Can you honestly be kind when being honest? You can try. You can give your honesty with kind intentions. But, no matter how kind one is, honesty is the hardest thing to give and take.
“Honesty is such a lonely word. Everyone is so untrue. Honesty is hardly ever heard. And mostly what I need from you.”
No truer words have ever been sung by the great, Billy Joel.
When someone asks for your opinion what they are really asking for you to do is agree with their opinion. The one they already have their heart and mind set on. They are not asking what you really think; they just want you to agree with them.
We all do it. We ask for advice and then we get mad when we don’t get the results we are seeking.
You’ve heard the words, “If you don’t want to know, don’t ask.”
This is a good rule to live by. Sometimes it’s best to just make your own decisions. Other times it really is important to hear the wise words of someone else.
Hearing constructive criticism about you is brutal. It’s like going to the plastic surgeon and having him whip out his marker and mapping your face with all kinds of corrections he’s about to make to your imperfections. You only went in for some botox and he showed you more flaws than you ever saw in the mirror.
Sometimes you just don’t want to know.
Sometimes you would rather just go on and live in your bubble and just be happy and never see what someone else sees.
What someone else sees about you is just their opinions anyway. So, really it doesn’t quite matter. It’s like having an umbrella, it may help shield you from the rain but it’s still going to storm. The facts are the facts and no umbrella is going to stop Mother Nature from raining down on us.
People are always going to have something to say, so let them talk, and always know who you are.
But, if what you want is honesty and nothing more, don’t be mad when someone decides to be bold and bring it your way. You asked for it.
That smack in the face honesty that your family and true friends give you can be really hard to swallow. You know the answer deep down and you are asking them to confirm or deny that gut feeling. Sadly, they usually always confirm what you knew anyway.
It’s like a jagged little pill making its way into your calm stomach. It rattles you all up inside and creates turmoil. This pill is tough to digest, but once you do, the healing process has begun.
It’s like antibiotics that make you worse before you get better. They bring out all the bad before you get back on your feet.
Most times those friends and family members are the ones that helped you battle the beast (and you only have to take one honesty pill instead of three a day for ten days).
Honesty is best in moderation. Human beings tell little white lies all day long. Not to be malicious, but just to appear more likeable and less dramatic.
Not everyone needs to know how you are really feeling.
“How are you today?”
“I’m miserable because my head is spinning, I’m not sure I can pay my rent, and I haven’t had sex in months.”
I think the better answer is, “I’m great, you?”
This is why people lie. Honesty is too honest in a case like this. Spare them the details. Please.
So, what do you do when asked to be honest about something?
Be honest and bold no matter the consequences or be as honest as the person asking wants you to be.
What does that mean you ask?
It means you can always tell just how far you should go not to insult the asker. The inquiring mind leads you to their answer. It’s called leading the witness.
Unless you are under oath, maybe you should tell a little white lie because most of the time in most situations your honesty is honestly just too honest.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Thursday, December 2, 2010
“My Right Now Resolution”
5, 4, 3, 2…HAPPY NEW YEAR! 2011 will be ringing in before we know it. Most of us will be at an overpriced gathering wearing something glitzy that sparkles and shines. Some of us will choose a quiet night with loved ones. Others will be a drunken mess at a house party. In any case, we all find our own way to ring in the next 365 days.
As your taking a bite at every food station pretending to be Sam Sifton, your stomach is yelling, “Enjoy this you glutton…it’s the last night you can stuff your face!” Well, because you know tomorrow you’ll be starting your first day of dieting for the long dreaded year ahead, or really for the long dreaded month ahead.
You won’t make it a year or longer than a month. You will join the gym if you aren’t already a member of the “Sweat it out and go home and stuff it back in club.” And, if you are a member already, you will decide it’s time to head back because you’ve been lazy all year long. The faces at the desk won’t recognize you or your new workout gear. For the past year your membership has only helped the owners of the gym pay their rent.
Don’t re-up your frozen status; just let your brain and all its thoughts thaw out for a moment. Ask yourself if you really want to do this, AGAIN? Year after year it’s the same pattern. And, that pattern is simply boring and worthless.
If you are a regular gym rat than you will notice every January 2nd the gym is packed. There are many hopeful contestants, but most of them are cut or quit before they even wear their free t-shirt awarded with their new membership.
I’m not knocking these people (even though they make the gym overly crowded for a good month). I am simply stating what I have been witnessing over many years.
People, the fact is New Year’s resolutions suck and so does exercise, and losing weight!
While you are sitting on your couch covered by your warm, soft fuzzy blanket this winter choosing a habit to break or begin…choose wisely.
Find one that you know you can absolutely stick to or one that will last for more than a month.
I must tell you that it should not be diet related. Dieting resolutions are just another advertising ploy to make big business big money. It’s like Valentine’s Day for Hallmark. It makes everyone money and doesn’t mean a hell of a lot.
January 1st should not be the reason you want to shed the pounds. It should mean nothing to you other than changing your calendars and your year on your checks.
It’s all pointless bullshit to make you think you need a BIG CHANGE in your new year to make you love yourself more or be happier.
Don’t give into the hype.
My End of the Year Resolution is to NOT have a New Year’s resolution at all, ever again.
January marks the new year on our calendars but any and everyday marks a new year. Today is December 2nd 2010 and December 2nd 2011 will make a year. And, if it were March 20th 2010, you can bet on the sun and moon and it’s position 365 days later, the next March 20th will be a whole year later.
Stop setting your new improved habits by the Egyptians, Romans, Mayans, Greeks, or Chinese calendars and their time. Set it by yours.
Do it when you mean it and when you really know you are ready.
I am deciding on this last month of the year that I should read two books a month. It will help my mind and my soul. It can only make me smarter. It won’t help me get into a size two, but it will help fill my mind. And, by next December 2nd, a whole year later, I should be twenty-four books the wiser (That’s big for me).
So, my “Right Now Resolution” is to absolve the idea of giving up anything ever again. For now on it will only be the addition of great things and the bad things will fade away when I say so, not when it strikes midnight on the clock. Nobody dictates to me what I should do and when I should do it.
Happy End of the Year and I hope you choose wisely and make it a year of self improvement whenever you wish to begin.
As your taking a bite at every food station pretending to be Sam Sifton, your stomach is yelling, “Enjoy this you glutton…it’s the last night you can stuff your face!” Well, because you know tomorrow you’ll be starting your first day of dieting for the long dreaded year ahead, or really for the long dreaded month ahead.
You won’t make it a year or longer than a month. You will join the gym if you aren’t already a member of the “Sweat it out and go home and stuff it back in club.” And, if you are a member already, you will decide it’s time to head back because you’ve been lazy all year long. The faces at the desk won’t recognize you or your new workout gear. For the past year your membership has only helped the owners of the gym pay their rent.
Don’t re-up your frozen status; just let your brain and all its thoughts thaw out for a moment. Ask yourself if you really want to do this, AGAIN? Year after year it’s the same pattern. And, that pattern is simply boring and worthless.
If you are a regular gym rat than you will notice every January 2nd the gym is packed. There are many hopeful contestants, but most of them are cut or quit before they even wear their free t-shirt awarded with their new membership.
I’m not knocking these people (even though they make the gym overly crowded for a good month). I am simply stating what I have been witnessing over many years.
People, the fact is New Year’s resolutions suck and so does exercise, and losing weight!
While you are sitting on your couch covered by your warm, soft fuzzy blanket this winter choosing a habit to break or begin…choose wisely.
Find one that you know you can absolutely stick to or one that will last for more than a month.
I must tell you that it should not be diet related. Dieting resolutions are just another advertising ploy to make big business big money. It’s like Valentine’s Day for Hallmark. It makes everyone money and doesn’t mean a hell of a lot.
January 1st should not be the reason you want to shed the pounds. It should mean nothing to you other than changing your calendars and your year on your checks.
It’s all pointless bullshit to make you think you need a BIG CHANGE in your new year to make you love yourself more or be happier.
Don’t give into the hype.
My End of the Year Resolution is to NOT have a New Year’s resolution at all, ever again.
January marks the new year on our calendars but any and everyday marks a new year. Today is December 2nd 2010 and December 2nd 2011 will make a year. And, if it were March 20th 2010, you can bet on the sun and moon and it’s position 365 days later, the next March 20th will be a whole year later.
Stop setting your new improved habits by the Egyptians, Romans, Mayans, Greeks, or Chinese calendars and their time. Set it by yours.
Do it when you mean it and when you really know you are ready.
I am deciding on this last month of the year that I should read two books a month. It will help my mind and my soul. It can only make me smarter. It won’t help me get into a size two, but it will help fill my mind. And, by next December 2nd, a whole year later, I should be twenty-four books the wiser (That’s big for me).
So, my “Right Now Resolution” is to absolve the idea of giving up anything ever again. For now on it will only be the addition of great things and the bad things will fade away when I say so, not when it strikes midnight on the clock. Nobody dictates to me what I should do and when I should do it.
Happy End of the Year and I hope you choose wisely and make it a year of self improvement whenever you wish to begin.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
You marked your spot, Spike
I was a sad little seven year old strapped in the back seat of my parents Monte Carlo crying my eyes out because we had just left the pet store…with no puppy…again.
I left my little birthday buddy behind; an adorable cocker spaniel born on the same day as me.
It was fate…this dog was meant for me.
But, as my mom coaxed me out of the store after making me hand my best friend back over to the lady I knew it was a grim situation.
My older brother was ten years old and wiser. I looked up to him. So, I did whatever he did. As he was begging and moaning for that little doggy in the window I was chiming in with a high pitched PLEASE MOM AND DAD!!!!!!
We sat in the back seat of this big brown boat and pleaded our case all the way home. Our eyes were shifting back at forth. The first glance at each other with determination and anticipation, then to our parents with the saddest eyes you have ever seen. How could they resist the two curly haired kids in the back seat that were longing for a Lassie?
My dad finally burst out and said, “Tomorrow, tomorrow when you get home from school you will have a dog!”
We gushed with excitement like two adults that just won the lotto. This was big. We worked so hard for this moment.
I didn’t believe my dad completely. I thought he was trying to shut us up since we were making him insane in the membrane.
But, that Monday on the school bus my brother and I couldn’t contain ourselves. It was like Christmas morning but only four in the afternoon and…not Christmas.
My brother ran off the bus with me trying to catch up right behind him shouting, “Do you think it will be there?”
“Yeah, dad promised!”
We ripped through the house like a tornado and in my mothers hands laid the tiniest, teeniest, cutest puppy in the world.
He wasn’t a cocker spaniel, he wasn’t a she, but it was perfect.
The Furillo family added a mutt to the clan. My brother and I battled over who should name our new addition. He was set on Spike, and I was set on Brownie. I kept smelling his nose and if you ask me, even to this day, all new puppies noses smell like warm brownies (Or, maybe I just always want brownies).
I lost and my brother was victorious. From this day forward our little mix breed beauty shall be hailed as SPIKE.
The name didn’t fit him. He was small and cute. My brother watched too many cartoons. I thought the name was unfitting.
But, I thought wrong…oh yes I did.
As we grew fond of Spikey (We childproofed his name) he was growing a really big pair of brass ones.
This little doe eyed ball of fur that was the size of my father’s hand was testing us BIG TIME.
He was eating money, dollar bills to start and for desert some twenties.
If you put your socks on the floor for a second, they were gone. Only later to be ripped from his sharp canine teeth with holes everywhere.
He peed in the house because he was male and always marked his spot. He tore up pillows. We left for the mall and came home to feathers and fabric scattered all about the halls.
He was a madman on the loose.
My mother would scream with horror like her first born was just taken by strangers. She was so over this monster.
You could love him and hate him all in the same breath.
My mom and dad kept threatening to find him another home. I can remember begging and pleading with them. We were terribly worried they were going to send him to the man’s house with the chicken coup and crazy cars.
So, we did what any seven and ten year olds would do…we wrote a contract and signed it for our parents.
And this is exactly how it read, well, almost, my brother in cursive and me in very big letters:
“Why I Want Spike”
1. becuse we love him (Michael)
2. to play whith him (me)
3. becuse he makes us happy (Michael)
4. for conp any (me)
5. to make a good home for Spike (Michael)
6. to hug him and kiss Spike (me)
Now we promise to take good care of him. and to take him out. (Michael)
and I am not letting you take our dog. (me)
Mike Janine (Both)
I followed my brother in the kitchen with our promise in hand. We were like two little attorneys stating our case.
We won.
We got to keep the mutt, take him out, put up with his crap (literally), and love him to death (literally).
A few days later just when everything was going really well and Spike was laying low, he committed the Cardinal sin.
It was Christmas and the tree was trimmed and beautiful. Everyone was gone and he was HOME ALONE.
My mother walked in and the Christmas tree was crashed to the ground. Green and red balls were scattered all over the house. They were shredded by puppy teeth and paws. The ornaments were all broken to pieces on the floors.
My mother was livid. I think she turned red like Rudolph. She was ready to kill and I mean kill this dog.
My heart beat so fast I never saw her like this. She was angry and sad, she was screaming, and crying all in one. Spike was a goner.
He had his last supper. There was nothing left to chew. Nothing old and now nothing new.
She phoned my father and it was official. Spike would be gone in the morning.
We cried and begged her all night long to please forgive him. We promised the world. Nothing was working.
My dad walked in later that night from work and by the grace of GOD and only GOD he managed to save my mother from her hysteria and save our dog from getting kicked out of the house.
It ended up being a Merry Christmas. Spike went on to chew little things here and there. After his terrible two’s he was a great dog. He was a great friend.
We still laugh about our first dog, Spike. In the end his name really fit him. He was a spike in my mom’s side forever. But, she loved him so much and always will.
That little mixed breed runt that my dad paid twenty bucks for cost us a fortune over the years. But, he was worth every penny just in memories alone.
Spike's last night was spent in my bedroom. I had loved him for fourteen years. He saw me grow up from first grade on.
He laid next to my bed not in it, which was unusual and he had an accident in the hall that night (unusual at this age but not when he was young and marking his territory).
I knew something was terribly wrong. The next afternoon I went with my dad to the vet. We made an emergency visit.
Spike was riddled with cancer. One of the saddest days of my life. My family was destroyed. I knew he felt the love because he spent his last night with me.
It's been years since he passed and I still think about that little rascal. He chased my neighbor on her bike all the way down the street, bit my brother's friend, chased after his basketball in the backyard like it was a living thing, and barked so much you wanted to put a muzzle on him.
He was a rowdy dog no doubt about it. But, he was loveable and sweet too. He was my dad's best friend. My mom's, my brother's and mine. He was always ready to snuggle or sing you a tune. Yes, he was a singing dog.
He always gave me kisses with his wet nose and all. He protected us like we protected him.
Spikey, I hope you are in Heaven sitting on Poppop’s lap and chewing a bone the size of you, buddy. And, if nobody throws you a bone I will send up a Christmas ball and some twenties for you to feast on.
You always were good “conp any” and I hope you knew how hard we fought for you “becuse” we always loved you. And, don't worry you certainly marked your spot...forever.
I left my little birthday buddy behind; an adorable cocker spaniel born on the same day as me.
It was fate…this dog was meant for me.
But, as my mom coaxed me out of the store after making me hand my best friend back over to the lady I knew it was a grim situation.
My older brother was ten years old and wiser. I looked up to him. So, I did whatever he did. As he was begging and moaning for that little doggy in the window I was chiming in with a high pitched PLEASE MOM AND DAD!!!!!!
We sat in the back seat of this big brown boat and pleaded our case all the way home. Our eyes were shifting back at forth. The first glance at each other with determination and anticipation, then to our parents with the saddest eyes you have ever seen. How could they resist the two curly haired kids in the back seat that were longing for a Lassie?
My dad finally burst out and said, “Tomorrow, tomorrow when you get home from school you will have a dog!”
We gushed with excitement like two adults that just won the lotto. This was big. We worked so hard for this moment.
I didn’t believe my dad completely. I thought he was trying to shut us up since we were making him insane in the membrane.
But, that Monday on the school bus my brother and I couldn’t contain ourselves. It was like Christmas morning but only four in the afternoon and…not Christmas.
My brother ran off the bus with me trying to catch up right behind him shouting, “Do you think it will be there?”
“Yeah, dad promised!”
We ripped through the house like a tornado and in my mothers hands laid the tiniest, teeniest, cutest puppy in the world.
He wasn’t a cocker spaniel, he wasn’t a she, but it was perfect.
The Furillo family added a mutt to the clan. My brother and I battled over who should name our new addition. He was set on Spike, and I was set on Brownie. I kept smelling his nose and if you ask me, even to this day, all new puppies noses smell like warm brownies (Or, maybe I just always want brownies).
I lost and my brother was victorious. From this day forward our little mix breed beauty shall be hailed as SPIKE.
The name didn’t fit him. He was small and cute. My brother watched too many cartoons. I thought the name was unfitting.
But, I thought wrong…oh yes I did.
As we grew fond of Spikey (We childproofed his name) he was growing a really big pair of brass ones.
This little doe eyed ball of fur that was the size of my father’s hand was testing us BIG TIME.
He was eating money, dollar bills to start and for desert some twenties.
If you put your socks on the floor for a second, they were gone. Only later to be ripped from his sharp canine teeth with holes everywhere.
He peed in the house because he was male and always marked his spot. He tore up pillows. We left for the mall and came home to feathers and fabric scattered all about the halls.
He was a madman on the loose.
My mother would scream with horror like her first born was just taken by strangers. She was so over this monster.
You could love him and hate him all in the same breath.
My mom and dad kept threatening to find him another home. I can remember begging and pleading with them. We were terribly worried they were going to send him to the man’s house with the chicken coup and crazy cars.
So, we did what any seven and ten year olds would do…we wrote a contract and signed it for our parents.
And this is exactly how it read, well, almost, my brother in cursive and me in very big letters:
“Why I Want Spike”
1. becuse we love him (Michael)
2. to play whith him (me)
3. becuse he makes us happy (Michael)
4. for conp any (me)
5. to make a good home for Spike (Michael)
6. to hug him and kiss Spike (me)
Now we promise to take good care of him. and to take him out. (Michael)
and I am not letting you take our dog. (me)
Mike Janine (Both)
I followed my brother in the kitchen with our promise in hand. We were like two little attorneys stating our case.
We won.
We got to keep the mutt, take him out, put up with his crap (literally), and love him to death (literally).
A few days later just when everything was going really well and Spike was laying low, he committed the Cardinal sin.
It was Christmas and the tree was trimmed and beautiful. Everyone was gone and he was HOME ALONE.
My mother walked in and the Christmas tree was crashed to the ground. Green and red balls were scattered all over the house. They were shredded by puppy teeth and paws. The ornaments were all broken to pieces on the floors.
My mother was livid. I think she turned red like Rudolph. She was ready to kill and I mean kill this dog.
My heart beat so fast I never saw her like this. She was angry and sad, she was screaming, and crying all in one. Spike was a goner.
He had his last supper. There was nothing left to chew. Nothing old and now nothing new.
She phoned my father and it was official. Spike would be gone in the morning.
We cried and begged her all night long to please forgive him. We promised the world. Nothing was working.
My dad walked in later that night from work and by the grace of GOD and only GOD he managed to save my mother from her hysteria and save our dog from getting kicked out of the house.
It ended up being a Merry Christmas. Spike went on to chew little things here and there. After his terrible two’s he was a great dog. He was a great friend.
We still laugh about our first dog, Spike. In the end his name really fit him. He was a spike in my mom’s side forever. But, she loved him so much and always will.
That little mixed breed runt that my dad paid twenty bucks for cost us a fortune over the years. But, he was worth every penny just in memories alone.
Spike's last night was spent in my bedroom. I had loved him for fourteen years. He saw me grow up from first grade on.
He laid next to my bed not in it, which was unusual and he had an accident in the hall that night (unusual at this age but not when he was young and marking his territory).
I knew something was terribly wrong. The next afternoon I went with my dad to the vet. We made an emergency visit.
Spike was riddled with cancer. One of the saddest days of my life. My family was destroyed. I knew he felt the love because he spent his last night with me.
It's been years since he passed and I still think about that little rascal. He chased my neighbor on her bike all the way down the street, bit my brother's friend, chased after his basketball in the backyard like it was a living thing, and barked so much you wanted to put a muzzle on him.
He was a rowdy dog no doubt about it. But, he was loveable and sweet too. He was my dad's best friend. My mom's, my brother's and mine. He was always ready to snuggle or sing you a tune. Yes, he was a singing dog.
He always gave me kisses with his wet nose and all. He protected us like we protected him.
Spikey, I hope you are in Heaven sitting on Poppop’s lap and chewing a bone the size of you, buddy. And, if nobody throws you a bone I will send up a Christmas ball and some twenties for you to feast on.
You always were good “conp any” and I hope you knew how hard we fought for you “becuse” we always loved you. And, don't worry you certainly marked your spot...forever.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)