On Not Taking Myself Too Seriously

My husband says I would be a lot funnier if I didn't take myself so seriously.

Trying hard not to take myself too seriously.

I'm not so sure exactly what he means by this. I didn't think I took myself that seriously at all. But lately I've been fairly enamored by genuinely funny people, especially writers. I wondered if quick wit was just something some people were born with.

Mike is genuinely funny. Most people don't know it, because he is the quintessential introvert and doesn't often let his funny side show. He's an engineer and highly analytical. I'm an engineer too, but I always thought I was far less analytical. I'm the "emotional" engineer in this family.

Yeah, right.

The other day I was participating in a twitter chat with the Houston Bloggers and we were talking about how to hone your writing voice. I've been writing for a very very very long time so I think I've done that. Lisa threw out some descriptive words for various types of voices and I immediately jumped on one.

Analytical.

I knew instantly that my voice here is not particularly funny, not sarcastic, not sugary sweet or poetic. It's analytical. (This post just confirms it!) Things happen and I reflect on them intently...or rather...I analyze them! Being analytical is not just about math or science, it's also about the kind of self-awareness and observational tendency I have.

Perhaps I do take myself kind of seriously. I work at my life, proactively, trying to be more awesome every day. I don't think that goal is keeping me from being funny.

Mike says I have to be able to laugh at myself first, or I can never make others laugh. So I'm on a mission to figure out how exactly to do that. So far I'm at a loss. Which is super weird.

I'm not a big fan of snark or sarcasm so that's not the kind of funny I mean. Anyone can be snarky, including me. That isn't attractive at all. I'm thinking of a few of my favorite writers in particular who can convey strong messages while keeping me laughing at the same time. Jen Hatmaker is one. Jon Acuff is another. Anne Lamott comes to mind. I would agree that all three are able to laugh at themselves for sure.

What do you think? Are funny people just born funny?

Becoming the Mean Playground Mom

You can tell that school is almost over for the year by the flagrant disregard for school rules and adult authority. Or is that a disregard a more pervasive problem?

All I know is that I will be glad for next fall when the current crop of fifth graders at our elementary have moved on to junior high. But then of course there will be a new batch of kids who think they rule the school, so who knows how long the peace will last.

I walk my kids to school almost every morning. I should clarify that they usually ride scooters and sometimes I walk, sometimes I jog, sometimes I ride my bike. Once in awhile I drive them to the sidewalk outside the back of the school and just watch them walk up the long path and onto the playground. I can see them till they park their scooters on the bike rack, then I figure they are safe and sound because usually the bell rings within a minute or two and they enter school.

We like to be there a tiny bit early. It's the strong "J" in me, (I'm an ENFJ) and it's so that we don't have to tangle with a ton of bike and pedestrian traffic on the sidewalks. Not to mention that I'm eager to get back to my office to work.

Well last week was one of those times I let them off at the sidewalk and watched them walk in. When I came to pick them up in the afternoon, I immediately heard the story of how Alex got run over by a bike, ON THE PLAYGROUND, and was escorted to the nurse's office. They showed me where the incident took place, and it wasn't even on the blacktop, it was a grassy spot 50 feet from the school door.

I was astounded that some kid would be riding his bike around the playground when it was full of kids waiting to enter school!

Then the next morning I walked them all the way to school and I saw it...handfuls of older boys riding their scooters and ripsticks and even a couple bikes in circles around the blacktop of the playground despite it being FULL of small kids and a few parents.

I immediately called the school and complained. I heard the excuse that teachers don't supervise the playground before the 8am school bell and the kids "shouldn't" be there before then anyway. Yeah...right. I asked for them to remind the kids and their parents of the rules.

Then this morning I showed up again and saw the same thing. I very loudly reminded my own children to get off their scooters at the gate and walk them to the bike rack (they don't actually need reminding, but other kids obviously do.) I saw a few kids look at me and get off their vehicles. But I saw a few on ripsticks blatantly ignore me. So I said to them "You are not supposed to be on those ripsticks here!" I did not yell, but I was stern. Still they ignored me.

So I walked over to the door of the school where I found a teacher about to let the kids inside when the bell rang. I told her the problem, and that my Alex was the one run over last week. She yelled "GET OFF YOUR RIPSTICKS" from where she was, but they either couldn't hear her or chose not to hear her.

FINALLY one of the other teachers marched out onto the blacktop, grabbed the attention of the three boys in question and gave them a lecture or something. I stood watching from the doorway as the bell rang and all the kids rushed inside.

I fully expect them to be back tomorrow morning, ignoring the rules some more. But now I'm on a mission. I will keep bugging the school until it stops. I don't want to hear excuses about a lack of teacher or parent responsibility. I shouldn't have to worry about my Kindergarten's safety when he's on school property. I don't want to be the mean mom, but if no other parents or teachers will supervise their kids before school, I will.

The Brotherhood of Running

Today I am bringing you a guest post from John Mckinzie, a friend from my running group, Katy Fit. I ran behind John many times last summer in my very slow start to marathon training with the Red group. (Red = slow, btw.) John is, like me, a late-in-life athlete, who has now inspired his sister and his young son to run as well. He originally posted this on his Facebook page last September. 

So I get up this morning for what I plan on being an 8 mile run.

John at Run 4 the Children, photo
by Carter Anderson Fine Portraiture

6:00 at the cop shop on a Friday is pretty desolate. There is only one other runner, and he is coming in from a "God only knows how long" run. He is the typical Elite runner...skinny, not an ounce of fat, no hydration. He makes a pit stop as I start my run, but soon is breezing by me.

I'm pooped. I feel like I've been working out all week long... running, hill work, gym, Body Pump. But I need to get a long run in cuz Saturday it's WPS!!!

After a mile I wanna quit. After two I realize how slow I'm going but forge ahead. At three miles, I'm pissed and I turn around. My 8 miler is now a six.

I'm walking off my frustration, when all of a sudden I hear in an English? accent. "Hey, you are not supposed to be walking!!" I thought, WTF!! leave me the F alone!!! But I said, "Yeah, I really should be running." He said "Well start running and I'll run you in!!"

Yeah right!! No way I was running it in, much less keeping up with him. But I did. Yeah, he slowed down, ALOT. I knew he did. We talked for the remainder. My "story", his anguish over getting his 2:50 marathon pace again, other running topics, runs we had recently done.

What I didn't realize is that I was speeding up...ALOT. We blazed across the park gate and onto the bball courts. We shook hands, I thanked him and asked his name. "Elias from South Africa...and the next time I see you, you had better not be walking!!" I smiled and we parted ways.

Then it hit me like a brick wall. Why was this elite runner slowing down to acknowledge me? I meant nothing to him, nor him to me. I suddenly realized that my thinking had gone all askew.

Running is a brotherhood. We all cross the same finish line, start at the same gun, and none of us is satisfied completely with our time. It's so mental. I was not tired. I was not sore. But I had decided that day that I was. He made me remember that which I had forgotten. The motivation has to come from within.

Don't wait for your Elias to come by. He might not. Great if he does, but we will probably never see each other again. He took time out of his training regimen to help a fellow runner. But that fellow runner must have his inner Elias with him at all times. Now I do. Whenever I slow down and I think it's just too damn hard, I will think of Elias. A complete and total stranger. Helping me when I thought I couldn't help myself. Anyone struggling, just find your inner Elias, he is there.