I Live Your Thoughts

I'm writing this post on a smartphone app as we travel to Homecoming.  For those of you considering robbing my home, you should know that I am 2-3 weeks ahead in my writing.  (I'm assuming that we had an awesome time at Homecoming, despite the olive incident...)

Autocorrect is an awesome feature.  Due to my Humpback of Notre Dame sized thumb and the QWERTY Genius who decided to put the U&I&O keys next to one another, I am often in need of autocorrect support.  But, sometimes, the corrections are unfounded.  The most common and unnecessary autocorrection for me?  LOVE corrected to LIVE.  I've sent the following messages to people: Live that, Live this, Live ya.  My favorite to date?  "I live your thoughts."

I live your thoughts.  That line has some potential.  Are we talking the strength of suggestion?  Do as I say.  My wish is your command.  Or, are we referring to the influence of self talk?  I'm not talking about the power of The Secret.  

I remember several years ago waking up to my inner narrator (more like, my Inner Nag).  She would say some pretty hurtful and untrue things about me.  I would shake it off and move on with my day.  Did this impact my day or bleed into my professional or personal life?  According to the people closest to me, no.  (Liars.)  Still. It took up energy and time that I did not have to spare.

How about your Inner Narrator or Nag?  What are your first thoughts about yourself when you wake up?  Are they positive or destructive?  We wouldn't tolerate anyone tearing us down or berating someone close to us.  We wouldn't accept someone we love beating themselves up.  Why would we do it to ourselves?  

It's time to turn on our own autocorrects and be kind to ourselves.  O, U&I need to stick together.  

Bichovsky Backflash: Happiness Is...

I wrote this list in response to a book I read when I was experimenting with blogging.

If you've never read The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin, do it.  Do it for yourselves and for those around you.  It inspired me to think back to what made me happy when I was younger.  This random list is from as early as I can remember to high school- but not in sequential order.  Good luck deciphering!  

1.  Hide-and-Go Seek!  Massive game...anywhere from 5-20 neighborhood kids, at night.  Game was not over until everyone was found.

2.  Listening to the Beastie Boys on my "boom box."

3.  Taking the bus to the 163rd Street Mall and watching the break dancers in the parking lot.  

4.  Playing Barbies.  Different story every day.  The yellow elevator never worked on my townhouse but it was fun.  We used to take album covers...the ones that folded out into a trifold...to make studio apartments.

5.  Walking on the boardwalk- when it wasn't for exercise.  This was before we had our license. 

6.  Making home movies dancing and singing to Pearl Jam.  Wearing flannel shirts and thinking we were hard core.

7.  Head banging to Guns-N-Roses...wearing tight jeans and black eyeliner...thinking we were hard core.

8.  Rides to school with KM, hanging out on WG base, arguing over the Ouija board.

9.  Grease.  Grease.  Grease.  It really was The Word.

10.  Saving up 100 pennies to chase down the Mr. Softy truck.  We never knew when he was coming.  Was heartbreaking if you only had 99 pennies.

11.  Not going to the OTHER ice cream truck. 

12.  Collecting Garbage Pail Kids!  

13.  Chorale

14.  Stickers- loved the oily ones that you could squish and the colors would move.

15.  Reading.  Loved the Babysitters Club.  Remember reading a cheerleading series that I have tried and tried to find again.  I remember one character was Patrick and he drove a garbage truck.  Megan (?) was the good cheerleader.  Preston (?) male cheerleader drove a Porsche.  Vanessa was a wanna-be and manipulative and once made Megan think that she broke a vase.  Seriously...does anyone know this series?  (2013 update- an awesome friend found some of them for me.  What a hoot to reread.  Thanks, KT!)

16.  V.C. Andrews and Stephen King FREAKED ME OUT.

17.  I liked to make stuff.  My favorite was to take a piece of clear tape and color on it with a marker.  Then (real fast!) drop Elmer's Glue.  Let it dry and then peel it off.  Instant treasure.

18.  I had an Easy Bake Oven.  Wasn't so easy.

19.  Used to watch Wonder Woman like crazy.  My mom made me my own headband.  I would wear my Underoos, tie my mom up with my lasso of truth, and raid the cookie jar.  It wasn't until I was older that I realized she let me.

20.  Played Pac Man on one of those restaurant video game tables while drinking Shirley Temples. 

21.  I can still remember making my Dr. Seuss All About Me book.

22.  Used to play school.  I gave the neighbor Robbie a detention because he was disgusting.

23.  Loved to play dress up with my aunt's shoes!

24.  My blankie!  It had silk on it.  (OK- this one was not in high school)

25.  Riding down "death hill" on a three wheel bike.

26.  Sleepovers at family members' houses.

27.  Watching SNL in JH's basement; watching 90210 during the summer with friend on the phone.

28.  Matching socks to my shirts!

What would be on your list?  Let me know...

Beware the Troll

Whether you follow soap operas or not, at some point you have watched a television program and realized some history has been rewritten.  

What do I mean?  I'm a long time General Hospital fan (who admittedly fast forwards more these days than not).  I stand firm that when Sonny Corinthos the Mobster was first introduced, he was Not a Nice Guy.  Now, he is the Mobster with a heart of gold.  He will only shoot you if: you steal from him, you steal from someone he knows, you steal from someone who knows someone he knows, or you are related to him.   It's forgivable because he is still hunky and has the best laugh.  Sonny never hurt anyone.  Except for Karen years ago.  (No, he didn't.  Well, yes, he did.  But, he kind of didn't.  But, he kind of did.)

I'm a hardcore lurker on IMDB message boards.  I will sometimes view the board before I watch a show to see if I should even bother or what I should pay attention to.  (Except for The Walking Dead and Doctor Who- I am spoiler free.  Be warned!)  People on message boards like to argue about a show, the stars, producers, story lines- that's all OK.  I really enjoy observing the debates that go back and forth over the rewriting of a character's history to make him more lovable or to build a better arc for her.

But message boards are a soap opera in themselves.  Sometimes, I dive in just to see what a "troll" has said to spark 45 responses in ten minutes about a new haircut.  People will question each other's ability to function in society if they disagree on the rapid aging of a soap opera child.  The real fun begins when they start to go off topic AKA OT about real world issues.  Like that baby in England.  Or mini golf.

I'm not criticizing them.  I find it all fascinating.  But here is my question:  Are you a troll?  Do you insinuate yourself into conversations that do not pertain to you or steer a calm conversation into something extreme just to "Stir the pot" in the real world?  If you aren't a troll, do you know of one in your circle of friends or at work that you passively enable by simply listening?  Why?  There's plenty of drama in television land.  We don't need any extra here.

Instead of investing in trolling, how about we invest in our own stories now before they become our histories?  If there was a message board about you, what would it say?  I hope mine would say: She always has a smile and has a great laugh.  And awesome shoes.  Yeah...let's not forget the shoes.

Dipping My Toe

Guest Blog- Living the Writing Life
Dear Universe,
I was honored to be asked to share what it has been like to dip my toe into the public writing arena.  Please click on this link to read more and stay around to check out the gems within Heather Harlen's site.  Guest Blog- Living the Writing Life
Thanks, Heather!

Bichovsky Backflash: What’s Eating You?

I know, I know- it's flashback.  But I've been saying it wrong for years and I like the alliteration.  It's my universe...enjoy this writing blast from my past.  I originally shared it with Lehigh Valley Writing Project as part of a publishing initiative and tweaked it for you.  I learned a lot about myself when I first wrote it.  When faced with conflict, do you scream or swallow it?

I pushed my salad around to determine if there was enough for lunch the next day.  I put my fork down and the oddest thing happened.  The salad continued to move- on its own.

Bits of lettuce crawled across the plate until it revealed a bug as wide as my pinky and as long as my thumb from knuckle to nail.  To the best of my memory, it had wings and I am pretty confident it blinked at me.

I can scream with the best of them.  Ask anyone who has been with me in a near collision with a deer or when my godson opted to relieve himself on my couch.  I have good lungs and a high-pitched wail.

Upon seeing the unrequested topping, I opened up to scream and simultaneously remembered what my grandmother had said about being a lady in public.  I swallowed my scream and said, “Bug,” in a low tone.  Maybe I was gearing up for a secondary scream because my husband gave me “the hand,” otherwise known as the universal signal for shush.

It must have been shock that prevented me from retaliating against the shush.  He took a napkin, covered the uninvited guest, and carried the plate to the counter.  All the while, my inner narrator was busy. (Bug Bug Bug Bug Bug Bug Bug Bug Bug Bug)

The manager of the unnamed and since closed establishment came over offering sincere apologies.  I was silent.  Did I want anything else?  I was silent.  A baked good, perhaps?  (Bug)  I was silent.  He referenced my empty glass of lemonade- did I want more?  I was silent.  (Bug)  I looked at my husband’s dark glass of tea.  Was my bug’s sister swimming in there?  Did I eat one without knowing it?  Is it doing the backstroke in my tummy?  (Bug...)

I felt legs crawling up my throat.  A fan of sushi, I was not a fan of bug (Bug Bug Bug Bug Bug Bug Bug Bug Bug).

“We want to make sure you come back,” the manager said, ripping three coupons from a book of five- giving us $15.  Was my trauma not worth $25?  Had I let out the scream, would I have been worth $50?  I remained silent.

I can’t help now but wonder why I was so silent.  Why was I on mute?  Is there a part of me that values not making a scene above my own self interest?  Perhaps I am making a mountain out of a bug hill.  I just want to ensure that the next time I am in peril- be it bug, deer, decaf coffee, or a would-be-Lifetime-movie- stalker, that I do stand up for myself and not just swallow it.