We are made from choice

Decisions are made at the very start of your day to the very last blink of your eyes.  Whether it’s what to wear to work, what to eat, or whether or not to exercise.  Decisions are rooted in every act of every day, and the choices we make determine our experience.  Hasty decisions birth hasty results, but sometimes well-thought out decisions can have unexpected outcomes.  The key is to know who you are at every moment of every day so that the choices you make reflect you, the real you.

Otherwise, you end up giving off impressions like this…

I decided to sleep until the last possible moment, which meant I could only body shower.  This choice means that the hair goes up and without enough thought on something like clothing, I ended up wearing substandard – even by the loose moral dress code of MTV – summer clothes.  Without going into one of my short-story-made-long type-a-thons, I’ll just tell give you a brief inkling of the morning…dead car, ripped off by another auto mechanic, $$$, family conflict, and the first day back to work from a holiday weekend.

Needless to say, my think-tank bandwidth was little to none.  By lunch I had to take a walk, so I head into my organic paradise and see an old acquaintance.  I could have ignored her like I wanted, but for some reason I didn’t.  I couldn’t focus one iota on what she was saying, but then again I had decided prior to the interaction that I obviously didn’t care.  The conversation, which was hard to follow, went a little something like this:

Me:  Hey

Her: Oh Hi, how are you?

Me: Eh.

Her:  You okay?

Me: Very well, thank you.

Her:  I heard you got married.

Me:  Yep.

Her:  #$%#$##$%$%$**&^&^& (said in a Charlie Brown teacher voice)

Me:  (Shook head)

Her:  (Blankly staring)

Me:  Huh?

Her:  $#%#&@@()@(@(@*@

Me:  (thinking I need to bail)

Her:  (uncomfortably staring)

Me:  (hurry think of an excuse) Oh, huh?  I’m sorry, I’m not feeling well.

Her:  It’s going around.

Me:  Stupidity?

Her:  huh?

Me: %&%&%&%%&**))*#)*)#*()@

Her: (Blank stare that immediately faded into a WTF face)

Me:  (excuse) Sorry, I’m sick.  I have to….

I walk out.  She makes up mind that I am a crack head, probably.  It was then I decided the organic paradise was merely an organic mirage.



My cousin’s water ski wipe-out

FFW to the 1:27 mark for the actual wipe out.


My little brother Mark called me to tell me about his Snow Cone Stand that he was thinking of opening this summer.  I was impressed that my eleven year-old brother had done his research.  He told me if he used his dad’s camping canopy and put a table under it that he would have the stand for free.  His thriftiness caught my attention, but while I was marveling at his comprehension of overhead he pulled out the big guns and told me that he had already secured the location (in front of mom’s office) closer to the four-way stop in town and across from the busy grocery store.  The bullets just kept coming with snow cone machine price comparisons, sponsorship ideas (yes, he asked if MTV would sponsor him), and the best flavor package by price. 

What did he need me for?  I silently reminisced of being eleven but back then I didn’t even know what a sponsorship was so far be it for to interject any nostalgic ‘when I was your age’ speak.  He was hell bent on MTV sponsoring his snow cone stand.

“Sissy, you think MTV will give me any money?”

How do I delicately let him down while at the same time encouraging him?

“Hmm, I don’t think so bubby.”  I replied on beat.  “We’re pretty tapped out with the economy and all.”

“Well can you get  MTV to give me any cool music to play at Jamrok Sno Cones?” His tenacity amused me.

“I’ll get you some music,” I thought about the promo bins on our floor.

“Too bad MTV can’t give us any money, but we’ll get other sponsors.”

I couldn’t deny his ambition, “I’ll get MTV to give you some money.  How about I send you $50 to get you started.”

Essentially a check from me is from the (WO)MAN—referring to Judy McGrath, CEO MTV Networks–so in theory it was from MTV before it made it’s way to my hard-working hands.

“The check will be from me, but it comes from MTV,” I explained.

Bear in mind, he’s not your typical eleven year-old kid.  Nope, my brother is a true life genius—we’re talking MENSA.

“Sissy, I know it’s from you,” I could tell by his little voice that his eyes were rolling.  “Just send me $20.”

“$20!”  I shouted.  “That’s not how to do business.”

“I’ll send you $25,” I negotiated.

“Okay, thanks Sissy.”

One day I do know he will realize that his sister took advantage of his age, but by then I’m sure he’ll surpass me in income anyway.


Voice Box

Being that my voice gets more Portamento than Susan Boyle’s, it’s not surprising that I have literally talked my voice box to death.  Yes, it’s true the motor mouth has Laryngitis.

Back in the day, I would use this as a sick day from school. It would have definitely been mother-approved.  Alas, it’s the weekend so it only cuts into my time and not work time.  Not that I could use it as a sick day anyway since most of my work is done in the digital voice, which has no legitimate organs though some geeks would argue that an application is a digital organ.  I think they should just go back to their Dungeons & Dragons or whatever the equivalent nowadays is and leave me to my skipping school ways.

Here I am inside blogging to you guys instead of outside enjoying the teaser of summer.  Now that I think about it…screw inside, I’ve got WiFi and it’s the weekend–no sick days allowed!

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