Tag Archives: humor

How to Do Everything in One Lifetime

Alright. Confession time.

I’m an atheist.

I know. I know. I’m sorry you had to find out this way. If I lose reader(s) over this, I’ll understand.

The thing is, I don’t think you understand how much I wish, wish, wish I believed in some kind of After. It’s incredibly daunting to be absolutely certain in my belief that This Is It. Along those lines, I would be delighted to be proved wrong after my life on this ball we call Earth is over. Even Hell would be a kind of comfort. Sure, there’s torture. But there’s also a continuation of consciousness, which is a gift Satan/the Devil/Beelzebub/Ben Stein (whoever’s in charge) can’t take away from me.

Side Note: If Hell truly is a burning pit, then the aforementioned Evil Leader wouldn’t have to do much else to ensure my eternal torment. I hate the heat with (heh) a fiery passion. Just leave me in some humidity at a temperature above 70 degrees (Fahrenheit) and I’ll be a sweaty, angry, puddle of misery for the rest of time.

Anyway, what I’m saying is, I wish the term YOLO hadn’t been co-opted by dude-bros and Linked In Lunatics because… it’s kind of true (to me). And if you only have one life to live, well… as Clark Gable once said on the set of Casablanca, “Live, Laugh, Love.”

The way I see it, if you’re waiting for the next incarnation or some kind of After to learn how to drive stick shift, or travel the world, or watch birds through binoculars (colloquially referred to as “bird watching”), then… well… what if there isn’t an After? Maybe it’s better to try some fun stuff out now. Just in case.

As such, I have compiled a handy-dandy list of supplies and to-dos for you to begin your doing-everything journey. It’s fun! Here are the three biggest, most important rules to live by:

  1. Give yourself permission to try as many new things as you want. Don’t hold yourself back because you already have “enough” side projects, or you “never finish anything,” or your boss wants you to work more overtime.
  2. Give yourself permission to drop something the second you lose interest. Don’t think of it as “never finishing” stuff, or you “failing” at something. Think of it as that thing failing you. You’re not bad at graphic design. Graphic design is bad at being interesting and engaging! So there!
  3. Give yourself permission to not be perfect right away, or ever. You can enjoy doing something and be mediocre at it! These things are not mutually exclusive. The key question is: Are you enjoying it? If not, see Rule 2 above.

Recommended Supplies:

  1. (Optional) One (1) ADHD diagnosis
  2. (If possible) Smart Phone
  3. Libby app (and/or library card if you prefer print media)
  4. How to Read Literature Like a Professor by Thomas C. Foster
  5. Unmasking Autism by Devon Price
  6. How to Keep House While Drowning by KC Davis
  7. Modern Dried Flowers by Angela Maynard
  8. Stephen Biesty’s Incredible Cross-Sections of Everything Illustrated by Stephen Biesty, Written by Richard Platt
  9. (For people who plan to procreate or are currently expecting) Expecting Better by Emily Oster
  10. Calendar and/or Calendar App and/or Planner and/or Planner App
  11. Focus Friend, by Hank Green (Your focus friend is a bean that likes to knit.)
I named mine Lyndon Bean Jonson (the character limit necessitated eliminating the H in Johnson)

12. Art Supply Basics (paper, pencils, crayons, markers, ruler, scotch tape, masking tape, sharpies)
13. (If funds allow) An actual digital camera
14. A microphone that hooks up to your phone and/or computer
15. A good set of headphones and/or earbuds
16. A YouTube account
17. At least one musical instrument (marimba, ukulele, concertina, whatever suits your fancy)
18. A good therapist (I wish you the best of luck in your pursuit of this)
19. Water bottle (reusable, washable, etc. You gotta hydrate!)
20. Rain Rain app (for when you need to meditate, relax, and/or sleep more easily)

They have a section called Only Fans. I respect this.

Got all that? Okay. Good. A lot of this stuff is free or reasonably priced. Yay! You can do what you want to do, even in this economy. Feel free to choose your own reading schedule, add or remove books at your discretion. Use the planner or calendar of your choosing to schedule your time and plan out the order of doing things that interest you. Or just go nuts and improvise every day if you enjoy chaos.

Remember this list is variable! Maybe you are tone deaf or just have no interest in creating music. Strike number 17 off the list. You just got really into embroidery? Time to add needles and thread to the list. You just realized you actually hate embroidery? Time to take needles and thread right back off the list.

How do you explore your interests? How do you find out all the things you potentially love to do? It’s hard to do in a country (in a world?) where the first thing we ask kids of a certain age is, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I hate this question. Please replace it with something like, “What do you like doing?”

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” is a question that says:

  • Hello, small child. Have you started thinking yet about how you will contribute in a meaningful way to the capitalist machine that is our society?
  • Think only of the future. Childhood is meaningless. You’re not even a person yet. You will only have value when you are an adult.
  • You can only ever be one thing.
  • Once you decide on what to “be,” you are stuck with that. You can never quit, change your mind, or add another thing. (At least not without years of therapy to help you overcome the shame and feelings of inadequacy.)
  • Work/Career = Life. Hobbies are for sissies.

You can be and do many things! Try looking up a university course catalog and reading through the offerings, just to give yourself an idea of all the interests that exist out there. Ask your friends what they do in their free time. (“Video games” IS a valid answer!) Take a class. Watch random tutorials on YouTube with that YouTube account you have thanks to item 16 on the above list.

Look things up. Go down a Wikipedia rabbit hole. Sit on a park bench and people watch. Start writing a novel. Start writing fifteen novels and never finish any of them. Buy a fancy journal, write three entries in it, then never add another entry. Go to your local game/comic shop and see if you can learn how to play DnD or Magic: The Gathering, maybe even join a regularly scheduled game night.

You may or may not only live once, but this is the life you happen to have right now. There’s no need to waste it, no need to confine or limit yourself based on societal expectations for how adults act, or the promise of another even better life after this one.

I have flowers drying in my craft room. Are they already dry? I don’t know! Maybe they’re drying improperly. Or I cut them wrong. But they’re there!

I have a bag of oyster shells!

The booth next to mine at the annual street fair last month was one of those pick-your-own-oyster-get-a-pearl dealios. Not only did they give me a vendor discount to pick an oyster, but they sent me home with a bag of shells. I combined two of my random hobbies to make this necklace I adore.

Blown glass pendant + Resin + Pearl + Oyster Shell Pieces

I made zines! Why did I make zines? Because adults deserve arts and crafts, too!

I made sourdough starter and named it Jeffrey Dough Morgan.

I tried to start a little garden in my backyard and failed SPECTACULARLY. I now have a “garden” of invasive weeds, two zinnias that managed to survive the weed invasion, and four sunflowers I didn’t plant.

My site header is a mess of tabs because I keep adding on new hobbies that I feel the need to share somewhere.

They talk about “Jack of all trades, master of none.” But they never ask what is, to me, the most important question:

Is Jack happy?

Jack deserves to live a happy life. And so do you.

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Filed under art, books, Humor, writing

5 Things My Mother Taught Me

I’ve been meaning to write this post for a while, ever since my mom told me she’d once written a similar article about things she’d learned from her own mother. I don’t normally “observe” Mother’s Day. You know all the things that everyone in the world has already said criticizing “commercial holidays” and/or “Hallmark holidays”? Yeah? Well, pretend I just typed all that out. Because I believe all that stuff.

That being said, it seemed unbelievably petty and unnecessarily contrarian to avoid posting this on Mother’s Day just because I think one should attempt to make their loved ones feel appreciated all the time, even if their calendar doesn’t tell them to.

It’s Mother’s Day. I have a post I’ve been meaning to write about my mother. Let’s do this.

In true Listicle fashion, I’m going to start from number 5 and move to number 1. This doesn’t matter in the slightest. I’m not ranking the useful things I’ve learned from my mom. This isn’t Buzzfeed.

5. Organize the Cart and the Conveyor

When in the grocery store, organize items as you put them in your cart; don’t just dump them in. Be neither willy nor nilly with your additions. Then, when you have reached the checkout, place the items on the conveyor belt in an organized fashion. Boxed items go together. As do refrigerated items, frozen items, etc. Put produce on last (or second-to-last if you are purchasing eggs) because these things often require inputting a code and/or weight. Instead of having to stop at random to do this, the checkout clerk will do them all at once at the end. Eggs go on last because that makes them easier to keep track of, and the bagger can make the best choice about where to put them to avoid breakage.

At this point, you are probably wondering if you should call some sort of hotline to report my mother and me for being worryingly anal-retentive. First of all, there is no such hotline. Second, if there were such a hotline, we’d definitely already have been reported, so you wouldn’t have to do it anyway.

And third…

Have you considered that no one wants to be in the supermarket longer than they have to?

Yes, organizing the cart and conveyor makes the checkout person’s life easier. You should endeavor to make this person’s life easier whenever possible because other people endeavor to make their lives harder on a regular basis.

Setting that aside, organizing your cart from the very beginning means you spend less time unloading. Organizing as you go on the conveyor belt means all your items will be bagged quickly and according to your preferences. Efficient scanning and bagging means a quicker exit from the store for you. Then, when you get home, putting groceries away will go more smoothly as well. So… are my mom and I nit-picky and obsessive? Yes. But we never forget where our eggs are, and that’s important.

Also, one time, a checkout person thanked me for my careful conveyor choreography.

Worth it.

4. Threading a Needle

I can thread a needle. You might be wondering why, in this age of apps and electric cars and motion-activated landscape lights and watches that track your heart rate, I would need to use a needle and thread for anything. I must admit, it has come in handy on more than one occasion in recent memory. Knowing how to do the most rudimentary form of sewing has converted old t-shirts into pillows, repaired toys and clothes, and converted two old blankets into a large beanbag chair/winter clothes storage system.

Geordi loves it

I can also knit. Different needles. Yarn instead of thread. Same concept. I like knitting. It relaxes me. I’ve also never had to buy a winter scarf. And sometimes you can knit pillows if old t-shirts aren’t your style.

3. Frosting a Cake

It’s hard to frost a cake. Sure, you can buy them pre-frosted from the grocery store, but then you might get the wrong cake-to-frosting ratio. Or worse… whipped cream frosting. The horror!

I know how to make buttercream frosting (the only frosting worth eating). I know how to bake a nice yellow cake, how to prep it for frosting, how to fill a frosting bag. I’m never going to be called upon to prepare someone’s wedding cake, but I can make little florets and patterns. I know that I should pre-write words on the cake using a toothpick so I can be sure everything will fit correctly and be spaced well. My frosting writing is still only so-so, but that might have something to do with the fact that all my other writing is also so-so.

2. People Have Seven Heads

My mom is a good artist. She taught me to value creativity, and has helped me along the way to… wait… hold on…

2B. Value Creativity

Creative pursuits are valuable. My mother can draw and paint and make a cake that looks like a hamburger. She taught me to hone my own creative brain, and I attribute a lot of my success in writing to her encouragement and guidance.

2C. People Have Seven Heads (Continued)

When sketching a (standing) person, consider that the average person is about seven or eight “heads” tall. Meaning, if you draw a basic head shape at the top, you should be able to draw that about six or seven more times all the way down to the figure’s feet. If you can do that, then you know you’re on your way to having a well-proportioned sketch.

1. There is Always a Solution

I know I said I wasn’t going to rank this list, but it occurs to me that this item does belong at the number 1 spot. This is a truly valuable life lesson that I have taken with me from childhood on into adulthood. When you encounter a problem, never let yourself think, “I can’t fix this.”

There is always a solution.

Sometimes there are multiple solutions.

The creative brain is not just good for making scarves or sketching a well-proportioned person; it can also lead you to address a problem in ways that aren’t immediately apparent at first.

I happen to have an example. My house is lovely, but a bit short on storage space. One of the things I really wanted for my kitchen was one of those utensil hanger things. It would save drawer space and make it easier to grab a ladle or spatula when needed. Emptying the dishwasher would go quicker, too.

The problem: Utensil hangers cost money and often require drilling into a wall or the ceiling.

The solution: I bought a couple packs of those little command strip hooks and put them on the side of my pantry. Then I hung my utensils from them. Saved money. No drilling. Got exactly what I wanted without having to wait until I could budget for it.

My younger son, Ari, loves his kiddie pool. He would live in that pool if he could. With the turn of the weather, we were able to bring it back out for him. Unfortunately, his parents are so white that they are practically translucent. His dad is a redhead, for Gibraltar’s sake! Doubly unfortunately, he does not like it when I put sunscreen on him. I can’t blame him. I don’t like the sensation either. We still put it on him, but I wanted to avoid having to reapply as much.

Once again, the problem had to do with budget. Sure, I could buy some sort of awning or canopy, but they are quite costly. Plus, as mentioned above, we don’t have a lot of spare storage space.

So I built a little canopy for him using a spare sheet, some chip clips, and whatever outdoor furniture I had on hand to prop it up. Did it look pretty? No. Do I care? Also no. My son was able to splash to his heart’s content in the semi-shade of his new kiddie canopy. (Do these things count as life hacks? I couldn’t say. That term has lost all meaning to me.)

That’s it.

Well… no, that’s not it. Like… my mom did teach me other stuff. I remember her teaching me how to read, for example. Honestly, I might make a follow-up to this one day when I remember the other important things I wanted to list.

For now, I’ll just say: I love you, Mom.

and happy mother’s day or whatever

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Filed under Humor, parenting

Donald Trump is the Wrong Genre

There is a section of the Passover seder that has been circling around in my head called “Dayenu” or (read right to left) דַּיֵּנוּ‎. It translates to, “It would have been enough.” Part song, part call-and-response, a reader lists the miracles and wonders God enacted during the exodus from Egypt. After each item listed, the responders say, “Dayenu” to acknowledge that He had already provided, and they would have been grateful even if He had stopped there.

For example, “If He had taken us from Egypt, but not parted the Red Sea… Dayenu.”

It would have been enough.

I have a different version of Dayenu in my head for Donald Trump, a man I hope never to write about ever again after this.

What can I say about this orange-lacquered sack of fart vapor that hasn’t been said already? The man’s brain is a half-eaten pudding cup that has been left out in the sun for a week. And the most complimentary thing I can say about him is that, at one point, it’s possible his brain was a half-eaten pudding cup that hadn’t yet been left out in the sun.

But he never had a full pudding cup! I’m sure of that!

I’m confident he cannot now, nor could he ever, name the three branches of the U.S. government. I think, if someone wanted to, they could tell him the president is the “Execution Branch” of the government, and he would believe it. He’d probably like it! This just hit me as I was typing, and I feel such… resignation. He’d like the sound of being the “Executioner.” I’m certain of it.

I don’t know how to speak Hebrew, so I don’t know if “It should have been enough” can be translated accurately into one word. But that’s what it is.

In my head, it goes like this:

When he bragged about using his status as a celebrity to sexually assault women…

It should have been enough.

When he mocked a disabled reporter…

It should have been enough.

When he watched hundreds of thousands of Americans die from a highly contagious virus while spouting misinformation, inciting violence against Asians and Asian-Americans, and failing to provide necessary medical supplies and aid to doctors, nurses, and hospitals…

It should have been enough.

When he incited a riot on Capitol Hill…

It should have been enough.

When he was charged and convicted with 34 counts of felony document falsification…

It should have been enough.

When he claimed immigrants were eating people’s cats and dogs, once again blithely stirring up hatred and violence towards a vulnerable population…

It should have been enough.

When he watched a man sieg heil on stage two times at his inauguration, and did nothing…

It should have been enough.

When he began trafficking people to a torture prison in El Salvador, and did not stop when he was ordered to by the courts…

It should have been enough.

When he refused court orders to bring an innocent man back to his family…

It should have been enough.

When he, a man who has made full use of due process of the law time and time again, claimed there wasn’t time to give people due process…

It should have been enough.

When he was told that stores would soon have empty shelves due to tariffs, and responded by saying American children would have to make do with “two dolls instead of thirty”…

It should have been enough.

I could go on. And on. And on. That’s the problem, isn’t it? For all I’ve listed here, there are five hundred things I didn’t list. Children in cages at the border? Saying Kamala Harris “suddenly” became Black? Canada as the 51st state? Thinking “transgenic” mice were transgender??

I would be the proverbial monkey at the typewriter, banging on the keys to infinity, never able to stop because there would always be more. Except I’d never get around to accidentally producing Shakespeare’s plays because I’d be too busy listing crimes and atrocities.

Not to mention stupidities. Donald Trump regularly commits stupidities.

Any one of the things listed above should have been enough. It should have been more than goddamn enough!

This all came about because of a very real question I felt the need to ask my editor a few weeks ago. Before we got into the meat of our um… meeting… homophones are weird… I had to ask her for her opinion on including or excluding politics in the novel. Because Trump’s presidency, his existence, does not work for the Romance genre. And, if I’m being honest, it doesn’t work for reality.

If you met someone who woke up from a ten-year coma today, and listed every major point of Trump’s political career from start to finish, I bet you wouldn’t actually get to finish. I bet they’d stop you pretty quickly. You wouldn’t even be able to get to D.O.G.E. But if you did, that’s where they’d stop you for sure.

“Enough!” they’d yell. “You’re making this up. It doesn’t even sound like good fiction. It sounds like a poor attempt at parody.”

“You’re right, learned ex-coma-patient,” you would respond. “It does sound like the worst kind of parody. Now let’s get you back to bed. I probably should’ve taken your vitals before trying to catch you up on what you missed.” (You are a medical professional in this scenario.)

I mean… can you imagine what would happen if I acknowledged our current reality in the fiction I constructed? It occurred to me that the moment a character brings up Donald Trump, that would be the moment when the book becomes exclusively about Donald Trump. How could they ever talk about anything else?

So I got permission from my editor to not bring up politics. Not anchor the book in any given time period. Not mention who is president. Just not. Full stop.

Because our current president belongs in parody. In farce. In heavy-handed satire.

Like… imagine if you were watching Wall-E, and, instead of the late Fred Willard as the live-action president, you saw Donald Trump. Would you even blink? It feels like he fits there, doesn’t it? It’s so terrifying and sad and ludicrous. It’s… terrsadicrous.

I just needed to get that off my chest. I am so excited to be published and to continue going through this process, but I also feel deeply, tragically, lost. I needed to get the sadness out of me. Now I intend to focus, as much as I can, on the happy. It feels wrong to do that, I’ll admit. I feel a kind of survivor’s guilt maybe? I am (relatively) safe. I am (relatively) secure. So many others aren’t. At time of writing, Kilmar Abrego Garcia still isn’t home with his family. How dare I celebrate at a time like this? But I must. I simply must. It won’t stop me from hurting for all the people who are not safe and secure, but I feel I will truly lose my mind if I can’t also allow myself happiness.

It should have been enough, and enough, and enough. A thousand times over, it should have been enough.

Here’s an art I did of the orange fartsicle:

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Filed under Humor, Politics, writing