Let me start by apologising for my recent absenteeism. I’ve been navigating through some [more] major life changes, but rest assured my personal journal (the one I don’t broadcast on the Internet) is bursting at the seams.
At any rate, I’m here now and, as usual, I’ve got something to say.
For years, I’ve been fascinated by positive psychology. Those who know me might think this a bit odd, and for good reason: up until recently, I proudly sported a Pessimist badge on my sleeve. What business does someone who sees the glass as half empty have poking her nose around something so gosh darn positive?!
Yes, this post is inspired by a Justin Bieber song and no, I’m not sorry.
A few months ago I posted this photo–cheekily captioned “Love your self(ie)”–to Instagram:
If I told you I was crazy, would you assume I was creative?
What if I told you I was creative: would you assume I was crazy?
When it comes to the latter, the science points to “yes.”
It’s that time of year when graduation photos, expressions of gratitude, and congratulatory commentary from friends and family flood social media. It truly is an exciting time: that final payout and payoff after years of hard work, study, and mayyybe a bit of party, too.
While scrolling through my Facebook feed the other day, I noticed a few comments that, although different in verbiage, were similar in flavour:
“Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional.”
I was instantly irked.
Why are we so afraid of growing up? At what point does the flip switch and we quit yearning for independence and start lamenting about responsibility?
If you looked at today’s post title and snickered, thinking to yourself, “Yes, the so-called “writer” made a spelling mistake!” then:
1) Nope. My punny humour is always intentional; and
2) Why is it that everyone is always climbing over themselves to point out a writer’s mistake? Grammar nerd or no grammar nerd, we’re still humans. Mistakes happen.
Today – three days from the finish line – I am appeasing my dear, darling Ryan’s request for a blog post about the Mitsubishi Magna. (I can already hear the collective eye roll from Ryan’s friends as they read this.)
But I’m not going to pore over specs and stats (if that’s what you’re after, check out this Facebook page); instead, I’m going to discuss Ryan’s love for and attachment to The Other Maggie. Attachment is something we can all relate to.
(Oh, and in case you were wondering who “the” Maggie is: she’s my cat. Yup.)