PR-what’s that?

Do people not understand good PR anymore? I’m talking about public relations. And it’s not just for business. It could also be called public rapport, because it’s where that shit comes from! PR is like the golden rule, but in actual practice. Don’t say or do things that will shame or put in a bad light your:

  • employer
  • company (as an owner)
  • department
  • boss
  • colleague
  • friend
  • spouse
  • child
  • parent
  • self

I see all day long the absence of this very basic, human act of kindness. Meaning we’re going around treating others like shit all of the time. Do not talk crap about your boss/owner/corporate and then expect your sales job to go well. No one wants to buy crap from a crappy company/employer. If they truly are crappy, then leave; don’t smear their name. You just never know when you’re going to have to cross back over that burned bridge. And don’t make jokes. People get where that comes from. Jokes are funny because it’s the most awkward part of the truth.

“Holding your wife or husband accountable” in front of your twenty closest friends at a party? Still want to get laid? Want your wife or husband to get promoted? Want your friend to help your spouse out? Well, now they think you’re an asshole for airing your significant others’ weaknesses in public, and they think what you said about your spouse is absolutely true. So, no go, there bucko!

Want your kid to get a job this summer between semesters at college but rant on facebook about their bad habits and immaturity? Think hiring managers won’t check that? Wrong, again! You just cost yourself little Johnny’s auto insurance premiums for another year, yet you can’t imagine why he can’t find a local job. He must not be looking, right? Wrong! YOUR inability to plug up the diarrhea spewing from your mouth and fingertips is costing your kid.

Think you can go on social media and make “anonymous” rants about your friends and family or local businesses or your employer? It’s the same thing as putting it in the newspaper, except it’s easily tied back to your family members with photos, to boot, and people actually look at social media, still. Just. Stop. It. You can be mad without airing your issue to the world. Have one close, trustworthy person you can rant to. Let them know you’re just ranting. Make sure it isn’t someone who can damage someone’s reputation with the information you’re giving them. Stop gossiping. Stop giving back customer service and being lazy. Stop damaging other people!

And sometimes business owners can be the worst of all! They just say what they think and how they feel and leave it to their managers to clean up their messes. You might as well run an ad in the Times that you’re an asshat, fella!

Treat others kindly. Even when you’re angry. Even when you’re right. You do not understand the time, work and money it takes to create a good name for a person, company, etc. if you’re willing to be so casual and irresponsible with your actions. Think about the effects of your words and your actions on others. And every single thing you do and say is aligning your future. Wanna be a joke? Keep up the same crap. You’re on your way! (If this stings a little, you’re welcome: I’m talking to you!!!)

#rantover

Actually,

Amily

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Most of me loves most of you

“All of me…loves…allllll of you.”  It’s the stuff fairy tales are made of. I get it. We want soul altering love. We want the passion we read about. We want a life to change for us, but not because we ask for it, because they want us THAT much. We’re telling them no, don’t change for us, but they’re doing it because they can’t not. They need and want us and can’t live another day without us in their life. That we complicate. That they’re willing to iron wrinkles out of to accommodate our presence. We want connection. We want the kind of love that has transcended difficulty that seems insurmountable but that the two of us chose each other over, came through the barriers together, and ended up on the other side successfully.

But the problem is that no one wants to actually experience the difficulty that creates that kind of love. No one wants to deal with parents who won’t accept your partner. No one wants to deal with crazy ass exes. No one wants to see the person they love go through near-death circumstances. No one wants to have to be the person bathing their injured mate or being the person who requires the full care of the other. No one wants to see their love struggle through addiction, losing a sibling or best friend or parent. No one wants to have to deal with the kind of loss that coming back from it makes forever love.

So we want the product without the journey. But the thing is, the journey is what creates the unbreakable connection. You can’t have one without the other. So, we’re left with most of me loves most of you. Those who can belt out and mean “All of me loves all of you,” do it with a tinge of pain in the depths of their voice. They got there because of the pain and if you’re honest with yourself, you may not be willing to make the sacrifice it takes for the honor of really owning that ballad.

Actually,

Amily

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Friday

It’s Friday. I’m a little unsure as to how I feel about that. I’m ready for a couple days off. But I feel like I also need a couple more to get everything done before the weekend.

I’m working on my story. I am writing it as though it were a fiction novel. Honestly, there is enough there for a fictional novel. It feels therapeutic so far. It’s been interesting to reflect on the past from a story point of view. It makes the memories a bit less poignant. A bit less choke me out and make me puke. I think it’s going to be healing.

I’m doing more to try to manage pain. I don’t do pain meds so I have to make do with other things. And if a had a nickel for every time someone had told me to get on medical marijuana lately I’d have lunch paid for I think. It’s just not at all my thing. Anyhow, I digress. I am doing a little better with it all.

So, Friday…..yeah…..not quite to “yay” but working on it.

Actually,

Amily

LEGOs in a box

Life is like a box of LEGOs. Have you ever opened one of the big packs? Every color and type is separated into a mildly inconvenient little non-resealable pouches. This indicates to me that they aren’t intended to stay separated. They are made to swim around together in a bit of a chaotic mess that is the LEGO box. So they stay together and not separated. Like the pieces of our lives. We all have a LEGO box of a life. All of the pieces come separate. We want to marry a certain type of person or have a certain job or have a certain number of children or live in a certain place or have a certain lifestyle. But it ends up dumped together in the bottom and we are left digging through to find a certain “piece”, which alters and affects every other piece. Every decision and action has consequences on every other piece of our life. There is no getting away from it. It doesn’t mean they necessarily get lost or damaged, but they are affected.

I got my kids a huge set of LEGOs several years ago. They’re both girls and they loved them. I noticed they were kind of struggling to find the pieces they wanted one day, so I got some resealable sandwich bags and separated the blocks again. In no time at all, they completely lost interest in them. When I dumped them back out (even though the older complained about mixing them all back up!) they enjoyed them again. It wasn’t conscious on their part. It was just that I observed this happening. I noticed. They didn’t get fulfillment out of taking a piece at a time from a well organized group of little bags. Even though that way is easier. It seemed like it took the creation out of it for them. It became clinical–a job.

Life is like that. When we work really hard to keep all of the parts and pieces separated and organized and not overlapping one another messily, it takes the spark away. Keeping them separate becomes the activity rather than living the life I’m building. It becomes about how the margins look, rather than how I feel. Frankly, it sucks and I believe it’s a cause for some of the depression that control freaks *clears throat, raises hand, looks downward* can experience. We need to open those bags, dump out the pieces and dig around in there and enjoy creating! (Excuse me while I go do my grounding exercises, now.)

Actually,

Amily

Next Level Dating

I’m always trying to work on my marriage. I want to be a better wife. I want my husband to have a better wife. So I’m always looking at things like date night ideas to keep it fresh, keep it relevant.

I was reading the other day and the combo of a couple people of posts led me to an idea that I am looking forward to. The premise is to date-especially doing new things together- and take a picture. This not new, right? But when is the last time you printed a photo? When I was a kid, it was the only thing TO do. Otherwise, there were just little metal canisters with memories hiding inside forever. There was no such thing as digital images.

Today, that’s going to look like using a service like Snapfish, or using Walgreens or Wal-Mart or similar photo upload and print services. I also realize I’m going to have to do something to make myself remember to print them. And then I plan to actually put them in some sort of paper scrapbook.

The whole purpose of this is for the memories. I want to be able to look back. I want my kids to see our love in pictures. That’s going to be the thing that keeps me motivated to do it: for the kids. Can you imagine if you could look back at a book filled with happy date night memories of your folks? Hell, I think I’d enjoy looking at a stranger’s date book!

So, that’s what I’m going to do. I may even share some of the photos, here. It’s not in the spirit of the physical scrapbook I want to leave my kids, but then, I don’t exactly want to invite a bunch of strangers to my house to look through a scrapbook.

Actually,

Amily

Here We Are in Week 5

It’s the middle of the fifth week of the year. 2019 is okay, so far. Little annoyances. Hard things. It’s really not about the year, is it? It was suggested to me that I make this my year–really claim it as my own, make the changes I want to see, and become who I want to become. But, honestly, I can’t. I’m winding down what will have been twenty years plus at this job next fall.  I’m taking classes that won’t be done until about 2022. And I still don’t even know what I want to be when I grow up.

So many things sound amazing. I wanted to be a teacher, to be on the same schedule as my kids. But my kids are nearly grown, so what’s the point?

I’d like to be a nurse practitioner, but I honestly do not have the patience for the red tape that is insurance. Doctors are paid, now, by how well their patients do. Patient won’t cut back and eat right and exercise? So they don’t decrease their BMI? You get paid less. Their insulin doses remain at the same or higher levels? You get paid less. They don’t take physical therapy seriously and their low back doesn’t improve? You get paid less. They don’t take their meds as prescribed? You get paid less. They refuse mammograms? You get paid less. No, thank you!

I really don’t know what I want to do. I’ve done interest inventories and made lists, etc. I’ve learned what I am not so good at in recent years. I know I don’t want to teach, I don’t want to be a practitioner. I don’t want to directly supervise more than one person. I don’t want to make staff schedules or do HR or answer to a board or have to defend my profession or starve. Everything else is still on the table.

So, I don’t think this will be the year, but I am working to make sure that I am as adequately prepared for my year when it does roll around as possible. There is so much to be done, yet. And, if you have the perfect job for me, please, drop me a line!

Actually,

Amily

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