autographs, kiss sick babies, or wave my hand over problems to make them better.
I can’t do that. Ok, maybe I can kiss babies, but I have horrible handwriting and don’t wave very well. In fact my waver actually broke yesterday. So that option is totally out. See, all those problems will still be there because I can’t make them go away. I’m just not the hero type.
Second, a novel must have a villain---the antagonist. While I may be totally awesome at antagonization of those around me, especially my closest pals, I don’t like to be truly hated by strangers I never met. That just isn’t fair. Hey, I didn’t even do the stuff in that book. I’m nothing like that in real life. Or hadn’t you heard where they get all those stories about how such and so actor is totally different from the character played on television or the movies.
Additionally, many novels have a victim, dead body, poor sap who got it first, or some other insignificant character, without whom there wouldn’t be a story, but who doesn’t get to defend him or her self. This is totally wrong. I could be mugged on the street, and when arrested, the culprit would justify the action by saying, “She looked like such a great victim that I couldn’t help myself.”
Finally, there is the ultimate drag-down for any person with sense---to be an insignificant nobody that happens to interact in some microscopic manner that goes unnoticed (say like the bus driver with one line that moves the story forward but really does nothing for the bus driver’s ego). What? I thought we were friends already and you relegate me to insignificant other? That’s even worse than being listed below the obituaries.
There you have it. I don’t want to be in your novel, no matter how good a friendship we have. However, I grant you permission to acknowledgement as your inspiration, motivation, and mentor. I’ll be glad to be acknowledged as your favorite “first reader” or go-to person when you are really stuck in a puddle and need my help to find your way out. This does not mean I will actually do any of these things, but you have my permission to acknowledge me as if I did.
What are you waiting for? That novel won’t write itself. Get moving.
First of all, every novel has a protagonist, or hero. The hero has a lot of responsibility if the story is going to be worth anything more than lining the kitty litter box or bird cage. If a superhero is involved it’s even worse. Every time I go to lunch I’ll have to sign autographs, kiss sick babies, or wave my hand over problems to make them better.
I can’t do that. Ok, maybe I can kiss babies, but I have horrible handwriting and don’t wave very well. In fact my waver actually broke yesterday. So that option is totally out. See, all those problems will still be there because I can’t make them go away. I’m just not the hero type.
Second, a novel must have a villain---the antagonist. While I may be totally awesome at antagonization of those around me, especially my closest pals, I don’t like to be truly hated by strangers I never met. That just isn’t fair. Hey, I didn’t even do the stuff in that book. I’m nothing like that in real life. Or hadn’t you heard where they get all those stories about how such and so actor is totally different from the character played on television or the movies.
Additionally, many novels have a victim, dead body, poor sap who got it first, or some other insignificant character, without whom there wouldn’t be a story, but who doesn’t get to defend him or her self. This is totally wrong. I could be mugged on the street, and when arrested, the culprit would justify the action by saying, “She looked like such a great victim that I couldn’t help myself.”
Finally, there is the ultimate drag-down for any person with sense---to be an insignificant nobody that happens to interact in some microscopic manner that goes unnoticed (say like the bus driver with one line that moves the story forward but really does nothing for the bus driver’s ego). What? I thought we were friends already and you relegate me to insignificant other? That’s even worse than being listed below the obituaries.
There you have it. I don’t want to be in your novel, no matter how good a friendship we have. However, I grant you permission to acknowledgement as your inspiration, motivation, and mentor. I’ll be glad to be acknowledged as your favorite “first reader” or go-to person when you are really stuck in a puddle and need my help to find your way out. This does not mean I will actually do any of these things, but you have my permission to acknowledge me as if I did.
What are you waiting for? That novel won’t write itself. Get moving.
Category: Philosophically Speaking
Posted by: wingnut
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Why Children are Caricatures of Their Parents
Once upon a time Humanity was normal. Then came children. Children started out as cute little babes in arms squealing awesome little cooing sounds that gave great delight to their parents—that is, until they became toddlers.
Then personalities began to emerge. A little hard headed here, slight perfectionistic tendencies there, and before you knew it, a variety of quirks and idiosyncracies abounded like weeds among the flowers of Humanity’s little garden.
Generations later, certain traits began to show prominence in some families while rarely showing face in others. These traits became more marked with each generation. And in time, a child would grow up, have children, and wake up one morning in the big “I’ve become my mother!” nightmare.
Not too long after that moment, a parent begins to see the worst traits from his childhood displayed to exaggeration in his offspring. By the time the shock wears off, the child has passed through teen-hood, graduated high school and prepares for marriage, a career, and a life hours away (if the parent is lucky).
In time, a grandbaby is born and all the torture suffered by Mom and Dad comes back around as they watch their offspring deal with the brand new family caricatures—GRANDCHILDREN. And for the first time in twenty years they can laugh. They may try to be compassionate and keep the laughter out of sight at first. But don’t worry, because now the new grandparent understands what the parent will soon learn the hard way—that there really is nothing new under the sun. Instead, it’s the same old stuff made bigger, smellier, and in higher concentration.
After all, where do you think all those “disorders” came from?
Why Children are Caricatures of Their Parents
Once upon a time Humanity was normal. Then came children. Children started out as cute little babes in arms squealing awesome little cooing sounds that gave great delight to their parents—that is, until they became toddlers.
Then personalities began to emerge. A little hard headed here, slight perfectionistic tendencies there, and before you knew it, a variety of quirks and idiosyncracies abounded like weeds among the flowers of Humanity’s little garden.
Generations later, certain traits began to show prominence in some families while rarely showing face in others. These traits became more marked with each generation. And in time, a child would grow up, have children, and wake up one morning in the big “I’ve become my mother!” nightmare.
Not too long after that moment, a parent begins to see the worst traits from his childhood displayed to exaggeration in his offspring. By the time the shock wears off, the child has passed through teen-hood, graduated high school and prepares for marriage, a career, and a life hours away (if the parent is lucky).
In time, a grandbaby is born and all the torture suffered by Mom and Dad comes back around as they watch their offspring deal with the brand new family caricatures—GRANDCHILDREN. And for the first time in twenty years they can laugh. They may try to be compassionate and keep the laughter out of sight at first. But don’t worry, because now the new grandparent understands what the parent will soon learn the hard way—that there really is nothing new under the sun. Instead, it’s the same old stuff made bigger, smellier, and in higher concentration.
After all, where do you think all those “disorders” came from?
21/01: The Illogic of Friendship
Category: Philosophically Speaking
Posted by: wingnut
*Note: Backdated to original post date.*
Those we cherish, we torture the most
While perfect strangers receive our best manners
Why is my buddy the butt of my jokes
When my rapport with her is what matters?
I can’t explain why I feel as I do
To treat enemies with utmost courtesy
While raking my soul sisters over the coals
Assuming they will still treasure me.
One day we will stand at the white pearly gates
And explain how we acted below
When held to account for my words and my deeds
What justification will I show
For insults, remarks and embarrassing pranks
I’d never force on a stranger. So why
Would I treat you so poorly? But thanks
For befriending a wretch such as I.
I dedicate this little ditty to my best friend in the whole world, KitKat.
Those we cherish, we torture the most
While perfect strangers receive our best manners
Why is my buddy the butt of my jokes
When my rapport with her is what matters?
I can’t explain why I feel as I do
To treat enemies with utmost courtesy
While raking my soul sisters over the coals
Assuming they will still treasure me.
One day we will stand at the white pearly gates
And explain how we acted below
When held to account for my words and my deeds
What justification will I show
For insults, remarks and embarrassing pranks
I’d never force on a stranger. So why
Would I treat you so poorly? But thanks
For befriending a wretch such as I.
I dedicate this little ditty to my best friend in the whole world, KitKat.
