A few years back, I was reading through an interpersonal communications textbook and was shocked to learn that many psychologists claim that people who are chronically late are purposely late to gain attention. It was classified as a “diva” trait, to say the least. While I’m sure there is some “scientific study” that supports this theory, I don’t buy it. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
Category: Reflecting
Is Bigger Better? Not if You Give a Damn
My son is a huge fan of Legos and spends days on end building high-tech airplanes, robotic creatures, and sky scrapers. He never gets tired of building, but he gets frustrated when he struggles to top his previous creation with something bigger and better. Apparently, in his mind, bigger is better. The more extravagant the construction, the more pleased he is with himself. For example, today’s creation was a two-story Lego mansion equipped with a big screen TV. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
Count Me Absent for My Heart’s Sake
I’ve always hated the phrase “absence makes the heart grow fonder.” I thought that it was a manipulative, cowardly way to basically say “I need time away from you or I’m going to strangle you.” But as I get older (and hopefully wiser), I have begun to realize that the cliché may have some merit. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
No Regrets: Life is a Luxury
I used to live my life haunted by regrets, wishing I’d made different choices, taken the other road, and seized opportunities that were right in front of my face. I regretted not reaching out to people that needed it the most, I regretted wasting my time in unhealthy relationships, I regretted not truly investing myself in college the first time around, I regretted growing up too fast, and I regretted blocking family members out of my life at times. But as I sit today, on the anniversary of 9/11, and reflect upon how the life I’ve enjoyed is a luxury, I clearly see that regrets are unnecessary. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
Big Wheel Keep on Turnin’
As young children, we often live in the shadows of our siblings. We tend to tag along with the older ones, mimicking their likes and dislikes. We dote on the younger ones, trying to play mom while tending to their wants and needs. As the middle child, clearly suffering from middle child syndrome, I always felt part of the gang but clearly suffered from an identity crisis. I was Dana’s younger sister. I was Molly’s older sister. I was the middle one, the only one without red hair. In reality, though, I just wanted to be Shannon. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
Stinky Feet, Whining Kids and the Awkward Silence
The exciting portrayal of road trips is often misleading. In the movies, we see friends bond on that big open highway. We see families laughing, enthusiastic about spending 32 hours in the car together. This portrayal leads us to think that a road trip is a fun journey where everyone sings along to the radio, shares snacks, and engages in deep conversations until they reach their final destination. The Griswalds made it to Wally World in one piece, why can’t we? It’s unrealistic. At this point in my life, road trips involve stinky feet, whining kids, and awkward moments of silence. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
My Dog is a Divine Diva
I love my dog – always have and always will, but my dog is a diva. She resembles a celebrity starlet, unwilling to settle for less, constantly testing boundaries and the patience of her posse. I never owned a dog as a child, primarily because I have terrible allergies, but I decided two years ago to rescue this odd-looking puggle so that my kids could enjoy the benefits of man’s best friend early on. I soon learned that having a dog in the house is like having another child – only this new “baby” we inherited has grown into an expensive, attention-craving, time-consuming prima donna. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com.
Little Treasures for a Domesticated Moment
It is an understatement to say that I am not domesticated. I try – I really do, but the domesticated gene was never passed on, even though my mom tried her best. She sews; I don’t own a needle or thread. She irons her clothes after each load; I iron my crumpled piles five minutes before I need to wear the clothes. She scrubs her floors on her hands and knees; I cheat with a swiffer and an H20 mop. She cooks for fun; I cook only when I have to. Most of all, she does laundry every day while I do laundry once a week or once every two weeks when we have a panicked “where is my soccer uniform” moment. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com.
Look At This Photograph
Although my title indicates a possible reference to a Nickelback song, this post is about much more than music. It’s about the power of photos. Photos are keepsakes. My sister has more than 100 scrapbooks of photos in her house, chronicling her life, her children’s lives – and every person she has ever come into contact with. My photos, while valuable to me, sit in a big box in my basement, patiently waiting for my organized sister to take on the project. Photos tell a story. Photos bring back memories. Photos encourage us to reflect and think critically about life. Reflection and critical thinking are at the core of my English Composition class this semester, which is why the first assignment of the semester asks my students to choose a photograph and write a brief narrative story either detailing what is happening in the photo, a memory that it stirs, or a reflection triggered from the photo. I’m one of “those” teachers that strongly believes that if I’m going to ask my students do something, I should, too. So, my visual reflection assignment follows: Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
If the Shoe Fits
My work as a freelance writer gives me the opportunity to meet interesting and insightful people. Whether I am having a conversation with the average “Joe,” interviewing an event organizer, or talking with experts in various fields, the people become more than just sources – they become very human during an interview. Even though as a journalist my job is to stay objective, there is something personal about each interview I conduct. The information this person is sharing usually contains personal experiences, feelings, beliefs, and advice. Almost always after an interview, I reflect and compare my personal experiences and try and put myself in the subject’s shoes. Today, the shoes fit, but at the same time, the shoes made me uncomfortable – comparable to the perfect looking shoe in a narrow fit when I need wide-toed shoes. Read the rest at http://www.shannonphilpott.com
Shannon Philpott-Sanders 