R.M.S.- The Role Model Syndrome

Today as I was running around the house, frantically gathering my phone, billfold, and keys like I do every morning, I was momentarily distracted by the music video playing on VH1. Watching VH1’s top twenty count down is one of my guilty pleasures, don’t judge me.

First off, VH1 still actually plays music, and they feature some really good new artists. However, the music video that caught my eye was a Katy Perry video- surprise, surprise. Her videos are nothing if not, ahem, eye-catching. This one caught me though, because it was one I had never seen before.

Sooooo basically the conversation in my head went like this-

“Who…? Oh, it’s Katy Perry. Bahahaha. Wait who’s that other girl? She looks familiar.”

*Mind goes blank as story in music video unfolds*

“OH! Oh my! It’s Rebecca Black. What the Farfenoogle?! Kenny G.?!”

And then I tweeted the whole thing.

Now, let me preface this by saying that I do not hate Rebecca Black. I wish her no harm and I am not the type of person who enjoys tearing down young girls for my own amusement.

However… I am fed up with her fame, really any fame that is ill-deserved. Is she a nice girl? Probably- is she cute? Adorable- but she can NOT sing. Ironically, much of her fame has to do with the fact that people like *the majority of the American population* heard about her from some other person, watched it, said, “Oh heavens, this cannot be serious,” and proceeded to embed that video on our facebooks, tweet about our burning ears, and ask our friends, “OMGoodness have you heard Friday yet?”

Proving that any publicity is good publicity.

But this post isn’t about Rebecca Black really, she’s caught enough flack. Nor is it about that bozo who wrote the song, (fun, fun, think about fun; tomorrow is Saturday and Sunday comes afterward; we, we, we, so excited) in what world does that make it past a C in third grade poetry? This post is about Role Model Syndrome. This phenomena occurs when stars and starinas alike feel a benevolent warm fuzzy in their tummy, and they want to do some good.

Lady Gaga turned to the Black side, calling Rebecca a “genius”, and even Simon Cowell, yes, Great Britain’s snarky sweetheart, wasn’t quite sure why everyone hated it so much.

Once again, however, my point is not to re-bash Friday. Really, there are plenty of less-than-phenomenal vocalists that carry the charts everyday. My qualm found its legs as I watched Katy Perry’s music video.

Katy had a warm fuzzy. She wanted to reach out and gather this young, struggling (or not so struggling) “talent” under her wing and give her *one more* jump-start.

Fine- I really don’t know what Katy’s motive was, but it’s just frustrating. There is plenty of kick-butt talent out there that is waiting to be discovered- Youtube is littered with pretty voices, yet Katy is choosing Rebecca Black to play her transformer friend with magical hair and makeup skills. (Yes, I caught the whole “OH! Katy wrote a song about Friday so now she’s going to get a girl who sang about Friday in her T.G.I.Friday music video, for those of you who are ready to angrily defend away in the comment box.)

Just humor me, guys. If these top of the chart performers are deciding they want to manifest their R.M.S, why not give a talented (I have heard R.B. perform live- do not argue with me) truly struggling young artist a push? Or buy like 80 pairs of TOMS shoes, support Compassion, or buy some Charity Water bottles.

Eh.

Forgive my soapbox. I really so think Rebecca Black is a cute girl, and it’s unfair to pick on her when plenty of “lack-of-talents” are filling the spots where “lots-of-talents” should be, but you have to admit- I have a point.

On the upside, it’s *almost* Friday.

Siggggghhhhhh. C’est la vie.

Keep your heads in the clouds, friends. The music is better up here~

-HH-

P.S. Lady Gaga calls her followers “little monsters”. What should I call you guys?

 

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When Life Hands You Lemons… Make Salad?

I’m somewhat stealing this post from my friend Chloe, but I came across the pictures today… so with full credit to her and her blogging- here, I will expound.

Last month I was visiting her and for lunch one day she made salad.

“You don’t have to eat the lemons.”

She had just thrown them into the mix of leafy greens, garbanzo beans, peppers, and carrots for color and maybe some juice, but I am the type of person who was raised to eat anything that was placed in front of me, regardless of my preference. So shrugging my mental shoulders, I stabbed a lemon with some lettuce and chewed it up.

It was good! Really good, rind and all. The lemon rind isn’t bitter like oranges are, and combined with the other vegetables and balsamic vinaigrette, the sour wasn’t overwhelming.

I thought it was interesting how life can be like that- we avoid the lemons, or try to sugar coat them, when in reality we should just try them. Who knows? You may actually end up liking them.

Try both this week; the real kind AND the kind life throws at you.

Pessimists pucker at lemons. Optimists smile and chew.

Keep those heads in the clouds~

-HH-

The Ballad of the Lemmings *part one*

Come, gather ’round as the sun falls asleep, to hear of a tale that the ancient oaks keep. A tale of two children born from seeds magically sowed; both small like the faerie folk in yon’ tales of old.

This story begins as the grass grows the dew, and the mists peel away leaving the sky lapis lazuli blue. Two lilies spring up, faster than norm, the petals revealing two small babes; human in form. First noticed by mother quail in the tree.

“Oh, dear me! Oh, dear me! Are those babes that I see?!”

All of her flapping and fretting drew a crowd; rabbits and chipmunks, even night animals! For she flapped and fretted so loud. The animals began clamoring and jabbering ’till their tongues turned sore. Not a thing like THIS had happened in the forest before!

The fox who was keen and as slip as a whip said, “Leave them there! It could be a trap,” and gave his whiskers a twist.

Turtle, a cautious creature, disagreed with the fox, “That’s all good for you and for me… we’re safe! My shell even locks. But those babes are in lilies grown up high to the sky. What if they were to fall… and… gulp… die!?”

“Your concern does you credit, old Turtle, my friend,” said the pert flying squirrel as he rolled from his den. “But you would have been better off had you been raised as I. Just shove the babes, let them fall, and see if they fly.”

“You are a fool silly Squirrel! Scatter brained and busy as a bee; take your opinions and *sniff* wings and go back to your tree. ”

ALL of the animals turned and looked in respect to whom spoke; for it was Owl, rudely awakened and standing stern on his oak.

“And you Fox; you are too cunning and crafty for your own good. Slink back to your pile of sticks in the wood. Turtle is closest to an answer, I guess… but we still don’t have a way out of this mess!”

“Oh Owl, yoo hoo!” A little voice called. It took Owl a second to find Ma Lemming (though she was on her hind paws). “I’ll take these two and raise them as my own.”

Owl replied, “But you already have little lemmings waiting back at your home.”

Ma Lemming nodded her head with a tear and then sighed, “But I can’t leave them homeless, just dropped from the sky.”

Owl shrugged his consent and flew the babes down. Everyone crowded to see. Rabbit said with a frown, “They have no fur Lemming, can you fix that? I don’t know how!”

Ma Lemming just smiled, “Nor did my own at the beginning; these two will be alright for now.”

The Fabric of Family Continued

I have had a very specific reason for putting off this follow-up post for so long. When I wrote the original “Fabric of Family” post, I had just returned home from an engagement party for my cousin and his fiance. This past weekend was their wedding.

I have the wonderful advantage of being close to my cousin and his wife. When two families are beautifully grafted together, I can only smile despite my general inclination to become melancholy at weddings.

Just yesterday I was talking with my new cousin-in-law Ruby, (my cousin’s sister-in-law). While both of us have the discouraging and morbid tendency to look at weddings as an end, as we talked, my mind was convinced of happier things. Yes, it is an end to the way life used to be, but it is also a beginning! A beautiful beginning that can only continue on. Friendships have been forged that won’t be broken. A union was forged through love and commitment. Things have changed, but I find I can embrace the change. Oodles and oodles of new friends and family have been woven into the tapestry of my life.

It reminds me of a quote from Nicholas Nickleby. Nicholas and Smyke had just been “adopted” into a large and colorful family of actors. As they sit watching the joyful chaos below, they make the following remarks.

“We have fallen on wondrous times…”

“But a good wondrous…”

That is how I feel right now. Regardless of any other doldrum-like thought I may be dealing with, I still feel like I have fallen upon good, wondrous times. My family has grown. As I sat, eating my potatoes and mozzarella during the evening reception, I found myself zoning. Ruby insisted to know what I was thinking (being a fellow dreamer), but at the time I really couldn’t put words to it. As I reflect now, it is becoming clearer. I was in a swirl of bliss. A sensory overload of swirling colors and emotions and love.

My life is changing… I’m changing… but with the growing pains comes a newness of life that feeds my very soul.

Keep those heads in the clouds, dear friends~

-HH-

My Life With the Three Year Olds

I teach preschool Sunday school.

That says a lot in and of itself… but I’m often surprised at how much I learn and laugh when I’m around them.

Take last Sunday for example, I had almost lost hope in all mankind, including preschoolers, as I watched the kids play. Three little boys, two whom were friends, one who was playing alone. “Ah, it starts so early,” I thought in a sage-like manner. “The cliques, the outcasts, the world is poop.”

JUST as this thought was making its way through my cerebral cortex, one of the little boys who already had his playmate, walked across the room and asked the lone little boy if we wanted to come play with them. My heart just about melted.

Humans are like hobbits… you can know all there is to know about them (and be able to predict behavior) in a relatively short amount of time, yet, given the right circumstances, they always surprise you.

Speaking of poop, this same kindhearted three-year-old informed me that poop is sometimes green… how nice.

Keep your heads in the clouds~ Go hang out with a three-year-old.

-HH-

Of all the Hayley Annes in the World, You’re the Hayley Anniest…

Life is about the journey, not the destination.

I really wish I always applied this to life. It’s hard though, when you live in a destination-oriented culture. It’s all about getting to the peak, not how you get there. No longer are the days of savoring time, of appreciating each moment as it comes, not just waiting for it to pass. Destination orientation can be dangerous, how else do you develop a cut-throat society with everyone grasping for power? You lose sight of the journey.

Living the journey’s not always easy… I am a person who does not like change in my personal life. I love to re-arrange my room, or cut my hair, or do my makeup a different way, but when it comes to people growing up, people moving, people getting married, me growing up, life changing; it really messes with me. This is why I HATE crossroads. Crossroads make life seem so changeable, so… intense. Anyone will tell you, I’m opinionated and independent, but “intense” is NOT a word that describes me… most of the time. Regardless…

… Sorry, Frodo was saying good-bye to Sam, and I had to stop and cry with them…

As I was saying, crossroads make me feel all sad and negative nostalgia-y. Some are worse than others. I encountered one of theses crossroads just the other day. I was sitting outside, thinking about the end of summer, thinking about my looming –th birthday, thinking about starting college, when a thought went through my mind, “I know crossroads are an important part of life, but why does this one have to feel so ‘crossroad-ish’?” (I like to pull out the melodrama now and again).

But that’s just it! On a journey you must have crossroads. Places of beginnings and ends, not destinations. The beautiful thing is, that while a destination is static, no growth or opportunity, even the most beginniest beginning can turn into wonderful story, and even the endiest end can have a sequel. I know my journey will lead me into crazy things, or even boring things, but it will also have wonderful things. I don’t want to sit by myself, frozen at a destination, thinking I’m done with life and all that’s in it because I reached the flag. I want to travel the journey, to join the fellowship… cough cough… sorry… cough cough, to take the road of life by the horns, to take the adventure, until that one day when I will reach a destination, a destination that doesn’t end, but continues on for eternity :).

My crossroad looks a little more like a great and grand adventure now, eh? Find your adventure dear friends…

Always keep those heads in the clouds~

-HH-

The Day Practicality met Passion

E.G. the day Marilla Cuthbert met Anne Shirley.

I will try not to painstakingly pick apart every single chapter of this book (Anne of Green Gables), but this chapter was too good to pass up.

I would like to pause at this time for a disclaimer: If you happen to have a prejudice against simile, metaphors, or parallels, tough luck. It’s what I do.

Onward! The chapter is aptly named “Anne Says Her Prayers”. Marilla has already set her mind to take in this young, vibrant girl, but Anne is unaware of this fact. In true Anne fashion however, Anne is just glibly relieved that she is still at Green Gables for another night. In Marilla’s mind, Anne’s upbringing has now begun.

So begins the journey of two unlikely people learning from EACH-OTHER. Marilla is practicality to her very core, I wouldn’t be surprised to find that her small and large intestines were wound around yarn spools. Anne doesn’t know the meaning of the word apathy. She is passionate in her sadness, she is passionate in her bliss, she is passionate in her disinterestedness!
Automatically when reading this relationship scenario, I thought of the world in general, in two camps: Practicality vs. Passion. I felt however, that enough has been stated on that topic. So secondly my mind narrowed to the Christian church, similarly separated into those camps. Like two sides to a civil war, Practicality launches grenades at Passion and Passion fires missiles back. All the while the lost run around in no man’s land, trying to avoid being hit.

How clever of satan. What better way to tear apart the children of God and render them useless, than to have them squabble with each-other?

Allow me to go back to Anne and Marilla. When you read this chapter, it is easy to see that neither one of them is wholly in the right! Marilla’s faith lacks the passion of Anne’s, rendering her belief dry and hollow. Marilla’s religion is more or less the idea of her religion. Anne’s faith lacks the structure of Marilla’s, making her ineffective as a witness. She seems more enraptured at being enraptured than being captivated by the love of God.

Yes, I realize I am drawing far more spirituality from this book than was ever intended by L.M. Montgomery, but I feel that this is a needed topic! Practicality and Passion need not be enemies! They are not opposites, they are counterparts. Through the entire “Anne” series we see her and Marilla growing and learning from each-other.

Church, we need to stop henpecking within our coop and see that the real point, the only reason we are here on this earth is to spread the joyous news of Jesus, to return His children to His fold.

If we were all “correct” none of us would be.

In conclusion, I will lighten up with our dearest Anne. Humour becomes me. But please, think about this, dear friends. The world depends upon it.

Keep your head in the clouds and your hearts tender~

-HH-

“Why must people kneel down to pray? If I really wanted to pray I’ll tell you what I’d do. I’d go out into a great big field all alone or into the deep, deep woods, and I’d look up into the sky — up — up — up– into that lovely blue sky that looks as if there were no end to it’s blueness. And then I’d just feel a prayer…”

My dear friend Ruby Hopkins did a set of posts on our beloved Anne, go read ’em! Carpe Diem

What’s in a Name?

Today will be a short post…

I’m gathering up steam for our dearest Anne (If you’re not sure what I’m talking about click on “Insta-Prince-Edward-Island”).

I love names, I love interesting names, I find beauty in the most absurd names.
The other day as we were riding home from Wednesday night church, I randomly stated, “I think maybe I’ll use Chopin as a middle name for one of my sons… since he’s my favorite composer.”
To which my mother replied, “Your father’s favorite spice is fennel… notice, your name is not Fennel.”

I was silent for a moment and then thoughtfully said, “I kind of like that… Fennel…”

Sadly, I was serious.

My mother and I feel differently about names. I will name my child something because I like it, not because it’s normal :). BUT as she always is, my mother was right about one thing… she always told me my tastes would change. As much as I hate to admit it, she was right. While my “name taste” is no less unique, it HAS changed since my first “list of names” from when I was twelve.

So for general amusement, I will try to remember the names I favored from that time.

Hayley’s list of child names from when she was twelve

~GIRLS~

Jaylie: My name and my best friend’s name combined.
Jillian: Funny how when you meet someone with a name, they can ruin it.
Aravis: Yes… from the Chronicles of Narnia- a Horse and His Boy. (okay I still kind of like this name).
Peony: Why not name her Snapdragon or Bleeding Heart? No slight to people named after flowers… but as my father so kindly pointed out, her nick-name would be Pee-Pee.
Solicity: Really… I honestly don’t know what this is.

~BOYS~

Aaron: I actually had another name that had double vowels. I don’t think I actually liked the name Aaron… just the fact that the name had two A’s in a row.
Andrew: I always loved this name growing up… it just always sounded so… attractive… Then it became my littlest brother’s middle name.
Solomon: Maybe he was wise and had gazillions of wives, but this name would not win my son any points with the ladies. No offense to the Solomons out there.
Corin or Cor: Also from “a Horse and His Boy”. Don’t be hatin’! Gwyneth Paltrow has her Apple, I have my Cor.

~Why I Will Never Name My Children After Great-Grandparents~

Arlene
Marilyn
Robert
Harold

Good strong names…

~Why my Parents Didn’t Ask for my Advice When Naming my Brothers~

My middle younger brother’s name is Ryan Christopher… I adamantly argued that he should be named Christopher Robin.

~Why my Parents Didn’t Ask for Anyone’s Advice When Naming Any of Us~

My youngest brother was supposed to be a girl… really… the ultrasound tech people said he was a girl. The beautiful girl name my parents had picked out was Katelyn Taylor. When a boy popped out, everyone wanted to help name him, including my grandma. Her preference? Jedidiah or Jed. That poor child could not escape the Beverly Hillbillies theme song for the first decade of his life.

Really though, what’s in a name? The mere fact we ARE called by name is pretty spectacular… whether it’s Winifred or Tarzan.

SO once AGAIN mama was right… I’m glad my tastes have changed, they will probably change again… but mostly, I’m glad HER tastes changed. Had they not, I may have been a Quimby.

Keep your heads in the clouds dear friends…go name your daughter Fennel~

-HH-