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Someone posted this on FB a few weeks ago, and it’s really gotten me thinking:

An old man once said, “There comes a time in your life, when you walk away from all the drama and people who create it. You surround yourself with people who make you laugh. Forget the bad, and focus on the good. Love the people who treat you right, pray for the ones who don’t. Life is too short to be anything but happy. Falling down is a part of life, getting back up is living.”

Now, I’ve no idea who said it, or if it’s an accurate quote, but I really like the sentiment. Especially the part about walking away from people who create drama in their lives and instead surrounding yourself with people who make you laugh.

A few years ago, maybe two, a friend told me that I could choose to be hurt and upset, or I could choose to be happy. To get over things. To live my life as my life.

Both of these feed into the philosophy that I’ve been trying to live for awhile now. There are days when I still take things too personally, when my skin is too thin to bear with certain comments or actions. But there are days when these things roll off my back, when I shrug and move one. Those are the days I’m comfortable in my own skin, that I’m happy being me. Those days are growing in number. And there isn’t a day that goes by that I’m not thankful for the people in my life and the love and support they unconditionally give me, and in which I work to provide the same back to them.


Smile at a stranger – the little things can make a huge difference.

Walking to the parking garage after a hectic morning at the new job and an all-afternoon meeting at the old job:

Man, walking towards me: (singing outloud)

Me: (rubbing eye randomly)

Man: Don’t cry!

Me: Oh, I’m not.

Man: Have a lovely day!

Me: Thanks, you too!

Man: (walks on, singing)

I continued on to my car, grinning like a fool the whole time. Not sure why, but this was a great pick-me-up and made my day. Going to try to pass it on.

Just when I’m about to throw my hands up in despair over writing and rewriting my damned discussion 972 times and still not getting it the least bit right at all, something comes along to make me feel better.

After all, if a 96-year old man can pull all-nighters and earn his master’s degree, I can write a couple words, right?

(And when I’m done with the latest draft and have sent it off to various people to be torn apart again, I’ll tell you all about Boston.)


May 2018
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