I loved Calvin and Hobbes as a child. I still do as an adult. But let's face it, Moe, the bully, was a jerk. Maybe he was misunderstood, but he certainly never changed his M.O.. Calvin just managed to smile his way through it somehow, but bullying isn't cool and it seems to be getting worse.
So many kids think, just let me get through high school and then I'll be rid of these bullies, as if somehow, the promise of adulthood gets rid of bullying and all the problems that go with it. The thought is that now, with a high school diploma, I can finally handle my problems with decent rapport and an open mind and others will do the same. WRONG. Adults can be bullies too. In fact, there are a lot of adult bullies maybe even more than in high school. They are just sneakier about it. Because legally, as an adult, shoving someone into a trashcan or punching them in the face has ramifications that are much more magnified and has been termed, 'uncouth', These adult bullies go about it in a much more subtle way. They impress upon you their OPINION. In the 'real world' bullies stop impressing physical force and start leveraging mental force. It is no consequence where, when or what it's about, these opinions come out. For some it is pointed, direct, and a no bones approach. For others, it is a under the breath comment to a friend just loud enough to be heard. It is full of disdain and the assumption that their opinion is correct and that yours is, in fact wrong. Dead wrong. And they aren't afraid to make that known. That school you're choosing for your kid? "It's not a good school- I know because I looked at it. Just make sure you do your research...I mean, it's your choice and all but, ...." That car you're thinking of buying? "Oh honey, you'll never be able to get DVD players in the back seat. And I doubt they can upgrade the seats. My car, on the other hand, has custom fit seats- have you seen it? " The way you parent your screaming child."Why are you so patient with them? If it were me, I'd whup their butt and put them in their room - you're too nice to your kids, you're too patient." No matter where you go, and what you do, you're going to be dealing with bullies. It doesn't get better after high school. It just gets more petty. The cool thing? My drive to give a shit about it is nearly nil. The true benefit of getting out the circle of crap is that once you're out on your own, you gain perspective. You grow. And you find yourself. And you then can start to recognize that these bullies, both pre-pubescent and adults, never climbed out of the pool. They're still there. Lounging. Lacking perspective. To them, they are the epitome of awesome because they never have been proven different. So they impose themselves, like they always do, because it is what they always do. I guess my rant it to encourage you to get perspective. To get out of the pool. To grow yourself. Because only then will you find what's right for you. You'll learn to stand on your own to feet without worry of acceptance. You'll wear house slippers to the store because it's been a hard damn day and they are comfortable and the only pair you could find. Back off made up moms and dads with their fancy shoes and high heels and looks of shame. I'm happy, I'm comfortable, and I'm me. Who are you?
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Diversity. What is it? Certainly not an old wooden ship as Ron Burgundy once thought. Something more profound, something intangible. Something like a terrior (tair-wah) of a wine. What is a terrior of a wine you ask?
That, my friend, is the effect of environment, growing conditions, and soil among other things that bring the wine to its specific flavor. I think literally translated it means earth or soil in french, but it's suggestion of uniqueness is what makes it cool. Besides being cool to say as well. I remember the first time I really experienced this was in Italy for my honeymoon. We were at a wine tasting (go figure!) and the purveyor of these fine wines was sampling some from a specific vineyard. He showed us pictures or the exact plot where each wine came from: one was east facing and one was south facing. They were the exact same grapes. Same vineyard. Literally only a hundred or so yards separated these two plots. THEY TASTED ENTIRELY DIFFERENT. Their terrior was totally altered simply because of the slight adjustment in direction, distance, and soil. It was mind bottling (Get it, cause we are talking about wine?). Years later and a few kids into this parenting world I had been experimenting with tasting the terrior of a few different wines to a glass too many (in my wife's eyes- don't tell her I said that). Well this extra glass got me waxing poetic on just about everything; in life, on the difference in people, on weather. On the terrior of PEOPLE. Soylent green was people. But I suspect there was little to no terrior in Soylent Green. But the movie Soylent green is a perfect example. There is a certain person who has seen it, who will understand it, and further appreciate the reference. That person has some terrior. I was a weird kid. Some may argue I am a weird adult. But that doesn't bother me at all. Because deep down, I know I have terrior. I grew up on a pig farm with 13 acres of land to my disposal. I spent most of my days communing with nature, likely without shoes on (not by choice, I just couldn't focus long enough to find them) and exploring the world around me. One of my first forts was a run down old school outhouse (That's Terrior). I journeyed near and far with my brother, more than once injuring ourselves with a dull pocket knife as we tried our best to whittle our way to some creation we saw in the "American Boy's Handy Book". Shit. I even went through a phase where I fancied myself in a dress for my after school outfit (Terrior. And damn comfortable). Years later I don't know where that thing went but I appreciated it for the time being. Caitlin I was not. Let's move on to 6th grade. I was enrolled in the theater course in an elective. When went to vote for which play we should put on, My vote? Jesus Christ Superstar. In 6th grade. I mean, really? Who does that? I ultimately ended up playing Lancelot in a spoof of the round table story where we did manage to convince the instructor that it was absolutely necessary to gallop and bang coconuts together to simulate riding a horse, just like Monty Python. That's Terrior. The point of this isn't to exemplify how weird I was as a kid. The point of this is to highlight and encourage diversity. Make your terrior good. Make it diverse. Make your environment damn interesting. Don't wait for someone else to do it for you. I see too many folks out there cut from the same damn cloth, or made from the same damn vine. Jump ship, cross the vineyard, and wear a dress if you want. Just be interesting. Have some Terrior. The beauty market. A thing of, well, beauty. Somehow we have entire stores dedicated to looking, smelling, and feeling better. Walk in with despair, a zit, and early wrinkles; walk out with hope, plump cheeks, radiant skin, and broke.
The truth is when you look good, you feel good. And these stores know that. They have the market cornered making young girls clamor for the smoky cat-eye lash extended blast off effect and the stay at home mommies dying for dark circle tired eye wrinkle eradicators. They know people want to feel good. And they deliver. So for me, these items were indulgent and unnecessary. Why get sucked into dropping half my paycheck on something I could do with a little soap, H2O and sandpaper (if necessary). Imagine my surprise a while back as I was admiring my gorgeous complexion in the mirror after scraping away what little facial hair I managed to grow and I saw something. A wrinkle. "What the H-E-Double Hockey Stick is that?!" A second look confirmed it wasn't just last nights brewskis creeping up on me and playing a trick (they do that from time to time). I HAD A WRINKLE. How could this have happened to me? I'm young, vibrant, I sing, I laugh, I dance and I shower on a regular basis. I use soap. I use water. I brush my teeth twice a day. I exercise erratically. HOW COULD I HAVE A DAMN WRINKLE?! It's as if someone took that old school sand timer and turned it over and pointed me out - creepy-like and said something like "The clock is running." Or "Your time is running out." Or "Tick Tock." Creepy. Concurrently Pink Floyd's "Time" would be likely playing in the back ground "Ticking away, the moments that make up the dull day... song song song.... One day closer to DEATH." I felt punished. And old. I wrestled with this old feeling briefly when I turned 30 and reckoned the best had already happened. But this was different. Visual proof of the aging process eating away at my body. So I did what I had to do. I raided my wife's products in search of hope. I found it. After examining multiple products which had nothing to do with correcting my plight (leave in conditioner is amazing; and body butter?!?! Come on now!) I found MY face cream. (Yes, I claimed them). There were two: day and night. They were cleverly packaged with a deep, dark purple-blue and a bright red for clarity in which was for which. Deep breath in and I dabbed my finger in, placed gently on my cheeks and rubbed in circular sweeping motions, just like they said. MAGIC. The room got brighter. The doves cooed louder. Hall and Oates came on in the background. I felt better about myself. My skin lightly tingled. The thoughts of my nearly imminent death vanished. There was HOPE in this bottle of gooey white stuff! I was sold. Turns out, Dudes probably need some face cream too. And, and I have also found out, regularly using heavy duty lotion makes me feel good too. And, I don't second guess my manhood as much as I thought I would when using a 'Product". In fact, the prettier I feel, the more confident I am in me. Weird. No wonder this gets addicting for folks. I still wrestle knowing that I will get some major wrinkles before said and done. But I'm feeling better about it. And probably, as life leads us down some crazy paths, I have earned those wrinkles. And I'm okay with that. |