Real Simple

Daily, I get these emails sent to me through Real Simple Magazine.  Each email includes a "Daily Thought."  Often--I take a look at the thought, ponder it, apply it to my own life, close the email and move on. Today was different, however.  I took a look at the thought, pondered it, kept pondering it, and still kept pondering it. After 5 minutes of reading it, I decided that I wasn't quite sure what it meant or where Woody Allen was going with it.  So, I thought this would be a perfect opportunity to open it up to my readers.  Perhaps, someone out there in "bloggerspace" can enlighten me!

I am thankful for laughter, except when milk comes out of my nose."--Woody Allen.

 Am I thinking too hard? Is it as simple as the name of the magazine suggests?  What do you think? 

Just Google It...

Today, I had one of those moments. It is 9:51 PM and I have yet to feel inspired to blog today. For whatever reason, it just seems like I have nothing to say.  But, how can a mind so filled with knowledge and life--be at a loss for words?  Easy--exhaustion gets in the way. That endless to-do list that I mentioned several months ago has crept up, yet again. This time, however, procrastination is not really an option. So, the result--a very tired woman, who can not stay awake to do much of anything. In fact, sleeping beauty has just awoken to type this. But, since I do not write to complain about my problems, but more for the written relief of my own mind and a possible inspiration to others--I will move on to my point.

My Macbook Pro has just announced that it is 10 o'clock. How pathetic that it took 9 minutes to get to my point. (Good thing blogs can be a stream of consciousness). Anyway, with a loss of ideas--I went to my savior, the only thing that never fails me--GOOGLE.  Yes, www.google.com.  To my delight, I came across a blog that was written two years ago that spoke directly to my current problem, "What do I blog about?"  Apparently, bloggers are losing their blogging inspiration more often than not. So, like him--I decided to blog about "things to blog about when your brain shuts down." Clever, right?

1.  Bash something! Venting on blogs is such a healthy release! If something really irked your nerves today, just let your stream of consciousness go and see where your mind takes you.  In fact, people love to read blogs that not only express the "news," but also offer the opinion of the writer. Blogging is your super-world wide chance at 10 minutes of fame. For 10 minutes, someone, somewhere will be admiring your thoughts and thinking through your point as they read your blog.

2.  Make a list.  See what I am doing right now?  I have opted to make a list to discuss something.  Your list can be a list of anything--flowers that you saw today, things you need to do later on, a "bucket list," memories from your childhood.

3.  Teach us something!  Write a tutorial post. Everyone asks questions, and as a blogger, it can sometimes be your responsibility to answer them. Why not, get started on a series of posts that tell someone else how to do something: How to Start A Blog, How to Improve Your Golf Swing, How Properly Apply Eye Makeup, How to Survive "Times Square" at MHS at Lunchtime, How to Pass Ms. Scott's Class (lol).  You will be surprised how--maybe the next time someone "googles" one of these topics, they will randomly fall upon your handiwork! How awesome!

4.  Write about what is hot! (I borrowed this idea from the blog that I came across on Google). What is the big news for the day, what are people tweeting about or linking to their Facebook status? Check out the Top 100 searches on Google, Yahoo, or MSN. Share your thoughts.

5.  Go to bed.  Don't ever let yourself fall into the trap that you have to post right now! Sometimes we need to just move away from the computer for a day, do other things, and give our minds a rest. Some of the best ideas pop into our minds at the most random moments.  Try not to think about it and let the ideas flock to you.  It is much better to write something good that has the potential to inspire and inform a passerby than to force out lame re-writes!

10:26 PM.  I think I will try to check one more thing off of my massive to-do list and then take my own advice (see #5).


Yours truly.

A Lesson Well Learned

I just cried.

"Krystle stop it, right now!" yelled Mrs. Heller as she walked swiftly across the room.

I looked into Mrs. Heller's gray eyes as if she was a savior that had come to deliver me.  Both Krystle and I stood staring at Mrs. Heller waiting for the next words to come out of her mouth.
And sure enough, she said, "What is going on here girls?"

"She choaked me." I whimpered, pushing out the words through my crying eyes.
I thought for sure that Mrs. Heller would assume that this confrontation was surely a result of my inability to play cooperatively with other students. Several thoughts ran through my mind, "What will I say if she calls my mother? Should I lie and say it was her fault? Will anyone else want to play with me tomorrow? Will she get in trouble too?"

That morning after singing "The Alphabet Song" as Mrs. Heller melodically played each key on the piano, we went back to our groups and practiced tracing letters on large pieces of paper with lines. I was so proud of myself because among all of the people in my group, I was able to trace the lines best!

Seeing how nicely the group I was in was working together, Mrs. Heller came and observed carefully the teamwork that we showed. I would help other students who were having trouble staying within the lines, just as other students would show me a better way to trace the letters. We were learning together, all was happy in room 29. Or so I thought.

Little did I know, there were other groups who were not working so well together. I did not know this until Mrs. Heller began to wrap up this activity harmonically saying, "It's almost play time. Some groups were working better today than others, so I am going to mix and match groups of students to see if we can play more cooperatively."

I immediately closed my eyes softly and prayed that I would be assigned to the kitchen area. Playing house was one of my favorite things to do. I often played a game called "Big Mama" with my cousins and my friends. "Big Mama" was a game where one person was the mother of the house and the rest of us were her children.  Sometimes, if there was a boy playing we would choose him to play the role of father. but, most of the time it was just "Big Mama" and her children. I loved playing the role of Big Mama. I often liked to be in charge. Even though, I was in charge I was always fair to the kids. I was a good Mama!

"Shantel, you will play with Krystle, Sarah, Nicole, Lindsay, and Danielle in the kitchen area." I opened my eyes in relief. But wait, WHO did she say I would play with? All I heard was Shantel and play area. That's it. So, when we all got to the play area, I released a deep sigh. There she was-- Krystle O'Sullivan, the infamous Krystle O'Sullivan, the girl who played well with no one. Honestly, I think she is the real reason why Mrs. Heller rearranged the play groups today. I knew I could handle her though. I played well with everyone.

"I want to be the mom!" Krystle barked at Sarah, Nicole, Lindsay, Danielle, and me! Who was she talking to like that? Everyone knew that I was going to be mom! I am always the mom!  I was the best person to be the mama!  Who does she think she is, coming in to MY play group and making unreasonable demands?

I began to lose confidence. I had a feeling coming from deep within that I was not going to be able to play well with her. I did not even want to think her name, in my thoughts I kept saying, "her, her, her, her, her, her, her, HER!"

All the other girls were just standing there, accepting this nonsense! Tired of listening to HER rant on about how she was in charge, I blurted out, "I am the mother and that's it!" Somehow, I knew from the abrupt way she turned to me with the infuriated look her eyes that I said the wrong words. But, I didn't care. I was going to get my way, even if it meant that I needed to be scared when I would ride my bike past her house in the future.

"Krystle stop it, right now!" yelled Mrs. Heller as she walked swiftly across the room.

That's right! Krystle had her small, clammy, sticky hands wrapped firmly around my neck. It all happened so fast. All I knew is that I was relieved to hear Mrs. Heller's voice. Usually her voice was very calm and melodic, but at that moment, her voice had an unusual urgency. "What is going on here girls?"

Krystle loosened her slippery grip and flopped her hands down to her sides and full of shame rose her big brown eyes to the teacher.  I stood silently staring deep into Mrs. Heller's soft gray eyes.  The only noise in the classroom at this point, were the erratic sounds of my uncontrolled sobbing.  Otherwise, you could have heard a pin drop.

"What will I say if she calls my mother? Should I lie and say it was her fault? Will anyone else want to play with me tomorrow? Will she get in trouble too?"

What happened next surprised me.  Mrs. Heller grabbed my hands that were wet from tears and guided me over to her big, teacher chair. Returning to her peaceful tone of voice, she instructed the rest of the class to gather around and sit in a circle. I know now, being a teacher myself, that this would have been called a "teachable moment."  The best way to describe a teachable moment is a quote that I once heard many years later. My memory fails me as to the author. But, here goes:

"Experience and learning seems to happen in fits, stops, and starts. Sometimes it seems one is going nowhere or even backwards. Other times there is steady plodding progress.  And yet other times seem to be peak learning moments, when everything comes together. Such crescendo learning moments are often very memorable. As people look back over their lives they often note their watershed learning experiences--their first kiss, love, death, achievements, etc.

As for this teachable moment, it clearly was about sharing and respect for other people. I think the whole class learned an important lesson that day. Thanks to me! I guess.

This happened a long time ago, and I can not lie and say I remember the exact words that were said once I got comfortable on Mrs. Heller's lap.  What I do remember, however, is that she didn't even mention the squabble between Krystle and I. She had more respect for us both, as individuals, than to highlight our faults. Instead, she talked about how wonderful a person I was and what a great family I had the opportunity to grow up in.  She taught the class that sometimes good people, who have good intentions, make mistakes--make wrong decisions.

"Today, Shantel made a poor decision because she would not compromise, but that doesn't make her a bad person," I can remember her explaining.

You know what. She was right. I have never forgotten that lesson a day in my life. People make mistakes. It does not mean that they should be shunned or shouldn't be forgiven. People make bad decisions sometimes. The important part is learning from those decisions, having your own private teachable moment.

People make mistakes sometimes.  That's just how life is.

Memories: "...and still we sing."

It almost seemed like everything was in slow motion. Heavy mist and dim clouds sat still in the atmosphere as a mass of people marched slowly, almost as to the beat of a distant drum. Tears that fell from the sky, blended with the light tears of the mourners. The line outside the sanctuary continuously increased, as those inside, teary eyed and respect filled, approached the altar to bid farewell to a beautiful friend.  This single event that I am about to reveal is so much more than a family gathering.  It is representative of my culture, my heritage, and my family.  Where I come from, funerals are not the end of a life, but celebrations of a life well lived.  Naturally, the death of a loved one brings tears, but they should be tears of joy and comfort.

Seated shoulder to shoulder, rows upon rows of people dressed in various shades of gray and white, felt each others warmth and general feeling of closeness.  One of the eldest aunts rocked a small baby on her knee to quiet his cry, while others wrapped their arms around and whispered a soft prayer to console the family members.  A wearied uncle began to pat his feet to the inspiring music, and others, some with blank stares, some with smiles, reminisced about the life we all shared together prior to this day.

As I sat between my parents, the stories that my parents had told me about my heritage echoed through my mind. My father was one of ten children and the son of a sharecropper who migrated from the south in 1952.  There had been difficult times in his life as he grew up in a segregated environment which lacked equal oppportunities for education, housing, and jobs.  Remembering this while looking around at the people, I could almost feel the course hands that came from long hard work and the somber lines in their faces that reflected deep disappointments. Some family members reflected on those who had passed on into eternal life without ever realizing their dreams, while others wore faces of pride since they had participated in the Civil Rights Movement, become leaders at work and in the community, or simply graduated high school. Looking back on this moment, I can understand now what funeral celebrations really stand for. In many cases the loved one laying in silence represented the past. Each life celebrated represented the plight of the African-American in some way, shape, or form.

Within a few short minutes, what seemed like hours of daydreaming were interrupted by a choir with almost a hundred bellowing voices.  They sang old Negro funeral hymns, such as, "I'll Fly Away."  This particular song that was sung with so much emotion, triggered tears of happiness in assurance that our loved one would live again in heaven.  A soloist, a daughter of the deceased, stood in front of the congregation and like a cannary in the spring, sang to her mother with so much relief that she was no longer suffering from cancer any longer. After selections from the choir, the congregation quietly hummed another spiritual, "There will be joy when I get home," which in the time of slavery meant freedom to slaves that arrived in the North.  The heritage of over 100 years continues! How amazing--so much has changed, yet so little.

As the pallbearers prepared to carry the body to its place of rest, the choir began to quietly sing, "May the work I have done speak for me."  Due to our strong sense of morals and beliefs in helping and sharing with others, this song accurately embodied the essence of my family members' lives. One by one, as if though it was pre-conducted into a beautiful symphony, family members held hands, and joined in the singing that filled the sanctuary with the sound of a celebration, a celebration of our heritage, a celebration of life!

Do flowers speak?

When I look at a flower, I almost feel like it speaks to me! I love flowers--the sight of a beautiful single flower or floral arrangement can instantly calm my senses, uplift my spirits, relax my mind, provide inspiration, and sometimes (if its the right flower) even make me feel a bit irritable.  But, why?


In history, the Victorian Era classified the reign of Queen Victoria from 1837-1901. It was a tremendously exciting period when many artistic styles, literary schools, as well as, social, political and religious movements flourished. It was a time of prosperity, broad imperial expansion, and great political reform. Most notably, the Victorian age is the infamous time of body-breaking corsets, balloon sleeves, and skirt-poofing crinolines.  Despite the tremendous nature of the Victorian Era, the one area that interests me most is floriography. Real word? Yes. Floriography is the language of flowers. In the Victorian Era, floriography was a means of communication in which flowers and floral arrangements were used to send coded messages.  These mysterious messages allowed people the opportunity to express feelings that they were forbidden to or could not speak out loud.  So, to answer the question in the title of this blog...Yes! Flowers do speak and boy--do they have a lot to say! The following just name a few words of "endearment":


Lavender - Devotion
Lily (white) - Virginity; purity; majesty; it's heavenly to be with you
Orange Blossom - Brings wisdom
Pansy - Thoughts; love
Tulip(variegated) - Beautiful eyes
Violet(white) - Let's take a chance on happiness
Basil - Best Wishes, Love
Chamomile - Patience ; attracts wealth
Hyacinth (yellow) - Jealousy
Ivy - Fidelity and friendship

As I sit on my couch and peer over my shoulder at the flowers on my kitchen table, I can't help but wonder--who would have sent me this bouquet in the Victorian Age? What would they have been trying to tell me? Hmmm...

Concrete Poetry

So, as of late the following two quotes seem to speak best to my overall work ethic:

*Anyone can do any amount of work, provided it isn't the work he is supposed to be doing at that moment.  ~Robert Benchley


*Nothing is so fatiguing as the eternal hanging on of an uncompleted task.  ~William James

I honestly, just do not feel like doing anything! At some point, the sheer amount of work that I have to do seems to paralyze me.  Knowing that I have to grade tons of papers and tests, do research for my doctoral work, plan my next technology workshop, pay my bills, clean my house, make it to the gym, and the million other errands that are on my to do list--is just paralyzing me. What's comical about this paralysis is that I am in full awareness that I have these tasks to complete and am also in full awareness that I just don't feel like doing it. So, ladies and gentleman, this is what we call Procrastination.  I am not often a procrastinator (In fact, I am highly organized and generally very task oriented), I merely dabble in the art when the to-do list becomes overwhelming.

So--this catharsis forces me to stop procrastinating and proceed to make a to-do list for my to-do list. Break the larger tasks into smaller, more manageable tasks---and GET IT DONE!  The plan is to have almost ALL of the above mentioned tasks complete by this coming Friday (which does not leave me much time).  I am wondering--what will have to give---sleep? tv? social networking? working out? Nope--not this time. The responsible procrastinator realizes that some of the tasks can be delayed to next week's to-do list!   =)

Back again...

I woke up this morning feeling forlorn.  As a lover of pen to paper (better yet--key to screen), going weeks without real writing is a lonely experience.  Granted--there is never an excuse for failure of expression, but in my case--I had a lot to think about in the past month before feeling comfortable enough to say something worthy of your reading. So--here goes.

Life doesn't always go the way we have planned. Sometimes the best advice that one person can give to another is to just "let it go." I heard a message from Bishop T.D. Jakes which discussed the power of letting go.  Letting go, sometimes is the best thing that a person can do for the benefit of themselves.  As adults, we always want to hold on to plans that we have, relationships that we hope might work, comfortable situations, and a variety of other things.  This is what we think makes someone grown up. The fact that we can withstand pain and hurt, and wrong things for our lives.  What I have learned is that the mature adult--can let go, when they have to.

An adult realizes that people will walk away from you.  T.D Jakes says, when people walk away from you--let them walk. If you are holding on to something that doesn't belong to you and was never intended for your life--let it go.  If you are holding on to past hurts and pains--let it go.  If someone can't treat you right, love you back and see your worth--let it  go. If someone has angered you--let it go. If you are holding on to thoughts of revenge--let it go. If you have a bad attitude--let it go.  If you keep judging others to make yourself feel better--let it go.  If you are stuck in the past--let it go. Move on to the next level of your life.  If you are feeling depressed and stressed--let it go.

Imagine how wonderfully free a person will feel, when they find the strength to let go of every worry. There is freedom in forgiveness and there is freedom in letting things go.

Yours truly.