Social Lemmings

There's never a shortage of people who want to hate on something, and half the time, I don't think they even know what they're hating on ... they just want to be a part of something. And I get that. Heaven forbid people have their own opinion. I mean, who wants to be out on that limb alone? No one. Even so, at least know what and why you hate this new breed of evil. Don't join a team of social lemmings who just follow the pack to their own watery demise in the name of being part of the "in crowd".

People love a person/book/band when they're in their prime, but the second someone bigger than themselves start running their mouth, we're left with a group of turncoats. We saw it happen with Charlie Sheen and Britney Spears, and we're beginning to see it happen with Justin Bieber. But I think the biggest shift in allegiance has been for poor ole Stephenie Meyer *cough* she's-laughing-all-the-way-to-the-bank *cough*.

Here's the thing, like it or not, Meyer moved millions of people to read. I've heard countless tales of people who've said, "I loved Twilight so much, I began writing. If a stay-at-home mom can be successful doing something she loves, so can I." Complain and say we have a plethora of crappy writers, but that's not the point. The point is, we now have people who are trying their hand at a thing they enjoy. Most will decide it's more work than they care to continue, but a select few will continue on, grow, and become successful ... the soon-to-be benefactors of all those vicious and fickle turncoats. Because as quickly as they attack without warning, they're just as apt to welcome you with open arms ... or wallets, if you have happen to be selling books.

Be who you are, because eventually, those lemmings are plunging off that cliff. Better make sure you know what's waiting at the bottom.

Peace. Love. Happy blogging.

Jesus Online

For whatever reason, I've experienced an influx of "Like" if you want to live forever/have good fortune/are against penguin trafficking posts on my Facebook feed. While, yes, I do support, encourage, and desire those things, I hardly see how my one-click mouse action will influence a change in the world. In light of this revelation, I've created a badge of my own. Click the image to see it full-size.

Seriously, if you don't share this, any number of things could happen in the coming week ... but they probably won't. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Hope you all had a pleasant holiday.

Peace. Love. Happy blogging.

Good News, Bad News

I spent the better part of the morning chilling with some charming elderly folks. From the sound of it, I was hanging out at the retirement center, catching up on the latest hip replacement gossip or learning what foods promote healthy bowel movements. But no, I was waiting in line to see the podiatrist for what we all feared might be gout ... the old man disease. One horrifying step away from orthopedic shoes.

My aunt Eunice has these.

I climb on an elevator heavily saturated with eau de geriatric, and smile at the lovely couple standing beside me. The man is holding his wife's wrinkled hand, and I can't help but wonder what it's like to be married for 60 years. I smile and wink as we disembark only to realize no one was actually looking at me; there was a glass eye involved.

Disturbed but determined, I slog through the phlegmy coughs in the waiting room and find my place in the exam room. 7 forms later, it's my chance to explain my inexplicable toe issues to the nurse. She stares at me like I'm offering an explanation in Klingon, because no, I don't know how I hurt it or why it's continuing to cause problems. That's why I'm here.
She whips out a big blue chux pad and begins to unfold it, all the while I start sweating in the corner. The last time I saw one of those, I was giving birth. I'm instructed to remove my sock and shoe. The doctor will be in shortly.

Mr. Doctor comes in, and we rehash the story I've told Ms. Nurse, only now I'm slightly off kilter and mumbly because I expect his reaction will mimic hers. Much to my delight, he smiles and nods enthusiastically. Now I fear I'm losing the toe, and he's just trying to put on a good face. Mr. Doctor asks about conditions completely unrelated to wonky toe, reinforcing my horrifying notion.

At lease he has a sense of humor. That
ought to go far on his eHarmony
post.

He lifts my foot and props it on his knee, telling me to relax it. My heart is little racey at this point as it looks like we're going to begin a sadistic game of This Little Piggy. Mr. Doctor wiggles and turns wonky toe, but there's no rhyming to his questions, so I relax. Lots of flinching later, he comes to one conclusion.




Good News: No gout! Whoot! Goodbye lifetime prescription to maintain my uric acid levels!

Bad News: I have an inexplicably wonky toe.

On the bright side, Mr. Doctor thinks it's something we can deal with, and it hasn't left any irreparable damage. Still, there's something depressing about being the only patient in the office who still has their real teeth. Meaning I have my real teeth, not the office. I'd have to be old to leave those behind.

In all seriousness, the elderly are awesome! Here's to old people full of wisdom and interesting stories!

Courtesy LG TopangaFilmFestival