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A blog dedicated to a mash-up of everything! A book critique here, a few serious thoughts there. Perhaps a dash of humor, and there we have it! I am follower of Jesus Christ, a reader, and an animal lover. Anything more, you'll have to discover!

Friday, January 25, 2013

Don't use corporal punishment, or your child might grow up to be an upstanding citizen

     When I was little and I did something wrong, I would get a spanking for it (depending on the severity of my wrongdoing). I was terrified of spankings. They certainly put the healthy fear of both God and my mother into me. Now people tell me that spanking is abuse and that children who were spanked when they were young will grow up to be insecure and violent. Is that really the vibe I give off? Not to mention, apparently these children will never forgive their parents for administering that kind of punishment. Either I'm totally incredible and I've somehow escaped my traumatic childhood unscathed, or someone is wrong about something. First of all, I love my mom. Let me tell ya, she's an awesome woman, and I love being with her. I went to dinner with her last night. I love going up to my parent's house on weekends so I can hang out with her and my dad. I love my parents, I love my mom. Yeah, I'm insecure, but so is every other teen-aged human on earth, and as for violence...what?! I remember a girl in my sixth grade class making fun of me because I wasn't allowed to watch a certain R rated movie that she loved. She said, "My mom is cool, she lets me do whatever I want." I remember my sixth grade self being almost dumbstruck. In my mind her words translated to "My mom doesn't care about me, she's so cool." I couldn't understand it, and to an extent I still can't understand it, though I'll give those parents a bit more credit than I used to because I know that most of them to genuinely love their children whether or not I agree with their method of parenting. I just know that ever since I was little, the children who always bragged about never being spanked were generally the ones who I had vowed never to be like. They fought openly with teachers, and had little respect for either authority or their own peers. I'm not trying to pick a fight or tell people how to raise their children because I'm not there yet and I have no experience that might allow me to give such advice, but I will say that I was given physical punishment as a child, and I truly am thankful to my parents. If I knew that my bottom wasn't going to be a little sore if I ever did anything wrong, I'm pretty sure I would be quite the delinquent at this point in my life. There is absolutely a difference between abuse and corporal punishment. I was never abused, I was firmly corrected. There is so much more that can be said on the topic, but that's what I'll leave you with for now. Just know that I do firmly believe that parents should love their children and that love and correction go hand in hand.
Farewell, readers.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Will Your Grandkids Want To Hear About Your Work?

      Today was a good and productive day. I like to start my day off by writing a small list of things I wish to accomplish, and I find a simple satisfaction in crossing off each task as I complete it during the day. Today, one of my goals was to apply for a volunteer position at the city library. One of the classes I'm taking this quarter requires me to volunteer for 25 hours, and I love libraries so I figured that was a great place to try. I sent in my wimpy little resume, and decided to make a follow up call just to see when I might be able to expect a call back. Well, happily enough for me, I got a call back only a few hours later! The volunteer description had said that all volunteers would simply be shelving books. That was good enough for me if it meant that I would be able to be in a library. But after a few minutes chatting on the phone with the woman who is in charge of handling  all the employee and volunteer business, she asked me if I would be interested in helping her personally with her work at the library. She works with the library website and deals with communications. Umm, heck yes I would! My resume will look much more attractive displaying that kind of work than if I just wrote "worked at the library shelving books". Not to mention, it will hopefully give me a bit of useful experience. I'm just hoping it all works out, but even if it doesn't I'm honored to have been blessed with the chance! I don't know if many girls my age would be all that thrilled to work in a library, but to me this is the kind of thing that I am excited to share with my grandkids someday. "Yep, Granny worked in a library when she was young, and she didn't get paid a cent! She did it for the love of books! Granny is a real odd lady!" Are there any interesting jobs that you were able to experience when you were young? Or any jobs that you're in now that aren't quite the norm? I'd love to hear about them. I always loved hearing stories from my grandma about when she was younger. Anything and everything she did seemed so cool to me, just because it had been such a long time ago (at least it seemed so to my short existence). Share with me!
Farewell, readers.

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Just OPEN the DOOR!

     If you're going to be a real man, there are some things you should know. Treat women with respect. I'm not saying this because I'm a woman and I feel that I'm somehow better than men, or that I deserve special treatment; I think all men should treat every single woman that they come across as a valuable individual. And vice versus. Don't worry, I don't at all believe the ladies should get off scotch free here either. One of my biggest pet peeves is when I see guys who don't open or hold doors for ladies. This should literally be the least a man can do to show his respect. When a guy is walking in front of me and he opens a door and lets it slam in my face, I immediately form a negative opinion of him. Perhaps I need to work on my own bitterness and expectations, but that's a topic for another post. This happened to me today, which is why I'm still fuming. Little things get to me, alright? I was walking directly behind this young man and he opened a door to go outside and practically pushed it shut after him. I'm sure he knew I was behind him, and my mean thoughts were all his fault, don't blame me! I almost wanted to call him back and teach him the proper way of doing things. You don't have to flirt with every girl or tell us all that we're beautiful, but doing respectful things makes us all feel valuable.
On the flip side, when I see a guy stand and hold the door open for a lady and she doesn't even look at him as she goes through, or she does look at him with one of those, "I can open the door for myself" kind of expressions, I get equally angry. I suppose there's just no winning with me.
NOT TRUE! Men: open doors. Women: give genuine thanks. It's really very simple. I think that if this little service became a habit for everyone, there might be some real change for the better! It may not seem like that big of a deal but it rubs me the wrong way and I can't be the only one. I'm not that original. That's my rant for the night.
Farewell, readers.

Monday, January 21, 2013

The Cost of Making Money.

     Money frustrates me. Everyone needs it for everything, and not many people are trained in how to make money and keep money in the first place. I certainly am not, so don't read this if you're looking for some unconventional wisdom.
We can be joyful in our labor! We can do it!
(This picture was just a fun little editing stint I did
a while back, but it kinda fits, no?)
       I do very much admire those individuals who seem to have the ability to make money appear out of thin air. But how do they do it? What do they have that I don't? Most likely, my problem is that I have all these great ideas, but I never do anything about them. Believe it or not, that is a pretty significant problem. Not starting something makes it a whole lot harder to ever get it done, or so they say. Can anyone else relate? Any other lazy, undiscovered geniuses, please raise your hand with me.
      I do not ever want to do something I hate just to make money. Maybe that's my naivety talking, or maybe I'm actually putting my foot down about something. If I ever come to the point where I dread each and every day I spend in my workplace, I only hope that I will refuse to work there much longer. I don't want to become indebted to my job, that should not be the way of things. Granted, I'm sure that the more money you make at a job you hate, the harder it is to walk away, but I don't want to be a slave to money in the first place, the price is too high.
     I'm not saying I need to be happy every single day I go into work, and I'm not saying I'm afraid of working hard. There is a difference between having an overwhelming week and simply detesting every minute of time spent in whatever place of work you're in.
     I'm also not saying that I look down on people who do continue doing jobs they hate. That takes a special kind of drive. My dad doesn't particularly like his job (and that's putting it lightly), but he's done it for many, many years because he had a family to provide for. Thank you so much, dad!
      But if I have any resolutions for my life, one would be to never stick with one job that I hate just because it pays well. But, to come to a close, my second resolution would be to try be joyful and hardworking in every job I ever come across, and that way I won't have to be in the previously mentioned position because I just won't hate any work at all. That's all for now.
Farewell, readers.

Friday, January 18, 2013

Sun-shiny Bum.



______________________
   I wish I were a glow-worm. 
A glow-worm's never   glum. 
'Cause how can you be grumpy
     When the sun shines out your bum?
             _______________________________________________________________________
 Happy friday, everyone. 
 

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

There's a First Time For Everything.

      In this, my eighteenth year of life, I curled my own hair for the first time ever. Many different cultures go through different rites of passage. My self proclaimed passage into adulthood was this ceremony of the curled hair. It's a big deal, alright? I recently acquired a wand (the curling irons without the clip on them) and I haven't used it until today. Because I lack the required dexterity for pretty much everything, it took me almost two hours to curl my hair. Two stinkin' hours. But I'd say the end result was pretty much worth it, wouldn't you say? And surprise! That's me! I figured what better way to introduce myself to the blogging world than on a day when I'm all gussied up? (Does our modern society use the word 'gussied' anymore? I've lived in the mountains for most of my childhood, I wouldn't know.) I have no special technique at this point to share with everyone. I have no advice other than this: Don't hold the curling iron directly against your face; it hurts. I can say that my extra comfy sweater was from Target, and my scarf was from some unknown shop in L.A. On top of wearing belts with everything, I love scarves. This particular scarf has two different patterns on each half of the scarf. These two patterns gave me great inspiration, and since I got the scarf, I've been mixing patterns in all my other outfits as well. I'm all about matching, but I'm all about matching with flair.  Anything to add that extra bit of flair. I'm all about flair. I just like the word flair. Floral and stripes? Great! But try to incorporate some of the same kind of color scheme so that you don't look like a mixed up hippie (unless that's the look you're going for, of course)  So now you finally have a face to put to all my ramblings and whatnot. Is there something along the lines of fashion that you've been wanting to try? A blouse that has been sitting in your closet that you just don't think would work on you? A new hairstyle? Some unique makeup look? Just try it. Work with what you have, and maybe you can find a new hobby for yourself. I enjoy putting outfits together and having private fashion shows with me, myself, and I. That's it for now, It was nice to finally see you all face to face!    
Farewell, readers.

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

People Are Weird.

      Some folks just do strange stuff. Whether they grew up with it, or they developed these odd little quirks all on their own. For starters, my friend's boyfriend likes to pour milk on his ice cream. Now I don't see that as being very gross as much as I find it ironic. Let's pour milk over some slightly more sugary, solidified milk? My own boyfriend likes to dip his Quesadillas in ketchup. Apparently everyone else in the world is accustomed to this tradition but myself. I personally was quite disgusted when I discovered that he did that; I'm more of a Tapatio hot sauce kinda gal. My mother likes toast. Most people don't find that odd, but she likes her toast burnt to a crisp. By the time the pieces are out of the toaster and looking the way she likes them, they appear as still glowing bricks of charcoal. I'm pretty sure that's not healthy, but what do I know? Maybe charcoal is a fad in the health world these days. My dad likes the smell of gasoline. Goodness, I think I need to worry about my parent's health. My health teacher in high school had obsessive compulsive disorder. The guys would always try to test him by making a poster slightly crooked when his back was to us, or turning one of his books the wrong way. He would generally notice in about ten minutes flat, and if he knew who did it (which he always did), things could get scary. I'm not at all pointing fingers at any of these people. It's one of those scenarios where I really shouldn't point my finger because then I have four (or three depending on where you would classify your thumb) fingers pointing back at me. I'll freely admit that I'm the weirdest of the weird. I like to dip chocolate chip cookies in ranch dressing. I like the smell of cow and horse  manure. I don't like the feeling of certain soft blankets on my feet. If I get a pack of fruity gum, the entire pack is gone in an hour. I chew one piece for about a minute, and then I want another one. (I try not to buy myself gum very often, I'd rather not be labeled as a complete addict) I don't like the sound of Chris Hemsworth's voice (aka, Thor). It makes me want to throw rocks at glass windows. I love the smell of new plastic-particularly pool toys-because it reminds me of these little cups I had when I was little that were all different colors and I always liked to stack them. I never cease to spell the word school wrong; whenever I'm actually writing, it goes down as shcool. Yet another ironic thing, school failed to fully instill in me the ability to spell shcool. But that's all for now, I won't bore you with anymore. But share with me! What are your oddities and abnormalities? Is there anything really strange?
Farewell, readers!