Thursday, August 2, 2012

Thursday, August 2, 2012 

Looking back over my journals, it seems I haven't written much since 2007. I did have a blog from 2005 -- 2010, but it wasn't the same.

So, for whatever reason, it hit me today (August 2, 2012), to start journaling again. A lot has changed... Actually, everything has changed since I quit writing. 

Since February 2007 (the last journal entry I can find), my son has stopped speaking to me, I left my husband, and started a life coaching practice. There's a whole lot of crap in between all that, but those are the things that stand out. The one thing that I am most thankful for is my relationship with my daughter.

-- Sweet Pea, you are so precious to me! --

The day the divorce was final, I also signed the closing papers on my house. Confident Cottage. That was in March 2011. The first of this year, I became a certified life coach and started Confident Life Coaching.

Maybe I felt I should start journaling again because things are so much better now. I feel as though I finally have the life I want.

In October I'll be 50 -- I feel as though I have my whole life ahead of me. There's things I want to do and, of course, places I want to go. And I hope to reconcile with my son.

 Anyway, I hope to write about it all.

just a little rant

Yes, I'm giving advanced warning: This is a rant. But a rant with a happy ending. Well, maybe not happy, but at least there is a conclusion. I try hard not to rant through this medium, because this is a semi-anonymous blog and my friends and family read this. Even RL reads this from time to time. So I try to remain accountable for what I say -- you know, protect the innocent and all that. And now you've had fair warning and sufficient time to click over to some other blog to read a light-hearted account of ... whatever.

Some of you know I had surgery this week. A small procedure. Not a big deal. (I'm working on a post about that, by the way.) And though I am feeling great and only cringe slightly when I make sudden movements, the recovery process has been less than wonderful. There are certain things I expected during this recovery period that didn't happen and I feel let down. To be specific, I expected my family to do things for me that just didn't happen.

The surgery was Tuesday afternoon, so in the getting-my-house-in-order phase I did what I could to prepare for the days I wouldn't be capable of doing much of anything. Honestly, there were a lot more things I could've done, but just getting the laundry caught up and the dishes washed made me feel as though I were on top of things around here.

But here it is Friday, and as I walked into the kitchen this morning there was a foul (probably fowl) smell coming from the overflowing kitchen trash. Seriously! Why hasn't anyone taken it out? What are they waiting for? And as I went about making the morning coffee, stacking dishes and clearing a space for the coffee pot, I realized dirty dishes had been piling up since Tuesday morning.

I got mad. Infuriated. What are these people thinking?! If they had just had surgery or were sick or whatever and couldn't do things they normally do, I would pick up the slack. I would do whatever was necessary to make them feel comfortable and make sure they felt I was taking care of them. I would make sure they knew they didn't have to do anything and the only thing they had to be concerned with was feeling better.

Moments later, feeling all good about myself and how wonderful I would be as their care-giver, I realized I had fallen into an old habit: expecting people to be someone other than themselves. See, the more I thought about what I would do the more infuriated I became that they aren't like me. Not that I'm better than them, but that's what I was thinking. But I'm not better; I'm just different. I look at things differently. I do things differently. I behave differently. I am me and they are them (or something like that). And when I expect people to be themselves I won't be disappointed.

So now I'm going to clean the kitchen and take out the trash and feel good about having the ability and energy to accomplish something today . . . because that's how I am. :)

if only*

“There are those of us who are always about to live.
We are waiting until things change, until there is more time,
until we are less tired, until we get a promotion,
until we settle down, until, until, until. It always seems as if
there is some major event that must occur in our lives
before we begin living.”
George Sheehan

Why is it that we think our happiness depends on whether or not specific events take place in our lives or if we have certain things. Now, you might be better at this than I am, but I have a tendency to think I'll be happy "if only [insert any number of things that have not yet happened]," then I'd be happy.

When I was a teenager I thought I'd be happy if only I were old enough to move out of my parent's house. Then it was if only I were married, if only I had a baby, if only I had married someone else. After the divorce and I had been a single mom for a few years it changed to if only I was married again. It seemed I was never happy. Even after RL and I got married the if only's continued. If only we had a house, if only he didn't work nights, if only he'd go to church with me, if only . . . . I don't know how he stayed with me! I was never satisfied. There was always something that needed to take place before I could be happy.

I don't remember the specific event that took place or if it was just a combination of events, but I finally realized that happiness is a choice. It is being content with and grateful for life the way it is at any given moment. Sure, we plan, we save, we invest for the future. But we will never be happy living in the future. Happiness only comes by living in the moment and then only by finding something to be happy about. Because there's that nasty human tendency to only see what we don't have instead of being thankful, content, happy with what we do.

*Re-posted from November, 2007

inspiration

I'm inspired to write today. About what, I'm not sure. It may merely be a distraction from the essay I need to write about how the U.S. elects a president. It may be a caffeine high from too much coffee this morning and too little food. It may even be from a late night chat I had with a friend I reconnected with on Facebook. Regardless, I want to write.

Obviously, the last several posts may have seemed to be filler (phyller?), but I can assure you they were not. The past month I haven't been able to focus and the things that have filled my mind, screaming to be released, have not made their way out in the forms of my own words. The songs, the poems, the philosophies of others have come to my rescue as I've wandered around in my own brain searching for a complete thought.

Yesterday I analyzed all I've been feeling lately, all the emotions that I've experienced on the roller coaster ride that is my life at the moment. This is what I came up with (in no particular order): anxiety, fear, betrayal, confusion, dismay, hopelessness, anger, despair, disgust, loneliness, surprise, happiness, elation, patience, excitement, satisfaction, love.

Now, thinking about all of that, there's a lump in my throat. Does that ever happen to you? You know, that tight choking feeling you get in your throat because of some strong emotion. I've felt it at other times in my life, but it started happening more frequently after Mom died. Now it's back again with a vengeance! A daily occurrence -- a sorrow that wells up in my throat to the point that I'm not sure I can breathe. But I do. Breathe. Deep. And the lump begins to melt, though not completely.

If you've been reading my blog for any time at all, you must have already seen the ups and downs, the highs and lows, the manic and the depressed states that I live in at any given moment. I almost feel obligated to apologize for it, but I won't -- this is who I am. I'd like to hope that someday I will find that middle ground, that place of peace and contentment that rests between two palm trees in a hammock on a beach. But just remember, if you come here and read some silly idiotic little post I've written, know I'm having a good day. And when there is a post which seems to be quite cryptic, say a little prayer for me, because I'm probably lost somewhere in my mind trying to find a way out.

happiness

Tenzin Gyatso, 14th Dalai Lama:

Consider the following. We humans are social beings. We come into the world as the result of others' actions. We survive here in dependence on others. Whether we like it or not, there is hardly a moment of our lives when we do not benefit from others' activities. For this reason it is hardly surprising that most of our happiness arises in the context of our relationships with others.

Nor is it so remarkable that our greatest joy should come when we are motivated by concern for others. But that is not all. We find that not only do altruistic actions bring about happiness but they also lessen our experience of suffering. Here I am not suggesting that the individual whose actions are motivated by the wish to bring others' happiness necessarily meets with less misfortune than the one who does not. Sickness, old age, mishaps of one sort or another are the same for us all. But the sufferings which undermine our internal peace -- anxiety, doubt, disappointment -- these things are definitely less. In our concern for others, we worry less about ourselves. When we worry less about ourselves an experience of our own suffering is less intense.

What does this tell us? Firstly, because our every action has a universal dimension, a potential impact on others' happiness, ethics are necessary as a means to ensure that we do not harm others. Secondly, it tells us that genuine happiness consists in those spiritual qualities of love, compassion, patience, tolerance and forgiveness and so on. For it is these which provide both for our happiness and others' happiness.

[Ethics for a New Millennium, by His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama]

what i've learned so far

I am worthy of being loved.

It's okay just to say "thank you" when someone gives me a compliment.

Saying "no" doesn't make me a bad person.

Happiness is a choice.

People don't do things because of me. They do things because of who they are.

If I expect people to be themselves, I won't be disappointed.

Honesty really is the best policy. But be prepared to face the consequences.

People only do what they really want.

If people control me, it's because I let them.

Reality is only what I know at the moment.

Someone who really listens has more control than someone who is always talking.

The grass isn't greener on the other side.

People don't lie to protect your feelings. They lie to protect themselves.

Forgiving is a lot better way to live than being angry all the time.

Bitterness is a form of cancer.

I don't always have to figure it out or fix it.

Sometimes it's best not to say anything.

Life is much easier when we don't do things for which we must apologize.

can we talk?

Early on in our marriage (and for a long time into it), RL and I encountered some communication problems. (Naaaa . . . really?) Something would happen, I would get upset, I would try talk to RL, but for whatever reason we would end up intensely discussing our lack of communication. As a result of this, we never got to the actual problem and never resolved anything. Ok, we've resolved a lot of things since then, but at the time we never resolved anything. Anyway, my point is the problem-solving was shut down because we weren't addressing the real issues.

Today I keep hearing about how people are complaining about the Obama administration's policies because they are racists. His opponents apparently have no legitimate reason for disagreeing with him except that he is black. But what these accusations encourage is the wrong discussion. We're no longer debating but defending ourselves against being racists.

Sure, I think there is still a problem in the U.S. with racism -- but not a lot. In fact, there is so little racism in the U.S. that we were able to elect our very first black President. When are we going to have a post-racial America and start debating the issues?

breathe

A few weeks ago I was having coffee with a friend and she was telling me about how stressed she'd been lately, how it seemed every little thing was an annoyance. My advice: breathe. But a funny thing about advice: eventually, you've got to practice what you preach. The hard part is breathing.

From time to time -- ok, I'll be honest, it's more like day to day -- this stupid sadness comes over me. I know what it's about, I know why it's there, but there's just nothing I can do about it. Sure, I can distract myself with school and home projects and maybe -- maybe -- some housework. But the distractions aren't good enough. My mind wanders, my chest tightens, and I realize I need to breathe!

Writing this I hear the voices (not *those* voices) of my friends. My real friends, who would say, "Call me." I won't call, though -- and please don't call me. That sounds horrible, but I know myself well enough. I'm not in the mood to talk (Ha! I'm not in the mood to do anything) and really the only way through this is time. I hate time!! I'm too impatient. But by tomorrow it will be ok. Maybe. And RL will say, "I'll be home Thursday and we have a long weekend together. You'll be sick of me by Monday!" Well, I'd rather be sick of him than be missing him any day of the week.

You've got to see the whole video!

now I remember . . .

Ok, I didn't *just* remember, but I do finally have some time to talk about what I wanted to talk about last time when I kind of got sidetracked and went on and on about nothing. (Ha! That was a mouthful!!)

So, have you seen the latest kiddy movie "UP?" It is so fantastic and not at all just a kiddy movie and -- this is the best part -- there are no *politics* in the whole movie. Really. I'm not kidding. It was fantastic and, if you haven't already, you need to go see it.

Although, I will say that if you don't really care for good wholesome movies that have a moral to the story AND you are not particularly in the mood for having *anything* to do with loving relationships, then I would not recommend this movie. You would probably be better off going to see something with a lot of yelling and guns and blood.

Ok, now that I've got it set up for you, here's what I *really* wanted to talk about: We were sitting in the theartre (RL, my daughter, and I), watching this kid's movie on a Sunday afternoon, and there was a younger couple sitting in front of us. Not *very* young. Probably in their late twenties, early thirties. Within the first FIFTEEN minutes, these two were all over each other. At one point, the guy had his head in her lap and her skirt was pulled up!!

Now, I'm all for some hot steamy lovin, but c'mon! At the kids movie? In the middle of the theatre? At least go sit on the back row. At least pick a movie where there's not going to be kids *everywhere* around you. That's just too perverted!!

the "new" kind of man

From time to time I've shared some things with my loyal following (all 12 of you) from our current culture. (Follow the label below to read other posts on culture.) Recently I came across a term I hadn't heard before (but has been around for at least five years) and, of course, I had to research it.

The term? Retrosexual. Now, at first, I thought it had to do with old-fashioned (not to be confused with boring) sex between a man and a woman. Turns out it is a term that refers to one who is a "real man" and proud of it. From the information I could find, the following is the Retrosexual Manifesto by Grau Magus (who apparently had a blog at one time called "Frizzen Sparks," but I was unable to find it.).

A Retrosexual man:

- no matter what the woman insists, PAYS FOR THE DATE.

- opens doors for a lady. Even for the ones that only loosely fit that term, because they are biologically female.

- DEALS with IT. Be it a flat tire, break-in into your home, or a natural disaster, you DEAL WITH IT.

- only eats red meat; he often kills it himself.

- doesn't worry about living to be 90. It's not how long you live, but how well. If you're 90 years old and still reading, learning, growing and can manage a drink now and again, I salute you. If you are still having sex with your wife, you are a legend.

- does not use more hair or skin products than a woman. Women have several supermarket aisles of stuff. Retrosexuals need an endcap (possibly two endcaps if you include shaving goods.)

- does not dress in clothes from Hot Topic or Abercrombie when he's 30 years old.

- should know how to properly kill stuff (or people) if need be. This falls under the "Dealing with IT" portion of The Code.

- watches no TV show with "Queer" or "Queen" in the title.

- does not let neighbors screw up rooms in his house on national TV.

- should not give up excessive amounts of manliness for women. Some is inevitable, but major reinvention of yourself will only lead to you becoming a frou-frou, and in the long run, she ain't worth it.

- is allowed to seek professional help for major mental stress such as drug/alcohol addiction, death of your entire family in a freak tree chipper accident, favorite sports team being moved to a different city, favorite bird dog expiring, etc. You are NOT allowed to see a shrink because Daddy didn't pay you enough attention. Daddy was busy DEALING WITH IT, and, when you screwed up, he DEALT with you.

- will have at least one outfit in his wardrobe designed to conceal himself from prey.

- knows how to tie a Windsor or half Windsor knot when wearing a tie -- and ONLY a Windsor style knot.

- should have at least one good wound that he can brag about.

- knows how to use a basic set of tools. If you can't hammer a nail, or drill a hole straight, practice in secret until you can -- or be rightfully ridiculed for the wuss you be.

- knows that owning a gun is not a sign that you are riddled with fear. Guns are TOOLS and are often essential to DEAL WITH IT. Plus, it's just plain fun to fire one off in the direction of those people or things that just need a little "wakin' up."

- Crying: There are very few reasons that a Retrosexual may cry, and none of them have to do with TV commercials, movies, or soap operas. Sports teams are sometimes a reason to cry, but the preferred method of release is swearing or throwing the remote control. Some reasons a Retrosexual can cry include (but are not limited to) death of a loved one, death of a good bird dog, loss of a major body part, or loss of major body part on your Ford truck or Jeep.

- When a Retrosexual is on a crowded bus and or a commuter train, and a pregnant woman, heck, any woman gets on, that Retrosexual stands up and offers his seat to that woman, then looks around at the other so-called men still in their seats with a disgusted "you low-life" look on his face.

- A Retrosexual knows how to say the Pledge properly, and with the correct emphasis and pronunciation. He also knows the words to the Star Spangled Banner.

- will have hobbies and habits his wife and mother do not understand, but that are essential to his manliness, in that they offset the acceptable manliness decline he suffers when married, engaged or in a serious healthy relationship, e.g., hunting, fishing, boxing, shot putting, shooting, cigars, car maintenance, or occasional drink.

- knows how to sharpen his own knives and kitchen utensils.

- can drive in snow (heck, a blizzard) without sliding all over or driving under 20 mph, without anxiety, and without high-centering his vehicle in a snow bank.

- can chop down a tree and make it land where he wants. Wherever it lands is where he darned well wanted it to land. Except on his truck --that would happen only because of a "force of nature," and then the retrosexual man's options are to Cry, or to DEAL WITH IT, or do both.

- will give up his seat on a bus to not only any woman but any elderly person or person in military dress (except 2nd Lt's). NOTE: The person in military dress may turn down the offer but the Retrosexual man will ALWAYS make the offer to them and thank them for serving their country.

- doesn't need a contract -- a handshake is good enough. He will always stand by his word even if circumstances change or the other person deceived him.

- doesn't immediately look to sue someone when he does something stupid and hurts himself. We understand that sometimes in the process of doing things we get hurt and we just DEAL WITH IT!

let me go crazy on you

I wrote a while back about taking vitamins to deter bouts of depression. But I have to confess, I haven't been very good about taking them for several months. It's not that I forgot, I just haven't been taking them. And since I'm not merely breathing these days, I just haven't felt the need. Top that with the fact that RL isn't working out of town any longer, my life and emotional state turned all butterflies and rainbows.

"Are you taking your crazy pills?" I reminded my dear husband they are *not* crazy pills; they're just vitamins. But he insists I don't act as crazy when I'm taking them. Actually, his exact word for it was "b!tchy." I'm more "agreeable" when I take my "crazy" pills. But it's kind of funny, don't you think, that my "craziness" is more noticeable when he's misbehaving? Not badly misbehaving, just being a little annoying.

The truth is, these past few months we've been slowly entering a new phase in our marriage. The long awaited Empty Nest. For most married couples I imagine this is a normal adjustment. But most married couples have, at some point previously, been married without kids at home. RL and I, on the otherhand, have never been married without children. Jeremy was seven when we got married and shortly thereafter (about seven months later) Brandi was born. There's never been "just us."

So he's always home (because he doesn't go out of town) and we're always home alone (because there are no kids). But sometimes I think we're getting on each other's nerves and driving each other crazy. The other day, after walking passed Brandi's empty room, I told RL I was feeling a little sad about it. "That's why you need to take your 'crazy' pills."

See what I mean? He's driving me crazy!!

friends (or a facebook commercial)

Yesterday I spent a lot of time on Facebook (it was a really slow day at work) searching for friends: people I knew in school, people from church, maybe even a couple of old boyfriends (like you've never done that!). One person I found (not an old boyfriend. Apparently they aren't on FB.) I clicked on their friends list and was surprised to read they "have no friends."

Now I don't really think this person has no friends. They may not have been on FB long and just haven't added any friends. But, still, it made me sad. It made me feel as though this person had a very lonely life or maybe they're one of those whose work makes them too busy.

My friends list, on the other hand, is growing. In the past 3 or 4 weeks I've been on FB I've added almost 40 friends. Some blogger friends too (*waving hand* Hi blogger friends). Now I know some on FB have over 300 friends. Whatever! Do you think you're fooling anyone? Are they really you're friends? Or did you just accept their friend request because you don't want to hurt anyone's feelings? Sure, I've got friends on my list who I haven't seen in over 20 years, but I would still consider them friends. And I don't accept just any friend request. I've ignored quite a few (sorry) who I had no clue who they were.

Accepting people as my friends is a very serious thing to me. (So serious I've devoted an entire blog post to it.) It's a really big deal to call someone my friend. Not because I'm a snob, but because I'm still kind of cautious who I let into my world -- even my virtual world.

There's quite a responsibility when you call someone your friend. Honestly, my timid insecure selfish self doesn't want that responsibility. My hermit self would rather just keep to herself and not ever go anywhere or talk to anyone. Sometimes it takes a lot of effort to call a friend on the phone just to say hello. Can you imagine me having to keep up with 40 friends? It's exhausting just thinking about it!!

Luckily, FB makes that easy. It's one of the reasons I like it so much. The other reason is it helps me get out of the comfort of my hibernation. I feel as though I'm, in a very small way, part of these people's lives and can maintain a connection with them until I see them again.

The person who has no friends? I sent them a friend request.

I haven't heard back from them yet.

living in community

"I didn't know what to think about the idea of living in community at first. I had lived on my own for about six years, and the idea of moving in with a bunch of slobs didn't appeal to me. Living in community sounded so, um, odd. Cults do that sort of thing, you know. First you live in community, and then you drink punch and die."
[excerpt from Blue Like Jazz, by Don Miller]

I've just recently considered the concept of living in community. You can live in a community and never live in community. I've realized this idea is probably something that would be best learned while growing up and, perhaps, there are people who have lived in community all their lives and don't know anything else. But this is very new to me.

In my mind, living in community is needing and doing thing for others. What I learned, by example, was that if I needed someone's help I was weak. If I needed someone's help I was a failure. So to be a strong successful person I had to be independent. I didn't need anyone. To some extent this was good. But it isolated me from people. I didn't feel strong and successful, so I would keep to myself. I didn't want people to think I wasn't capable of taking care of myself, so I'd never ask for help. This eventually led people to think of me as a snob. I just got the impression people didn't like me, because I wasn't whatever they were (pretty, smart, thin, married, etc.) so I isolated myself even more.

I'd say within the past 15 years I've been able to overcome most of those insecurities. But even so, really living in community is a concept that is difficult for my mind to grasp and my person to experience. I think I am still too wrapped up with myself to be free enough to really be there for others the way I think I should be. The way I think defines "living in community."

it happened sooner than expected

My son was held back in the first grade. I didn't like it, but we (his teacher and I) decided it would be best if he "matured" a little before going on to second grade. Over the years I realized that when he was 16 most of those in his own class would be 14 and 15. It was then I made the decision that he would not be allowed to date until he was 17. I figured by then the girls he would be dating would at least be 16.

So when my daughter came along it was an automatic rule: no dating until 17. However, the reasoning was a little different. When she begged and pleaded with me to let so-and-so take her out on a date I would remind her that she had to be 17. I reasoned with her that I preferred she had at least a year's experience driving before she went out on a date alone with a guy.

Now my daughter is 19. The other day she was talking about how glad she was that she hadn't gone out with a bunch of different guys in high school and, though it had been really tough with all of her friends dating, she was glad I made her wait. She said, "You were right, Mom."

Wow! I was wasn't expecting that!

apologies

A few years ago I was taking a Survey course and kind of got into it with the instructor. I don't remember what it was about, but something he had said set me off and I got an attititude. I don't hide my emotions, at all, so he and everyone in the class knew I was pissed and I didn't care.

Later that week, of course, I felt horrible and embarassed. It was so bad I thought I might not even be able to finish the course, because I was so embarassed by the way I had acted. Even though I may have felt justified in my anger, I knew that my behavior had been completely inappropriate.

So, I called the instructor and apologized. It was one of the hardest things I had ever done, but I knew if I wanted to go back to class the next week without feeling like a complete idiot I was going to have to apologize. Turned out to be one of the best things I ever did. The rest of the semester was great!

I bring all this up, because I'm wondering why some people have such a difficult time making apologies. There have been a couple of times this week that two different people have done things or said things that were just completely inappropriate, but instead of apologizing they just act as though they haven't done anything wrong. Is it possible they don't recognize their bad behavior? Or is it that they can't admit they're wrong?

five love languages

(Ok, this is the last serious post this week, I promise!)

Unhappiness in relationships, according to Dr. Gary Chapman, is often due to the fact that we speak different love languages. Sometimes we don't understand our partner's requirements, or even our own. We all have a "love tank" that needs to be filled in order for us to express love to others, but there are different means by which our tank can be filled, and there are different ways that we can express love to others.

My primary love languages:

Acts of Service:		8
Quality Time:		8
Words of Affirmation:		7
Physical Touch:		4
Receiving Gifts:		3

Take the love language quiz

"Love conquers all things except poverty and toothache."
~~Mae West

how bad do you want it?

Many years ago, I was very diligent about getting up early in the morning, reading my Bible, and praying. At the time, I did a lot of praying for my husband. I was praying that he would become the husband and father God wanted him to be. The husband and father I knew he could be. I thought this to be a very good prayer. A very unselfish prayer. I felt good about myself, that I was praying a good prayer.

One particular morning, as I was praying, my eyes were closed, and suddenly it was as though I was standing outside, looking through the kitchen window. The blinds had been pulled up and I could see RL and I sitting at the kitchen table, praying together. Then the blinds came slamming shut and I felt God ask me, "How bad do you want it?"

It's a really serious thing when God asks you a question. But it's even more serious to understand what He's asking you. Unfortunately, I thought He was asking me what it was I would do to persuade Him to answer my prayer. How good of a Christian was I going to be? In reality, what I didn't realize for several years, was that He was asking me if I was willing to love RL unconditionally. Could I let go of what I wanted for him and love him just as he is?

Oh, I love RL the way he is. I just knew he could be better; he had so much potential. I could see all God had put within him, but I couldn't accept him as himself. I was sabotaging my desire for RL to become all God wanted him to be, because I wasn't loving him the way God loves him -- just as he is. This made him feel as though he wasn't good enough. He felt unloved.

I learned two very important things from this (and, of course, I'm still working at it). First, we can't do anything to make God do wonderful things. He does wonderful things just because He loves us. Second, He wants us to love others the way He loves us -- unconditionally, just the way they are. These are so simple and yet so difficult to do. Sometimes it's even difficult to remember.

sarcasm

Here's an interesting article on how we humans* use sarcasm as a survival skill. While I appreciate sarcasm as light-hearted fun with friends and family, I hate it when people use sarcasm to hurt others, sarcasm that puts others down or makes fun of them.

Do you use sarcasm in your relationships? How long could you survive without using sarcasm?

*Edit: If humans use sarcasm for survival what do other animals use it for?

pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name?

A couple of weeks ago at church a friend of mine was introducing me to another friend of her's. "This is so-and-so. She's whats-his-name's ex-wife." She introduces me as a "stick person," the person who holds a "stick" on a survey crew. (Though it's really called a rodman and I haven't been a rodman for about three years.) I asked her why she always puts labels on people. Why doesn' she just say, "This is my friend?" Why the labels?

I suppose it comes from our need to identify people with something. We are someone's mom, sister, daughter. They are someone's boss, best friend, neighbor. He's a workaholic, a gossip, a jerk. We seem to put labels on people for good and bad reasons and rarely introduce them by giving their name and taking them, literally, at face value.

Maybe we introduce people with something in common: "This is Sara. She's interested in photography too." Or if we were trying to fix up a couple on a date we might include the fact they're single and their similar interests. But why not just give their names and let the other person find things out on their own? Why do we insist on labels?

What labels do people use to introduce you?