One of my favorite pages on Facebook is called “Zen to Zany”. If I didn’t know better I’d swear that more than a few of
the postings are directed specifically at me. Often it’s a boost right when I need it most; other times it’s a right-on-target zap that makes me flinch and ruefully acknowledge the truth before making some necessary (and usually long overdue) changes. The post above provided me with a mixture of the two, and impressed me so much that it’s become my desktop wallpaper (with a flamboyantly purple border to match the lipstick).
Which brings me to the subject of today’s sermon: Who in blazes are THEY, and why in the name of all that’s unholy should I (or anybody else, for that matter) give a rat’s ass what THEY have to say about…well….anything?
To me, THEY bear a striking resemblance to the mean girls who made my life a misery in junior high school, swooping down like harpies on any deviation from what “everybody else” (according to them, at least) did/thought/wore. Speaking for myself, I already did my time with those vicious trollops, and I sure as hell don’t need that kind of influence in my life now.
THEY also sound like The Committee in My Head, that unwelcome, fear-mongering Greek chorus I hear when I’m about to try something new/different/challenging. In fact, the two are so disconcertingly similar I sometimes wonder if THEY put their larvae into my ear, like Khan did to Chekhov in the Star Trek Movie “Wrath of Khan” (warning: this scene is not for the faint of heart), and the damned things reproduced.
Since it’s not likely THEY are going to obligingly disappear any time soon, I figure it’s up to me to decide how much effect THEY are going to have on my life. As a start, I’ve adopted a few mantras:
Just because THEY talk doesn’t mean I listen.
Life ain’t always about “what if”—sometimes “why the hell not” works a whole lot better.
Haters gonna hate. Let ’em.
The dogs may bark, but the caravan moves on.
On that note, will somebody please help me down from this soapbox?
Take care, all!