Accidental irony

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According to the dictionary irony is the use of words to convey an opposite meaning. Like when a person says, “That color looks so good on you!”

It could be a compliment.

But add a touch of sarcasm to the tone of voice and it is easy to see that it is really an insult.

Irony is all around us. It is used in advertisements, literature, entertainment, and in everyday conversations.

Sometimes it can be found even where it isn’t meant to be.

Take the other day.

I was at a meeting and the man at the front of the room was passionately making his case. He wanted those of us in the audience to donate our hard earned money to his cause.

“And so you see, we need your help. With the money you give we can do a lot of good. Especially now. Seated behind me is our new leader.”

The man waved his hand back but maintained eye contact with his audience. He was determined to keep our full attention, so he wasn’t going to give even one of us the chance to drift away.

“A man who is poised at the starting block, anxious to be given the chance to do good works. All he needs is for you to open your wallets and give generously. Then he’ll be able to use that excessive energy–that energy that pours from him at all times, that is at this moment radiating out to all of you–to help people.”

The audience craned their necks to get a glimpse of this powerhouse, who was seated comfortably in a chair at the back of the stage, head tilted slightly to the side as he slept peacefully.

The speaker never looked back at the man he described as having such an overabundance of energy, so  he had no idea that the powerhouse was suffering from a shortage and was taking a nap onstage. He never knew of his accidental irony.

But we in the audience knew.

I don’t know about anyone else, but it made my day!

The sixth begins

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As I put my fingers to my keyboard this morning a thought popped into my head. This that I’m doing right now, blogging, seems natural to me.

Maybe too natural.

So I went back and took a look at posts I’ve done in the past.

There are quite a few, all neatly categorized by month and year.

It only took a moment for the epiphany to hit. This is my sixth year writing this blog!

Sixth!

No wonder I feel I’ve been doing this forever. I pretty much have.

So here’s to us, the joys of blogging, and the coming adventures of the new year.

Life can be odd

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Life is rather odd sometimes.

I was browsing Amazon and came across an author who had at one time written a review of one of my books.

The review was written in March of 2011 by a woman who claimed she was a writer who had never written a book. It was a particularly painful review for me to read. It was nasty enough that I felt almost like the woman had some sort of grudge against me. Like it was her goal to inflict pain.

I remember wiping away the tears so I could reread the review, in the hopes that I would be able to learn something, anything, from the hurtful words.

The second reading left me even more confused, since some of the critiques in the review simply did not make sense.

I spent more brain power than I should have trying to figure out if I was crazy or the reviewer, and then I let it go (pretty much). Hanging on to the hurtful feelings certainly wouldn’t help me write the next book.

So when I came across this reviewer’s name as an author I was curious. I wondered what type of book she would write.

I clicked on the book, and of course scrolled down to the reviews she had received. I was surprised to see that of the four reviews she had received two of them were worse than the one she had given me.

And that is when I discovered the oddness of life.

I fully expected to gloat a bit as I read those negative reviews, or to at least feel a glimmer of vindication that she had received a taste of what she had dished out.

After all, she had only gotten a dose of her own medicine.

But instead, I only felt sorry for her. I knew how those hateful words could hurt.

I shared her pain.

Life is very odd indeed.

A writer without ideas–

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–doesn’t exist.


I’ve met a few writers in my time.


One thing we all have in common–other than a burning need to write–is an overabundance of ideas. Every writer I’ve ever met has way more ideas than they will ever be able to use. Folders and folders of them, either in paper or digital form.


Which is why I have to laugh at every Craigslist ad I come across asking for a writer that will write for free. 


The idea appears to be that writers sit around twiddling their thumbs, waiting for inspiration to light the proverbial lightbulb over their heads.


So the ad posters claim they have the solution every writer seeks. They will supply the idea, the writer will write, and the profits will be split between the two of them.

I’ve even seen some ads that state that the writer must have connections in the publishing or movie industry.

Right. As if any of us were that naive!

We’re supposed to do all the work, spend years developing our craft, and agree to share half the credit and earnings with someone who just wants to take a shortcut? All unpaid?

No thank you!

Oh, wait. That gives me an idea. What if…?

Sigh.

I guess I’d better open a new Word document and start a new folder. Yet another idea has come my way.

See what I mean? No dearth of ideas, just the actual hard work of writing them into stories.

Haunted by Connecticut

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Christmas day is exactly one week away.

This is a season of joy. A season of giving, of lights, of putting others before yourself.

Yet, no matter how much I try to focus on the good of the season, to wrap myself in the snuggly warmth of Christmas and all it stands for, the events of last Friday haunt me.

Which is how it should be. How it must be.

Because I’m human. If I didn’t grieve with my fellow humans, it my heart wasn’t heavy because of their tremendous loss, I wouldn’t be true to my humanness.

It takes a particular kind of evil to target innocent children. And even though I know that evil has walked the earth as long as humankind, this shocked me.

What happened in that elementary school in Connecticut should never have happened.

How and why that evil entered that young man we may never know. We can only mourn the consequences and try to understand.

Because it is only by understanding that we can prevent anything like this from ever happening again.

 

A happy choice

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It is absolutely amazing how once something is brought to a person’s attention, suddenly it is everywhere.

My last post was all about how we are where we are because of the choices we make.
Heavy stress on CHOICES.

And now today I watched a PBS show about the work of Shawn Achor, a researcher who studies, of all things, happiness.

Not only has he researched how a person’s level of happiness effects his longevity and health, but he has done research into what exactly is needed to make a person happy.

Here’s the kicker. We control our own happiness. It all comes down to choices, plain and simple.

It is all about how we choose how we see the world. Are we grateful for the rain or do we grumble about it? Do we smile or scowl at our spouse? Do our children make us giggle or groan?

According to this Harvard researcher we can nudge our thoughts into a more positive direction and give ourselves the happy outlook we all crave.

He laid out the steps everyone could take to create this positive outlook. Little steps. Easy to follow steps. Steps anyone can do.

The best part is that there is a ripple effect that occurs when we take these steps. Making yourself happier will encourage those around you to become happier too!

It turns out that smiles are just as contagious as yawns and chicken pox.

The world is already a sunnier place.

Can you see my smile?

 

Lest you forget

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After a short run around the Internet I felt the sudden urge to write the following.

To the adults out there:

Lest you forget…
life not a bowl of cherries or a box of chocolates, but a series of choices.

Choices that are up to YOU to make.

I’ve heard the grumbles. You don’t like your job. Your hair is too curly. You need to lose weight, or maybe gain it. There’s not enough time in the day. You feel overwhelmed, and alone.

I’m here to tell you to suck it up.

You heard me right. I’m talking to you.

My philosophy is that if something isn’t how you want it, it’s up to you to either learn to like it or make a change.

Just make sure not to hurt anyone while your doing it.

And oh, stop whining already.

Adversity is the fertilizer that makes strength and knowledge grow.

Besides, you are where you put yourself. That road you traverse, the one that you complain has too many potholes and bumps…well, you chose it.

Not your parents, or your teacher, or even God. It’s all you, baby.

You have been given the greatest gift in the world, the gift of life. Make it work.

Rug(s)

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At the ring of the bell I raced across the room, so intent on reaching the door before my dog, Pepper, that I knocked over several boxes of Christmas lights that were stacked in the living room.

Pepper and I had been having a battle of wills lately. I was determined to save the packages that arrived almost daily from inclement weather, and Pepper was set on chasing away those persistent interlopers who constantly tried to leave suspicious boxes on our doorstep.

Pepper, tenacious little Schnoodle that she is, was winning the battle.

So when I threw open the door I was slightly out of breath and grinning because I knew, for this bout at least, that I had won.

I’m sure the delivery guy thought I was nuts. Especially when I threw my arms into the air and shouted, “Yes! My rug is here!”

I was rather surprised to see the rug on my doorstep even though I had purchased it on ebay a month earlier. I had watched via tracking as it made its way from New Jersey to Washington, only to grit my teeth helplessly as a shipping error diverted it out of my grasp to a stranger’s porch somewhere in Florida.

The delivery guy was kind enough to bring the rug inside and place it on the living room floor. I appreciated that, since a 10 X 13 rug can be a little awkward to move around.

He was out the door almost before I could thank him. As I said before, I think he thought I was a little nuts.

I looked at my lovely rug–all nicely rolled up in plastic–blinked, and looked again.

There on my living room floor lay my long awaited rug, and its twin. A quick glance at the shipping labels assured me that both rugs were addressed to me.

I immediately emailed the rug company about the error and am awaiting their response. I don’t expect it to be speedy or accurate, since I had just been told the day before that my rug had not even shipped yet. According to their records it was still sitting on a pallet in their warehouse in New Jersey.

What will happen in the next act of this comedy of errors?

 

Shrimp advice

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A word of advice.

The next time you order shrimp at a restaurant, look at it very closely. If it appears undercooked, even a little, DON’T EAT IT!

The stomach you save may be your own.

This message brought to you by VRT, who loves shrimp but not food poisoning.

By the way, did you know that one of the symptoms of food poisoning is dizziness?

So now I get to explore what it’s like to be that old stereotype, a dizzy blonde.

I don’t like it.