Living with People
People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered; forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives; be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some friends and some true enemies: succeed anyway.
What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight; build anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous; be happy anyway.
The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow; do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;
Give the world the best you have anyway.
You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God;
It was never between you and them anyway.
By Mother Theresa
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Wish It, Dream It, Do It!
Wish it!
Dream it!
Do it!
These six words, when incorporated into your lifestyle, can help you to accomplish more!Have you ever known someone who was a procrastinator? I mean a SERIOUS procrastinator!
Well, I have known a few of these individuals who did not have the follow through to accomplish often great ideas.
I would prefer to associate myself with a person of average talent who works hard to accomplish their goals than a person of brilliance who cannot be depended on to do what he or she says he or she is going to do, thereby lacking dependability, much less failing to fulfill her or her potential.
Procrastinators are people who create stress in their own lives and the lives of others by their failure to manage their own lives effectively or efficiently.
If you cannot manage your own life; how can you expect you will ever be able to effectively manage the lives of others.
If a person fails to fulfill their potential; shame on them! However, if that same person undermines an organization's goals, then procrastination is psychological sabotage and like a rotten apple, must be plucked from our midst, lest the entire barrel rot as well.
Wish it!
Dream it!
Do it!
This is good advice for anyone!
Burton Fletcher
http://www.callourlawyers.com/
http://www.georgiasigningagents.com/
http://www.georgialoanclosers.com/
http://www.valdostamemorials.com/
http://www.usamonuments.com/
http://www.floridasigma.com/
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
The Old Man and the Dog
The Old Man and the Dog
By Catherine Moore
'Watch out! You nearly broadsided that car!' My father yelled at me. 'Can't you do anything right?'
Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle. 'I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving.'
My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him?Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon. He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature.
He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess. The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man. Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack.
An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing. At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived. But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone. My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm.
We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust. Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick We began to bicker and argue. Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind.
But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it. The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered. In vain. Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, 'I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article.' I listened as she read.
The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog. I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens.
Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons: too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray.
His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly. I pointed to the dog. 'Can you tell me about him?' The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement.'He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow.' He gestured helplessly. As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. 'You mean you're going to kill him?''Ma'am,' he said gently, 'that's our policy.
We don't have room for every unclaimed dog.' I looked at the pointer again The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. 'I'll take him,' I said.I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch.
'Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!' I said excitedly.Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. 'If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it' Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house. Anger rose inside me It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples.'You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!'
Dad ignored me. 'Did you hear me, Dad?' I screamed. At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate. We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him.
Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal. It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne. Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout.
They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet. Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends.
Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.
Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.
The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. 'Be not forgetful to entertain strangers.'
'I've often thanked God for sending that angel,' he said. For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article...
Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter, his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.
Life is too short for drama and petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly. Live While You Are Alive.Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity. Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second time.
By Catherine Moore
'Watch out! You nearly broadsided that car!' My father yelled at me. 'Can't you do anything right?'
Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle. 'I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving.'
My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him?Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon. He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature.
He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess. The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man. Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack.
An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing. At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived. But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone. My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm.
We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust. Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick We began to bicker and argue. Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind.
But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it. The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered. In vain. Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, 'I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article.' I listened as she read.
The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog. I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens.
Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons: too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray.
His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly. I pointed to the dog. 'Can you tell me about him?' The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement.'He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow.' He gestured helplessly. As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. 'You mean you're going to kill him?''Ma'am,' he said gently, 'that's our policy.
We don't have room for every unclaimed dog.' I looked at the pointer again The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. 'I'll take him,' I said.I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch.
'Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!' I said excitedly.Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. 'If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it' Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house. Anger rose inside me It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples.'You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!'
Dad ignored me. 'Did you hear me, Dad?' I screamed. At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate. We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him.
Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal. It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne. Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout.
They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet. Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends.
Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.
Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.
The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. 'Be not forgetful to entertain strangers.'
'I've often thanked God for sending that angel,' he said. For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article...
Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter, his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.
Life is too short for drama and petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly. Live While You Are Alive.Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity. Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second time.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Five Lessons About The Way We Treat People
** Five Lessons About The Way We Treat People
1 - First Important Lesson - Cleaning Lady.
During my second month of college, our professor gave us a pop quiz. I was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions until I read the last one: "What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?"
Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50's, but how would I know her name?
I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Just before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade.
"Absolutely, " said the professor.
"In your careers, you will meet many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say "hello."
I've never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.
2. - Second Important Lesson - Pickup in the Rain
One night, at 11:30 p.m., an older African American woman was standing on the side of an Alabama highway trying to endure a lashing rain storm. Her car had broken down and she desperately needed a ride.
Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the next car.
A young white man stopped to help her, generally unheard of in those conflict-filled 1960's. The man took her to safety, helped her get assistance and put her into a taxicab.
She seemed to be in a big hurry, but wrote down his addre ss and thanked him.
Seven days went by and a knock came on the man's door. To his surprise, a giant console color TV was delivered to his home.
A special note was attached.
It read: "Thank you so much for assisting me on the highway the other night. The rain drenched not only my clothes, but also my spirits. Then you came along.
Because of you, I was able to make it to my dying husband's bedside just before he passed away... God bless you for helping me and unselfishly serving others."
Sincerely,
Mrs Nat King Cole.
3 - Third Important Lesson - Always remember those who serve.
In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10-year-old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him.
"How much is an ice cream sundae?" he asked.
"Fifty cents," replied the waitress.
The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied the coins in it.
"Well, how much is a plain dish of ice cream?" he inquired.
By now more people were waiting for a table and the waitress was growing impatient.
"Thirty-five cents," she brusquely replied.
The little boy again counted his coins.
"I'll have the plain ice cream," he said.
The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away
The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and left. When the waitress came back, she began to cry as she wiped down the table.
There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies..
You see, he couldn't have the sundae, because he had to have enough left to leave her a tip.
4 - Fourth Important Lesson. - The obstacle in Our Path.
In ancient times, a King had a boulder placed on a roadway. Then he hid himself and watched to see if anyone would remove the huge rock. Some of the king's wealthiest merchants and courtiers came by and simply walked around it. Many loudly blamed the King for not keeping the roads clear, but none did anything about getting the stone out of the way.
Then a peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables. Upon approaching the boulder, the peasant laid down his burden and tried to move the stone to the side of the road. After much pushing and straining, he finally succeeded. After the peasant picked up his load of vegetables, he noticed a purse lying in the road where the boulder had been.
The purse contained many gold coins and a note from the King indicating that the gold was for the person who removed the boulder from the roadway. The peasant learned what many of us never understand! Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve our condition.
5 - Fifth Important Lesson - Giving When it Counts...
Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at a hospital, I got to know a little girl named Liz who was suffering from a rare & serious disease. Her only chance of recovery appeared to be a blood transfusion from her 5-year old brother, who had miraculously survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies needed to combat the illness. The doctor explained the situation to her little brother, and asked the little boy if he would be willing to give his blood to his sister.
I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep breath and saying, "Yes I'll do it if it will save her."
As the transfusion progressed, he lay in bed next to his sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing the color returning to her cheek. Then his face grew pale and his smile faded.
He looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, "Will I start to die right away".
Being young, the little boy had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he was going to have to give his sister all of his blood in order to save her.
**From the Internet.... Source Anonymous.
1 - First Important Lesson - Cleaning Lady.
During my second month of college, our professor gave us a pop quiz. I was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions until I read the last one: "What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?"
Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50's, but how would I know her name?
I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Just before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade.
"Absolutely, " said the professor.
"In your careers, you will meet many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say "hello."
I've never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy.
2. - Second Important Lesson - Pickup in the Rain
One night, at 11:30 p.m., an older African American woman was standing on the side of an Alabama highway trying to endure a lashing rain storm. Her car had broken down and she desperately needed a ride.
Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the next car.
A young white man stopped to help her, generally unheard of in those conflict-filled 1960's. The man took her to safety, helped her get assistance and put her into a taxicab.
She seemed to be in a big hurry, but wrote down his addre ss and thanked him.
Seven days went by and a knock came on the man's door. To his surprise, a giant console color TV was delivered to his home.
A special note was attached.
It read: "Thank you so much for assisting me on the highway the other night. The rain drenched not only my clothes, but also my spirits. Then you came along.
Because of you, I was able to make it to my dying husband's bedside just before he passed away... God bless you for helping me and unselfishly serving others."
Sincerely,
Mrs Nat King Cole.
3 - Third Important Lesson - Always remember those who serve.
In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10-year-old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him.
"How much is an ice cream sundae?" he asked.
"Fifty cents," replied the waitress.
The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied the coins in it.
"Well, how much is a plain dish of ice cream?" he inquired.
By now more people were waiting for a table and the waitress was growing impatient.
"Thirty-five cents," she brusquely replied.
The little boy again counted his coins.
"I'll have the plain ice cream," he said.
The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away
The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and left. When the waitress came back, she began to cry as she wiped down the table.
There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies..
You see, he couldn't have the sundae, because he had to have enough left to leave her a tip.
4 - Fourth Important Lesson. - The obstacle in Our Path.
In ancient times, a King had a boulder placed on a roadway. Then he hid himself and watched to see if anyone would remove the huge rock. Some of the king's wealthiest merchants and courtiers came by and simply walked around it. Many loudly blamed the King for not keeping the roads clear, but none did anything about getting the stone out of the way.
Then a peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables. Upon approaching the boulder, the peasant laid down his burden and tried to move the stone to the side of the road. After much pushing and straining, he finally succeeded. After the peasant picked up his load of vegetables, he noticed a purse lying in the road where the boulder had been.
The purse contained many gold coins and a note from the King indicating that the gold was for the person who removed the boulder from the roadway. The peasant learned what many of us never understand! Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve our condition.
5 - Fifth Important Lesson - Giving When it Counts...
Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at a hospital, I got to know a little girl named Liz who was suffering from a rare & serious disease. Her only chance of recovery appeared to be a blood transfusion from her 5-year old brother, who had miraculously survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies needed to combat the illness. The doctor explained the situation to her little brother, and asked the little boy if he would be willing to give his blood to his sister.
I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep breath and saying, "Yes I'll do it if it will save her."
As the transfusion progressed, he lay in bed next to his sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing the color returning to her cheek. Then his face grew pale and his smile faded.
He looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, "Will I start to die right away".
Being young, the little boy had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he was going to have to give his sister all of his blood in order to save her.
**From the Internet.... Source Anonymous.
Friday, July 04, 2008
That's Not Me...
"That's not me," my friend said, explaining why she does not wear makeup, nail polish and the like. "Okay," I said to myself; you are just being yourself, and what you are really saying is you do not have enough self esteem to take care of your appearance.
Have you ever known someone who thought the world evolved around them and their needs, idiocyncracies and view of the world. All of us are susceptible to this to some degree or another; however, some folks have excuses for all of their shortcomings in life, except for truthful excuses. "To thine own self be true," or in the vernacular of the street, "Do not bullshit thyself!"
Get your act together if you want to be seen as together. Actions speak louder than words and words speak volumes about the attitudes and beliefs of others, whether expressed or not. Like body language, there is often an incongruity between actions and words that must be heeded if we want to be in tune with the REAL person with whom we are dealing.
"That's not me...." is another way of expressing the view that you are not worth the effort for me to care about what you have to say. Your life is all about your needs, but also about the needs of your partner, and taking the time to celebrate life together!
Burton Fletcher
http://www.usamonuments.com/
http://www.callourlawyers.com/
http://www.georgialoanclosers.com/
http://www.georgiasigningagents.com/
Have you ever known someone who thought the world evolved around them and their needs, idiocyncracies and view of the world. All of us are susceptible to this to some degree or another; however, some folks have excuses for all of their shortcomings in life, except for truthful excuses. "To thine own self be true," or in the vernacular of the street, "Do not bullshit thyself!"
Get your act together if you want to be seen as together. Actions speak louder than words and words speak volumes about the attitudes and beliefs of others, whether expressed or not. Like body language, there is often an incongruity between actions and words that must be heeded if we want to be in tune with the REAL person with whom we are dealing.
"That's not me...." is another way of expressing the view that you are not worth the effort for me to care about what you have to say. Your life is all about your needs, but also about the needs of your partner, and taking the time to celebrate life together!
Burton Fletcher
http://www.usamonuments.com/
http://www.callourlawyers.com/
http://www.georgialoanclosers.com/
http://www.georgiasigningagents.com/
Great Website
Wow! What a web Site !
Open the www site below and try this out on your computer. The screen will fill with the logos of most every store or info site that you will probably ever use. When you click on a logo, it takes you directly to the store or site you have selected. It's a great time saver and you don't have to hunt and type addresses on the Internet.
http://www.allmyfaves.com
Open the www site below and try this out on your computer. The screen will fill with the logos of most every store or info site that you will probably ever use. When you click on a logo, it takes you directly to the store or site you have selected. It's a great time saver and you don't have to hunt and type addresses on the Internet.
http://www.allmyfaves.com
Please Come See Me....
"Please come see me," my adult friend wailed.
"I'm sorry, but I need this time for me," I responded.
"I need this time to tune out the world, recharge my batteries, and rejuvenate."
"Yes, but isn't life to be 'celebrated,'" she said.
Yes, and this is how I celebrate my life on days when I need to rejuvenate."
Everyone has their needs and I must look out for my needs FIRST. I can only look after your needs so much before I start sacrificing my own needs. Sorry!
I do not like excessively NEEDY people who manipulate others by crying, begging, manipulation through guilt, sex or a plethora of other means, legal or illegal.
If you love someone, love yourself FIRST. If you do not love yourself; how can you expect others to love you.
Take care of your own needs FIRST.
Celebrate your own life FIRST.
Always remember the first rule in lifesaving is to save your own life!
Along the way, help others, but take care of yourself and respond to your own needs first.
After all, it is the right thing to do!
Burton Fletcher
http://www.usamonuments.com/
http://www.callourlawyers.com/
http://www.georgialoanclosers.com/
http://www.georgiasigningagents.com/
"I'm sorry, but I need this time for me," I responded.
"I need this time to tune out the world, recharge my batteries, and rejuvenate."
"Yes, but isn't life to be 'celebrated,'" she said.
Yes, and this is how I celebrate my life on days when I need to rejuvenate."
Everyone has their needs and I must look out for my needs FIRST. I can only look after your needs so much before I start sacrificing my own needs. Sorry!
I do not like excessively NEEDY people who manipulate others by crying, begging, manipulation through guilt, sex or a plethora of other means, legal or illegal.
If you love someone, love yourself FIRST. If you do not love yourself; how can you expect others to love you.
Take care of your own needs FIRST.
Celebrate your own life FIRST.
Always remember the first rule in lifesaving is to save your own life!
Along the way, help others, but take care of yourself and respond to your own needs first.
After all, it is the right thing to do!
Burton Fletcher
http://www.usamonuments.com/
http://www.callourlawyers.com/
http://www.georgialoanclosers.com/
http://www.georgiasigningagents.com/
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Life Should Be Celebrated....
" Life should not only be lived, it should be celebrated! "These are the words I read on a coffee cup and words that should be inspirational to all. Do you "live" your life; or, do you "celebrate" your life?
As I have become older--and wiser--I appreciate the importance of celebrating life. In my youth, I gave little thought to my own mortality or to celebrating my life. Now, as a senior citizen, I accept my mortality and I celebrate my past, present and my future. I hope you are doing the same.
Burton Fletcher
http://www.usamonuments.com/
http://www.callourlawyers.com/
http://www.georgialoanclosers.com/
http://www.georgiasigningagents.com/
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