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Tag Archives: sayings

Live life to the fullest.

“Eat the damn chocolate cake, get your hair wet, love someone, dance in those muddy puddles, tell someone off, draw a picture with crayons like you’re still 6 years old and then give it to someone who is very important to you. Take a nap, go on vacation, do a cartwheel, make your own recipe, dance like no one sees you, paint each nail a different color, take a bubble bath, laugh at a corny joke. Get on that table and dance, pick strawberries, take a jog, plant a garden, make an ugly shirt and wear it all day, learn a new language, write a song, date someone you wouldn’t usually go for, make a scrap book, go on a picnic, relax in the sun, make your own home video, kiss the un-kissed, hug the un-hugged, love the unloved, and live your life to the fullest. So at the end of the day, you’ll have no regrets, no sorrows, no disappointments.” (Author Unknown)

 

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To condone, or not to condone: that is the question.

To condone means to overlook and accept as harmless a behavior considered immoral or wrong. It means to make allowances for a bad behavior without criticism.

When someone behaves in a certain way, a way you do not approve of or you feel it’s not appropriate, and you do nothing about it, you’re allowing it to happen. You’re looking the other way and pretending you didn’t see it. Therefore, when you’re lenient with objectionable behavior, you condone it. When you condone bad behavior, you allow it to take place.

If you condone dishonesty in the company you keep, what’s to stop you from becoming untruthful yourself? After all, we are known by the company we keep. And nowadays, with technology and all, we’re also known by the ones we choose to follow or befriend online. If you choose to follow a certain twitter account or a certain blog, and you allow that person to behave a certain way and say the things that person wants without doing anything about it, what does that say about you?

Be careful what kind of behavior you condone. Because that shows your character. And character is everything.

Be careful what you think…
Your thoughts become your words, Your words become your actions
Your actions become your habits, Your habits become your character
Your character is everything

 

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Drinking the Kool-Aid isn’t that cool, you know?

Let’s talk metaphors, shall we? And what is a metaphor? It’s a figure of speech, it’s making a comparison using two things that are otherwise unrelated. It achieves its effect via association or resemblance.

Take the phrase drinking the Kool-Aid, for instance. What could it mean? Well, if you think that’s what all are doing, you’re wrong. It’s actually a blind, uncritical acceptance or following. It’s doing what others are just without actually questioning it or critically examining it. And the phrase actually carries a negative connotation when applied to an individual or a group.

The term is a reference to the 1978 Jonestown cult massacre, where people were given a cyanide-poisoned Flavor Aid (similar to Kool-Aid) to drink. Over 900 people drank what was given to them and died.

Honestly, I prefer to question what’s given to me. No, I’m not a sheep. No, I won’t do or say something because others are doing or saying it, or because that’s what’s expected of me. I’m NOT drinking the Kool-Aid, thank you very much. So, no, I’m not an instant fan of something just because. I have to see it with my own eyes and listened to it with my own ears. And most importantly, analyze it with my own brains, thank you very much.

 

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Biting the hand that feeds you is never a good idea.

I love sayings, proverbs, and things like that. I like knowing what they mean and where they come fromThey are full of meaning and seem to survive the centuries. Like biting the hand that feeds you, for example. was first used, at least that’s what the records show, by the Greek poet Sappho around 600 BC, and it was first recorded in English in 1711.

The metaphor of a dog biting its mater’s hand is used to talk about a person repaying support with wrong. It means to turn against a benefactor, a supporter, or a friend. People forget that the hand that feeds them, or has fed them in the past, may still one day be needed. But that’s not even the biggest problem here. I think the worst thing is to see the lack of respect this person shows for someone who was once there for him/her.

It is sad to see such thing happening. But if this has been happening since Sappho was alive, what does that say about us, humans? Collins is right. “We’re fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction.

 

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Of being stabbed and learning lessons.

When people say they felt as if they were being stabbed in the back I tend to say “I know exactly what you mean.” People say that when you consider someone a friend and that person does not consider you one it’s like being stabbed in the back. And although I’ve been betrayed before, I’ve never been stabbed in the literal sense of the word. Not once in my life I had a knife puncturing my body in such a way, so I can’t really compare. So here’s a comparison I know:

I lived in an apartment on the 12th floor. Pretty high and with a great view of the city. At night I liked to sit on the window and sing my heart out. I was convinced no one would ever know I was the crazy girl singing on a window, since it was dark and they wouldn’t see me. I’d even turn my lights off, just to be sure. And I’d sit there, with my head immerse in the darkness singing songs I’d improvise on the spot. I’d keep my legs inside, of course, so my body had to be a little twisted, but it worked out fine. And I always kept the windows just open wide enough for me to fit in, so I could hold onto the wall on one side and the glass on the other. Because I was that smart.

But one day I lost my balance. My hands immediately glued themselves to the wall and the glass. I panicked. For the few seconds that took me to get my body all back to safety I thought I was really going to die. The air left my lungs, my heart was slamming hard against my chest, my palms were sweating like crazy, blood was pumping in my ears, and the air felt suddenly so heavy I wouldn’t dare to breathe it in. I finally pulled myself inside and just kneeled on the floor, trying to get my head to stop spinning.

I want to say I never sat there again, that this was enough of a warning to keep me away from the dangers that a window on the 12th floor without a security net can offer, but I can’t. The truth is that we are human beings. We make mistakes, and keep making them until we’ve learned whatever lesson we have to learn. We just have to hope we’ll learn them fast, before we actually fall from a window.

 

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O Sarcasm Font, Where Art Thou?

Watch your words. Once you give them life, they can only be forgiven, never forgotten.

I think it’s so funny how people often forget the power words have. A simple word can damage someone’s self-esteem. It can harm someone more than any punch you can throw. The right word, can make or break us.

“The real art of conversation is not only to say the right thing at the right time, but to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment.” Dorothy Nevill

Words are sticks and stones.

But not only words have power, they can also be delivered in a variety of ways, and the inflection used can be the difference between good and evil. You can say the same sentence in different ways and obtain different results every time. You can be funny, sarcastic, evil, honest. It’s all in the way you deliver what you’re thinking.

Now, how about the written word? As of now, at least to extent of my knowledge, there’s no such thing as a font for sarcasm. I’m pretty sure someone will create one sooner or later. And that someone will get rich. But for now, there’s no such thing. Therefore, the written word demands a certain special attention the spoken word doesn’t. And that’s because it comes with no facial expression or the inflection on your voice to aid the recipient in identifying its true meaning.

People think, “Of course they know what I mean. They know me. Of course that’s dripping with sarcasm.” But is it that obvious? I’ve seen so many arguments start with a misinterpreted text or email, I can’t even count. People think they are so clever, but they are just being hurtful. Then they use the excuse that they are only responsible for what they say, not for what others understand. I can see that, to a certain extent, but I think the more correct thought process would be to say I’m responsible for what I say and the way in which I say it. And I’m responsible for giving it the meaning it should carry.

“We may have the right to free speech, but speech is not entirely free. There are always consequences for what we say, whether or not we realize our impact.” Amy Jane

Recently I received an email that hurt me. It contained hurtful words and it was quite disturbing, since it came from someone really close to me. So I replied to it. And this person told me, “Oh, that was not my intention.” Well, to this person, the only thing I have to say is, it doesn’t matter what you intended, but the end result of what you said. It’s easy to say things and then just say, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” No, you didn’t mean to. But that was what you accomplished. And apologizing for your words won’t make them go away.

To all those people, I’m sorry that I heard what you said, not what you meant. Next time be more clear about what your real intentions are.

P.S.: I surely believe the world needs a sarcasm font. As soon as possible.

 

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What do you do when your imaginary friends won’t talk to you?

I’m trying to write this new story that’s forming in my head. But I’m also writing a different one, one that started months ago and I couldn’t progress with for quite some time. For months I was lost, writing whatever came to mind, just faking it, not able to write even one story I liked. Now I have two. Two different worlds, fighting against each other, trying to be the victor, the one to become alive in the pages of a book.

However, when I give voice to one, it’s only to find it silenced by the other. It’s like my imaginary friends are boycotting me.

Writer's block: when your imaginary friends all decide to boycott you and refuse to cooperate.

That’s the only time they stop fighting, when they join forces against me.

 

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Of analogies and how to properly eat cabbages.

The other day Jenny posted another one of her conversations that made me want a Victor of my own. But, man, to be that lucky is not easy. It’s pretty hard to find someone who’ll help you find a cat named Bob Barker. Almost as hard as finding someone who’ll help you dig up your dead dog.

This time she was talking about eating shit-hoagies and other Victoralogies, which is so not what you’re thinking. They’re just Victor’s analogies. Or should we call them Victorisms? Well, if you know a Victor, ask him how he’d want it to be called and let me know. Now back to our story, the post had its share of grossness but also talked about cows eating cabbages. If you don’t know what that is, welcome to the club. I was pretty lost when I first saw it. But later Jenny tweeted about Victor finding an explanation for it on the internet, on a website called The Word Detective. Pretty sure that was how it happened. Not so sure anymore, since it’s been a few days, after all.

Anyway, because the post explaining it was long and I had no time at the moment, I just saved the link. Today I opened the link and skipped the first few paragraphs, because that’s the way to read a post explaining something, apparently. Because when you do this, one of two things will happen. Either you’ll get so confused by reading the middle paragraph that you’ll get lost, jump to the last paragraph, get even more lost, then you’ll decide to read the opening paragraph but won’t understand a thing, and you’ll finally leave the blog/site clueless as to why in the heck you even opened that in the first place. Or you’ll read a paragraph that will be intriguing enough to have you read the whole post. So here’s the paragraph I chose to read (from the middle, of course) about how the cow ate the cabbage:

A circus had arrived in a small town, and one morning one of the elephants managed to escape. The fugitive pachyderm made its way to the backyard garden of an elderly (and very near-sighted) woman, where it began hungrily uprooting her cabbages with its trunk and eating them. Alarmed by the apparition in her garden, the woman called the police, saying, “Sheriff, there’s a big cow in my garden pulling up my cabbages with its tail!” “What’s the cow doing with them?” he asked, to which the woman replied, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you!”

It made me snort, so I had to read the whole post. I just had to. I found the site to be pretty cool, and it talks about words and language in a humorous way, which is something I enjoy a lot. I’ll sure be checking out more of their stuff in the future.

Hey, look at me, just found another way to waste my time on the internet, because apparently sleep is so overrated. Although I do believe that time spent doing something that brings you pleasure cannot be classified as wasted time. It’s just that I wish I had more time to spend on the things I like.

P.S.: Went to look for the tweet, because I didn’t want to seem crazy and it was nothing like I said it was. Someone tweeted Jenny about her husband (not Jenny’s) finding the explanation for how the cow ate the cabbage and Jenny re-tweeted it. Not that this changes anything, really, but I just had to come clean and tell you that, although I lied up there I totally didn’t mean to. This is what happens when you don’t get your facts straight before you write about things.

P.S.#2: Yes, I do realize I could just go up there and change it and you’d never even find out about it, but what’s the fun in doing that?

 

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Cheers to the ones who will always matter.

When I was little I had a friend who had this my turn/your turn deal. She’d call you, then wait for you to call. She’d never call you twice in a row. According to her, if you didn’t care enough to return the favor, why would she bother trying? To her a friendship was only worth it if it was balanced, and that meant she would not be the only one doing things for others.

Being someone who’s constantly trying to please other people, I didn’t quite understand her harsh ways right away. I’d forget to call back (but just because I’m forgetful, not because I meant to hurt her) and she would not call me for days. I got better at calling her, although I still loath calling people on the phone. My phone carrier’s probably not happy about that, but what can I do? I am who I am.

Anyway, now I understand my friend a lot better. If a person doesn’t care enough to try to reach you from time to time, why should you care and try to reach that person? The phone ring both ways, so don’t complain I’m not calling you if you’re not calling me either. I’ve decided I’ll only care about those who care about me. After all, if someone from my past is no longer in my life, there must be a reason for that.

By the way, that friend from my childhood is still one of my best friends. We’ve been friends since 1988. We’ve been friends through some pretty rough times and shared amazing moments together. We’re apart now, living in different countries, but when we get together it’s as great as it always was. Or even better, since now we have tons of memories to occupy our conversations and make us laugh.

I guess there comes a point in your life when you realize who really matters, who never did, and who always will. So cherish the good friends. The ones that come and never leave.The ones that are, somehow, always there.

 

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Let’s talk about names, shall we?

Not too long ago my friend went to get eggs or something and the receipt had “Hello, my name is Mayonnaise” as the attendant’s name. I’m not even making this up. It’s all true. So we started talking about how that poor girl, who has a mom who doesn’t understand how cruel other kids can be, should abbreviate her name, or change it completely. My friend suggested Mayo, but come on, it’s still the same thing, so I suggested May. But then I thought that May was way too normal, and that maybe she should use Naise. But then I thought that maybe the idea was to go with an edible name, so I suggested Pie, because who doesn’t like pie, right? So my friend said she’d go with Nutella. I thought it was perfect. It was exotic and sexy. I was even jealous that she was able to come up with such a good name and I couldn’t think of anything better than Pie. So I felt challenged, and started thinking of what kind of name I’d use.

I thought about a bunch of different options. First I wanted to go with something fruit-related, because why not? So I picked Peaches. But then I thought I have nothing in common with peaches, so I started thinking about berries: blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, but that was way too weird, so I moved to pie flavors. Thought first of Apple Pie, but then I thought it sounded too much like Popeye, so I decided to veto my suggestion. Then I thought about Peach Cobbler, but that’s too close to Peaches and I had already decided nothing good could come from that, so veto! So then I moved to beer names, because, of course. But Heineken didn’t really sound like a good sexy name, sounded too authoritarian, and Scotch sounded too masculine, so I finally found it! Of course! It was as if it was right under my nose this whole time and I couldn’t see it. Like grandpa’s glasses. You know, grandpa’s always looking for his glasses and they are right under his nose the whole time.

And that’s how I decided that my name would be Amarula.

Amarula Cream

The nectar of the gods.

And here’s a picture of my friend’s receipt to show you I’m not making this all up.

Her mother clearly doesn’t understand how cruel the world can be.

Now, I imagine her mother loves her very much (and probably even more than she loves mayo or even ketchup), but she was not very clever. Come on, kids (an adults) can be pretty cruel with nicknames. I’ve suffered a lot in school and I have a very common, boring name. I can only imagine how much she had to endure. And I do admire her for not changing her name. Kudos, Mayonnaise. Embrace your uniqueness.

Disclaimer: No elephants were harmed in the making of this post. But some Amarula may or may not have been ingested. Just saying.

P.S.: I went on google to find a link for the whole grandpa’s glasses thing and google corrected me saying it’s supposed to be grandma’s glasses. I say it doesn’t matter whose glasses they are. They were right there the whole time!

 

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