eBay, Fame and the Dalai Lama

I just ran across something early this morning rambling around the wide open spaces of the Internet, and in honor of Green Week, I wanted to share it as I think it will go a long way towards cleaning up the world we live in.

These pictures are of a 1966 Land Rover that the Dalai Lama is selling on eBay to raise money for charity, which I think is great. I’ll admit I have a hard time picturing the Dalai Lama driving, let alone driving this Land Rover. However, looking at the photos raised another perplexing thought. Isn’t the Dalai Lama Buddhist??? These photos was taken at a residence that presumably, is special enough to be gated…note the gate. However, one photo clearly shows icicle CHRISTMAS LIGHTS hanging from the eaves of the home in the background. Does the Dalai Lama endorse Christmas, or are these merely ‘twinkle lights’? (Before people like Richard Gere’s assistant start calling me to complain…I have nothing against the Dalai Lama, and am going to make a point, of which, I’m sure even the Dalai Lama and Mr. Gere would both approve.)

I won’t bother mentioning the ‘mobile home’ ensconced on the hillside across the road, because I found out when I lived in California that people there get extremely offended when you call it a trailer. However, they feel quite free to poke fun of “trailers” when they are located in other parts of the country – go figure! Now I know full well that mobile homes do appear to possess some type of magnetic field that attracts tornados, but if you’ve ever seen a tornado in action I can assure you they tend to suck up just about anything they get within a few hundred yards of, like cars, animals and even entire towns.

That brings us to the final photo which clearly shows personalized plates emblazoned with HHDL XIV, which I presume stand for something like His Holiness Dalai Lama the 14^th. Apparently it has come to this…even the Dalai Lama has personalized plates. I, for one, was certain he would be above the fray of that whole need to announce his presence thing that seems to run rampant among the famous.

You know exactly what I’m talking about, those people who sport that ‘baditude’ and confuse fame with actual importance. They are the ones we see in the news silently shouting to no one in particular, yet everyone on the planet at the same time…“Look at me! Look at me!” “Look at me…I’m doing something stupid!” “Look at me! I’m doing something stupid….AGAIN,” “I said LOOK AT ME!!!!” only to be in the press the next day with “Who do you think you are?!” “Don’t you know who I am?!!” “Get away from me with that camera! Why can’t you people respect my privacy?!”

Ah…respect. It must be earned oh tanned and augmented ones. OK, I will admit I am being a bit judgmental, as I have no idea how hard it would be to be stinking rich and have people watching me and judging everything I do…Making catty remarks about what I wore to the grocery store, or how I’ve packed on the pounds. Oh wait, I do know how that last part would be…I live in a small town – where just like Hollywood (or most any media outlet these days) if nothing is going on, they’ll make stuff up. Seriously, I live in a town so small they print traffic violations on the front page of the paper.

But I digress, back to the Dalai Lama’s Land Rover…adding 2+2, and coming up with 7 led me to the obvious conclusion that the vehicle was in California…a land where people like Paris and Britney command attention, and actually get it. A place where the K-Feds and bad joke writers are living the high life and have the audacity to complain, while a large portion of the population is often forced to decide between heat and groceries, rent or medicine. (Okay, there are people with wads of cash clustered in other places like NYC, Miami, Phoenix, the Hamptons in the summertime, etc., but you know what I’m saying.)

This is America people, land of the free and home of the brave, and I for one have had enough of these time, attention, and wealth burglars. Should they get everything just because of proximity? If that’s the case, I’m going go camp out on Oprah’s doorstep until my manuscript becomes book of the month, and I’m going to put our 11 year-old on Ellen and Jay Leno so his start-up company can make millions. Next I’m going to send my husband over to Wisteria Lane to mow lawns, and then I’m going to start a foundation to develop a Lego/Transformer curriculum for tactile, kinesthetic learners, like our youngest.

Face it, nothing is free. It takes either your time and a piece of you, or a chunk of your cash. Watching a beautiful sunset or reading a good book from the library (or Borders if you have a few hours) cost us our time, but they give back something bigger than the mere act itself.

However, pandering to the lowest common denominator where all of today’s media-selected ‘spin’ is the top news is like a going to a bad movie, which costs both time and money. It is fine to report actual news in an objective manner, or even some good news on a regular basis would be great. Mind you, I am not talking about those mere 30 second snippets you randomly get at the end of a broadcast, or those stories that show the anchor person up close and personal with a tear in their eye on the anniversary of some tragic event demonstrating how hard people are still working to rebuild their lives. I am talking about taking the time to report and work on these things a bit every day. Perhaps if we were reminded regularly of some of the problems our neighbors are facing on a daily basis, and are shown what people are actively doing to solve them, Joe and Jane Doe would be inspired to pitch in.

I have been taught that if you’re going to bring up a problem, you should be ready not only to propose a solution, but to work it through. It’s time we take back America and make it something to be proud of, not something we have to apologize for. Yes, it will take time, but it will save money and give us back a sense of community and unification. By making conscious choices about what we do with our time (because God knows the majority of us don’t have much money to spare) we can revitalize ourselves and our communities.

If the lack of media attention means some “famous” people fall off the map and into mundane lives of obscurity, so be it. It will be good for them to have to schlep around and wonder how they’re going to make their next car payment, or fix hamburger for the 5,000^th time. And they won’t be out of the gossip grapevine entirely. I can assure you, if they don’t wear underwear to the grocery store here in ‘Real America’ and make it obvious, you can be sure people will talk.

I’m K-Rob, and on behalf of all those who are tired of clenching their teeth and rolling their eyes at the crap that gets news coverage and is glorified and commercialized, I approve this message. Because while I appreciate a Monet, I am sick of living in a place that looks okay from far away, but close-up is nothing but a mess.

What Would Barbie Do? If Only the Escape Key Really Worked…

If only the escape key really worked…I’d be pressing it EVERY DAY!

Have you ever had one of those…lives? I was talking with one of my friends (Skipper) a few nights ago and she asked “What happened to us?” She was, of course, referring to what has happened to most everyone I know…LIFE. Skipper proceeded to talk about how we had planned to be fabulous artists with lofts in New York, Chicago and San Francisco. Of course those were in addition to our main studio space located in the rolling countryside where we would be truly inspired by the surrounding flora and fauna. Our collaborative venture was to be called ‘Delusions of Grandeur’, which is perhaps what sealed our fate. Instead of channeling the meaning of life through our artwork, we have been left to ponder some of life’s other great mysteries like:

¨ How to make chicken appealing for the 5000^th time

¨ Which variety of Hamburger Helper to buy (The one that’s on sale, DUH!)

¨ Why our kids can memorize every character, battle location, hidden power key, weapon and possible outcome on Revenge of the Space Warriors – Planet Clontarf Edition; But can’t remember to turn in their lunch money

¨ Who left a partially eaten peanut butter and jelly bean sandwich under the coffee table

¨ Why they are called ‘dust bunnies’ when yours have attained the size of small sheep

¨ How Malibu Flip can break his glasses while playing with Legos (When did Legos become a contact sport???)

We continued our conversation and readily agreed that by the time you get to your second child you are done tracking how much the baby ate, at what time and no longer plan your day around their nap schedule. Instead are perfectly fine with licking the dog hair off a dropped pacifier and giving it back to your child. (After all, Mom spit has the same cleaning powers as 409.)

As we lamented our unlaunched dreams I asked “What Would Barbie Do?” We decided Barbie would simply get busy and make it happen. Barbie would say, “It is never too late to realize your potential, so put down the scrubber sponge and get going!” We conceded that we may have a few more things to contend with than Barbie, like:

¨ Attempting to lose the “Freshman 15’ (and the Mom 30)

¨ Figuring out who put the Rice Krispies in the air vent

¨ Make 75 cupcakes for the band bake sale by tomorrow morning

¨ See that Ken Jr. finishes his science project

¨ Edit your client presentation for tomorrow’s meeting

¨ Sew a costume for the school play

¨ Remove an entire pack of chewed bubble gum from the dogs’ fur without making him look like he has the mange

That being said, Skipper and I decided to make a pact to regain our inner Barbie and are launching JUNCK. By repurposing cast off items (including our set aside dreams) and turning them into ‘object d’art’ we are helping make the world a greener place by keeping stuff out of landfills and breathing fun and inspiration back into our lives. Of course this will be done in between scrubbing toilets, answering the age-old question ‘What’s for dinner?’ and figuring out how to successfully extract Play Doh from the DVD player. Visit us online at http://www.junck.biz to see what Skipper and I have going on, and find out what’s new with some of our other friends like Malibu Stacie and Midge, who have also decided to regain their inner Barbie. Perhaps you will find a hidden treasure that we have repurposed that will inspire you as well.

Martha Doesn’t Live Here

You know Martha…That woman we all secretly aspire to be, to a certain degree, yet harbor disdain for at the same time. You know you’ve done it…wrapped your Christmas packages with tissue paper, tulle, and gold ribbon just that once. C’mon, I know you have. Then you roll your eyes at the mention of her name and say to friends when she mentions saffron and radicchio, again, “Get real! Who cooks like that?” Then you quickly follow up with a qualifier like, “Oh sure I could make that fourteen story gingerbread castle for my son’s school Christmas party, if I had her staff. But I don’t.” So you don’t.

I was confronted with one of these Martha moments at a Halloween party hosted for kids in our community. A group of mothers was standing around grinning at all the children decked out in their costumes, when what should appear, but a small robot. Actually it was a child in a robot costume, but it could have passed for a small miniature of the robot on “Lost in Space” I turned to the other women who were staring slightly open mouthed at this creation and glibly joked, “Obviously Martha is in the building.” This drew giggles and agreement that there was clearly some over achiever in the building.

I began to wish my son had gone with his original costume choice – a pinecone. How was he going to compete in a store bought costume? He has always chosen rather unique costumes for Halloween. His first time out he wanted to be a banana, so I whipped up a banana costume complete with a stem, label sticker, and matching spats for his shoes. Then he wanted to be a piece of cheese. The square slice kind, mind you. He was a lovely shade of golden yellow, complete with Swiss cheese style spots and a matching hat, with “The Big Cheese” sewn across the chest. He had already decided the day after being cheese that he was going to be a pinecone. I wondered how I would meet this, my toughest costuming challenge to date.

As Halloween approached, my son surprised us and changed his mind. He was a big boy and wanted to be something scary this year, a vampire. So off we went to buy the face paints and teeth to transform our little darling into a creepy ghoul. Upon arriving at the store, he decided vampires were a bit scarier than he thought, and decided he should be something else. He liked the glittering witch’s wand and the idea of being magic. However, being a witch was too “girlie.” So, he decided to jump right into that monster of mass marketing with both feet and be Harry Potter. Harry was magic and he was a boy. Well, that worked. I didn’t have to make a costume and felt like I had gotten off easy this year. While I lamented my little boy was growing up, I felt a bit relieved that I had dodged sewing into the wee hours. That is, until the robot showed up.

Standing in the local community center gymnasium, it hit me. I was supposed to be the over-achiever. Not this other as yet undiscovered Martha wannabe. I had been usurped. That was why I had made the Martha joke. I felt myself begin to sweat. My son had gotten used to winning best overall costume. What if he came up empty-handed this year? Before we left the house for the party, my son had remarked with his five-year-old confidence, “I’m going to win best costume again this year.” I had tried to prepare him for the possibility that he may not win, certain that there would be an entire herd of Harrys, but he was not to be dissuaded.

And now here was the robot. Complete with flexible ridged tubular arms, blinking lights, and a control panel. This would never do. The mothers began to concede that this costume was in fact, pretty amazing. “How did they get those lights to light up?” marveled one. “Battery powered Christmas lights!” I snapped. “Ohhhh, and look at the little arms,” another cooed. “Flexible dryer venting,” I sighed. “Look at the flashing strobe on his head,” one exclaimed. “A bicycle light from the bucket on the counter next to the cash register at the local hardware store,” I mumbled dejectedly to no one in particular by this point. Why hadn’t I seen it coming? I had let down my guard, slacked off on my motherly duties. “Why hadn’t I encouraged my son to be a pinecone this year, like he had originally planned?” Dejectedly, I headed for the bleachers with the other moms to watch the festivities. Then I snatched a glimpse of my son, playing with friends, happily waving his wand, laughing and playing tag. “That’s why,” I smiled to myself. Because it made him happy.

He was perfectly satisfied with his costume, and he was having fun. I looked for the little robot, who was standing alone tugging at the box on his head with arms that wouldn’t bend the right way. He didn’t appear to be having any fun at all. “Poor little guy,” I thought. Then we discovered the creator of this masterpiece sitting nearby in the bleachers. After profusely complimenting her on her creativity, one of the mothers asked where she had gotten the idea. “Martha Stewart had the plans in her magazine,” she answered. Hoots of laughter erupted from the group as they all turned to me and said, “You knew! You were right all along.” Then I realized that yes indeed, I had been right all along. My son was happy. And you know what? It appears that a smile can be quite an effective adornment to whatever you’re wearing. My son won best costume for his age group after all.

So many times we obsess about what other people will think. We overextend ourselves with our time. How often have you told someone you will do something, only to start muttering cynically about it the moment you hang up the phone. You don’t have the time to get all your own things done, much less this other thing you’ve been roped into that you really don’t want to do anyway? Why did you say you’d do it? What would they think if you said no?

We overload our physical resources. Have you ever arrived at the end of your day, exhausted and counting the minutes until you can crawl into your bed? You find yourself snapping at your kids when they aren’t moving fast enough in the direction of bedtime. “No I can’t read another story…Pick up those toys! I’m not telling you again to brush your teeth, do you understand me?” You find yourself trying to nail down just exactly when it was you last had a good night’s sleep, let alone several in a row.

We also overburden our pocketbooks in order to keep up with the Joneses, buying things we don’t really need. Sure it would be nice to have a new car like the guy at work, but mine is still in good shape. Then you think to yourself, “Hey, he just got a new car a couple years ago,” and you find yourself cruising the car lot wondering why you didn’t drag your clunker in to trade years ago.

What would people think if you said no once in a while? What would people think if your kids weren’t involved in every extracurricular activity and you didn’t belong to all those clubs you really don’t have time for? What if you didn’t bring work home and stay up burning the midnight oil? Heaven forbid your children don’t have those $100 tennis shoes that everyone else is wearing, or you drive a car not made in the last two years, let alone in this decade.

What would people think if you actually volunteered to do something gratefully? What if you spent more time with your family and got to really know what was going on with your kids and your spouse? What if you got a good night’s sleep, nearly every night? What if your car lasted another ten years?

Do you know what makes these two sets of “what if’s” different? The first set is all about what everyone else thinks. The second one is all about how you feel. God gave us a brain to think with, but most importantly, he gave us a heart to feel with. When you use your brain in conjunction with your heart, you are acting out of love and giving freely of the best of yourself. I feel that is how He intended it to be, though you may think I’m wrong.