We Feel and Then We Do

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We’ve all seen it…the movie or tv show where the main characters are hanging out together and 2 seconds later they’re having passionate sex…10 hours later they wake up in bed together, stare at the ceiling and freak out because one or both of them is married.

If this is happening to you in real life, you need to get some self-control and fast…or counseling. It is not that hard to refuse sex.

In ancient Israel, they had high priests who were essentially the conscience of the nation. They were the most influential members of society and what some might call the moral compass of the culture. If the high priests fell into sin, they would take the people with them. If they were godly, the people would usually follow them in that as well.

It has been said that artists are the high priests of our society and more specifically, filmmakers. Hollywood both manifests and influences our society. They decide what people believe is normal and right without the people even realizing that their worldview is being subtly affected.

The high priests of our society think that sex is something that controls us rather than something that we control and use….and our society is rampant with adultery and rape. We don’t control ourselves, we just feel and then we do. Brock Turner felt and then he did and the media crucified him for that…rightfully so. But I think we need to realize that he is only a product of the culture that we have created and we need to change that culture. We need to teach our children that what they see on TV is not the way life actually works or should work. That it is not ok to allow ourselves to be controlled by our lusts and impulses. Perhaps, we will keep our sons and daughters from becoming the next main character in a Nicholas Sparks novel…minus the happy ending.

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Not Inspired

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How do you write when you’re not inspired?

I stared with disappointment at the titles just waiting to be written and published. Subjects that were easy a week ago, that just needed a little encouragement to get the words flowing, fell flat today. That’s when I asked myself, “Can I really do this? Can I actually become a Blogger and make a living at it when not posting because I don’t feel like it isn’t an option?”

Obviously, I decided to post anyway. It may not be my best work, but I have found that if you just start writing SOMETHING, ANYTHING, you can free your mind and get those juices flowing. Even if it means you go back and take out some of the first draft in order to not sound like an idiot.

Any time you do anything, no matter how passionate you are, there will be days when the passion isn’t there and you just want to give up. If you are going to write or paint or teach or work with your hands…no matter what you do, you have to find a way to inspire yourself on those days when you don’t feel inspired. Watch a movie, listen to music, look at something beautiful, figure out a way to remind yourself of why you love what you do any time, any place and any mood.

For me, it’s writing and the best way I have found is to just start. Or watch Finding Forrester.

“No thinking – that comes later. You must write your first draft with your heart. You rewrite with your head. The first key to writing is… to write, not to think!” -William Forrester

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Millenials Are Entitled, Trump is Racist and Michelle Obama Is A Man

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Recently my little brother informed me that our First Lady is, in fact, a man. He adamantly insisted that such was the case and even showed me a slideshow of various photos pointing out her broad shoulders, “Adam’s apple”, shapewear and even a bulge underneath her dress!

I was also informed today, by the internet, that Donald Trump is a racist and minority groups should be terrified that he is now our President-elect.

I am informed almost every day, usually by Baby Boomers or Gen X, that Millennials are entitled, lazy brats who are accustomed to having trophies dropped from the sky.

We are living in the era of sheeple. The American people as a whole think that they can think for themselves, that they make well-thought out decisions, but we don’t. We look at doctored evidence and we think it’s solid proof. We hear someone say that someone else said such and such and we build our entire political worldview around that.

Adolf Hitler once stated that if you tell people a lie long enough, eventually they will believe it. We have been told the same lies over and over again for so many years that we believe them. We are slaves to the media and we believe whatever they tell us so long as enough of them are saying the same thing.

My little brother is 14 years old. He is all passion but has not yet learned that just because something seems to be true, does not mean it actually is true. He has not seen enough of the world yet to know any better. American adults have.

We should be able to discern between truth and lies. We should know that you have to thoroughly search out a matter before you start rioting in the streets. We have become all passion and no brains. Someone tells us that the rich, white guy who we don’t like anyway is a racist and hates immigrants and instead of looking to see if it’s actually true, we believe it…because we want to believe it. Someone tells us Millennials are lazy and entitled and instead of thinking about all the Millennials we ourselves know and work alongside, instead of looking at the facts and demanding real life examples outside of the rare few that get showcased on news outlets, we jump on the bandwagon.

From where I’m sitting, it looks as ludicrous and immature as believing that our First Lady is a man because she is strong and has broad shoulders.

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My Father Saw Me at Walmart in Yoga Pants

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I don’t usually wear yoga pants out in public. In fact, I don’t think I ever have before with the exception of yoga class, naturally. But tonight I did.

It all started with my decision to take a relaxing bath immediately upon returning to my apartment after work. (It was a wonderful bath. Don’t diss it ’til ya try it.) Of course I changed into my lounge clothes afterward which consisted of a tank top and yoga pants. No big deal. I was just going to have some dinner, maybe exercise and then dive head first into my new blogging plans. Trouble is, I had skipped the grocery shopping on the way home plan because I really wanted that relaxing bath! The contents of my refrigerator included a stick of butter, celery, beets, a green pepper and a pound of frozen turkey. I wanted pasta.

I had pasta, a bag of alphabet pasta in fact, and a can of oysters desperately in need of something to add flavor. Bingo! I’ll just cook up some letters, throw together a white sauce and add the oysters! No sooner had I put the water on for the pasta that I remembered that moment right before I walked out the door of the shop…the moment when I decided to leave my milk at work because I only drink it during the day…when I’m at work. White sauce needs milk. It also needs cheese and I was out of cheese.

I succumbed to the fact that I was going to have to either gnaw on some celery or go to the grocery store. I saw no reason at all to get dressed for the third time that day just to go grab two items and only be seen by strangers who are used to women in yoga pants and couldn’t care less about my attire. So I didn’t. My French ancestors would be horrified.

I did strap on my little Ruger over the yoga pants and grabbed flip flops and my moto jacket for a look that turned out better than I expected. I could easily have been mistaken for someone headed home from the gym instead of just a pasta and cheese fanatic.

I had no idea I would see my father.

But see my father I did indeed and for a fleeting second I honestly considered hiding. Just let him pass on by and he’ll never know. It’ll be easy, my dad tends to live his own little world half the time anyway. I can totally hide from him and he’ll never be subjected to the sight of his middle daughter in yoga pants.

But I decided that was ridiculous so I said Hi as if nothing in the world was amiss. The up and down look and slightly quizzical expression at my outfit was not lost on me, but he didn’t say a word. I love my father, by the way.

He continued home and I went on my merry way shopping at Walmart in yoga pants. Did I mention I also ran into, almost literally, a very good-looking, smiling blonde who actually does go to the gym?(I guarantee it, no doubt in my mind whatsoever.) Yes, in addition to the yoga pants, greasy hair and no make up may have also been a part of my ensemble.

Note to self: Be like the French. Get dressed before you go out. Or stay home and eat celery.

Note: It turns out that my dad didn’t even notice what I was wearing. It did make a good story though….

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