Application for Designating of Idiots to Restricted Places Committee

I wish I could save the world.  From exactly what I'm not entirely sure...it's tough to pinpoint the source of the frustration I feel at how messed up this planet is.  To be completely honest, I wish I could take over the world.  I think I have at least one person behind me, and I'm not sure if he's only behind me because of that vow we made a couple years back, or because he gets bored easily...but most times when I ask "What do you want to do tonight, shnookums?" He replies: "Same thing we do every night, Pinky....try to take over the world."  It's comforting to know we're on the same page.

I'm not exactly sure what my strategy will be once I'm Ruler of the World (and inherently, since I will govern space research, Ruler of All Planets and Extraterrestrial Life), but I have a few ideas up my sleeve.  My main idea involves implementing the "eye for an eye" strategy in the judicial system...as well as designating uninhabited (but ugly) countries as permanent living space for idiots.  For the latter, I will need a trusty committee to decide who these "idiots" may be, so if you think your definition matches mine, send me your resume, please.

But to help you in the process, I will give examples of said "idiots" and let you decide for yourself if you're up to the task of serving on the Designating of Idiots to Restricted Places Committee.  If you find yourself nodding your head while reading the below examples, and muttering to yourself "I know exactly the kind of person she's talking about...and I hate them to," then apply away.  However, if you find yourself distracted while reading, thinking instead of counter-arguments and rebuttals to my examples...then don't waste your time applying.  Oh, and get off my blog.

Remember, these are just examples.  If you need further clarification, stay tuned, as I'm sure I'll give more later.

Exhibit A:

I was watching a special last night on the 9/11 attacks, and hubs and I got to discussing the controversies laced throughout that tragic day and the events that followed.  I remember the grief President Bush got after footage was aired showing his reaction immediately after someone whispered to him that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center.  People were outraged that after he got the news, he calmly resumed his reading with elementary school students, looking impassive and unaffected.  To those people who feel as if his reaction directly mirrored his thoughts when he received this news, and who subsequently believe it reflected his disappointing presidency and lack of sympathy for the victims of 9/11, I wonder how they would react were they in the same situation.  Would they prefer that he had shot out of his chair and waved his arms around, outraged, shouting orders as he ran frantically out of the room?  Would they prefer he had hung his head in sorrow and began weeping in front of the class?  Or perhaps they wish he had simply informed the class that thousands of people had just lost their lives after a possibly-hijacked airplane crashed into the WTC in New York City, but promised: "Don't worry, I'll take care of it.  Please, continue your reading while I excuse myself."

Exhibit B:

I'm not the sharpest tool in the box, but I know there is still racism out there.  I want to change it (hence the whole "taking over the world" plan) but I accept that there are some people so single-minded that they still believe their race is superior to all others.  My issue goes a lot beyond that...to the people who not only believe racism is still out there, but let this belief rule everything about their life. Not to do the cliche dictionary definition thing, but....I'm gonna do it:

Racism: a belief or doctrine that inherent differences among the various human races  determine cultural or individual achievement, usually involving the idea that one's own race is superior and has the right to rule others. 

Those people who "cry wolf" by hollering about how some racist discriminated against them probably never consider that the "perpetrator" is discriminating against THEM, not their race.  I know it's a hard concept to wrap your head around, but perhaps your demeanor is the very thing that's causing you to be pre-judged, and perhaps you are the one jumping to the conclusion that it's your race.

Exhibit C: (don't worry this one's not as deep)

My mama raised me right, and I plan to mirror her parenting advice to a "T" when I have some little rugrats of my own. She didn't necessarily write the book "How to Raise Your Child Right."  (Man, that would make an editors' skin crawl.)  She practiced what some would call "unorthodox" parenting methods, but overall I think I turned out pretty dang close to OK, contrary to unpopular belief. (Yes, you read that right.) I'll give one example, because if I give any more, I fear she would give an entirely new meaning to the cliche "I brought you into this world, I can take you right out of it."

Of course, this story has only been re-told to me, as I was far too young to remember...but I have been told that I grew into and quickly grew out of the pulling hair stage.  Why?  Well because the first time I pulled my mom's hair was the last, as she pulled mine right back.  From what I've been told, I looked shocked and appalled as she pulled mine right back, but obviously it worked, as the pain made me realize it wasn't a fun thing to do.

Despite teaching me that intentionally harming others in the form of hair-pulling, biting, hitting, or with use of foreign objects, she taught me courtesy.  Not just "Yes ma'am," "Thank you," and "Please," but things like waving at people when they let you over into their lane, holding the door open for those less fortunate, "killing with kindness," etc.  One form that she taught me that apparently 90% of the population was not taught is to PUT YOUR DAMN GROCERY CART AWAY. It literally pains me when I see one left out amongst the many cars in the parking lot.  It pains me more to the point where I see red and have to remind myself that my bed is much more comfortable than a jail cell, when I actually see someone leave their cart out.  Not only do I wish to point out that they could probably use the exercise (as I've noticed it's often people who would only benefit from a few extra steps on the ol' pedometer) but I would like to see their reaction if all the carts they had left out in their life came back to attack their car all at once and they were left with dings and scratches.  It is negligent.  It is lazy.  It is rude.  But most of all...it is annoyingly idiotic.

That's all I got folks...and to quote the lovely radio personality Kelly Raspberry..."how'd ya like that?"

I don't have a creative title today.

I almost feel like I need to be consistent with my inconsistency and keep up this trend of posting sporadically every few months or so.  But what can I say?  I've felt the love lately, and....I give the people what they want.  Which is more insight into this conundrum of thoughts going on in my noggin every day.

Which brings me to this...

1.  This Lance Armstrong "scandal" has really thrown me into a tizzy. (I'm feeling British this morning...or whatever nationality/species it is that uses the word "tizzy.")  The ADA declared him guilty recently, after Lance bowed out of an arbitration hearing fighting the charges that he doped from 1999-2005.  Lance claimed that he was tired of the fight to prove his innocence, and that the ADA claims were baseless and it was a witch hunt to try to strip him of his Tour de France wins; something that my dear friends at the Ticket don't feel will happen, considering the ADA doesn't have the power to strip him of his titles.  I agree that Lance really chose the lesser of two evils, and that no matter what, this situation is a lose-lose for him.  If he went through with the arbitration, person after person would come forward, claiming that they "saw Lance doping with their own two eyes," thereby ruining his reputation indefinitely, not to mention his Livestrong organization/foundation.  The arbitration would carry on for weeks, each day with more ugly claims, and of course, who would ever believe these claims to be false or libelous?  There's no proof.  The guy passed more than 500 drug tests, and yet the ADA is still claiming he doped?  What's the point of drug tests then, if you're only going to refute their credibility?  The other choice, the one Lance chose, is to give up the fight, consequently giving the ADA what they want by declaring him "guilty."  True, his reputation may take a bit of a beating, when all those (for lack of a better word) haters, begin singing their "I told you so"s.  Is it so unbelievable that a man who battled testicular cancer could win a cycling race 7 times on sheer talent and determination?  And if that is too hard to wrap your head around,then why is it soooo hard to believe that the ADA has ulterior motives and is a corrupt governing organization who has nothing better to do than to make baseless claims that would jeopardize one of the most honorable, gifted cyclist this world will ever see?  Oh that's right...we only see the bad in people.  Maybe Lance did dope during his winning streak.  But until you show me the smoking gun, he's a-OK in my book.

2.  I love watching people drive.  It's one of the most vulnerable times in a person's life...and yet there are so many witnesses to it.  Complete strangers.  I personally sing...nay...BELT it while I drive.  Sometimes I plug the ol' iPod in and jam out to songs I know I sound good on...other times, I try out songs I know I don't sound good on, because it's the only time I'm completely alone.  (I'm fairly sure hubby jams out to the show I put on in the shower sometimes).  It's one of the most embarrassing things when someone catches me.  The worst is when it happens at a stoplight.  I still haven't decided if I should keep going, confidently shrugging them off like I'm not bothered by their awkward glances, or if I should stick to my instinct and snap my mouth shut and turn bright red in the face.  (This is what I usually do).  I love that distracted driver (you know, texting/putting on makeup/eating/reading my blog/taking a nap while driving) who reacts by throwing up his or her hands in defiance and giving a dramatic "WHAT?!" look after nearly side swiping the car in the next lane.  I want to follow that person to wherever they're going, get out of my car and say "I'm so sorry I almost interrupted your driving by....my driving.  And I apologize even more deeply for honking my horn at you to alert you to the fact that you almost just took my life while you were applying a second coat of mascara to your already overly-mascara-ed spider eyes.  I know now that the sound of a horn apparently strikes a nerve.  Next time, I'll whisper 'watch out' and hope you hear me."

There's more in my head...but my fingers hurt.  

I'm no expert buuut...

Again, I find myself trying to reinforce the name of this online monstrosity: "Bond's Mindless Wanderings."  In all honesty, the title couldn't be farther from the truth.  These little thoughts that flutter in and out of my brain almost constantly throughout my day are very mindful, and quite often lead me to believe that I have powers beyond my wildest dreams, and that I really belong at Hogwarts.  If only I could get to Platform 9 3/4.... harumpf.

1.  I realize statistics don't lie.  I realized this when I took Statistics in college, and got an A+ (don't question it...they give A+'s in college).  So it would seem that giving statistics to rebuttal someone heralding an athlete  as "awesome" or "good" would be logical, eh?  I don't think I need to give an example, as I'm sure you are all picking an instance where this has happened to you...you post a gleeful status about your love for, say, David Murphy, (my favorite underrated player), only to see hours later that a small war of words has broken out while people rattle off stats like his low batting average, or errors this season, or strikeouts in away games...or something.  My point is this: I don't like you people.  And although statistics may prove that a player's stats aren't as high as some other player's stats, I beg you to show me your stats and we'll see if you can do any better.

2.  I feel bad for people who like themselves soooo much so, that consequently, they end up liking themselves far more than anyone else likes them.  I don't mean this to be funny....I genuinely feel bad for these people.  Two schools of thought on this one:

• They either suffer from such serious low self esteem that the only way to console themselves is to boast about how awesome they are in hopes that someone will actually believe them. In which case, I feel bad for them, because "you are beautiful in every single way, and you are beautiful no matter what they sayyyy..." (Thanks X-tina.)

OR

• They genuinely think they are far superior than any other friend, family member, acquaintance, colleague, etc., that they're associated with, and in doing so, cause those people to cross their fingers and pray/hope patiently that said person gets a reality check in the form of a swift kick to the gut.  In all seriousness, I feel more bad for these people because it's sad to say but, they probably aren't nearly as awesome as they think they are, in which case I wish they would become conscious of this reality so they could step off their high horse and have fun with the rest of us.

3.  If you're at all worth my while, you know my parents have a delicious little cafe in our hometown.  One of our business priorities is to make each person's dining experience personable and friendly; we want you to feel like part of the family.  One of our tactics in carrying this ideology out is to ask each person when they approach the register:

"Can I have your name, please?"

...................WHY IN THE NAME OF PETER, PAUL AND MARY IS THIS SUCH A DIFFICULT QUESTION?!?!

Sorry for that outburst. *Ahem.* But for real.  Nearly every time I ask this, people either give me a blank, utterly confused stare and begin to blubber, "uuuh, whaa....uhhh, -J-Je-Jeff."  "See, that wasn't so hard Jeff....assuming you've had this name longer than 5 minutes and aren't a con-artist using an alias.  In which case, don't worry; I'm asking your name not because I'm an undercover cop, but so that I know who to give your flippin' flapjacks to."  Other times, it's a couple, in which case they look at eachother with a confused look, until one of them coughs up, usually the other person's name.  In which case I'd like to reply:  "Oh I'm sorry, is this a blind date?"  My favorite is when they glare at me.  This one's rare, and when it happens, I know I'm in for a real treat of an individual...you're seriously going to act irritated that I asked you one of the most common questions on earth, and simply for the reason that I'd like to ensure that the food you're about to request and pay me for makes it to your table in a timely fashion??  It's not like I asked what size underwear you're wearing, ya fatty.

Ahhh....release.  I feel better after getting those little nuggets out of my head and onto the computer screen where they're safe.  Goodnight, blog-world.

Threat to all Fellow Bloggers

More often than not, I get discouraged by reading other people's blogs.  My sweet cousin has not only the most adorable little family that frequently pops up in her blog (making it much more attractive than mine), but she also seems to have the most interesting "ordinary" days, which give her lots to write about.  My mom's friend has a blog and I swear, when I'm reading it, sometimes I feel like I'm reading a TV script for some witty show like "New Girl" or "The Office." Other blogs are annoyingly intelligent and discuss things I only pretend to understand, but their overuse of words more than four syllables intrigues me, so again, I get jealous.  I'm most envious of blogs filled with creative recipes, DIY crafts, or "Things for the Home," and I find myself not only becoming depressed about my own boring blog, but then I start sulking about the fact that I'm living in an apartment above a warehouse the size of these people's garages, and those "Things for the Home" couldn't apply to me even if I wanted them to.

So alas, I resort to blogging about....my own blog? (Much improvement, Margaret.)

My dad seems to like my blog.  My dear friend Alex loves it, although I think it's just because his job and subsequently entire day is that boring.  Hubby compliments it, which I used to find very flattering, until I realized he actually writes extremely eloquently himself, so now I feel like when he says "Hey shnookums, your blog was great today," what he's really saying is: "I could have done so much better."

I'm sure the dogs would like it, because it seems they're the only people in this world who like everything I do.  They especially admire my trait of leaving TOMS on the living room floor, and are even more fond of my inability to resist their begging eyes when I'm eating/cooking.  However, they can't seem to articulate that they like my writing....and to be honest, I'm not sure hubby listens when I tell him to let them read it.  Psh...men.

Regardless, I used to think I suffered from severe writer's block.  I would use my trusty little notebook to jot down thoughts or ideas about what my next post could be about.  I would create a little "note" on my iPhone with little snippits I thought I could include in my next entry, and I've even go so far as to start a post with the hopes of striking some inspirational chord and being able to finish it later.  But then I leisurely read my favorite blogs and that little balloon of hope and inspiration slowly deflates, leaving me wordless and frustrated, but most of all, sad.

So I'm asking (nicely but forcefully) for all you dear, fellow bloggers, to stop showing me up.  Did you read the paragraph above? You're making me sad.  I ask, how can you sleep at night knowing that showing pictures of your almost unbelievably adorable child on your blog, or bragging about how you had the funniest experience today while tending to the lemon trees in your backyard, makes me feel inadequate and meaningless?  Give me a chance to scrounge up something in my life that is hilarious and adorable at the same time...something I can write a mere two paragraphs about that will leave people saying "That Meg, she has a way of painting a picture with just a few simple, one-syllable words."

Just give me a chance.

Truly mindless wanderings.

Sometimes I like to blog about controversial things.  I really like to wait until a situation falls into my lap that I feel so strongly about that it's all I can do not to run to a computer and start tapping my thoughts onto the screen for the whole world to see.  And there's plenty of controversial shenanigans out there to blog about...there's health care bills causin' a ruckus; presidential candidates gettin' people's panties all in a wad; sexual orientation parades runnin' through the streets causin' people to just about have a heart attack whether they have anything to do with it or not; our pets HEADS ARE FALLIN' OFF!!! (OK, that last part was a little out there, but for all you that caught onto it...I applaud you.  I also apologize for goin' a little country on ya'll there...at least I used correct punctuation.)

Anyway...where was I?  Oh yes.  The purpose of this blog.  Nothing.  I'm really playing into this whole "mindless wanderings" thing and letting you all know some of the thoughts I have about the real current events I think about...ones that matter.

*steps onto soap box*

1.  Someone should write a book (with pictures preferably) on what to do and what not to do after a gentleman or lady, whom you have absolutely no interest in, buys you a drink at a bar or other social gathering.  Oh, you want the background of why I first pondered this?  Ok, Ok, settle down.  So I don't get hit on a lot.  I choose to believe it's because I'm toting around this big ol' rock on my wedding ring finger, so it blinds and intimidates men and they say "Gah, won't even waste my time with that foxy, married lady."  Regardless, a few weeks ago I was at a bar and after setting down my money to pay for my way over-priced glass of wine, the bartender says: "Gentleman over there got your drink for you."  I peek over my shoulder to find a very nicely dressed, well-groomed...senior citizen winking at me. I merely thanked him repeatedly (probably awkwardly so) and scooted away to my sister.  Comments welcome on what I should have done, or if what I did do was appropriate enough.  Either way....if you are extremely confident in your answer, hit a sista up and let's get to work on this little tell-tale.  We could be billionaires.

2.  I don't understand the whole "take a picture of yourself and post it to Facebook/Instagram/some-other-social-medium and put a caption that makes it seem like you're not just trying to get comments on how good you look."  These pictures come in all different forms, all of which are equally irritating.  For the record: if you take a picture of yourself (face or full-body shot) and post a caption in the ballpark of any of the following: "Just went for a run"; "Happy Tuesday!"; "Just being goofy"; "Look, I got a new bikini! Beach ready!"; "I look horrible without makeup"; or anything relative, give it up.  We know you are just trying to get comments on how hot you are, or how you have such a good body, etc.  It is vain.  I realize pictures are a good way to make sure you look OK when there's not a mirror or especially reflective window around, but if you must do so, please keep it to yourself.  If for no other reason than because it annoys me.  Also, for the record...pouting your lips out and opening up your eyes really big, and only doing so when you happen to have a full face of makeup and a perfectly in-place hair-do does NOT constitute making a funny face, and is therefore, one of the most annoying types of said pictures.  THIS is a funny face:

3. This one will be short: If you ever use a Groupon, coupon, discount, deal, promotion, or the like, at a restaurant....tip on what the total would have been.  If you rack up $45.00 worth of food and have some sweet deal where you only have to pay $2.00, tipping $0.40 is not a good tip just because it's 20%.  If you don't follow me...go work in a restaurant, have that exact same thing happen to you, and then you'll understand.

4.  This happens to me all the time lately, probably more often than usual because I've just now become conscious of it.  I find myself frequently walking into a building and about 10 steps before I get to the door, I "merge" with someone coming from another direction.  We then begin walking in stride together, going for the same goal (in this case, a door), and I find myself pausing each time wondering: do we walk in side by side?  If it is a small door, do I wait and let them walk in first, or just go for it and hope they pause?  If I wait, and they wait, it's like that awkward moment at an intersection when you both come to the stop sign at the exact same moment and both wave each other on at the exact same moment and then when you decide "forget it, I'll just go," they are thinking the same thing and they start to go, and then you both brake so the other will go, and then you both get mad at each other because you both want to just GO...and it's all just very uncomfortable.  And I need an answer on how to fix it.  There has to be some rule book out there that addresses this kind of thing.

That's really all I have for now.  If you have stuck with this post 'til the end and find yourself wondering why you ever clicked on that silly link in the first place, and feel this was just a waste of time....I encourage you to go try to walk the opposite way up an escalator in less than 10 seconds and realize that that is a waste of time.

*steps off soap box, even though it was nice and cozy up there*

Yep. This one's about racism.

My mom used to say I wore my heart on my sleeve...which for the most part, was, and is entirely true.  Granted, I have learned to cope with it more easily in my years of accumulated wisdom, but I do still get my feelings hurt easily, and sometimes misconstrue jokes or "insults" as serious.

But, in this society, ya' gotta have thick skin.  So as I have grown, I have learned to let a lot of things slide.

I let comments about the standard for women being "unhealthy" and "too thin" slide off my back.  Back in the day (which was a Wednesday, for those of you wondering), these accusations of being too skinny would have offended me.  But in a society where allegations about weight and diet are all too common, I have learned to let them go.

I used to get upset when I heard or saw someone ignorantly claim that being a Christian was a fantasy, or that Christians are judgmental, "holier-than-thou" bigots.  Back on this Wednesday (mind you, it was a busy day) I would have left a snooty comment, or let the accusation boil my blood a little.  But nowadays, I just turn the other cheek, as us silly Christians would say. 

I used to try to fight the jabs boys or men would make about women being moody, irrational, and hard to please.  "We are not moody, boys are just stupid!" I would proclaim!  Well...this insult I not only let slide because boys are indeed, and innocently enough, slightly stupid when it comes to figuring out a woman...but also because women are scientifically, and also innocently enough, kind of moody, irrational, and hard to please.  (You know it's true, ladies.)

I take pride in being able to slough off the occasional comment.  Opinions are opinions, and each individual is entitled to their own, no matter how illogical or downright dumb I may think it is.  I have learned to tell the difference between an opinion, which is not to be argued, and a truth, which leaves room for correction, if necessary.

Well...I have some correcting to do.

Recently on Facebook, I saw a status from an old acquaintance, who happens to be African American.  It read something like this:

"So dude gets shot by the police in tha cliff at Taco Bell off Camp Wisdom...he was smoking a blunt and when law tried to approach him he reached for his gun..."

To which many friends, also African American, left several comments, including:

"These white folks don't give two sh*ts about n***as!"

(Granted, the young gentlemen did not censor himself, but I inserted the asterik for your reading pleasure.)

Now I'm not sure exactly what she was implying.  It is my hope that she was insinuating that had he just handed over his little "treat," he would be alive today; not the latter, which the eloquent young man obviously felt....that some stupid white cop carelessly shot a black man simply for pointing a gun at him.

A few weeks ago, another old high school acquaintance, who also happens to be African American, left this as his status:

"I got kicked out the club for goin into the women's restroom...wtf? Gimme a better reason than that racist man...it's cool I got a bottle first"

After which he posted a picture of a bottle of Grey Goose vodka.  I won't go into this one too much, as I would hope it's obvious what is wrong with this statement, but in case you're a little cloudy today, let me be clear: kicking a boy out of a women's restroom is not racist. It is sane and logical and decent; and you sir, are a creeper and an apparent thief who should probably be kicked out of clubs before you even make it through the door.

I will let a lot of opinions/accusations/allegations/insults slide, as I previously discussed.  But I am fed up with seeing and hearing comments about how "white people are so racist."  In reference to the young boy who was shot after pulling a GUN on a POLICE OFFICER....what exactly does this comment person (excuse me for lack of words; this is the part where I get a little worked up) think should have happened?  Does he believe the officer should have paused to consider that perhaps the black man was just worked up and didn't mean any harm; he just wanted to smoke his marijuana in peace?  Does he think the officer should have put his life, and his family and friend's well being in jeopardy just because he is white and this young man is black?  Or, were the roles reversed, would the intention be the same?  If it was a black police officer shooting a white boy with a blunt, would it be OK in that instance?  If it were this comment person's father who was out patrolling the streets, would he have wanted his father to not fire his weapon at someone who was POINTING A GUN AT HIM, and just hope that instead it would be an unloaded weapon, or perhaps the whole thing would just blow over and they could go have a taco together?  And to the other status regarding the "racist man" who kicked him out of a restroom...yes, I'm sure that the white security guard/bouncer walked in and said: "Absolutely nothing about this situation is unordinary, unsafe, or inappropriate in ANY way, and I allow guys to hang out in the women's restroom at this club all the time, but since you're black, sir, you need to get the hell out of here."

Yes.  I'm sure that is exactly what went through his mind.  And I'm sure similar thoughts went through the police officer's mind before he defended himself against a threat.  I'm sure he didn't think "Well, I'm going to have the possible death of a young boy on my hands for the rest of my life, but because he's black, I'm going to shoot him anyways."

I can tolerate a lot.  But it seems to me that the ones so quick to call white people "racist" are the only ones looking at the skin color in the first place. 

There's Hope. (Thanks, sis.)

I'm stressed lately.  Scratch that...I'm always just a little bit stressed, but lately it's been magnified.  I tend to worry more about the future than simply enjoy the present.  I cringe every time I log on to my online banking account, regardless of the available balance.  I hesitate calling on my friends, family, and dear husband for help or even words of encouragement, because I fear I'm irritating them; and even when I do get up the courage to call, I worry that the flood of support they give me in return will soon run out.

Add to all that, I recently decided to go back to school.  And let me tell you one thing I have learned for sure (aside from the names and functions of all 206 bones in the body [227 if you count the fetal skeleton])....being in school as an adult is much less fun than being in school as a "full-time student."

My personal theme for the month of May was this:

"Stress won't help anything."

Well, here it is May 23rd and I have had enough of that silly theme.  I'm ready to lay in the stress; to completely envelop myself in it by crying, whimpering, giving myself an unbearable headache by thinking of all our upcoming expenses, injecting my veins with caffeine to prolong the days (who came up with only 24 measly hours in a day, anyway?), and carrying an edge of irritability along wherever I go.  I'm ready to swim in the stress, and let it bury me alive, because that is so much easier than believing that...

"Stress won't help anything."

And then my sister comes along and puts this song on her iPhone and pulls the lyrics up on the computer and tells me that even though I have heard this song many times before, that I need to listen to it and read along....

Have you ever had one of those moments where you're eating something you've eaten 1,000 times before, or driving down the same road you've driven down every day for two years, or looking at someone you've looked at nearly every day for your entire life, and all of the sudden, you REALLY appreciate it?  You take that monotonous bite, just masticating away (gotta love science classes), and you realize how much you really love that hint of garlic?  Or you see on the side of that same ole' road, a beautiful garden blossoming with bright roses?  Or that person you look at every day, that person whose face you have memorized, you suddenly notice that when their eyes catch the sunlight, they have the most beautiful hint of amber/gold in them? (That's my husband's eyes by the way, so back off ladies, he is TAKEN.)

That happened to me today.  And I'm sure the words of this song won't resonate nearly as much with you all as they did with me this morning, but I hope it hits home for somebody.  But promise me this: if you DO want to scroll just a little further (you didn't think I'd ramble on about this song and not post the lyrics, did you?), please open a new tab up on your browser and listen to it as you read.  If you have ever been in this state of mind I'm in right now, where you literally feel like you're drowning in it all, her voice will beckon you to keep your head above water.  I love you, sister.  Thank you for being my rock.

India Arie: There's Hope

Here's the song on YouTube

Back when I had a little,I thought that i needed alot. A little was over rated, but alot was a little to complicated. See zero didn't satisfiy me , a million didn't make me happy. That's when I learned the lesson that its all about your perceptions. Hey, are you a papa or a super star so you act ,so you feel, so you are. It aint about the size of your car, It's about the size of the faith in your heart

There's hope. It doesn't cost a thing to smile, you dont have to pay to laugh, you better thank God for that.There's hope. It doesn't cost a thing to smile, you dont have to pay to laugh, you better thank God for that. There's hope

Off in the back country of Brazil, I met a young brotha that made me feel that, that i could accomplish anything. Ya see just like me he wanted to sing he had, NO windows and NO doors, he lived a simple life and was extremely poor. On top of all that he had no eye sight, but that didnt keep him from seeing the light he said, Whats it like in the USA, and all I did was complain. he said living here is paradise, he taught me paradise is in your mind,you know that ....

There's hope. It doesn't cost a thing to smile, you dont have to pay to laugh, you better thank God for that.There's hope. It doesn't cost a thing to smile, you dont have to pay to laugh, you better thank God for that. There's hope

Every time i turn on the t.v ( there's hope)Somebody's acting crazy (there's hope)If you let it'll drive you crazy (there's hope)But im taking back my power today (ther's hope)Gas prices they just keep on rising(there's hope)The government they keep on lying (there's hope)

But we gotta keep on surving, keep living our truth and do the best we can do because 

There's hope. It doesn't cost a thing to smile, you dont have to pay to laugh, you better thank God for that.( Yea yea ).There's hope. It doesn't cost a thing to smile, you dont have to pay to laugh, you better thank God for that. (Yea yea yea) There's hope

Stand up for your rights, Keeping shining your life, and show the world your smile

Stand up for your rights, Keeping shining your life, and show the world your smile

There's hope. It doesn't cost a thing to smile, you dont have to pay to laugh, you better thank God for that.( Better thank God for that) .There's hope. It doesn't cost a thing to smile, you dont have to pay to laugh, you better thank God for that. Yea yeaThere's hope

Two, one, two, one, two, two, two, one