Who Cares?

"Great minds discuss ideas. Average minds discuss events. Small minds discuss people."

- Eleanor Roosevelt

The other day, I posted a link to a story about the passing of the gay marriage bill in New York on my Facebook page. I thought about not doing it. I have a lot of people I love who disagree with my thoughts and feelings on this particular topic, and it was probably unnecessary to post. The last thing I mean to do is put a divide between anyone I love and me. Honestly, I was just surprised that no one else had been posting about it like mad on Facebook, and I thought the news deserved to be shared. I thought about deleting it later so as to avoid any conflict, but my aunt had commented that she was proud of me for posting it.

Tonight, I noticed that someone I am almost certain I was friends with on Facebook is not currently listed as one of my friends. I have a strong feeling this person may have deleted me as a friend once I posted that link. I may very well just be confused; perhaps we were not ever officially friends through Facebook in the first place. I hope that's the case, but I fear that it's not.

I didn't say anything offensive on my post. In fact, I wrote nothing. I merely posted the link to the story. I understand deleting a person if they write things that are personally offensive or call groups names, etc. However, I don't understand deleting someone simply because they have a different viewpoint on something.

Why am I still writing about this, you ask? Well, I suppose I'm writing about this for two reasons. For one, it hurts me that posting that story may have resulted in this person's deleting me as their friend. Secondly, I am troubled by the fact that I let something that insignificant and petty hurt me so much.

I can't believe how often I've let things on Facebook hurt my feelings. One time, an old co-worker played this game on Facebook where you answer yes-or-no questions about people, and he answered "no" to a question asking if he thinks I'm "hot." I really don't care if he thinks I am and certainly don't expect him to, but it hurts that he would answer that. You can skip any questions you don't want to answer, so why would a person answer something hurtful that they know you'll see?

I deleted him as one of my Facebook friends that day. I usually hate having any unresolved issues with anyone in my life, but I felt like his complete disregard for my feelings was the real thing that hurt so much. Why would I want to forgive someone who didn't apologize in the first place? I'm one of those people who would sooner forgive someone than they would even seek forgiveness simply because I want everything to be okay in my world. This was the first time I didn't want to let myself be a doormat.

Still though, I sometimes question whether I was just overreacting and start to get sad that I may have alienated someone and made them dislike me. Why am I so terrified of things not being perfect? Why do I worry so much about any one person's opinion of me? Am I just being self-absorbed?

Again, petty. Such a small, silly thing. So why do I care so much?

All of this makes me realize how difficult it is for me to have people out there who don't like me. I've always been an extreme people-pleaser. As the youngest, I've always tried really hard to impress people and have them think well of me. In turn, I think I'm fairly slow to judge (at least not aloud) and give people many chances. I always prefer to find the good in people and like them rather than point out things I don't like.

All of this makes me realize, though, that there are also times when I say things that are unkind and that, quite frankly, I may not truly even think. I know I'm not perfect and that I can complain or tease or have judgments about other people's actions. However, I often wonder whether I would say half the things I do if I didn't put myself in situations where gossip is growing. I don't know why I ever give in to watering that weed. It has been something I've hated since I was very young. I remember one time in 7th grade when I made an extremely conscious effort to never speak ill of anyone. It was very difficult, but I succeeded for a time. It felt wonderful. Yet, here I am, twice the age I was then, still struggling with the same old thing.

I'm not even writing this because of a specific thing I've done or said recently. It's just more that I was worried at first that I may have done something to offend this person whom I'm worried deleted me because of that post. And it got me thinking how I'd like to be more like I was for that brief period of time 12 years ago so that I'd never have to worry or wonder if I had hurt or offended someone.

It's too bad because sometimes I think I'd be a lot more fun or entertaining if I let myself speak more freely. I'm just always so worried about saying the wrong thing that there is a lot I choose not to say. Hence my starting this blog almost a year ago. I'm getting there, but it's hard to choose what to be genuine about and what to just leave hidden.

If nothing else, writing out this silly stuff has made me feel a little more at ease. Tomorrow is a new day.

The Thing About Blogs

Here's the thing about blogs. You always wake up the next day wondering what in the world possessed you to write something that sounds so pathetically emo the night before. You don't recognize yourself in the words you wrote less than 24 hours ago. And you can delete them.

Today, I'm not going to delete last night's blog. It makes me look silly and dramatic and downright ridiculous, but that is how I felt at the time. It's a part of me.

Hello, Friday. You sure are looking up.

Previous Passions

Things I Thought I Wanted to Be OR Things That I See Other People Doing Successfully and Get Jealous:

1. Actress

2. Singer/Songwriter

3. Writer

4. Motivational Speaker

5. Greeting Card Designer

6. World Traveler (I realize this is not an occupation that typically pays.)

At the moment, #2 is hitting me hard. Why didn't I keep taking piano and guitar lessons? Why? I was afraid. Afraid I wasn't automatically the best. Afraid I didn't have hands that were big enough to be skilled at playing. Afraid I didn't have enough of a range in my voice to wow anyone. Afraid I was already too old to start and have a chance at getting any good before it was too late. Afraid.

Lazy. Too lazy to work through all of my fears and prove myself wrong.

Now I'm just tired. Tired of letting the lazy give way to the fear.

I just want to find my voice, my passion. Where did it go?

Time for bed. Wouldn't want to be late to my 9-5 tomorrow.

Passion. Purpose. I guess I'll find them when I have more time, huh?

No, I'll make time.

Tomorrow.

"Don't worry about people stealing your ideas. If your ideas are good enough, you'll have to ram them down people's throats."

-Howard Aiken

I've been feeling frustrated recently. Thwarted. Stifled. Suffocated even.

Do you ever feel like you're sort of destined for greatness? Gosh, this makes me sound so conceited to say this, but just know that I don't mean it the way it sounds when I say that I do. But, really, do you ever feel like you have a specific purpose you should be striving to fulfill during this life? Or maybe not a specific one, but you at least have a feeling you were meant to do something certain? I have always had this nagging feeling that my energy is supposed to be filtered into a place I haven't found yet.

I asked my dad the other day if he thinks that's a feeling everyone has. Something to keep each of us going, waking up each morning. He said he has no way of knowing but that he knows he has always felt that way, too. So we decided that we believe everyone must feel that way, or at least that we hope everyone does.

I've always felt that my purpose is to find a way to help other people realize their potential. Maybe it's just a case of "those who can't do, teach," but I honestly feel like that's what I'm supposed to do. I feel like I would finally pave my path in life by helping other people pave theirs. Recently, I've had the chance to help my dad create his.

Basically, he has this incredible gift he wants to give the world. It's not breathtaking or dressed up in a hip package, but, when the idea is left to settle in your mind, you realize exactly how important and urgent it is.

I've been helping him plan it out and refine it. I've been brainstorming, calling him on my lunch breaks so we can give each other updates, and feeling the pain and frustration of rejection with him each step of the way. He is brilliant, honest, hardworking. He has a vision, he has faith in this incredible thing he has created, and he has a strong conviction that the right people will eventually see it for what it truly is: revolutionary.

It's understandable. People are afraid of what they don't know or haven't tried before. My dad can present his plan that has an unthinkably high level of reward for everyone involved, yet the people he has shared it with have turned a blind eye for fear of failure and the unknown. I get it though. They don't know him like I do. They don't know that he's not a salesman, that's he's genuine, that they are lucky to have met him. I do though.

When my dad was in his twenties, he saw a psychic perform at a show. I know there's a lot of skepticism surrounding that kind of thing, but this guy was for real. He was respectable. My dad was chosen to come on stage. This man proceeded to tell my dark-haired, dark-eyed father that he had a red-headed brother, which he most definitely does; that his father, who had been hit with a shrapnel bomb in World War II, had all kinds of metal in his leg; and that he wouldn't marry the first one but the second one. Now that last one may have been a self-fulfilling prophecy since he had been engaged once before meeting my mom several years later. However, if they hadn't broken up, I wouldn't be writing this...and you wouldn't be reading it. The last thing that this man, this seer of the unseen, told my father was that he would be rich.

Rich? "RICH"? How incredibly, cruelly vague. Rich with money? Rich with love? Rich with passion? My father already had a burning in his belly to make something of himself in this world, and now this man had to go and validate that feeling with a promise of being "rich." Well, I'll tell you what. My dad has been working on something that would not only help him retire comfortably but also enrich the world in a way that would be more satisfying to him than having all the money you can imagine.

Maybe people will start to listen. Maybe his dream will become a reality. Or maybe he and I have already found richness in our relationship as teammates. No matter what happens, I will always be grateful that I've had the opportunity to get to know my dad in a different light and realize what a truly amazing man he is. Even if "the right people" never do.

Post #22: All we can do is keep breathing...

"Don't worry about people stealing your ideas. If your ideas are good enough, you'll have to ram them down people's throats."

-Howard Aiken

I've been feeling frustrated recently. Thwarted. Stifled. Suffocated even.

Do you ever feel like you're sort of destined for greatness? Gosh, this makes me sound so conceited to say this, but just know that I don't mean it the way it sounds when I say that I do. But, really, do you ever feel like you have a specific purpose you should be striving to fulfill during this life? Or maybe not a specific one, but you at least have a feeling you were meant to do something certain? I have always had this nagging feeling that my energy is supposed to be filtered into a place I haven't found yet.

I asked my dad the other day if he thinks that's a feeling everyone has. Something to keep each of us going, waking up each morning. He said he has no way of knowing but that he knows he has always felt that way, too. So we decided that we believe everyone must feel that way, or at least that we hope everyone does.

I've always felt that my purpose is to find a way to help other people realize their potential. Maybe it's just a case of "those who can't do, teach," but I honestly feel like that's what I'm supposed to do. I feel like I would finally pave my path in life by helping other people pave theirs. Recently, I've had the chance to help my dad create his.

Basically, he has this incredible gift he wants to give the world. It's not breathtaking or dressed up in a hip package, but, when the idea is left to settle in your mind, you realize exactly how important and urgent it is.

I've been helping him plan it out and refine it. I've been brainstorming, calling him on my lunch breaks so we can give each other updates, and feeling the pain and frustration of rejection with him each step of the way. He is brilliant, honest, hardworking. He has a vision, he has faith in this incredible thing he has created, and he has a strong conviction that the right people will eventually see it for what it truly is: revolutionary.

It's understandable. People are afraid of what they don't know or haven't tried before. My dad can present his plan that has an unthinkably high level of reward for everyone involved, yet the people he has shared it with have turned a blind eye for fear of failure and the unknown. I get it though. They don't know him like I do. I can't say that I wouldn't be skeptical as well if I were in their shoes. In fact, I'd probably be the first one to be skeptical. They don't know that he's not a salesman, that's he's genuine, that they are lucky to have met him. I do though.

Maybe people will start to listen. Maybe his dream will become a reality. Or maybe there has been a greater purpose to our becoming teammates. No matter what happens, I will always be grateful that I've had the opportunity to get to know my dad in a different light and realize what a truly amazing man he is. Even if "the right people" never do.