Author: jdavis

A Moment in My Life – Wednesday, March 3, 2021

It’s Wednesday! We did it. We made it halfway through this week—the first week of March. Something about starting a new month on a Monday feels so right. We have a full week of weekdays to get a jumpstart on the new month’s goals. Goals? Did someone say goals? I made a long list of them to accomplish this month. Before March arrived, I was both excited and nervous because of my exhaustive list. Excited because every little bit advances my life in some way. Nervous because of my self-doubts. Can I do it? Could I pull it off? Am I following a pipedream? Who knows? 

I spent the bulk of February putting good habits in place and, gratefully, made them routine for most of the month. That’s encouraging. When you do a single task, most likely, you would complete the task. When you do the same task daily, you could do it, but it’ll take a little more commitment and discipline to pull it off. After the first week, you get an idea of whether you can keep going or not. 

After almost a year of falling off my workout regime, I finally got back on target for three weeks now. At the end of each week, I’m encouraged that I can continue to do this. Two weeks ago, I added homemade Green Juice to my daily routine and loving it. Those are two areas of my wellness program that I’m improving. I am serious about this. I want to add these good habits into my lifestyle regularly and not just as a fad. Both require commitment and time. Working out was my weakness. I did little jogs throughout the day and am committed to daily one-hour walks, but the workout part was not happening. I knew I needed to push harder for my overall wellness. It finally came together after God knows how many months of psyching myself up to that point. Since working out was my biggest challenge, I made it my priority. Now that I have it under my belt, it’s time to move onto the next challenge—advancing my writing life.

About a year ago, I began blogging weekly, and that taught me I could write. In August, I challenged myself to write daily. As of today, I have written 128 columns. It doesn’t feel like much, but looking at that staggering number, I feel excited, proud, and grateful that I did that. Yet, it is not enough. Some days I feel like a writer fraud. My dear friend Lenore reminded me that I’m a novelist and fiction writer, and then it made sense. That’s what was missing! Not for long—March is all about revamping myself and my life as a whole. Time to incorporate other writing genres into the picture and integrate my new wellness habits to form the new me at the same time.

March took off with fireworks, and that’s superb. Monday, I checked off every task on my to-do list. Tuesday, followed suit. It’s hump day. Yay! I’m halfway through the week. Don’t celebrate yet! It’s so easy to cave to false success. I know me. If I fall into that lie, then it’s game over. That’s the old me. The older and wiser new me says, “Hold on! Not so fast. You are not done yet. You are just beginning. Keep working!” Good advice. Like in the Bible, we have to pick up the cross and choose to follow Jesus daily. We have to do the same to achieve our goals. We can’t just do it once or twice. We have to choose to work on achieving our goals daily. 

Two good days doesn’t mean that I’ve made it. Just like if I have a bad day or two doesn’t mean that I failed, and it’s game over. Like anything else, I expect good days and bad days. I can’t let either persuade me one way or the other. To succeed, I need to pick up my cross daily, so to speak, and choose to stay focused and keep working. If someone told me I would have 128 columns written in 7 months, I wouldn’t have believed it. Typically, my goal each day was to sit down and write a column, and each day—I achieved that goal. If nothing else, this is a reminder to take one baby step at a time, then take another tiny step, and I will keep moving forward regardless of whether yesterday was a success or a flop. 

Today is a new day filled with new opportunities to achieve our goals and make our dreams a reality. As my Facebook friend Mona Harris said, “Work hard because dreams won’t work unless you do.” Amen to that. We fish. We eat. We no fish. We no eat. We must work and keep on working every day.

A Moment in My Life – Tuesday, March 2, 2021

I love dim sum. Who doesn’t? That’s one of the foods I’ve missed the most during this pandemic. I didn’t give it a second thought, though. I figured my only option was to wait it out until shelter in place ends. Who knew the pandemic would linger and linger? “When will it end?” My dim sum craving got stronger and stronger, and as if the answer fell from heaven above, my friend told me she ordered dim sum takeout from a restaurant. “What? You mean we can order dim sum takeout? Totally new concept!” I didn’t act upon it, and as if I didn’t get the hint, I began hearing more and more about dim sum options. 

About that same time, my older sister said she ordered dim sum for a Chinese New Year’s charity event she was coordinating. “Okay, you got my attention.” I wasn’t ready to order dim sum takeout yet because I am one person, and if I know anything about dim sum, which I do, I know it would be a lot of food for one person. 

My sister’s suggestion to my dilemma was that I try Ranch 99’s dim sum, then I could control the amount. “Great idea!” I’m not a regular Ranch 99 shopper; therefore, I was not familiar with their layout. When my sister suggested dim sum, I imagined they would have a steam table near their bakery or in their hot food area. I was right. They had a small steam table display for dim sum. “Oh, so exciting!” My mouth watered as I ordered a few of my favorites they had available. They didn’t have much, but they had shrimp dumplings (Har Gaw), pork dumplings (Siu Mai), sticky rice in lotus leaf, spring roll, and the bao, which I thought was pork bun but I erroneously bought a chicken bao instead. I was glad they had dim sum available, but it was a far cry from the quality I am used to. I told my sister this, and that’s when she corrected me. She sent me to the freezer section and not to the steam table. “How was I to know that?” She knew the steam table option wasn’t that good. “Oh, now you tell me!” I love my sister dearly. She’s got a big heart and means well, but her communication needs some work.

I returned to hunt down my dim sum at Ranch 99, and whoa, did they have dim sum or what? There were probably a dozen freezer aisles, and each one had some form of dim sum. My eyes glazed over with my overwhelming options. How long did I venture up and down those aisles? I was determined to walk out with something in my shopping bag, and eventually, I made my selections. Yep, you guessed correctly. I bought a bag for each of my favorites: Har Gaw, Siu Mai, sticky rice, and pork bao. The bad thing, they come in a bag or tray with a few dozen each. What can I do? The good thing, I can freeze them and enjoy them piecemeal over time. And I did. I was so grateful to own a small bamboo steamer that was stashed away at the far back of my cupboard, which finally came in handy. 

After this experience, I can add steaming dim sum to my resume. I wish I could include a raving review of this experience, too, but alas, I can’t. These frozen morsels appeared picture-perfect, but that’s the long and short of it. None tasted up to par with a restaurant’s offering. The worse part was the additives in them. Additives that I can’t pronounce. I only read the list of ingredients when my fingers tightened up, causing a weird sensation I wasn’t familiar with. I couldn’t tell which item caused it. I steamed another serving a few days later, but I wasn’t able to identify the culprit. It doesn’t matter after all because I didn’t like what I was eating, so why was I bothering with them? I couldn’t stand the Har Gaw skin. The texture was gummy, and the edges were hard like it was stale. I ate the shrimp inside and tossed the skin, so why am I bothering with this? The Siu Mai and sticky rice were bland with little personality but edible. The pork bao was the best and tasted close to my expectation. I might have kept the bag of baos had it not been for the additives. In the end, none were worth keeping and got tossed with the week’s trash.

I was finally ready to place an order with Dim Sum King for as many of our favorites as they had available because I wanted to celebrate Mark’s birthday in style worthy of his honor. This is where the saying, “You did well, Grasshopper!” comes into play. I selected well. Every morsel was satisfying in appearance, texture, and taste. Mark would’ve been so pleased as I was. Yes, it was a lot of food, but I got three meals out of this one order that included: Har Gaw, Siu Mai, sticky rice in Lotus leaf, pork bao, spring roll, and egg tart. If they made pineapple custard bins, our favorites would have been complete. 

Having done my homework, I am now an expert on dim sum dining. Well, okay, maybe not an expert, but one can dream. At least, I know the only way to satisfy my dim sum craving is to order from a real restaurant that serves dim sum. I am so looking forward to ordering again. Dim sum, anyone?

A Moment in My Life – Monday, March 1, 2021

A friend of mine messaged me out of the blue with an equally unexpected comment. He didn’t need to bother, but he did, and I appreciate his thoughtfulness. His message lingered on my mind, and I wonder how I would’ve handled it if I were in his shoes. He reached out days after Mark’s birthday, which tells me he cares but is conflicted. He needn’t say so, but I read between the lines. He did say, “I didn’t wish Mark a Happy Birthday since I know he won’t physically see it. I don’t wish anyone a Happy Birthday when I know they have already passed on.” That’s fine. I respect that. I appreciate his telling me.

How would I have handled that? Would I have reached out to explain my beliefs? People fascinate me with the array of possibilities of how they think and what they do. Everybody is unique, even in similar ways, which is confusing yet wonderful. I don’t have all the answers, let alone the right answers on proper etiquette, which is quite subjective as it is. I don’t think there is a right or wrong way to handle any situation. It all depends on the scenario and especially on the people involved.

I know that we need different kinds of people because there is no one-size-fits-all. Bible says there is a time for everything. No one person perfectly fits all the situations. You never know who would say just the right words to lift a spirit at a precise time. It’s like playing the numbers game. Everyone brings us a little closer. Each one counts. Sometimes all it takes is one. Like my dear friend Lenore sent the only physical card in memory of Mark’s birthday. Her touching, heart-felt words teared me up while forming a smile on my face. All it took was one. Others showed they cared by adding their greetings on Facebook, texting or calling to let me know they remembered, and they care about me to be a part of this important day to me. Each of these people bothered to spread some love my way, which is worth more than gold. Not everybody did, and that’s okay. That’s the beauty of having a variety of people in my world. I got what I needed from those people who felt similarly to me.

You’d think that having lived the scenario, I would know exactly how to handle these situations, but I don’t. All I know is how I prefer to handle my situation. I choose to turn a negative into a positive. I prefer to keep Mark’s memory alive, and everything I do is based upon that belief. In contrast, other people bury the person along with any hint that they were ever on this earth. They would rather not get a birthday greeting! Those scenarios are tricky. I wouldn’t know whether to comment or stay silent. A few friends reached out to me tippy-toeing around why they reached out, and the takeaway was simply that they cared but didn’t know whether to address or keep silent. The bottom line was they cared. They didn’t know how I would take Mark’s birthday, so they didn’t mention him. All they did was let me know they care, and they gave me their love even if they didn’t know what words to give me.

 There’s no right or wrong way. I choose to go with what is important to the person. Like, if my friend celebrates in memory of the loved one, then I will, too. If they prefer not to, then I respect their wishes. It is subjective, but the one thing that we can do in every scenario is—just give love.

A Moment in My Life – Thursday, February 25, 2021

I minded my own business replying to a text at my dinner table when movement outside my patio distracted me. A well-fed gray-black cat ever so coolly struts by with nose in the air. I finished my text, then ran to the window, leaning my forehead up to the glass, turning my head in the direction the audacious critter went. My backyard isn’t huge, and the cat must have realized nothing interesting was going on and vacated the premises. It’s not every day we have visitors out back anymore. A part of me envisioned Tom Cool strutting past the window, then fleeing in a mad-dash just out of my view. Do cats have that kind of intelligence? Maybe I’m thinking cartoons. 

We used to have a family of squirrels living in a tree out back. They were comfortable guests who kept to themselves, requiring low maintenance. They preferred self-service to our apple trees. They took privacy seriously. Many a time, when they caught me snooping, gave me the eye, letting me know I was invading their privacy by turning their backs to me while they ate. They would’ve been perfect guests if they picked up after themselves.

One day, we had a new family of birds squatting behind our bushes. We discovered them by spooking them. I don’t know who was more spooked, them or me. We went out to work in the yard when the large mama bird flew out of the bushes right past me, eliciting a scream out of me. She flew back periodically and perched on the fence a safe distance from us. Why was she lurking? She seemed anxious, making me nervous. We peeked behind the bush where she flew out from and got our answer—she was protective of her nest of baby birds. 

Our most prized visitor was a little nest of hummingbirds. We named mama Woodstock. Woodstock was tending to her tiny nest perched on the tree outside our kitchen window for three joyous weeks. After the babies entered the world, they relocated. The new family remained in our backyard but being so small, the trees camouflaged them. I thought they moved away, but one day, the kids got into a brawl and flew out into the open space, bickering when Woodstock flew out and restored order in a tone only birds understand.  

All of our guests preferred to keep it professional. They came. They stayed. They minded their own business and expected us to do the same. Then, they left. Like Mark would say, “There’s always one in every crowd,” and that saying rang true when one day, there was a beautiful caramel-colored cat who visited a few times but never stayed long. One afternoon, I was making my first pot of lentil soup. It got warm inside. I opened the patio door a crack to cool down my kitchen, not realizing the cat was outside. Not until she squeezed in through the slightly ajar patio door. By the time we saw her, she had taken flight through the house. We ran after her as she took the scenic route. After she went on her merry way, we named our first critter guest “Lentils,” which seemed fitting. 

Did I say none of our backyard guests were curious? Well, thanks to Lentils, I have to take that back. She was curious and took a tour. Once her curiosity was satisfied, Lentils was quite content remaining out in the guest quarters thereafter, but I have to admit that it was a fun day when Lentils came to visit.    

A Moment in My Life – Wednesday, February 24, 2021

It’s been years since I listened to Linda Ronstadt’s “Ooh, Baby Baby.” Oh, how I wore out my record playing it over and over. I couldn’t listen enough. I still have the 45, but these days, it’s easy to add the song to my Amazon Music playlist and repeat it endlessly with one touch of the repeat button. I’ve missed the steady, soothing beat and Linda’s smooth, calming voice belting out the heart wrenching words. I listened and refamiliarized myself to the lyrics, and a wave of emotions and memories flooded into my mind. 

It was 1981. The younger me felt my way into the adult world, going through the motions of what we were expected to do to make a mark in the world. I spent my afternoons at HBJ doing data entry after mornings as a full-time college student. I didn’t have much time for socializing, but I continued to hang out with a few high school friends. One, in particular, was Vincent. We were buddies. I met my late husband Mark through him when Vincent invited us to his BBQ at the house he was housesitting for his Aunt and Uncle. 

Vincent never said in so many words, but I think he regretted having invited Mark and me to the same party. We never talked about it, but I don’t think he expected Mark and me to end up dating—or did he? I still haven’t figured people out, but I was getting my first taste of the games people play about this time.

One Friday evening after work, Vincent surprised me outside HBJ and drove me to a restaurant out at Fishermen’s Wharf. Soon, another surprise, Mark walked in and joined us. From the look on Mark’s face, he was just as dumbfounded to see me there as I was to see him. By then, Mark and I had been dating for about a month. Vincent invited us for dinner but didn’t say why. Mark looked as confused as I felt. We were both quiet while jovial Vincent was having the time of his life. Up to this point, except for the awkwardness that I felt, it wasn’t unusual for three friends to dine together. What happened afterward, however, changed us forever. 

After dinner, we headed to our cars. We parked a few cars away from each other. Vincent opened the passenger door, and I began climbing in when he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. I freaked out more concerned that Mark might have seen that and misunderstood than my wondering why Vincent did it. This was the first of a series of similar episodes that eventually got Mark and me talking, which revealed the game that Vincent was playing. That night after dinner, as we walked to our cars, Mark told Vincent that he wanted to drive me home. Vincent shot that down by saying that he picked me up, and my mother would wonder why someone else was dropping me off. I added that Vincent picked me up from my office. It wouldn’t have mattered since my mother had no idea who picked me up. Another time, Vincent said to Mark, “May the best man win.” It stumped Mark why he said that. The more notes we compared, the more we realized we were pawns in a game.

Games can be enjoyable, but when people are the tokens on the game board, that’s when it gets tricky. There’s too much at stake playing games with people. You might reach a point of no return. In this case, we saw Vincent’s true character, and our friendship ended. One day, if I ever see him again, I’d like to ask him, “Was it a game worth playing?”   

A Moment in My Life – Tuesday, February 23, 2021

One of my girlfriends texted me a moment ago thanking me for a card that I sent her. She said it made her happy because she gets little contact, thanks to Covid-19. Every experience is new for her this year since she became an orphan recently. I guess, regardless of your age, when you lose your last parent, you are an orphan. She was the caregiver for her father during his final years, making this shelter-in-place that much harder for her. I know her loneliness and the void that she has been feeling very well. Holidays and unique markers hit home the hardest. It may not be the same markers for everybody, but we all have them. That goes for many people isolated thanks to Covid-19 preventing gatherings and visitations. Dr. Jen Ashton said that people are suffering from “skin hunger.” That’s a new concept for me, but it makes a lot of sense. People need human contact. A daily hug goes a long way. A year without human touch is a long time. I feel it.

Since we can’t give or receive hugs for who knows how much longer, we need to get creative. Luckily, there are alternatives to letting others know we care and are thinking about them. Unlike me, not everybody is big on social media. I love social media. I am thrilled when my peeps post, and I get to enjoy whatever it is that they are doing vicariously. My day brightens upon seeing that life goes on despite the pandemic, our trials and sufferings, and even loss. My world would be a very lonely and sad place without social media. You might have to visit me at the looney farm after the pandemic ends.

We can always use ideas. I’ll share some here, and I welcome your suggestions, too. Feel free to share your thoughts. Here are some creative ways to keep in touch: text, email, phone, social distanced walk dates, virtual dinners, drop off food, errand runs, grocery shopping, and of course, the good old fashion pen to paper—a card or a letter.   

I’m a huge fan of texting. It’s such a quick and easy way to chat or check-in. Since I’m hundreds of miles from my family, my sisters and I have an ongoing group chat where we check in daily. It makes it so easy for us to keep in touch. Email is another option, as is a phone call. Some people prefer the old fashion ink and stationery, and some are super artistic and creative, making it more a gift than a piece of mail. These days video calls are an excellent alternative to meeting face-to-face or talking on the phone. Sometimes I think the timing of this pandemic was good, thanks to technology.

Every time my friend Carol goes shopping, she shops for her elderly neighbor and her elderly mother, too. Some of us have dropped off meals at each other’s homes, and that’s one way of making up for not dining out with each other. Other friends have weekly family dinners virtually together via Zoom or FaceTime. Some friends walk together, socially distanced, and that’s one way of hanging out safely. One day outdoor dining will resume. I’m looking forward to that as I miss being with my peeps. One dear friend has already invited me to a fresco lunch on her patio. I am so looking forward to that. Until more openings resume, there are many alternatives to keep the love flowing. It doesn’t matter what we do as long as we reach out and let someone know that we care regularly by spreading a touch of kindness.

A Moment in My Life – Monday, February 22, 2021

Since the pandemic, there hasn’t been much going on at the park across the street until this Saturday. There were people in the park! How do you like that? Before Covid became the way of life, there was much ado at the park. Kids of all ages exercised their bodies, lungs, and minds while getting their daily dosage of Vitamin D. Parents attempting to relax on the grass exercised their lungs with the occasional hollering at their kids as a reminder that they were there for a reason. The lungs on those little people. The lungs on those big people. You know it’s bleak when you miss those lungs, the rackety laughter and shrieking voices that drift uninvited through your windows, stealing your sense of peace. Every day after school and on the weekends, they returned to remind you to appreciate the serenity when they weren’t around.

Week after week, I peered out my window, and the blanket of fresh green grass spread before me—no little person or critter bending the strand of grass or shaking the sporadic daisy. No voices traveled through my window. In the beginning, the still peace smiled across my face from ear-to-ear. Month after month, nothing but the quiet, still grass filled my vision. My smile spread cheek-to-cheek and soon lip corner-to-corner. Life is for living. The park’s beauty welcomes a disturbance with feet trampling across the grass, denting the strands, and the daisies thrive being held delicately in between curious fingers adoring the bright yellow and white of this creation. There is a time for quiet and a time to fill our ears with voices overlapping each other in words and laughter with the occasional shriek of excitement. 

There were no soccer games or bouncing balls slammed against the basketball courts’ backboards, but there were about a dozen people outside the clubhouse swaying left and right, dancing behind the instructor. I stood on my tippy-toes, marveling through the window at the synchronized movement, and I could imagine the song that was too far to reach my ears. A smaller bunch of older people made slow and precise gestures that flow from posture to posture in their Tai Chi routine nearby. I glanced farther right, and a couple of little ones entertained themselves on the vivid yellow, orange, and green playground. A distance away on the grass, a young couple conversed over a beverage in their little world. Compared to pre-pandemic, this wasn’t much, but it was people. Excitement surged through me, seeing the existence of lifeform at the park. I’m sure the human in me will complain about the annoying noise disturbing my serenity when the pandemic is history. Yet, for now, I relish seeing people living their life as normal as possible by enjoying a Saturday in the park.  

A Moment in My Life – Friday, February 19, 2021

Green is not in my color wheel, but sometimes you have to make an exception. This is one of those times. The color green is warming to me. Now, when I see green, I think of vitality. Envision my caricature with starbursts radiating out of my eyes. A huge smile spread across my face with mounds of green vegetables in front of me. That’s what I’m talking about. Who would have thought I could get so excited at a heap of greens? Not me, but it happened. It all started when I read about the benefits of green juice. Let me tell you something. I was never much of a juice person, to begin with. I enjoyed a small OJ if I were out to breakfast with someone. That was the thing to do, and I complied. On a couple of occasions, there were those mysterious moments in the middle of the night when I would crave ice-cold orange juice. If we had OJ in the fridge, I would glass up and gulp it down right in front of the fridge to satisfy my sudden craving. That was the gist of juice in my life.

A few years back, I quit juice altogether when I learned that it was better to eat your fruits than juice them. Once juiced, the longer it sat, we had more of a glucose problem that would spike our blood sugar levels. No thanks. Who needed that?

Juice to me was always fruit juices. The only vegetable juice I had was V-8, but I knew that we weren’t going to become best buddies from the start. Remember that old saying, “Older and wiser”? Old sayings are worthy of attention. I’m older now, and thank God, wiser. Although, I think it’s more a matter of timing. Now is the right timing for me to appreciate green juice. Winter makes it harder to partake in a cold salad. The best of my intentions didn’t seem to result in more cooked veggies either. I needed to do something. It was meant to be when I read about green juices in the book “Younger.” My eyes widened with each word I read. Something about this green juice excited me. Before I tried it, I felt the energy that enlivened me, and once I drank that first glass of green juice, everything I expected while reading came to life. I felt stronger, energized, content, and more alive.

Greens have so many beneficial properties, like protecting our bones and preventing inflammatory diseases. They contain high antioxidants, vitamins, minerals, and fiber while remaining low in calories. A diet rich in leafy greens can reduce the risk of obesity, heart disease, high blood pressure, and mental decline. Lutein in leafy greens is terrific for eye and skin health. And get this, you can reduce weight, too. Alrighty. I need all of this. We all do.

Just a handful of a few different greens make a 16-ounce salad in a glass. Immediately, I felt like a new me. It filled me like I ate a meal. Perhaps that’s the slimming part—a nice bonus. Knowing this drink has the power of vitality—giving continuance of life, and knowing that it’s slimming, too, encourages me to keep juicing. I never thought I’d be drinking juice, but it feels right. I’ve had two glasses so far, and my scale went down two days in a row, my skin glows, and I feel invincible. I’m a juicing advocate now—no turning back. I figure if I’m going to make juice, I’m going to make it green.

Here’s the basic recipe that I’m starting with and revising as I go: one handful of each (slightly chopped): kale, romaine, parsley, spinach, three celery stalks, and one English cucumber, lemon juice to taste, and a couple of ice cubes run through the juice function of a high-power blender.

A Moment in My Life – Thursday, February 18, 2021

When you talk with people, you learn all sorts of things. Like, acronyms you hadn’t heard of until that day. Afterward, you can’t unhear it. You’ll hear it everywhere. That’s what happened to me. The other day, I told a friend that I felt overwhelmed and exhausted by these long meetings that I’ve been attending. I needed a break from them. I don’t want to attend them anymore, but I won’t know what’s going on if I don’t. She ever so calmly said, “That’s me. I have FOMO.” Huh? FOMO? What’s that? 

FOMO is the “Fear of Missing Out” defined as “a constant need to take part in as many things as you can because you fear missing out on them.” Interesting. I never knew there was such a thing. Now, I hear it all over the place. Also, interesting, I didn’t know that about her. Once she shared some examples, aha, I saw what she was talking about. That explains a lot. It took forever to get a text response from her. She’s busy from the start to the end of each day. She rarely slept. Forget about taking a day off. I’ve never even heard her take a few hours off, let alone a day. Keeping up with her schedule drains me. I tend to run myself ragged, but eventually, I need my hermit days when I shut out the world and rejuvenate. 

She was rarely home. Home was just a place to store her stuff. I always thought her lifestyle was due to her popularity. I never guessed it had to do with FOMO. She revealed that if something was happening, you had to be there. She must try everything. She had to be included. She overcommitted. 

I don’t think I have FOMO. My dilemma with my meetings is a stand-alone issue. What’s the opposite of FOMO? Another acronym invisible to me, JOMO, the “Joy of Missing Out.” What does that look like? I Googled, and here’s what I found, “it is where you simply relish the time alone, unplugging emails, texts, and all social networks, and simply cultivating your very own relationship with yourself.” Nah, that’s not me, either. Regardless if I’m busy or a hermit, I always make time for my networks. I do enjoy my alone time, though, but I have no problem responding to messages throughout my personal day if I get a message.

I wondered what cause FOMO. Google says, “sadness.” That might be true for a small number of people. I can’t imagine for all. I have never seen my friend sad, ever. She’s happy-go-lucky and the go-with-the-flow type, which cancels out the sadness probability. Google also said social media exacerbates the problem. This part I get. I grew up with the old saying “keeping up with the Jones,” and some folks got into a lot of trouble competing with others. That’s where social media comes in. I don’t get it. I don’t know why some people feel they need to pretend they are what they aren’t. I tend towards gullibility. If you show me a picture of you in front of the Grand Hotel, I believe you, and I’m happy for you. I wouldn’t suspect that you were staying in the 2-star motel next door.    

I haven’t done a lot, but I’ve done enough. I don’t need to experience everything. I’m content. We do what we do because we’re all striving towards the same thing—finding happiness. It’s subjective. The key to happiness is having a heart of gratitude, and everything else will fall into place. That’s my belief. Pondering all this, I am neither FOMO nor JOMO. What about you?